Tommy remained by the microphone, taking it all in as he looked out across the linen-covered tables filled with the oldest and wealthiest families in Savannah. He felt good about himself. He had done it—something positive. And then he handed the microphone back to the chief of police and walked away, to rejoin Jordan and the two couples sitting at their table. As he sat down, Jordan gave him little more than a polite nod of the head. Jordan had been quiet all evening, and Tommy sensed that something was wrong.
At Jenna’s house, Jenna and Molly were sitting at the kitchen table, playing a game of Go Fish. An empty pizza box, paper plates, and some empty soda cans were pushed off to the side.
Molly laid all her cards on the table and said, “I win.”
Jenna threw down her cards in mock disgust.
“Oh, man, not again!”
“Yeah. You’re not very good at this, Aunt Jenna.”
“Guess not. But it was still fun.”
“Think we can get Dad to play next time? It’s a lot more fun with three people.”
“We’ll see. But I’m gonna beat you no matter what!”
“Aunt Jenna, can I tell you a secret? You have to promise you won’t tell Dad.”
“Okay, I promise. What is it?”
“Have you noticed the old man who walks up and down the beach sometimes?”
Jenna hesitated.
“I think so. Why?”
“Well, he’s a painter, and he’s teaching me how to paint with oils. I’m painting my first ever oil painting, and I’m gonna give it to Dad on his birthday.”
“Are you sure about this man? I don’t like you talking to strangers.”
“I’m sure. He nice, and he’s a really good painter. I think he might have been famous a long time ago.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I guess the way he talks.”
“Well, the next time you see him, you come and get me. I want to meet him.”
“Okay. But that might be tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. Just make sure you come get me.”
“I will. By the way, I heard you and Dad talking a few days ago.”
“What about?”
“You told him he should go and see Dr. Conley.”
“Uh oh, were you eavesdropping? You weren’t supposed to hear any of that.”
“Well, I did, and I think it worked. Dr. Conley texted me today and said that Dad was going to come with me on Tuesday.”
“I think that’s great because, just between us girls, I think he could use her help.”
“I know, and thanks—for getting him to go that is.”
Knock knock! There were two loud raps at the back door followed by Blue’s voice.
“Molls, you in there?”
Molly jumped up and said, “I’ll get it,” running over to the door.
Jenna followed Molly, and she didn’t like what, or who she was looking at through the screen door. It wasn’t only Blue’s age and punk look. She thought she caught a faint sweet smell on her clothes—the smell of marijuana.
Molly turned to Jenna and said, “I’m going for a walk on the beach. Okay?”
“Molly, I really don’t think you should. It’s almost dark.”
“But I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“I know, but…”
Jenna didn’t get to finish. Molly ran out the door as she said, “I’ll be back soon.”
Jenna stood there, yelled, “Molly! Please?” and then wondered, Oh brother, what next?
Back in Savannah, the chief of police was at the mike, wrapping up the evening’s ceremonies.
“We have one final piece of business to take care of tonight, and it’s the one we’ve all been waiting for, the presentation of our annual Good Samaritan Award. It honors the best of the best of our terrific local charities and other support organizations. This year, the award goes to an organization that works to help the families of crime victims and others who have experienced tragedy in their lives. It’s an organization that provides support after all the shots have been fired, all the flames have been put out, and most people have long forgotten the tragic events of the day. They work vigilantly, behind the scenes with families and individuals for as long as it takes, providing the emotional support and professional treatment that is essential in helping victims put the pieces of their fractured lives back together. And they do it without fanfare—at least not until tonight. I am honored to present this year’s Good Samaritan Award to the Grief Counseling Center from our very own Savannah General Hospital.”
Thunderous applause filled the hall, and everyone stood. Jordan turned, scanning the audience, while back on stage, the chief of police continued, “Receiving the award on their behalf is Dr. Karen Conley. She’s one of their senior counselors, and I might add, a very special human being. Dr. Conley works directly with our department and is always there when we need her, anytime day or night. So please, let’s all give Dr. Conley a hearty round of applause.”
Anytime, day or night! The words were still rattling around in Jordan’s head when he saw Dr. Conley stand up and start walking between the tables and toward the front of the room. He always knew she was an attractive woman, but tonight, she was the most beautiful woman in a room full of beautiful women. She was wearing a full-length, red satin evening gown that hung from her shoulders. A diamond necklace with matching earrings sparkled in the light as she glided past Jordan’s table. She gave him the slightest of smiles in return for the starry-eyed look on his face. Tommy, watching Jordan’s reaction, started singing “Lady in Red” under his breath, much to the delight of the two young couples sitting at their table.
As Dr. Conley took her final steps toward the podium Tommy couldn’t resist.
He turned to Jordan and said, “That’s one doctor who could examine me anytime she wanted.”
Jordan, without taking his eyes off Dr. Conley coldly said, “Never happen. She’d need a grief counselor of her own,” as the two couples at the table laughed.
Dr. Conley remained up front as the chief of police wrapped up the evening. Jordan stood and watched as she posed for photographs. Then, as she worked her way back toward his table, he moved in her direction. He had almost reached her when a good-looking man in his early thirties cut him off, gave Dr. Conley a hug, and said, “Congratulations, Karen, I’m so proud of you.”
Dr. Conley smiled, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said, “Thank you, Tyler. Shall we go now?” Jordan stood and watched as they walked to the door and left. When he finally turned around, he found Tommy close at hand, taking it all in.
Tommy said, “Oh, well. Win some, lose some.”
“Yeah, well, I need to get out of here, anyway. See you Monday.”
“Wait! Don’t you want to grab a drink somewhere?”
Jordan said, “No. I’ve got some personal business to attend to,” and turned to leave.
Minutes later, Tommy felt his cell phone vibrate. He went to his text messages and pulled up the last message.
I’m meeting Officer Nichols tonight. Thought you should know.
Tommy frantically punched in the number that was on the screen and Kevin Phillips answered, “Hello?” He was sitting in Florence Phillips’s driveway, behind the wheel of her car.
“Kevin, this is Tommy. Where are you?”
“Back in town, as of yesterday.”
“Why the hell are you meeting with Nichols? You promised.”
“Seems that promises are made to be broken.”
“Come on. You know better than that. Please, let’s talk this through. I have some new information that could help.”
“It’s too late for that. He called me today. Said he got my number from Nana.”
“Shit! Do you know if she told him anything else?”
“Pretty much everything…that she found a gun in my room after I moved out, that Billy and I had matching tattoos.”
“The gun! Where is it now?”
“I do
n’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. Look, this whole thing has to come to an end. It’s time.”
“Where are you meeting him?”
“None of your damn business. You’ve screwed things up enough.”
And then Kevin Phillips hung up, tossed his cell phone on the passenger’s seat, and backed the car out of the driveway.
Chapter 32
Jordan turned his truck onto the access road at Wilson’s Swash, passed under the live oaks, and slowly drove down the incline to the parking area. He parked in the first space, backing his truck up to within about fifteen feet of the water. He turned off the ignition, grabbed his cell phone, and made a call.
“Hey Jen, it’s Jordan. How did you and Molly make out tonight? Weren’t you planning a girls’ night of some sort?”
“Yeah. We had pizza and played Go Fish. It was fun. How about you? How did the banquet go?”
“It was alright; you know how those things are. Listen, I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for Molly and me. It means a lot.”
“Jordan, are you okay?”
“Of course. Can’t I just be a nice guy once in a while? Anyway, see you tomorrow.”
And he hung up, which was just as good, because Jenna didn’t want to tell him about Molly running out on her—or about the smell of marijuana she had on her when she came home.
Jordan put his cell phone away, got out of the truck, and walked up the access road until he reached the dense underbrush that ran back to the live oaks. He remembered the area well, and he knew it was the most likely place for an ambush. From what he could tell, no one had been there recently, but if someone did slip in later, they’d be hard to spot. He walked back to his truck, pulled down the tailgate, and jumped onto the bed. He settled in, took out his Glock, and waited.
About fifteen minutes later, he heard the sound of tires rolling over the crushed seashell and sand access road. He slid off the tailgate, positioned himself behind the truck’s rear fender, and aimed his gun at the approaching car.
It was Florence Phillips’s Malibu, and Kevin Phillips was behind the wheel.
Kevin parked next to the truck, got out, and nervously looked around.
Jordan appeared from behind the truck, pointed his gun at Kevin, and said, “No closer! Put your hands in the air.”
“Wow! Easy, dude! Put the gun down.”
“Just do as I say.”
“Okay, already!” Kevin put his arms above his head, and Jordan walked up and frisked him. Then he took a few steps back, kept his gun trained on Kevin, and said,
“So, we finally meet.”
“Yeah. Figured it was time.”
Jordan eyed him up, taking note of the long hair and the sleeveless hoodie he had on, and said, “You could use a new look. Now let me see the tattoo.”
Kevin’s held his left arm out in front of him, and Jordan saw a tattoo of a screaming Indian, reminiscent of the Atlanta Braves’ old logo.
“I believe you’ve met Molly, the young girl whose mother you murdered.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t me. I didn’t do it!”
“That’s odd, because Molly saw you stand over my wife’s body, grab the gun, and then run out the door.”
Jordan waved his gun and said, “Get down on your knees.”
Kevin fell to his knees and said, “Please! Let me tell you what happened.”
“My wife’s name. What was it?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“It was Casey. Paybacks are hell.”
Jordan chambered a round and aimed his gun at Kevin’s chest. Kevin dropped his head and said, “I’m sorry. I was too late.”
Jordan hesitated. As often as he had told himself how easy this would be, he suddenly wasn’t sure that he could kill any man in cold blood—not even the one who murdered his wife. And then he heard a familiar sound. He looked up to see Tommy’s Camaro barreling down the lane. It slid to a hard stop, and Tommy jumped out yelling, “Stop! It wasn’t him.”
Jordan turned the gun toward Tommy and yelled, “Right there!”
Tommy pulled to a stop, nearly tripping. He put his hands out in front of him and said, “Jordan, it’s me. For God’s sake, put the damn gun down.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on! Take your weapon out—nice and slow.”
Jordan motioned with his gun toward the bed of his truck and said, “Now toss it in there.”
Tommy tossed his gun into the truck bed as Kevin glanced at Tommy and said, “He’s your guy. He’s got all the answers.”
“That so, Tommy?”
“Yeah. Guess it is.”
Tommy glanced down at Kevin cowering on the ground and asked, “You mind?”
Jordan nodded, and Tommy tried to help Kevin to his feet. Kevin pushed him away, stood up, and brushed himself off.
Jordan, taking it all in, said, “Seems you two have a bit of history. You want to tell me about it?”
Tommy said, “Yeah. It’s long past due.” Then he took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and said, “Kevin was at your house that night, but he didn’t kill Casey. He couldn’t have.”
“Okay, sure! No problem. I believe you. He probably just stopped by to say ‘hello,’ isn’t that right? Just like I believed that you didn’t know where Florence lived, or that this kid didn’t have a tattoo! In case you hadn’t heard, I had a nice little chat with Florence today. She told me how you used to stop over to see her when Billy was alive, and how both Kevin and Billy each got the same tattoo before they went off to college. But you forgot about all of that, didn’t you?”
“Alright, I lied! I know! But it was so you wouldn’t kill an innocent man. I’m telling you for a fact: Kevin didn’t kill Casey.”
“Then explain away the facts that he was at my house, Casey was shot to death, Molly saw him standing over Casey, and the investigators only found one set of fingerprints, which I guarantee you that they are a match to…,” waving the gun at Kevin, “…Shaggy over here.”
Tommy said, “Jordan, have you ever wondered why Sanders let you see the case file?”
“No. Why the hell would I?”
“Because you only saw what he wanted you to see. It was a setup. He’s up to his ass in this whole damn thing, and I think it has to do with Lucien Baxter and that other guy, the one who owns the curio shop. One of them killed Casey.”
Tommy turned to Kevin and asked, “Do you own a flashlight?”
“Why would I? Got an iPhone—at least I used to.”
“They found a flashlight at the crime scene. And when I went back to the house, I saw them lifting a set of prints off it—along with some bloody hair matted to the side.”
Kevin rubbed the back of his head and said, “Oh! Wondered what hit me.”
Tommy continued, “Somebody else was in that house, somebody other than Kevin.
You remember that picture you showed me? That had to be blood, from where Kevin got hit. Why else would it have been tagged at the crime scene and not even mentioned in the report? Sanders pulled the notes, but he forgot to pull the picture.!”
“Or maybe some cop just spilled ketchup from the hotdog that he was chowing down on my front porch.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Look, wouldn’t you like to hear what Kevin has to say? For God’s sake, at least let him tell you what he saw.”
“Alright. But let’s start with why he was there in the first place.”
Tommy blurted out, “Damn it, Jordan. He was there because I sent him there! No one was supposed to be home!”
Jordan’s eyes bored a hole through Tommy’s skull, but he didn’t say a word. He turned away, toward the swash, and stood with his back to Tommy and Kevin, staring out at the water as the moonlight playfully danced off its surface. A couple of minutes passed before Tommy broke the silence by asking, “Jordan, aren’t you gonna say something…Anything?”
Jordan slowly turned around. He calmly looked at Tommy and said, “This is all ab
out the gun, isn’t it? It’s always been about the gun. That’s why we met out here, and that’s why Kevin was at my house that night. You, or maybe Kevin here, shot Luke Baxter with that gun, dumped his body in the swash, and when those kids found it, you knew you had to get the gun back and lose it for good—just in case the ballistics traced it back to you. So, which one of you was it? Who killed Luke Baxter?”
Jordan trained the gun on Tommy as he looked at Kevin and asked, “What do you think, Kev? I say it had to be Tommy here. After all, Baxter was Billy’s pusher, it was his gun, and you…you can’t take a piss without Granny’s help.”
Kevin didn’t say a word. His head dropped, averting Jordan’s stare.
Jordan then moved the gun over to Kevin while asking Tommy, “But then again, why would Kevin help you—unless he’s the one who killed Luke Baxter?” Again, no answer.
Jordan waited while both men stared at the ground in silence. Jordan started to pace back and forth, his temper rising, until he stopped in front of Tommy, leveled his gun, and said, “No, it had to be you…my best friend, my best fucking friend! You used Kevin, just like you used me. You were right, Kevin. He is the one with all the answers. And he screwed both of us!”
Jordan’s finger moved toward the trigger.
A split second passed before Kevin yelled, “No! That’s not how it happened. I shot Luke…here at the swash.”
Jordan lowered the gun, turned to Kevin, and said, “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“Billy and I were driving around in Mr. Reynolds’s new car one night. We stopped here, so Billy could pay money he owed to Lucien Baxter. I was throwing out some empty beer cans when I heard Baxter yelling at Billy, saying that he had ratted him out to Mr. Reynolds. Next thing I know, he sucker-punched Billy, put a real beating on him. Then Luke Baxter came running, from out of nowhere, with a baseball bat. He wound up and was about to take Billy’s head off. I saw the gun in the glovebox, and…I didn’t have a choice, did I?”
Jordan dropped the gun to his side, looked at Tommy, and said, “He’s right, no choice. So why the damn cover up?”
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