One Little Lie

by Colleen Coble

  “You’ve got something?”

  “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

  Nicole tried on several cocktail dresses, so maybe Paul was helping her choose something for a cruise. The background changed to nighttime, and she slowed the frames even more. A bulky figure moved in front of one of the small lights along the floor, but she couldn’t make out any detail. A flash of white came, and the recording went to snow.

  “Malfunction or something more sinister?”

  “I don’t know.” She copied the file and emailed it to herself. “I’ll have the forensic team examine it.”

  Reid followed her back into the showroom and to the front door. She patted her thigh so Parker joined her before she pushed open the door and stepped out into the rain. “Might as well grab lunch while we’re here, and maybe the weather will clear.”

  And it was safer to talk about food than about relationships. She didn’t want to get to know this infuriating man anyway.

  * * *

  The aroma of tomato sauce and spices hit Reid in the face when he slipped in the door of Pelican Pizza behind Jane as the skies let loose in a deluge. He shook the water from his head. “Whew, that’s a downpour of biblical proportions.”

  Jane’s hazel eyes flicked over his wet face. “Need another napkin?”

  “I’ll dry.”

  She didn’t reply and spent a few moments settling Parker down by the front window out of the way of other patrons.

  Reid went to the counter, and she joined him. “What kind of pizza you want?” he asked.

  “I can buy my own.”

  “You can buy next time. I think I’ll try a seafood one.”

  “It’s fabulous. The shrimp, lobster, and crab are all local. I’ll have the same.” Jane grabbed a paper towel from the counter and wiped her wet face. “I’ll have sweet tea too.”

  “Already have it for you, Jane.” The man behind the counter handed a glass to her. In his thirties, he had sleepy brown eyes and an easy smile. “I hear congratulations are in order, Chief Hardy. Well done.”

  “Thank you, Troy. I’m still trying to absorb it.”

  “How’s your dad doing? I haven’t seen him for a few days.”

  Jane smiled. “I haven’t seen him in a few days myself. He’s probably busy enjoying retirement.”

  “Your dad’s a good man. I’ll never forget how he helped me get this business started.”

  “He was glad to do it.” Jane wandered over by the big windows and pulled out a chair at a table for two.

  The man handed Reid his tea. “I’ll bring the pizza to your table.”

  Reid thanked him and joined Jane. “Your dad helped him start his restaurant?”

  She nodded. “Troy’s dad went to prison for murdering one of Dad’s deputies, and his mother and sister were killed in a car accident when Troy was in college. Troy and his younger brother were left without a family. This place came up for sale while Troy was assistant manager. Dad spotted him the down payment, and Troy paid it back within a year.

  “And my best detective, Brian, is his brother. Troy helped put Brian through school, then asked Dad to give him a job. Best decision Dad ever made. Brian’s womanizing makes me want to pull out my hair, but he’s a terrific detective. He can sniff out clues like Parker sniffs out squirrels.”

  “Your dad’s retirement was a surprise?” He kept his tone light so he didn’t give away his interest.

  “It came out of the blue a month ago. He’s so larger than life I forget he’s getting older.”

  Her gaze drifted to a group of four teenage boys at the next table. The longing and fascination on her face caught Reid’s attention.

  “You have any kids?” Her lashes swept down, but not before he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “Sorry, that was probably too personal.”

  “It’s fine. No kids, though I love them.”

  He pulled up his video camera and trained it on her face. “So what’s next in your investigation?”

  To her credit she didn’t frown or grimace. “We wait for the autopsy report. Brian will get it and forward it to me. We take what we can find out from it and begin to interview people who might be able to help us identify the victim.”

  “You don’t think the autopsy will give you the victim’s identity?”

  The camera loved her angular bone structure and the long column of neck. She seemed to relax in spite of his videotaping her every movement.

  “We could get lucky and catch a hit on DNA, but that doesn’t happen often. It usually takes a lot of hard grunt work, talking to people and combing through missing person’s reports to discover the victim’s identity.”

  “How long have you been in law enforcement?”

  “It feels like all my life.” She looked up and smiled as a boy barely out of his teens brought their pizza. “I inherited my dad’s love of justice and graduated with a degree in criminal justice from the University of Alabama. It was near enough that I could come home on the weekends sometimes.”

  “Sounds like you and your dad are close.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not as close as you might think. Not for lack of trying on my part, though. Dad is . . . difficult to get to know.”

  “I think we have that in common.”

  Her gaze flicked up to lock with his. “You had a difficult father?”

  “A lot of people respected him, almost worshipped him. He expected more out of me than a kid could give, and in the end he failed a lot of people, including me. I constantly feel like I need to atone for what he did.” Reid shook his head. “I’ve often wondered if there’s something to that whole biblical thing of sins of the father affecting my life.”

  He’d never voiced that fear to anyone, but Jane was easy to talk to.

  “My friend Olivia would say that’s crazy talk, that God doesn’t work that way.”

  “And what do you say about it?”

  “I’m not the person to ask.” Her voice held a warning to back off.

  The aroma of seafood made his mouth water, and he realized he was famished. The crust was thin and crisp, just the way he liked it, and held exactly the right amount of cheese. Instead of tomato sauce, the pizza’s white sauce was a perfect complement to the seafood.

  “Best pizza ever,” he mumbled past a mouthful.

  She nodded. “It’s my favorite.”

  They ate in companionable silence for several minutes. He wiped his mouth and fingers, then picked up his camera again. “Why’d you decide to try for the chief’s job? There aren’t many female police chiefs. Did that play a part?”

  “Not much actually. I have a strong sense of justice, and I hate to see crimes hurt good people.”

  “How did that dedication toward justice start?” At her pensive expression, his heart began to thump. Would she tell him about her earlier life?

  She took a sip of her tea and peered at him over the top of her glass. “Did you ever see the movie Armageddon?”

  “Sure. Great movie. Bruce Willis is one of my favorite actors.”

  “That was the first movie I ever saw. It sounds stupid, but it made me want to be someone who steps forward to help when all seems lost. All those guys who were willing to go up to space and try to destroy the asteroid were not the hero type. Most of them had majorly messed up their lives. But that one act of courage changed the course of history.” She stared down at her glass.

  “How old were you when you saw it?”

  “Nearly fifteen.”

  His pulse throbbed in his throat. “No Disney princess movies before that?”

  He could see the wheels turning behind those beautiful eyes, but she wasn’t going to tell him anything more. As far as he could tell, she didn’t talk about her past. He’d hoped she’d open up about it, but it was locked inside like an iron vault.

  He clicked off his camera. “I won’t use any of that, but I think it’s great to want to be a hero. Did you have major mess-ups you wanted to atone for?”

  She
looked up, and her hazel eyes went wide. “Very perceptive. I’ll admit I was recovering from some trauma when we came here. I’ve felt like a major failure for a long time. I couldn’t even—”

  When she stopped, he leaned forward. “You couldn’t what?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important. I just want to help people. That sounds corny, I know.”

  “It actually sounds great.” Aware his stare was too intense, he reached for his glass of tea. “So you don’t want political power or anything like that?”

  She grimaced. “I hate politics. That’s the worst part of this job—I have to play by the mayor’s rules, which is why you’re here. I can’t stand insincerity, and the thought of putting myself out there like that gives me hives. But if I want this job, I have to do it. And I do want it.”

  “What do you think about being a role model for young girls who want to go into law enforcement?”

  “I don’t think it’s a gender thing at all. It’s more a heart thing. All of us need to do what we feel called to do.”

  “And this is your calling? You could have continued to be a detective and brought law breakers to justice.”

  “As chief I have the ability to oversee many more projects and make sure things are done right.”

  “Your dad didn’t do things right?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “My dad was a great chief, and he instilled that sense of justice in me. I want to continue his great work here.”

  “So lots of reasons to take the job of chief of police for you.”

  “Yes, I guess there are. I never really thought about it in such detail. It seemed something I was supposed to do.”

  “God-given task maybe?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know that God played any role in it. He doesn’t seem to listen to me.”

  “You don’t believe God plays a role in human events?”

  She picked up a napkin and began to tear it into strips. “Let’s just say he’s never been there when I needed him.” She tossed down the napkin. “How’d we get on a topic like that? I think I’ll go back to my office and see if the autopsy results have come through.”

  Reid rose. “I’ve got some errands to run, so think I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you hear anything interesting.”

  Seven

  What was he doing outside her dad’s property? After Reid had left Jane in her office, he hadn’t been able to resist the impulse to come out here. He drove up to the compound’s big iron gate. It was a beautiful afternoon with birds chirping and puffy clouds floating across a blue sky. There was an access-control system at the gate, so he rolled down his window and pressed the speaker button.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” the disembodied male voice demanded.

  “Um, I’m Reid Dixon, a journalist. I’m preparing a piece on your daughter and would like to speak to you.”

  The man didn’t answer, but the gate swung open, and Reid drove through two more gates without codes before he was able to park in front of the house. Charles was clearly very security conscious. Nice place, though. Moss added a delicate touch to the water oak trees lining the drive, and more oaks interspersed with pine and cedar trees appeared in the forest to his left.

  He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

  The house was a large two-story foursquare built in the 1920s from the look of it. A new green metal roof topped the brick home. The porch looked like it had been built with the new composite or plastic that was supposed to last forever. Charles had spent some money out here on his prepper compound. The fever to be prepared had driven him all these years.

  Reid shut off the engine and waited to see if Charles would come to the door with a gun. A burly man Reid recognized instantly stepped through the screen door. His thick, shaggy white hair touched the tops of his ears. He had a bushy white mustache and eyebrows, and he wore overalls without a shirt. Not exactly the normal cop image.

  Charles shaded his eyes from the sun and put his hand on the butt of a gun at his waist. “Step out where I can see you.”

  Once a lawman, always a lawman. Reid pushed open his door and got out. “Thanks for letting me in, sir. I’m working on a documentary about small-town police departments and have spent most of the day with your daughter. I wondered if I might ask you a few questions.”

  Charles moved his hand away from his gun and grunted. “I guess it’s all right. I’ve worked for a small police force for a lot of years. Have a seat on the porch.”

  Reid retrieved his video camera and brought it with him. The porch held several rockers with side tables and a swing. Charles chose a rocker, so Reid settled in the one beside him.

  “Mind if I video our interview?”

  Charles shrugged. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  Reid secured his camera on the tripod. “What are some of the challenges of working in a small force?”

  “Biggest thing is there’s no real downtime. When you’re one of five officers, every break-in, every minor infraction results in a call to home after hours. There’s never really any off-time. And when you know everyone, it can be hard if you need to arrest your friends and neighbors. We often don’t have the budget for supplies to protect us. I’ve been lobbying for patrol cameras for a long time. We just got some portable mics, which is a step in the right direction, but there are so many things we don’t have that would make officers safer.”

  “Your retirement came suddenly. Got tired of all of that?”

  “I’m getting older. It’s time to spend my time fishing and enjoying life.” Charles narrowed his eyes a moment, then he looked away.

  Could a medical diagnosis have pushed him this direction? Even Jane seemed surprised he’d retired so abruptly.

  Charles leaned back and propped a boot on the porch railing. “I think I’ve seen some of your documentaries. The one on cults was interesting. You seemed to ask all the right questions.”

  Reid’s pulse stuttered. “I had some good input.” He gestured toward the big barn in the distance. “I heard you’re one of those preppers. People say you have enough supplies to feed the town if disaster strikes.”

  “Maybe not the whole town, but I can take care of my family.”

  “You just have your daughter?”

  Charles nodded. “For now. I keep thinking she might marry one day and give me grandkids, but the girl doesn’t even date. Her early life—” He stopped and looked toward the barn.

  “Her early life?” Maybe now was the time to reveal more about the past and why he was really here.

  “Not important.” Charles rose. “Getting on toward dinnertime. I hope you got enough for your documentary.”

  Reid lowered his camera. “It was very helpful. Thank you.” Now wasn’t the time.

  Charles crossed massive arms over his chest. “Don’t forget to shut the gate when you leave.”

  “I will.” No more small talk. Charles had had enough of a stranger prying into his life.

  At least he hadn’t pressed Reid on his knowledge of cults.

  * * *

  To keep from worrying about Olivia, Jane spent most of the afternoon going through paperwork and organizing different investigations. She’d sent the video from the wedding shop to forensics at the state police department, but it would be a while before they could tell her if it contained any evidence.

  What had gotten into her to reveal so much to Reid? She wished she could take it back, and when he left after lunch, she’d been glad to see the back of him.

  Her office began to take shape with Post-it Notes stuck onto a bulletin board outlining the two crimes she was investigating. Her dad might have a heart attack if he knew she’d littered his perfectly organized space. When quitting time rolled around, it looked transformed. Her final action was to put a picture on her desk. It was of her mother and dad standing on either side of her when she was about three. They were standing on the porch of their cabin and smiling. They seemed happy.

  Jane touched h
er mother’s face. Where was she now? Dead like her father claimed? She’d tried to find her mom over the years, but she had no luck. Her dad told her to leave it alone, but it was like a splinter festering under her fingernail—something that needed to be tended to and dug out.

  Someday she would find out.

  It had been a long day, and she was about to head for home when her phone rang with a call from the Alabama Department of Forensic Sciences. Finally.

  “This is Chief Hardy.”

  “We were able to slip in your torso autopsy this afternoon, Chief. I have those results for you and your detective, but I thought I’d call you directly. We got an immediate hit when we did rapid DNA. I emailed the results over to you.”

  A DNA hit? She had been sure they wouldn’t be able to identify him. “I really appreciate you getting to him. Could you tell how he died?”

  “We can’t make a definitive ruling without the head, but I’m willing to say I think he was beaten to death with what I think was a golf club from the cuts and contusions.”

  “The dismemberment was postmortem?”

  “Yes.”

  Rather than continue to question the tech, she thanked her and ended the call.

  City hall was quiet at seven o’clock at night. Most employees had left by five, and though there were only four other officers on the police force, one or two might be hanging around listening to Dispatch. She hoped for a quiet night.

  Jane scanned through her inbox and found the autopsy report. Her victim was Gary Dawson. He’d recently been arrested for skimming money and equipment from his employer. She’d look up the arrest documents when she got back from talking to the widow. She ran a search for his address and found it in Mobile, then went back to the autopsy.

  Two details stopped her short. A Kennedy half-dollar had been found tucked in the front of the gown. What was that all about? And a note had been pinned inside the gown that read Vow Breaker. Her pulse quickened. The vigilante? Since this Dawson was accused of being a vow breaker, maybe the wedding dress implied he’d broken his wedding vows. Adultery maybe?