by Rachel Woods
The sky overhead had darkened as she’d made the drive from Oyster Farms to Kevin’s apartment, located in one of the neighborhoods surrounding the university. Thirty minutes ago, when she left the house, she’d done so with reluctance and apprehension.
Again, she was embarking on another potentially dangerous quest to prove she hadn’t killed Eamon Taylor but what choice did she have? Noelle hadn’t wanted to contend with Kevin Cook by herself. She’d hoped Beanie would be able to accompany her, but when she’d tried to reach him, he hadn’t responded to any of her repeated attempts. Desperate, she’d called the Palmchat Gazette and had been told Beanie was covering a meeting at the mayor’s office where all attendees were required to turn off their cell phones.
After calling her mother to watch the boys, Noelle left email and voicemail messages for Beanie and then headed out, promising her mother she would be back shortly.
Staring through the rain-streaked glass at the massive Colonial plantation home, Noelle tried to shake off the feelings of dread. Low dark thunderheads rolled across the sky, swallowing the blue skies and sunshine that had started the day. Was it a sign? Maybe she should turn around and go home? As she’d navigated the streets, she’d gone back and forth, from hesitation to determination. One second, she was convinced Kevin Cook was a liar trying to set her up and the next she was telling herself she had to get the proof Kevin claimed to have about the PC-5 killing Eamon.
Tapping her nails on the steering wheel, Noelle sighed.
Could the PC-5 have killed Eamon? She’d thought so herself, at one time. After her confrontation with Grady Palmer in the airport hangar, she’d abandoned that theory. But, then Octavia had informed them of the debt Eamon owed to the gang—a debt he’d been struggling to pay—and she had to revisit the theory.
Noelle’s father had once been a fearsome PC-5 “collection specialist,” punishing those who were in arrears to the gang. When she’d been part of the gang, she heard stories of her father’s brutality and his legend had afforded her grudging respect.
Her dad would know if the PC-5 killed Eamon. Josue Chartres was behind bars, though, and Noelle didn’t want to see him. The father who’d rarely been in her life might have the answers she needed but asking for Josue’s help was a risk she probably shouldn’t take.
Resolved to push away her fears, Noelle exited the SUV and dashed through the pattering rain to the main double doors of the large house. Before she lost her nerve, she pressed the buzzer for Kevin’s apartment.
Thinking of risks she probably shouldn’t take, meeting Kevin alone was definitely one. Beanie would be pissed when he found out but she was here now, and the door had just opened. Noelle entered the foyer. Though the home had been renovated into apartments, there were still remnants of its function as the massive mansion of an upper echelon colonist, his family and an army of indentured servants.
Heading up the stairway, Noelle felt the fear and panic slipping away and being replaced by the Handweg attitude. Once, she’d been a badass, and maybe it was time to call up those old reserves she’d tried so hard to pretend she’d never relied on. She couldn’t let Kevin Cook scare her. Maybe he had killed Eamon, and he was trying to set her up, and if that was true, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let him know she wasn’t weak and spineless. In the past, she had to fight for herself because there was no one else to fight for her, and if she didn’t fight, she wouldn’t survive.
Chapter Forty-Five
As he walked into the Palmchat Gazette newsroom, Beanie stared at his cell phone, his apprehension growing as he stared at the missed texts from Noelle.
At his desk, Beanie found a message put there by the receptionist. Noelle called. Urgent that you call her back ASAP.
“Another snorefest at the mayor’s budget meeting?” asked Stevie, taking a seat on the corner of Beanie’s desk. “Glad I don’t have to cover that boring crap. All that droning on and on about …”
Barely registering Stevie’s remarks, Beanie dropped into his creaky leather chair and accessed the first text Noelle had sent an hour ago. Where are you? Need to talk to you about Kevin Cook. Important. Call me back.
Ten minutes later, another text from Noelle read: Why aren’t you answering your phone? Kevin claims PC5 killed Eamon and he has proof. Wants to meet at his apartment.
Fifteen minutes and then another text: Called mom to watch the boys while I go to Kevin’s. call me or meet me there.
“Shit!” Beanie slammed his fist on the desk. “Why the hell would she do this again after what happened the last time?”
Stevie jumped. “What’s the matter?”
“No time to explain.” Beanie jumped up and strode around his desk. “Do me a favor, Stevie?”
Nodding, Stevie said, “What do you need?”
“Can I borrow your car?”
Stevie gaped at him. “My 'rari?”
“Never mind.” Beanie cursed under his breath. He’d forgotten that Stevie drove an impossibly impractical Italian sports car. “I’ll borrow Caleb’s. He around?”
“Breakroom,” said Stevie. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Call Officer Fields at the police department,” said Beanie, dictating the instructions over his shoulder as he hurried toward the employee lounge. “I need him to meet me at Kevin Cook’s apartment. He’ll know the address. Tell him it could be a matter of life and death.”
“Life and death?” asked Stevie as he followed Beanie.
Stopping abruptly, Beanie faced Stevie whose stricken panicked expression mirrored the emotions Beanie struggled to control. “My wife is going to get herself killed …”
Chapter Forty-Six
Three quick, firm knocks on Kevin’s attic apartment, and the door opened.
Noelle stepped back, startled.
“Hi, Dr. Bean.”
“Matt?” Noelle was confused. “What are you doing here? Is Kevin around?”
“Kevin asked me to pick him up from the airport,” explained Matt, switching his backpack from one shoulder to the other. “He’s in the study back there. Down the hall, second door on the right.”
“Thanks,” said Noelle, noting Matt’s anxious expression and the way he seemed to be avoiding her gaze. He’d displayed the same nervousness at the Collister building, when he, Tina, and Jimmy had announced themselves, collectively, as the anonymous tipster.
“Well, um, I have a lab …” Matt cleared his throat and stepped over the threshold. “So, I guess I’ll see you.”
“Matt, wait,” said Noelle, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Did you tell Kevin about the anonymous tips to the Palmchat Gazette.”
Shoulders lumping, Matt exhaled. “Only because I didn’t want him to be blindsided when the cops came to talk to him.”
Nodding, Noelle said, “So, you gave him a heads up?”
“I don’t think he killed Eamon Taylor,” said Matt, his voice low and a bit defensive. “I don’t care what Tina and Jimmy said. Kevin didn’t do it. Whoever killed Eamon is probably somebody we don’t even know. The guy did have a life away from the university. And I don’t mean to say bad stuff about the dead, but he was from a bad neighborhood. He could have been mixed up with criminals. How do we know? People don’t tell you everything about themselves.”
“You’re right,” said Noelle, thinking of the things her friends and colleagues didn’t know about her and the secrets about her past she’d kept from Beanie.
“Anyway, like I said, Kevin’s in the study.” His expression sullen, Matt walked away from her and headed down the stairs.
Stepping into Kevin’s apartment, Noelle felt the fear and panic returning. She should have asked Matt to stay with her while she talked to Kevin. More and more, she was starting to believe Kevin wasn’t the killer, but her apprehension was still strong as she took a few tentative steps into the spacious living area. Like most plantation homes from the early eighteenth century, the attic was large and roomy with slightly above average ceilings. Attics had often
been used as servants’ quarters or storage rooms where large quantities of household supplies were kept.
Turning, Noelle went back to the door. She couldn’t leave it open, but she didn’t want to be closed in the apartment with Kevin. She decided to leave the door open a crack. She hoped Kevin would be quick about showing her the proof, but she couldn’t rule out that he might have tricked her into coming to his apartment to try to hurt her. She couldn’t ignore Beanie’s belief that Kevin had killed Eamon Taylor and Ted Chen. If that turned out to be true, and she had to run for her life, Noelle didn’t want a closed and locked door to become an obstacle.
Anxious to uncover the proof Kevin claimed to have, Noelle headed to the study and knocked on the door, which was opened slightly. She called out to Kevin and then pushed the door open. The room, which had probably originally been a bedroom, was empty but she heard the shower going behind a door in the corner.
For a moment, Noelle wondered why Kevin would jump in the shower when he knew she was coming to talk about his proof, but she remembered the end of their conversation. She hadn’t confirmed that she would meet him. For all Kevin knew, she could have decided she didn’t believe him.
Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it from the purse hanging from her shoulder. A text. Hoping it was from Beanie, she accessed it. Realizing it was from Sarah Linde, Noelle tempered her disappointment and irritation. The things she’d recently learned about Sarah were disturbing. Noelle’s opinion of the babysitter had soured, but she couldn’t be judgmental and hypocritical, especially considering her own secrets.
Reading the text, Noelle frowned.
dr. bean its sarah just remembering something. The night when kevin came to give me the book i needed matt was with him. Maybe matt used your computer?
Interesting, but Noelle wasn’t shocked because Matt and Kevin were good friends. Could Kevin have directed Matt to create the fake email accounts? Possibly, but if so, then Noelle would have to revisit, again, the theory that Kevin was the killer and had set her up. She was still struggling to view Kevin as the killer so how could she think he’d convinced Matt to do his dirty work?
Exhaling, Noelle glanced toward the shower as she crossed the room to a bookshelf.
She suspected Eamon Taylor had directed Sarah Linde to create the fake email account. And now, Sarah was probably panicking, probably afraid of someone uncovering her part in Eamon’s scam.
Noelle was convinced Eamon had put a plan in motion to extort money from her by claiming she’d sexually harassed him. Obviously, Eamon had recognized Sarah’s obsession with him and had taken advantage of it. He’d manipulated Sarah into helping him, but when he wouldn’t return Sarah’s affections, the young woman had killed him.
After her talk with Kevin, Noelle planned to stop by Octavia’s suite at the Queen Palm. Hopefully, Kevin’s proof would be substantial and would also support Noelle’s theory about Sarah Linde as Eamon’s killer.
Noelle accessed the recording app on her phone—one of Beanie’s journalism tricks—and placed the phone on the second highest shelf. Kevin wouldn’t notice it, but their conversation would be recorded loud and clear for Octavia and the police.
Lightening flashed, and the subsequent crash of thunder made Noelle gasp. Rubbing her arms, she walked to the closed bathroom door. Kevin was certainly taking a long shower. Should she knock? Admonishing herself to be patient, she turned.
Matt loomed in front of her, his expression as cold and menacing as the gun he pointed at her.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Sit down, Dr. Bean,” ordered Matt.
Confused and terrified, Noelle followed his directive, backing toward the couch. Wary, watching him, she sank down on the cushioned seat. What the hell was happening? Why was Matt pointing a gun at her? Nothing made sense. Why had Matt come back into the apartment? He’d told her he was leaving to go to a class. Why would he come back with a gun? Had Kevin told him to pull a gun on her?
Noelle wrestled with emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She’d made another dangerous mistake, coming to see Kevin alone. The worse part was she’d known she was doing something foolish, but she’d done it anyway. Once again, thinking she was still badass, she’d put her life in grave danger.
“Finally, me and you, bitch,” said Matt, giving her a cruel smirk.
“Where is Kevin?”
“Forget about him,” said Matt. “Kevin is no longer with us.”
“Kevin!” Noelle screamed, panic exploding within her. “Kevin, help—”
“Shut up!” Matt roared, and with two long strides, the gun was inches from her face. “Kevin can’t help you, Dr. Bean. He never could and now he never will.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s dead.”
Noelle’s stomach lurched. “What? No … the shower …”
“Oh, I left it running after I got out of it,” said Matt with a shrug and a chuckle. “There was a lot of blood. I had to wash it all off me. Couldn’t walk around looking like Carrie.”
Shivering, Noelle shook her head.
“What? Don’t believe me?” Matt asked. “Take a look for yourself.”
Noelle froze.
“Go ahead, Dr. Bean,” encouraged Matt. “Look in the bathroom, and you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
Shaking her head, Noelle said, “No, I don’t—”
“Do it!” Matt ordered, his harsh command followed by more booming thunder. “Get up and go look in the bathroom and you will see that I am telling the truth!”
Noelle stood. Legs shaking, she side-stepped to the bathroom door. Her mind whirled with thoughts of escape. She had to get out of Kevin’s apartment. She couldn’t let Matt kill her but he had a gun, and he was blocking her pathway out of the study.
“Open the damn door!”
Jumping, Noelle complied. The door swung back, and she stifled a scream, pressing a palm against her mouth, trying not to vomit. Blood was everywhere—splashed and splattered all over the washbasin and toilet and the shower, still sending a fine steamy spray into the tub.
Kevin Cook was drowned in blood. Pooling beneath his pale, naked body, the blood seeped from several deep, mangled stabs slashed across his face, throat, chest, and thighs.
Noelle slammed the door shut on the gruesome scene and faced Matt. “Why would you kill Kevin? He’s your friend.”
“Kevin is an ungrateful asshole,” raged Matt. “I pick him up from the airport and how does he thank me? He accuses me of killing Eamon and claims to have proof which he won't show the police if I give him an exorbitant amount of money. Can you believe the bastard tried to blackmail me? That wasn’t the original plan. The original plan was to blackmail you.”
“Blackmail me? I don’t understand?”
“Because you’re a dumb, clueless bitch, that’s why you don’t understand,” said Matt. “But I’ll explain. I picked Kevin up from the airport, and he gets in the car with this idea to extort money from you using some evidence he supposedly has that the PC-5 killed Eamon.”
“That’s why I came here,” said Noelle. “Kevin said he had proof that the PC-5 killed Eamon. If I wanted the proof, I had to come to his apartment and get it.”
“He didn’t lie to you,” said Matt. “He did have proof. A letter from one of Eamon’s old girlfriends. She warned Eamon that he was on the PC-5 death list, whatever the hell that is.”
Noelle knew about the dreaded death list. Each week, PC-5 enforcers were given a list of names, targets they were responsible for taking care of, people who had incurred the wrath of the gang and had been marked for death.
Noelle had once seen her father drawing lines through the names of the people he’d killed. Later, when she was a teenager, she’d learned the grisly red smears had been the blood of his victims, a horrific PC-5 requirement.
“Anyway, Kevin was supposed to blackmail you,” said Matt. “But then he wanted to blackmail me, too.”
“How was he going to blackmail you?�
�
“Kevin found my manifesto.”
Noelle shivered as she stared into Matt’s cold eyes. “Your manifesto?”
Shrugging, Matt said, “I had a notebook where I wrote down how I planned to kill Eamon and blame you for it. Two birds, one stone, I titled it. I must have left the notebook here or something. Kevin read it and made copies. Then he tells me that I can pay him for the copies or he’ll give them to the cops for free.”
“That’s why you killed him.”
“Actually,” said Matt. “I killed Kevin because he was an arrogant, lazy, entitled bastard who thought he was smarter than everybody, but that wasn’t true. Kevin was not the smartest. And Eamon sure as hell wasn’t. I, Matthew Delaney, am the smartest and everyone knows that but they won’t admit it.”
Shrinking back against the couch, Noelle tried to think of a way to escape, but Matt’s deranged expression and psychotic ranting was paralyzing.
“I, Matthew Delaney, am the smartest,” Matt raved on, “but for some reason, you didn’t see that. You didn’t want to see it. I am the one who deserved the job at Palmchat Pharmacy because I’m smarter than Eamon and Kevin and Sarah and Tina and Jimmy and all the rest of them! But you didn’t want to admit that, Dr. Bean. All you wanted to see was Eamon Taylor. Good-looking Eamon! That dumbass island thug gets the job over me because you want to bang his brains out!”
Noelle shook her head. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Matt cocked his head. “You sent him all those disgusting emails telling him how bad you wanted him to be inside you.”
“I never sent those emails,” said Noelle, covertly trying to glance around the room, scanning for a weapon, anything she could use to get away.
Matt laughed. “Yeah, I know, you didn’t send them. I sent them to Eamon for you.”
“You created that fake doctor sexy MILF account on my home computer,” said Noelle, burgeoning anger joining her terror.