“Eh, well, it’s ancient history. Poor kid. He must have felt awful. No wonder he grew up to be such a crackpot.”
Harlan glanced at the second page of the report and observed that it was signed by Investigating Officer J.D. Bentley. Seemed noteworthy enough that J.D. could have at least mentioned the old case while they searched for Chauncey and Darla’s murderer.
“Anything new on the recent Tedder murders?” Harlan asked.
“Not a thing. Alvin’s still leaning on Ed, trying to force a confession, but I have my doubts the guy offed his wife.”
“Lilah doesn’t believe Ed did it, either. I’m inclined to agree.”
This was the case that most disturbed him. Chauncey hadn’t had much time left in his natural life before it was cut short, and he’d had any number of people angry with him at any given time. But Darla was different. She’d left behind three young sons, and there was no apparent reason someone would want her dead, unless you believed it was the result of a domestic dispute. Hard to believe she had been killed over her wedding ring and a few pieces of costume jewelry.
But they weren’t just any old costume jewelry pieces. They specifically belonged to two prior homicide victims murdered over twenty years ago.
There was a connection between all five murders, Harlan felt sure of it. And Lilah could have so easily been the sixth victim. Bile rose at the back of his throat. He couldn’t lose her. Even the thought of her leaving Lavender Mountain again made him sick. Somehow, he’d find a way to convince her to stay. For now, he needed to concentrate on keeping her alive.
“Our best hope of solving these cases is if there’s a fingerprint on the leather bracelet Lilah found.”
Sammy glumly agreed. “But the forensics lab takes forever, and there’s probably too many prints on it to get any clear markings.”
“That’s another reason I came in today,” Harlan said. “J.D. never mailed the bracelet to the lab. I need to get it out.”
“Why would he sit on it?” Sammy asked, lips curling in disgust. “He knows how hard we’ve been working to solve this. We’ve pursued every clue with no luck yet.”
“That’s about to change.”
Sammy leaned forward, eyes lit with anticipation. “What’s up?”
“After I have Zelda log the brake-line package into the evidence log, I’m going to personally deliver it, and the leather bracelet, to the lab in Atlanta. I’ve already called Doug and he’s expecting me.”
Sammy let out a low whistle. “How do you plan on sneaking past the dragon lady? She keeps that evidence room key under close guard.”
“I’ll sweet talk her, bribe her—whatever it takes.”
“Good luck with that,” he said with a snort.
“If all else fails—the woman has to take a bathroom break sometime, right? And I know where she keeps the key.”
“J.D. will have a fit when he finds out.” Sammy’s forehead creased in concern. “You do this and J.D. will make your life hell. That’s if he doesn’t fire you.”
“He won’t fire me.”
“The hell he won’t—”
“Because I’m quitting.” Harlan lifted a sealed envelope he’d brought in with the brake-line package. “Here’s my letter of resignation. Signed, sealed and about to be delivered.”
“Oh, man. Don’t do that! The election’s around the corner and I think you can still win. Everyone knows Alvin’s unfit, even if J.D. did endorse his sorry ass.”
“I said I’m quitting this job, not that I’m dropping out of the race.”
“But... You think that’s wise? I mean, given that Lilah’s expectin’.”
“I’ve lined up an interview for a temporary job.” Harlan hesitated, then decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell Sammy his plans. “That’s another reason I’m driving to Atlanta. The guys at the state troopers headquarters have been trying to recruit me for over a year. I called and told them I was available and they wanted to talk to me right away.”
Sammy shook his head and ran a hand through his dark close-cropped hair. “I’m glad for you, of course, but you’ll sure be missed ’round here. We’ve worked together a long time.”
“Hopefully, I won’t be away but a few months.” Harlan grinned at his old friend. “And when I return, it will be as your new boss.”
“Glad to stay on your good side, then.” Sammy cocked his head at the closed door. “Got the feeling old Alvin isn’t too happy with me right now, consorting with the enemy as it were.”
“Screw Alvin.” He rose from his chair. “Now to charm that evidence key out of Zelda’s tight-fisted hands.”
“Good luck.”
“Go back to your desk and steer clear of what I’m about to do. No sense getting yourself in hot water. Far as anyone knows, you and I have just been in here shootin’ the breeze.”
Sammy rose and shook his hand. “Here’s to solving those cases.”
Harlan waited a couple of minutes after Sammy left, then picked up his items and headed for Zelda’s desk.
She was there, manning the fort as usual. Would have been too much to hope she and J.D. were both gone for the day.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, taking a seat by her desk. An online crossword puzzle showed on her computer monitor.
“What’s a four-letter word for a legendary story?” she asked, not bothering to look up. “Starts with an m.”
“Myth.”
Zelda typed it in and pushed up her bifocals. “Yep, that’ll do it. What are you doing here, Harlan? Boss told you to take off.”
“Being the excellent employee I am, I couldn’t stay away.”
He ignored her snort.
“I’m not staying long. Just want you to enter this package on the evidence log.” He laid the bundle on her desk.
Sighing, she opened the front drawer and pulled out a hardbound notebook, riffling through to the current page. “Here you go.”
Harlan entered his name, date and time, and type of evidence. Zelda’s eyes were slanted toward his entry and he stifled a smile. The indifferent air was an act. She wanted to know everything that went down in the office.
He snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to her.
“Brake line, huh?” Her gray eyes zeroed in on his forehead. “You look awful. Glad you’re okay.”
“I’m touched.” He gave her a wink. “Didn’t know you cared.”
“That so? What are you buttering me up for?”
He feigned innocence. “I’m not. Why don’t you give me the key and I’ll put this up while you finish your puzzle.”
“I’m the only one who goes in there. You know that.”
“Can you make an exception? Just this once?”
Zelda tapped a finger to her lips, considering. “Why you so anxious to do it yourself? Never cared before.”
To hell with charm, maybe honesty would do the trick. “I’ve never had anyone try to kill me before. Would ease my mind to see this package locked up.”
“Newspaper said it was Lilah’s car that wrecked.”
“Would have been more awful if she’d been killed instead of me. Or lost our baby.”
Zelda grimaced and a lone tear ran down her cheek.
What was this? He’d seen her examine the goriest crime photos and bloodied weapons with nary a hitch.
“I forgot about the baby,” she said hoarsely.
Then he remembered. Over twenty years ago, Zelda’s two-year-old grandson had died in a car accident. Even after all these years, she must keep his memory close to the heart. Sometimes he forgot that even the gruffest people in his line of work harbored heartaches just like anyone else. Everyone had vulnerabilities.
Zelda pulled a keychain out of her purse and handed it to him. There was only one key on it. “You do what you have to do.” She cleared her throat and turned b
ack to the computer. “Now let me get back to my puzzle.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He debated touching her arm, but Zelda would probably rather he forget he even witnessed her moment of softness.
Once in the evidence room, he haphazardly tossed the package on the nearest shelf. The real cut brake line from Lilah’s car was safely locked up in his own vehicle. He’d pass it on to Doug to check for fingerprints, along with that leather bracelet—if he could find it. When he’d signed Zelda’s log, he’d peeked at the other entries, and there was no note of a bracelet.
He went to the shelf marked for the current year and month and scanned it. There was a sealed bag of Chauncey’s clothes he’d worn the day he was shot, next to it was a similar bag for Darla’s clothes, and a couple of ominous looking tagged knives seized in an assault.
But no bracelet.
He checked again. Then carefully examined other nearby shelves to see if it had been misplaced.
Nothing.
Damn J.D. What had he done with it? Why didn’t he want it examined? Despite the humidity in the small cramped room, his skin prickled with uneasiness. Perhaps J.D. was involved in more than covering up moonshine and drug operations. If so, trying to solve these cases would be a bigger challenge than he’d imagined.
Harlan locked up the room and returned to Zelda’s desk where a scowling Alvin waited.
“What were you doing in there?” Alvin asked, a waspish edge to his voice.
“Depositing the latest evidence in a case. Who are you to question me?”
Alvin puffed out his chest. “I’m going to be your boss in a few months, unless J.D. fires you first.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Harlan handed Zelda the sealed envelope. “My letter of resignation,” he told her. “Effective immediately.”
Alvin’s jaw slackened for a moment and then he bestowed a smug grin. “Wise decision. Now I suggest you leave. You have no business here.”
He pasted a smile on his face. “That’s okay. I got what I wanted. Take care, Zelda.”
Alvin barely moved enough to get out of his way, and Harlan brushed shoulders with him. He’d never cared much for the guy, but now he’d be impossible to work with.
As he neared the exit, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“I’ll hold on to the letter a few days,” Zelda said. “In case you change your mind.”
Who knew the dragon lady was such a softie? “I won’t, but thanks.”
Harlan pushed open the door and walked into sunshine, feeling lighter. This was the right thing to do. Tension had been building between him and J.D. for months and he didn’t realize how oppressive it had become until resigning. With any luck, he’d have a new job by the end of the day, and new leads on the murders.
* * *
“OUCH.” LILAH YANKED her hand back and frowned at the stinging nettles. “I’ve got something for you,” she muttered. “A good vinegar dousing.”
She stood and stretched. After the heat of the afternoon sun had passed, she’d decided to get some fresh air. It had felt good to weed Harlan’s neglected vegetable patch. Nothing like digging in the dirt to keep her problems at bay. With the exception of the occasional passing vehicle and the sound of the radio from the open living room window, it had been a quiet and productive time.
Lilah started for the house. After soaking the nettles in vinegar, she’d take a nice long bath and then read in bed. Since Harlan was going to grab supper on the road driving back from Atlanta, she’d forego cooking and enjoy a sandwich.
A light flickered. In the deepening twilight, the silhouette of a man walked by the lamp near the couch. Heart clamoring, she climbed down the porch step and flattened her body against the exterior wall. Had he seen her?
The sound of a drawer being jerked open drifted through the screen window. Luckily, he appeared too absorbed in his search to have noticed her. Was he looking for valuables? If so, the thief was plum out of luck. Harlan didn’t keep large amounts of cash lying around.
Her mind raced with questions. Who was it? How had he entered the house without her hearing? True, she hadn’t locked the doors, but it had seemed like she would have seen or heard something.
Whoever it was, he was way too thin to be Harlan. Besides, she’d have noticed him pulling his car in the driveway.
Lilah swiftly debated her options. Her only set of car keys—along with her cell phone—were on the kitchen counter. Escaping to the car or calling for help was a no-go. The nearest neighbor was a mile away. Her gaze traveled to the tree line at the side of Harlan’s property. She could hide there until either the person left or Harlan returned.
But first, she’d have to take a risk and run across the yard. If he saw her...
But what other choice did she have? Wait here until he found her cowering near the window?
She ran, not daring to look back and see if she’d been discovered.
“Lilah? Are you out there?”
That voice again. The same one from the cave. She hit the tree line and scrabbled behind a large oak. One quick glimpse, she promised herself. Just to know if she’d been followed. Carefully, she peeked around the tree.
Lavon leaned out the window; some slight noise must have alerted him to her presence.
So it was her cousin after all. Had Lavon come by to rob them—or did he have a more sinister motive? Perhaps he thought no one was home, that she was out with Harlan or friends.
He was so busted this time.
Seconds later, the front door opened and slammed shut. Lavon ran toward the road and she watched as he jogged around a bend and past her line of vision. He wasn’t carrying anything in his hands that she could see. Was he crazy? More important, was he coming back?
A car roared to life, heading in the opposite direction of Harlan’s house. Lavon must have parked his car down the road and walked here.
What a creep.
Lilah hightailed it back to the house and locked herself inside. Her breath was ragged and her heart scuttled like a frightened rabbit as she slammed down the open window and walked through all the rooms, ensuring all the other windows were down and locked, too. And she still didn’t feel safe. In Harlan’s closet, she grabbed the shotgun from the top shelf, pulled back the slide and checked the chamber.
Whew. Loaded.
She returned to the den and opened the desk drawer Lavon had been messing with. A quart-sized bag of marijuana, a small plastic baggie of white, powdered substance and three rolled joints laid inside. Lilah drew back, as if she’d discovered a coiled rattlesnake prepared to strike. These didn’t belong to Harlan, no way. Lavon had put them there. Quickly, she opened all the other drawers, but nothing else had been tampered with.
How long had he been in the house before she’d noticed? It couldn’t have been too long—she’d gone in for a glass of water about twenty minutes before spotting him. Still, that could have given him time to plant more drugs. Lilah went to the kitchen and opened cabinet drawers. Nothing there.
Just to be safe, she would check the bedrooms and bathrooms, too.
Elliptical beams of white light gashed through the front window, followed immediately by a strobing blue light. The angry crunch of gravel on the driveway sounded as harsh as a million firecrackers exploding.
Lilah went to the window and drew back the curtain an inch. J.D. and Alvin exited the sheriff’s cruiser at the same time.
This was a set up.
Lilah picked up the cell phone on the end table, and then set it back down. No time to call Harlan.
She had all of two seconds to consider her limited options.
Decision made, Lilah grabbed the two baggies and the joints, and she ran to the bathroom. With trembling hands, she emptied the joints and the contents of the baggies into the toilet and flushed.
A pounding sounded from the f
ront door. “Open up!” a voice ordered.
Marijuana buds and leaves still floated on top of the toilet water and she flushed again. Should she risk trying to flush the baggies, too, or would the toilet overrun? She’d rather have a plumbing crisis than a go-to-jail crisis, but an overrunning toilet would alert them to what she’d done.
She took the two baggies and quickly rinsed them in the sink, hoping that got rid of all traces.
“Open the door,” the voice commanded again.
Lilah swiped at the inside of the wet baggies with a towel. She couldn’t just throw them in the trash—too obvious. She flung open the small toiletry cabinet, scanned its contents and then grabbed a box of tampons she’d purchased months ago and left there. Most men seemed to have an unreasonable aversion to female hygiene products, so perhaps stuffing the baggies full of tampons would keep them from examining them too closely.
She placed the baggies in the cabinet and shut the door. A quick glance at the toilet and she drew a deep breath. No residue, but she flushed it again for good measure. There—that was the best she could do. Feeling like a low-class criminal, she went to the front door toting a gun in one hand, cell phone in the other. Quickly, she pressed Harlan’s number only to reach his voice mail. She left a terse message. “Get home quick. There’s a drug bust and you’ve been framed.”
Lilah jerked open the door.
J.D.’s face was stern, and Lilah involuntarily swallowed hard. Next to him, Alvin mimicked J.D.’s hard set to his mouth. What a pip-squeak.
J.D. thrust a paper at her midsection. “I have a subpoena to search this house for drugs and drug paraphernalia. Move aside, please.”
She took a step back and let the paperwork fall to the floor. The sheriff walked in first with Alvin close behind.
“Where’s Harlan?” J.D. asked.
“Be home any minute.” At least, she hoped so.
“You take the kitchen and I’ll start in this room,” J.D. said, pointing at Alvin.
From the kitchen, she heard Alvin opening drawers and cabinet doors. J.D. made a pretense of lifting sofa cushions and examining objects on the fireplace mantle. Only a matter of time before he went to the desk that straddled the den and the kitchen. Did Lavon have time to plant anything else? Surely the stuff he’d left was more than enough to get Harlan fired from any job in law enforcement—ever—and maybe even jail time. And he could just forget his dream of becoming sheriff.
Appalachian Prey (Lavender Mountain Book 1; Appalachian Magic) Page 15