“Wow,” Chip said. “Hitting a woman doesn’t sound like the Gary I remember.”
“Well, according to Linda, he’s got serious anger-management issues, which forced her to give up on the marriage. She insisted he go into therapy, but he refused. After the last incident, she got scared and let him have all the marital assets, except the family dog, a deaf dalmatian.” Lana glanced up from her notes. “She even claims he kicked the dog.”
“I found a giant hole punched into a wall in the hallway,” Chip said. “Looked deliberate and new. There was still plaster on the carpet that hadn’t been vacuumed.”
Lana leaned toward Chip. “Excellent work. That’s more proof that Gary has violent tendencies.”
“Or he could have had one too many, tripped and rammed his shoulder into the wall.”
“Maybe. Anything else?”
“The bathroom smelled strongly of bleach, as if scrubbed recently. I doubt Gary would clean for my benefit.”
“Unless he had something to hide,” Lana said. Like a meth lab.
“I don’t know.” Chip shook his head. “It’s a stretch to go from spousal abuse to murder.”
“Is it?” Lana sat back. “Think about it. You say Gary was bullied during high school, right?”
“Right.”
“So consider this. Gary somehow found the courage and the opportunity to turn the tables on his tormentor. He might have planned the attack for weeks or months. Killing Dan would have given him a real rush, and he becomes the new aggressor, especially on women, anyone weaker than him. That’s how bullies work.”
Chip stared at her. “That’s a big leap.”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but it fits.”
“How did Gary overpower Dan? With a gun?”
Lana hesitated. Time to decide. If she wanted Chip to help her in this investigation—and she did need his help to go through with her plan—she had to trust him. Trusting him meant sharing information the public didn’t know.
She took a deep breath. “Dan’s autopsy revealed he’d been tased. The medical examiner found an obvious mark.”
“Tased, huh.” Chip swept a hand through his hair. “That’s why you said even Cindy could have committed the murder.”
“Exactly. A Taser changes everything.”
“So would a gun.”
“But Dan wasn’t shot. The information about a Taser was deliberately kept out of the newspaper reports, so please don’t say anything. I didn’t know about it until I got access to the department’s files.”
“I don’t suppose there’s a record of citizens who purchase Tasers like there is for guns.”
“There is, yes, and I can’t find one. But he could have obtained one illegally.” She sighed. “For that matter, he could have obtained a gun illegally, too. Anyone can if they want one badly enough.”
Chip sat back and stared at the computer. “But this is just a lot of supposition based on little or, frankly, no evidence.”
“Nothing admissible in court,” she agreed. “I’m working out a theory. That’s what detectives do.”
“The world is full of bullies and men who abuse their wives. They’re not all murderers.”
“But some are. Anyway, it’s a place to start. We need to find the proof.”
He leaned forward again. “Why are you so convinced the murderer was someone on the football team?”
Lana jumped to her feet and, from his reaction, she knew her quick movement had startled him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m going to make some more tea.” She hurried into the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? Maybe some water?”
“Do you have any coffee?”
“No,” she said, making a mental note to buy coffee for Chip as she turned the stove on high to boil water. She shot him a glance, and he observed her with an expression that said he didn’t trust her.
“Just some water, then,” he said.
She made him a glass of ice water and carried it to the table. She needed to stop dancing around and either go all in with Chip or find someone else to help her. Or concoct a new plan.
She handed him the glass. “Do you remember reading that Dan’s championship ring was stolen?”
“Yeah, sure.” Chip sipped his water. “We were all pissed about that.”
“Well, that’s the only thing that went missing that night,” she said, watching for his reaction.
“The only thing?” Chip lowered his water. “Seriously?”
She nodded.
“You’re saying his wallet wasn’t taken?”
“Nothing else was taken. That’s one reason I’m convinced the murderer was someone on the team. All they wanted was that championship ring.”
CHAPTER TEN
CHIP SWALLOWED HARD. Everyone, including him, had always believed Dan’s murder had been a robbery gone horribly wrong, probably because the fool had resisted. But a robbery made no sense if the thief had taken nothing but his ring. Yeah, it was a nice ring, but come on.
“The murderer didn’t even remove the cash from Dan’s wallet?” Chip asked.
“Nope.”
“So it wasn’t a mugging, then.”
“No. And a knifing is a personal way to kill someone. The perp has to get close and have a lot of anger. It’s messy.” She averted her gaze. “Very messy.”
“I get that,” Chip said, realizing she’d seen photos of her brother’s dead body.
“And Dan didn’t die right away.” She swallowed. “He bled out.”
“Jeez.” Chip exhaled slowly. He’d always assumed—hoped—the end had been quick and sudden for Dan. But he’d endured a slow, painful death, and the dude had to know he was dying. No one deserved that.
No wonder Lana needed to nail his murderer. But this was so not the type of conversation Chip wanted to be having with her.
“The original detectives hypothesized that the murderer could have waited with my brother and watched him die,” Lana continued.
A chill traveled up Chip’s spine, and he gulped water. If the murderer was Gary, he’d exacted the ultimate revenge on his bully. Had Gary taunted Dan as he lay dying?
“Is there any actual evidence of that?” Chip asked.
“Spoken like a lawyer. But no, nothing concrete. Again, it’s a theory. Do you remember where Dan’s body was found?”
Chip remembered only too well. “Way west on Eighth Street, in the Everglades. A couple of us went out to the spot later.”
Lana grabbed her pen. “Who’d you go with?”
“Carlos and Bubba. We bought a six-pack and went to check out the location. It’s pretty isolated.”
Her eyes widened and she scribbled a note on top of a file folder labeled “Bubba Jones.”
Chip blew out a breath. Had he just implicated Bubba? “We all wondered what the hell Dan was doing out there so late.”
“So did the detectives,” Lana said. “Actually, I think that’s the key to the case. He had to be meeting someone.”
“Agreed,” Chip said.
“The detectives scoured Dan’s emails, texts, social media,” Lana added. “Nothing led to a solid lead.”
“I’m assuming forensics didn’t get anything useful from the scene.”
“Oh, they collected a lot of evidence, but it led nowhere. The theory is the murderer incapacitated Dan with the Taser so he could be dragged out of sight, into the bush, where the knifing took place. Since it was dark, the murderer had to scope it out ahead of time in order to find a location with dry land.”
Chip came to his feet and moved away from Lana, sick of all these details, which changed everything he’d believed about Dan’s death.
He faced her again. “Then you’re saying Dan’s murder was premeditated, deliberate?”
“Y
es,” she said. “Someone wanted him dead bad enough to plan it out ahead of time.”
“God, Lana. Come on. I could buy a heat-of-the-moment stabbing by a teammate, maybe even by Gary. But premeditated?” He shook his head, hating the idea that someone he knew could be capable of such violence. “I don’t know.”
“Evidence suggests the murder was committed by someone who knew him and knew him well,” she said, her voice calm. “Once I began studying law enforcement, I knew it had to be someone on the team, so I started over. I looked at all the facts and evidence. After a lot of work, I’ve now cleared everyone but Gary and Bubba.”
“Bubba is still on your suspect list?”
She placed her hand on a stack of files. “Even Cindy’s alibi checks out. All the new information I’ve gathered points to Gary.”
Chip nodded. Info that he’d given her.
Lana tucked a lock of hair behind an ear, long a sign that she had a case of nerves. Chip remembered how afraid she’d been of her father. What was she nervous about now?
She lifted her gaze to his. “And now I need your help again. It’s why I asked you to come over tonight.”
He moved toward her. “What do you need?”
“If Gary is our perp, he’s been living with this murder for a long time and thought he was home free. Coach’s party shook things up, might have made him antsy.”
“Could be.”
“So to find proof of his involvement, I need to get close to him, watch him carefully in his comfort zone.”
“Interesting idea. Do you have a plan?”
She inhaled deeply. “Yes, in fact I do.”
Chip took the chair across from her again. “It’s not like you to be so hesitant. Give.”
“After you told me about the bullying, I drove by Gary’s address.”
“And?”
“And there’s a house for rent next door. The neighbor who kept calling 911 on the abuse moved away.”
“Yeah, I noticed that sign myself. I even asked Gary about it.” Chip had checked the Realtor’s website at the library and learned the monthly rent was more than he could afford without asking his parents for help. No way was that happening. He’d get a job first.
“You did?”
“Yeah.” He lifted his glass for another sip. “So?”
“So what if we rented that house and moved in together?” she asked, as if that idea were the most natural thing in the world.
He almost choked. “What did you say?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t sound so shocked. It’s a two-bedroom house. We’d each have our own room, but of course Gary wouldn’t know that.”
He lowered the glass. Lana gazed at him, waiting for his reaction.
“You want to pretend that we’re a couple?” he asked carefully.
“Exactly. We can say we hooked up again at Coach’s party, sparks flared and we’re in love.”
In love. Chip nodded, uncertain how to respond. “Pretty quick romance.”
“But I think Gary would buy it. After all, we’ve known each other forever. And this way we can surveil him constantly. The house is convenient to the U of M campus, so it’s logical.” She looked disgustingly pleased with herself. “It’s perfect.”
“I don’t know about perfect.” Although with careful budgeting and fewer expensive lattes, he could manage it. Just barely. At least for a year, that killer first year of law school. Maybe that was all he needed.
But what would it be like to be around the sweet temptation of Lana Lettino every day? Pure torture, that’s what.
“I know you, Chip, and living at home can’t be working for you,” she said. “I figured that’s why you study at the library every night.”
“You’re right about that.”
She leaned toward him again. “We would split the rent. Think about it. You’d have the house to yourself a lot while I’m on duty. It’d be quiet, easy to study. No interruptions. I go to bed early because my shift starts early.”
Chip drummed his fingers on the table. She made it sound good. He’d told Gary that he’d been seeing Lana, but what would the dude think if they moved in next door?
“I made an appointment with the Realtor to look at the house at noon on Sunday morning, my next day off,” she said. “Why not meet me there to check it out? You don’t have class.”
He shot her a glare, hating that his life was an open book to her.
She held up her hands in surrender. “It’s Sunday. Anyone would know you don’t have class.”
“Don’t you have a lease here?” he asked.
“Yeah, but it’s up in a couple months. I’d have to be careful, but I could afford double rent for that time and then decide what to do.”
“Why don’t you move into the house by yourself?”
“That’s too much money. Anyway, the plan would work better if you were with me as a buffer. We could invite him over for dinner, maybe watch football together, hang out in the backyard with beers and barbecue. Plus I don’t want him coming on to me.” She grimaced. “That would be too weird.”
Chip shook his head at the irony. Yeah, how weird would that be if one of your suspects was interested in you?
“Perfect, right? For both of us. You get out of your parents’ house, and I get to watch my subject every day.”
Chip pushed back from the table. “You’re talking about moving next door to a man you suspect is a murderer.”
“I’m not going to do anything but act friendly and watch him.”
“Do you really think this is a good idea?”
“Yes, but I guess you don’t.”
“I need to think about it. And so do you.”
* * *
BEFORE NOON ON SUNDAY, Lana pulled her car into the driveway behind what she assumed was the real estate agent’s silver Lexus SUV. She didn’t see Chip’s truck. She hoped he’d show, although he still hadn’t committed.
The more she thought about moving in with Chip, the more she liked the idea. They’d always gotten along great. As a child, he’d been her lifeline when she’d had to escape her home during the fierce battles between her parents.
Truthfully, the more time she spent with Chip, the more she liked being with him. Being with him just made her feel good. She’d forgotten that about him.
Why was he so reluctant? She’d seen him searching the bulletin board on the U of M campus, looking for a place to rent, and her plan was the perfect way for him to escape his parents’ house.
Did he have qualms about helping her spy on Gary? Or was he resistant to the idea because moving in next to Gary could be dangerous? If her current theory on Dan’s murder proved correct, then yeah, the dude was a murderer. Violent.
A stab of unease made her sling her purse over her shoulder and step out of the car. As she approached the house, she shot a glance toward Gary’s place. His car sat in the driveway, but so did the morning paper. Was he out of town, or had he not gotten up yet? Maybe he’d been out late the night before.
She couldn’t wait to learn everything about her suspect’s habits. Her gut told her he was the key to Dan’s murder.
She was a cop—a good one—and she knew how to be careful. She had the tools and training to keep both her and Chip safe. She needed to find a way to reassure him.
Lana stepped onto the large front porch, but before she could knock, a tall, middle-aged woman wearing a navy pantsuit appeared at the screen door.
“Ms. Lettino?”
“Yes. Are you Mrs. Zeder?”
“Guilty as charged.” The woman laughed and held the door open.
“Thank you for meeting me on a Sunday,” Lana said.
“Oh, Sundays are one of our busiest days,” Mrs. Zeder replied. “Let me show you around. We’ll start with the kitchen, the heart of any home.”
Lana
followed the woman into a kitchen that had been updated with modern appliances and cabinets. What few meals she prepared could be efficiently made here. It might be fun to learn how to cook. She could practice on Chip—if he agreed to her plan. How often would they be home for dinner at the same time?
The living room was small but had plenty of space for a sofa and a television. She knew Chip would need a TV to watch sports. No separate dining room, but a table would fit into a small space off the kitchen. Both bedrooms featured roomy closets.
So far the only real drawback to the house was the fact that it contained only one bathroom. What would it be like to share a bathroom with Chip?
The agent ushered Lana into a small room off the kitchen with large white appliances. “Best of all,” she said, “the previous owner left the washer and dryer. He wanted to buy new when he moved.”
“Where does that lead?” Lana asked, pointing to a door on the other side of the room.
“The garage.” Mrs. Zeder opened the door to an empty, unfinished space with a concrete floor. “It’s only for one car,” she said. “But there’s plenty of room for storage, and it comes with an automatic door opener.”
Lana followed the agent down two steps into the cool, dank-smelling garage, where the Realtor pushed a button on a remote-control device. The garage door slowly rose, making a racket as if it hadn’t been used in months.
She frowned at the noise. “It just needs some lubrication,” she said brightly.
When the door completed its painful journey to the top, Lana could see her vehicle parked behind the Realtor’s in the driveway.
And Chip’s truck parked along the curb in front of the house.
He’d come after all. She sucked in a breath, annoyed at how her pulse had accelerated with the sight of his vehicle.
Then he walked into her line of vision from the direction of the front porch. His hair was damp, as if he’d just showered. He wore knee-length khaki shorts and a navy blue knit shirt that outlined his shoulders and the muscles she knew came from climbing rocks. God, he looked fit, like some Scandinavian mountain climber.
“Hey,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Oh, my goodness. You’re not late,” Mrs. Zeder said, hurrying forward to shake his hand. “I’m Winnie Zeder. You must be Charles.”
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