by Debra Webb
Pounding on the bathroom door yanked her from the fantasy.
“Lacy!”
Melinda.
Lacy clicked off the dryer and tossed it aside. She jerked the door open.
“Are you all right?”
She first took in Melinda’s terrified expression, then, slightly beyond her friend’s trembling frame, the man behind her.
Rick.
“What’s happened?”
“It’s Kira,” Melinda blurted, her voice quavering. “She’s been murdered.”
So much happened in the next few moments Lacy wasn’t sure she absorbed it all. Rick was talking to her, but Melinda had fainted and she couldn’t focus on his words.
He carried Melinda to her room, placed her carefully on the bed. Melinda roused and burst into sobs. Lacy held her, rocked her like a baby until she cried herself to sleep. Her thoughts whirled frantically. Kira couldn’t be dead. But she was. And it all boiled down to the same single, excruciating idea. Somehow, this was all Lacy’s fault.
The pain she expected to feel didn’t come. Instead she felt completely numb…empty.
She’d had to call Melinda’s doctor for a sedative. Thank God the pharmacy was willing to deliver. After she’d tucked the covers around Melinda, she got up to leave the room. Rick waited just outside the door. She didn’t know how long he’d been there or even how long she’d held Melinda to console her. Lacy felt nothing at all, not even a sense of the passage of time.
She closed the bedroom door and somehow found the strength to ask, “What happened?”
“Let’s go downstairs and we’ll talk.”
Lacy knew that was the right thing to do. She didn’t want to disturb Melinda. But her brain wouldn’t function properly; otherwise, the idea would have been hers. It took all her attention to make her feet work right as they descended the stairs. Strange. Now she understood why Melinda’s behavior had seemed so odd last night. Shock.
When she would have guided Rick to the living room, he took her arm and tugged her in the direction of the kitchen. “You need some coffee.”
She hadn’t had coffee this morning, had she? She didn’t think so. But she really didn’t want any now.
He ushered her onto a stool at the island and set about making a pot of coffee. Her eyes followed his movements, but she couldn’t anticipate what came next, as if she’d never watched coffee being made before. Her mind wouldn’t move forward on its own, wouldn’t wrap around a concept.
The carafe had already been filled and the filters and can of coffee placed on the counter when Rick started. Had Melinda been about to make a pot when he arrived? What difference did it make? That simple question felt so daunting. Lacy couldn’t catch up.
The scent of coffee drifted up from the machine before Rick approached the island where she sat.
“Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?”
She’d asked him what happened. Somehow she’d forgotten doing so. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t hold a thought.
“I want to understand what happened.” The words came out of her mouth, but she felt as if she were listening to someone else speak.
Rick braced his hands on the counter. “Kira was shot. Once in the chest. The bullet tore through her heart, glanced off a rib and lodged in her spine.”
His words evoked the corresponding images in her head. Her entire body convulsed at the horrifying pictures.
She’d been wrong. She hadn’t been ready for all that information.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled as she slid off the stool and hurried to the guest bathroom tucked beneath the stairs. She’d scarcely landed on her knees on the floor when her stomach heaved with such force that had she eaten that morning, all would have resurfaced.
She heaved for several more minutes before the overwhelming, repetitious urge passed. As horrifying as looking at Cassidy the other morning had been, she hadn’t thrown up. Now, just hearing about Kira sent her in search of the nearest toilet. Maybe it was a cumulative reaction.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed to her feet, washed her face and rinsed her mouth. She stared at her pale reflection.
Now there were only two.
Melinda and her.
Whoever the killer was, one of them would be his next target.
If Rick couldn’t stop him. And she knew he couldn’t. It had to be her…somehow she understood that.
He waited for her in the hall. “Sorry,” she said in the strongest voice she could muster. “I guess I wasn’t as prepared as I thought.”
“It’s understandable.” He looked anywhere but at her for a moment, but when his gaze landed on hers once more, the intensity there made her reach for the wall behind her for support. “We need to talk about this, Lacy. I don’t know if I can protect you and Melinda if you don’t tell me what it is you’ve been hiding all these years.”
And there it was…the ugly truth. The cause of death for two of her closest friends. The damned cross she’d had to bear for ten long years.
Suddenly, as if a light had gone on in some deep, dark recess of her brain, she knew exactly what she had to do. So simple, she should have thought of it before.
She would send Melinda to the Ashlands, where their security would protect her and then she’d wait right here in this house—the scene of the crime ten years ago—for whoever thought he or she had a score to settle to come for her.
And then she was going to kill the son of a bitch with her bare hands.
“You’re wasting your time, Rick,” she said, her voice lacking any sort of inflection. “I can’t tell you anything and neither can Melinda. Your efforts would be better spent trying to solve the murders of my friends.”
He moved in closer, pinning her against the wall with his nearness. “I know you’re lying, Lacy, but I’ll cut you some slack right now considering all you’ve been through. But I’ll be back later to talk to you again.”
It would be so easy to get lost in his eyes, to trust that he could fix this. But he couldn’t. It was too late. Only she could stop it now.
“I won’t change my mind. You’ll only waste more precious time coming back.”
A muscle ticked in his lean jaw. “Don’t leave this house, Lacy. My men will be watching.”
“Like they were watching Kira last night?”
He flinched. For the first time since she’d heard the news, she felt pain…pain for all that had happened…pain for all that would never be.
He left.
She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
She’d just stay right here until she pulled herself back together, then she’d set her plan into motion.
Tonight it would end one way or another.
Brewer was waiting for Rick in his office when he returned to City Hall. He looked like hell, but the man refused to go home. He wanted to find Kira’s killer.
“Canton and the senator are fit to be tied,” he said. “Melinda’s brother isn’t taking it so well, either.”
Kyle Tidwell, Melinda’s only sibling, had just gotten back in town from a funeral. His wife’s aunt or something like that.
“What about Thompson?” Rick tossed his keys onto his desk.
“Haven’t located him yet.”
Rick grabbed a file to use as a prop. “Keep looking.”
“Will do, Chief.”
Rick hesitated. “Follow up on that search warrant. I need to know if Lacy’s father still owns that thirty-eight. I can’t get through to Mr. Oliver by phone. Looks like he and his wife won’t be getting back before tomorrow. I don’t want to have to execute a search warrant.”
“I’ll do that now,” Brewer assured.
Rick took the easiest door first. Nigel Canton, former partner of Charles Ashland, Junior.
“Good morning, Mr. Canton. Thank you for cooperating with our investigation.”
Canton did not look happy to be cooperating. In fact, he looked mad as hell.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Summers, but I’ve
called my attorney and you will be hearing from him. I’ve had enough of this crap. You should be talking to Ashland’s wife and her friends if you want to know what happened to him.”
“Kira Jackson is dead.” Rick said this as he took a seat at the interview table directly across from Canton. That his mouth dropped open and his pupils flared indicated that he was surprised by the announcement. “I’m sure you’re already aware of Cassidy Collins’s murder.”
He shook his head, as confusion overtook the surprise. “I don’t…why would you call me in to question me about her? I don’t really even know her. Or the other one, for that matter. Only that they’re part of the group I’m certain killed Ashland.” He appeared to recover his composure then. “Not that I’m complaining. They did the world a favor in my opinion. That’s the only reason I bothered to pay my respects to the Collins woman.”
Rick studied Nigel Canton for a moment before he spoke again. Could this man have killed Charles? Possibly. Even the most civilized man could commit murder in a fit of rage. “How’s your wife, Mr. Canton?”
Fury whipped across the man’s thin face. “I know what you’re getting at, Summers, and I’m not taking the bait. What happened between Ashland and my wife was a long time ago.”
“So was his murder.”
“I read the papers, Chief. I know Pamela Carter’s remains were found. Doesn’t that clue you into who’s responsible for both murders? Ashland’s wife had more to gain than anyone else. Plus, she had the help of her loyal friends. That’s where you should be directing your energy. Not harassing innocent citizens.”
Rick opened the folder he’d brought with him. It actually had nothing to do with the case, but Canton didn’t know. “I know how he made you feel, Canton,” he said finally. “Ashland always made you the butt of his jokes. Hell, he fucked your wife. You had every right to hate him. And you gained yourself a sizable profit from his death as well.”
A new flood of anger darkened the man’s face. “I waited seven long years for that profit,” he snarled. “While Ashland’s estate got fifty percent of everything I made. So don’t try to make me feel guilty for getting what was rightfully mine in the end. I deserved every cent.”
Rick pinned him with a warning glare. “Don’t leave town, Canton. We’re not finished yet.”
With that said, Rick left interview room one and headed for door number two, Kyle Tidwell, Melinda’s protective older brother. He wanted the senator to sweat a little longer.
Kyle Tidwell was tall, six-three or -four, and solidly built. He’d played football through high school and he’d gone on to college on an athletic scholarship, which was good because that was about the time his folks lost most everything when their business went belly-up.
The Tidwells had been good folks. Rick had often wondered if the parents’ untimely deaths had been as a result of the extreme stress. The father had suffered a heart attack days before Melinda’s graduation. The mother had passed after a bout with cancer less than two years later.
The family had certainly suffered more than its fair share of tragedy.
Including Charles Ashland, Junior.
“What’s going on, Rick?”
Rick sat down at the table with Kyle. Though the two hadn’t graduated together, Kyle had been only two years ahead of him. They’d known each other.
“I need to ask you a few questions about the afternoon Charles disappeared, Kyle.”
Kyle made a sound of disbelief. “This is ridiculous. You know I have an alibi. I’ve been down this road before with your predecessor.”
“Things have changed, Kyle. We need to reassess that alibi based on the latest evidence.”
Kyle’s irritation turned to nervousness. “What new evidence?”
“I can’t give you the details just now, but I will need to speak to the woman who provided your alibi ten years ago.” Rick had followed up on the nurse’s statement that Melinda wasn’t in her room for a time that day. He’d taken that possibility and worked out a scenario. According to Kyle’s statement to Taylor ten years ago, he had left the hospital for about two hours with his girlfriend at the time, leaving his car in the hospital parking lot. If Melinda had gone anywhere, she would have had to have done so in Kyle’s car. Rick had no evidence to indicate she had, but he could bluff.
“But I don’t know where she is now.” Kyle swallowed hard. His mouth worked a moment before his next words came out. “I haven’t talked to her in years.”
Rick ignored his mounting discomfort. “You’re aware that Kira Jackson was murdered last night?”
“I heard the news on the radio. I just got back into town, like an hour ago. I was on my way to see how Melinda is holding up when your man Brewer hustled me over here.”
“Where were you last night, Kyle?”
Survival instinct seemed to kick in. “What the hell are you trying to say, Rick? I didn’t hurt Kira. You know better than that.”
Rick stood. “Go home, Kyle. Try to locate that old girlfriend of yours and—” Rick paused before he turned to the door “—don’t leave town for anything.”
“I don’t understand this,” Kyle argued as he shot to his feet. “Why would you need to confirm my statement?”
Rick decided now was the moment to play his hunch. “I found a witness who saw your car at Ashland’s house the afternoon he disappeared. If you were with your girlfriend, then who was driving your car?”
He left the room, closed the door behind him. That should stir a reaction between Kyle and his sister, which was the whole point. Two down. He glanced toward his office, saw Brewer and walked that way. “Any word on Thompson yet?”
Brewer put his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver. “Not yet.”
Rick nodded and moved on to room number three. The senator. This one wouldn’t be so easy.
Unlike the other two, Senator Charles Ashland, Senior, was not seated. He paced the room like a caged animal.
“What the hell is this about, Summers?” he demanded with all the pomp and confidence of a battlefield general.
With the senator he opted for a different approach. “We have reason to believe that Pamela Carter was carrying your son’s child. Do you suppose that’s why Charles killed her?”
The outrage Rick had expected didn’t come. Instead the senator smiled knowingly. “I know what you’re up to, Summers. You want to solve at least one of these many murders you have on your hands. Well, let me assure you, I won’t allow you to clear your slate by slandering my son’s name.” He strode to the door, but glanced back before opening it. “You’re finished in this town, Summers. I’ve tolerated all the incompetence I intend to. Melinda and her so-called friends killed my son and you haven’t done a damned thing about it. Personally, I’m glad someone is avenging his murder.”
Rick barely restrained himself from grabbing the man and slamming him into the nearest wall. But that would only get him arrested. Senator Ashland pretty much owned the town and Rick had just sealed the fate of his career. No Ashland ever made empty threats.
But he would take the chance if it meant he could stop these murders. Senator Ashland might not commit murder himself, but he had the means to hire anyone he wanted to do the job for him.
Rick exhaled heavily. Maybe he was grasping at straws here. He damned sure didn’t have anything to go on, despite the fact that the bodies just kept piling up.
“Chief.”
Brewer came barreling through the door before Rick had reclaimed his professional bearing.
“Yeah, Brewer. Did you find Thompson?”
“Sure did.”
Brewer’s resigned expression pushed Rick to a higher state of alert.
“He’s dead, Chief. One shot to the head. Found him over on Tupelo Pike in his car.”
Before Rick could ask anything else, Brewer went on, “That makes five, Chief. Three in the past week. We need to call in the big guns. I’m not sure we can handle this on our own.”
As much as Rick didn
’t want to admit it, Brewer was right. “Call Agent Fowler over at ABI and let him know we could use his assistance.”
ABI was the Alabama Bureau of Investigations. They helped out local law enforcement when a case got too complicated.
This one had just gotten extremely complicated.
Francine, Rick’s secretary, stuck her head out of his office. “You’ve got a call, Chief.”
What now? “Take a message.” Hell, if it wasn’t a dead body he didn’t have time to take it.
“I don’t think you’re going to want to do that, Chief,” she returned. “It’s Mayor Hamilton.”
Perfect. The senator had gone to the mayor.
Just what Rick needed right now.
Pressure from above.
He’d known when he’d had the senator rousted from his mansion that there would be repercussions.
Might as well face the music.
With two of Lacy’s friends dead, and only one other besides herself remaining, the lyrics were quickly coming to a close on this song. If he didn’t nail the perp soon…
He had to make this happen.
Or die trying.
Chapter 17
The telephone had rung. Melinda had obviously answered it. Lacy stood outside her room and considered whether or not she should go in. But Melinda had told her to go away once already when she’d knocked. The silence on the other side of the door indicated that the call had ended.
What if it was that caller?
Adrenaline rushed through her. She prayed it wasn’t. The numbness she’d felt earlier had faded somewhat for Lacy. She’d talked to Kira’s mom and then she’d cried. Brian, Kira’s fiancé, was there. He was devastated. She’d thought about trying to call her own parents, but she didn’t want to worry them. They were under enough stress trying to get home to her. She wished for that blessed numbness again.