by Debra Webb
But she wasn’t so lucky.
She’d just have to get through this the best she could. She knew what she had to do. All she needed now was Melinda’s cooperation.
The bedroom door unexpectedly opened. Melinda rushed out, her face even paler, her eyes wide with terror.
Lacy felt her heart sink lower. She couldn’t make herself ask what had happened. The call must have been more bad news.
“That was Kyle,” Melinda blurted. “Rick just questioned him. He’s pressing Kyle to confirm his alibi for that day.” She rubbed at her forehead, her eyes wild with panic now. “Rick has a witness who saw Kyle’s car at my house that afternoon. Kyle is panicking. He doesn’t know how to reach his old girlfriend. His wife is extremely upset.”
Lacy stilled. “Are you saying Kyle may have confronted Charles?” Oh, dear God…not Kyle. Surely he wouldn’t have killed Charles. As protective as he was of his sister, Lacy couldn’t believe he would kill someone.
“No.” Melinda covered her face in her hands a moment and shook with the emotions flooding her. “This is all my fault. All my fault,” she wailed.
Lacy took her into her arms and tried to soothe her. “I’ll call Kyle and talk to him, see if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Melinda pulled away. “You don’t understand.” She shook her head adamantly. “It wasn’t Kyle. He’s telling the truth about where he was. It was me.” She slumped with defeat. “I left the hospital, took his car and went home to confront Charles.”
A tiny tremor of shock radiated through Lacy. The idea that Melinda had left the hospital had been mentioned, but she’d refused to really believe it.
“Was Charles there when you got home?” Could she finally, after all these years, be on the verge of the truth? Did she really want the truth? What if Melinda had killed Charles in a moment of emotional desperation?
Melinda nodded jerkily. “I think he’d been with someone. He…he was half-dressed and the covers on the bed were rumpled.”
Lacy could hear the hysteria building in her voice. “Just calm down and tell me what happened.”
Standing in the upstairs hall, outside the room where they’d discovered Charles’s body all those years ago, Melinda slowly told her story.
“I started screaming at him that I wanted a divorce. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Lacy didn’t ask any more questions, just let her talk.
“He laughed at me, Lace. Laughed and laughed.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I hit him and he still laughed. He said he didn’t care what I did, that he would leave me with nothing—no children, no money, nothing.”
Anticipation pounding in her chest, Lacy waited for the rest.
“He told me that he could have any woman he wanted, including my best friend.” She looked at Lacy. “He told me how much he wanted you and how much he hated me.” She blinked. “I don’t know what happened, but something inside me snapped.”
Lacy suddenly wished she had been the one to kill Charles. She hated him more now than she had ten years ago. How dare he taunt Melinda using her as leverage. She’d flat out turned him down and he’d known that she would never agree to be with him.
“There was a pistol on the table next to the bed,” Melinda said softly, her voice sounding as far away as her expression. “I don’t know where it came from.”
Realization turned to ice inside Lacy. Her father’s pistol. The one Charles had taken away from her.
“I shot him.” She flinched. “He stumbled back…fell to the floor. Hit his head on the bedside table.”
Lacy’s breath left her in a whoosh. Melinda had shot Charles. Dear God…what would she do now?
Melinda’s shoulders lifted in an attempt at a shrug. “I didn’t know what to do. I got sick to my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up.”
“What about the gun?” Lacy urged. She had to know how it had ended up back in her father’s desk.
Melinda frowned a moment as if uncertain of the answer. “I dropped it on the bathroom floor.”
That didn’t make sense.
“How did—”
“I just ran then,” she continued, cutting Lacy off. “I didn’t know what else to do. Charles was just lying there so still. This small hole right here.” She gestured to her left shoulder. “I didn’t even try to help him.”
“Wait.” Lacy went back over all that Melinda had just told her. “Are you saying you left Charles lying on the bedroom floor?”
Melinda nodded. “Next to the bed.”
“And you only shot him once?”
She nodded again. “Just once.”
Relief rushed over Lacy. “You didn’t kill him, Melinda.”
Tears crowded in her eyes. “Yes, I did. I just told you. This is all my fault. Cassidy and Kira would be alive if it weren’t for me.”
Lacy shook her head adamantly. “No, you don’t understand. We found Charles in the bathtub and he’d been shot twice. Not once, Melinda. Twice.”
Hope and confusion flickered in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m positive. He was shot two times. And he was nude in the tub, not on the bedroom floor. All the blood was in the tub. There wasn’t any on the bedroom floor.”
“But he had on his trousers,” Melinda argued.
Lacy shook her head again. “Not when we found him. You see, you didn’t kill him.”
Melinda’s expression cluttered with worry again. “Cassidy was convinced you were the one, and I let her believe it to protect myself.” She shook with emotion. “I was wrong, Lacy. But I was so afraid I’d lose my children.”
Lacy tensed. She’d known that was the case, except for the part about Melinda’s actions. “I didn’t do it, Melinda.”
Melinda looked away. “It was my fault. I let them believe all that time that it was you when I knew it was me.”
At least Lacy understood now why Melinda had responded the way she had at times. “But you didn’t kill him, Mel. Neither of us did.”
She nodded vaguely. “I still don’t understand why Cassidy and Kira were so convinced it was you.”
Time for her own confession. “The gun you used. The one you dropped on the bathroom floor.” Lacy realized then how the weapon had gotten back into her father’s desk drawer. Cassidy was the one to clean up in the bathroom. She’d recognized the gun and put it back where it belonged. Tears burned behind Lacy’s eyes. All that time she’d been protecting Lacy. She and Kira both had believed she was the one and they’d insisted on the vow of silence, even when Lacy argued, to protect her. “Oh, God.” She swiped at her eyes. “Cassidy found the gun and thought I was the one who’d used it.”
Melinda frowned. “I still don’t understand.”
“It was my father’s gun.”
Any remaining color drained from Melinda’s face. “How did it end up on the table by my bed?”
Lacy knew she didn’t mean the question the way it sounded. “Charles came to my house around ten that morning. He’d been drinking. He tried to…hit on me.”
Melinda’s eyes closed in agony.
“I told him to get lost. When he wouldn’t leave, I ran to my father’s desk and got his gun.” She shook her head at how foolish that move had been. “He just laughed at me. He took the gun away from me and left.”
“You think he brought it home with him and left it on the bedside table?”
“He must have. That was the last time I saw him alive.”
Melinda pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “So many lies. So much hurt.”
That was the truth. Charles Ashland, Junior, had damaged many lives.
A new realization crept into Lacy’s thoughts. If Melinda hadn’t killed Charles…and she hadn’t killed him. Clearly Cassidy or Kira hadn’t killed him, since both had been convinced that she had. Then who did?
A chill went through Lacy. “Mel, if none of us killed Charles…then who did?”
Melinda had obviously just come to the same conclus
ion. “Do you think the person who killed Cassidy and Kira could be the one?”
Lacy wasn’t sure it made complete sense, but she didn’t know what else to think. “It’s possible.” But why? “I don’t get why he or she would lie dormant all this time. Hell, he got away with it. Why resurface now and start killing again? Wouldn’t that risk everything?”
“It doesn’t make any sense at all,” Melinda agreed.
“Unless,” Lacy began, “the killer was still here when we moved Charles’s body.”
“You said you felt someone was watching you,” Melinda offered, jumping on the bandwagon.
Lacy walked past Melinda and into the master bedroom. “After we’d gotten Charles’s body wrapped in the shower curtain and into the trunk of the Mercedes, Cassidy sent me back up here to make sure we didn’t miss anything.” Lacy walked around the room, remembering the steps she’d taken that night. “I checked the bathroom again. It was clean. Cassidy had scrubbed the whole room with Clorox to make sure no trace of the blood would be found. I checked the carpet and the sheets in the bedroom. I didn’t find anything incriminating. No blood. Nothing. I can only assume, considering what you’ve told me, that he got up before any blood got on the carpet. He may have just been dazed from hitting his head. The gunshot wound may have been very minor.”
“I guess that’s possible. You packed the suitcase for him next, right?” Melinda asked, remembering what they had told her.
Lacy walked over to one of the two closets. She drew open the louvered doors on what used to be Charles’s closet. “I grabbed a suitcase—overnight bag—from here.” She pointed to the shelf overhead. “Then a couple of shirts and trousers from the hangers. I put them in the suitcase along with the shoes and socks he’d left on the floor.” She looked around the room again. “And I put the clothes he’d left on the floor in there, along with his wallet.”
“But if someone was watching,” Melinda wondered aloud, “where would they have been hiding?”
Lacy turned to the other closet. Melinda’s closet. “Maybe in there. You can see through the louvers if you get in just the right position. You’d hear everything.”
Melinda shuddered visibly. “So you didn’t see anything that could have been a clue in the stuff you picked up on the floor. You didn’t notice anything about his clothes.”
Lacy shook her head. “Nothing.” Then she remembered the one other item she’d picked up. “And his wedding ring. It was on the floor, too. I picked it up and put it in the suitcase.” She figured the bastard had taken it off while he screwed someone else’s wife. It had probably fallen out of his pocket when he took off his pants.
Melinda frowned. “You couldn’t have picked up his wedding band.” She crossed the room and opened a drawer on her jewelry chest. “Rick gave this to me after they recovered the body. It was in the trunk of the Mercedes.”
Lacy stared at the gold band. “Are you sure it’s his?”
“Of course.” She tilted the ring and pointed to the initials inside. “See. NCA, Jr.”
She was right. “Then whose wedding band did I find on the floor next to your bed.”
Melinda still wore hers, even after all this time.
“Maybe it belonged to the person who killed him.”
Lacy trembled with anticipation. “You’re right. It’s the one piece of evidence that connects the killer to the murder scene.” Lacy turned to Melinda’s closet once more. “She…it had to be a she considering what we know now…watched from her hiding place in that closet. When we got rid of Charles’s body, as well as the evidence, she thought she was home free. That’s why the person who knew our secret never tried to collect the reward. She couldn’t…she was the killer. And she was safe until the body was found and we came back. Then she got worried, had to figure out a way to get rid of us before we figured out the truth.” Lacy tried to remember exactly what the gold band had looked like. It hadn’t looked particularly feminine, but then she’d been terrified.
“It was one of his lovers,” Melinda said, disgust tingeing her voice.
Setting aside any lingering reservations, Lacy nodded. “Had to be. She knew her initials were inside that wedding band and we took it before she could get it back.”
“But Pam is dead and she wasn’t married,” Melinda said, apparently going through the list of names.
“What about Nigel’s wife?” It had to be her. “You know Charles and his partner were at each other’s throat then. What if she wanted Charles to leave you for her?”
“Maybe Nigel came in,” Melinda suggested, “caught them, killed Charles but couldn’t bring himself to kill his wife.”
“We have to talk to her.” Lacy suddenly found it strange that she hadn’t seen Nigel with his wife since she had returned to town.
“We can’t. She’s in Europe with two of her friends. They’re having some kind of spa treatments. I heard Gloria talking about having been to the same place.”
That was damned convenient. “When did she leave?”
Enlightenment claimed Melinda’s face. “The day after Charles’s body was found. I remember because that’s when I heard Gloria talking about it to one of the women at City Hall when we…were there to talk to Rick about what would happen next.”
“You mean to tell me Gloria was discussing spas on the day after her son’s body was found.”
Melinda scrubbed her hands over her face. “You have to know Gloria. She always does that, especially when she feels intimidated or nervous.”
Anticipation was prodding at Lacy again. “We need that ring. It’s the only evidence that exists. We need it to bring Cassidy and Kira’s killer to justice.”
“And to protect ourselves,” Melinda added. “But what happened to the suitcase? It wasn’t in the Mercedes with Charles. You think it’s still in the lake?”
Lacy shook her head slowly from side to side. “We forgot to put it in the Mercedes. So I buried it.”
The same anticipation Lacy felt lit Melinda’s eyes. “Where? Can you still find it?”
“I know exactly where it’s at.”
Digging it up would be the only difficult part.
“We have to get it.”
“No.” Lacy held her back when she would have rushed from the room. “This killer wants both of us dead. You have two children to worry about, Mel. You can’t take this kind of risk.”
“There’s no way I’m letting you do this alone.”
For the first time in ten years, Lacy felt she had her friend back.
But she couldn’t risk losing her again.
Nigel slammed down the phone. Where the hell was she? He sends her off to Europe to enjoy herself and she won’t even answer the phone when he calls. This was her fault anyway. If she hadn’t crawled into bed with that cutthroat bastard, he wouldn’t be in this position.
He’d taken care of everything once, had taken care of her even when she didn’t deserve it. And this was the thanks he got for it.
Nigel supposed if he hadn’t been so preoccupied being angry with his wife he might have heard the door open to his home office.
But he didn’t.
He wasn’t even aware anyone had come into the room until it was too late.
Chapter 18
“Please, Lacy, don’t try to do this alone. Call Rick. Let him help.”
Lacy held her ground. “I can’t do that until I know for sure. For one thing, we can’t be sure who actually killed Charles—Nigel or his wife. Or did he hire Bent Thompson to do it? We can’t do anything that will tip our hand. No one knows we’ve figured out this much. We have to keep it that way until we have the evidence in our hands. Hell, I can’t even remember if the wedding band was a woman’s. I thought it was Charles’s. What if it wasn’t a woman’s?”
“It had to be a woman’s,” Melinda argued. “Charles’s ring was in the Mercedes with him. I told you that.”
Lacy nodded distractedly.
Melinda wrung her hands. “I don’t like this. You
know we can trust Rick. We can’t do this alone.”
She was right, Lacy did trust Rick. But this had nothing to do with trust. This was about making sure she didn’t screw this up. All she had to do was go to her grandmother’s old place and dig up the suitcase. Any additional steps between here and there could somehow ruin everything. His men would have to know and she didn’t want to trust anyone else until she had that bag in her hand. And what if she was wrong? She knew the gold band was in there, she just couldn’t be sure it really meant anything.
Maybe she wasn’t making sense, but she’d lived with this burden for ten years. All four of them had let plain old fear keep them from learning the truth. She wasn’t about to let anything get in her way this time. Once they had the bag, then they could call Rick.
“I need to go straight to where the suitcase is,” Lacy insisted. “I don’t want to take any chances. And I need you to act as a decoy.”
“I don’t like this, Lacy. I don’t like it at all.”
“No one will know I’m even gone,” she urged. “Anyone who’s watching us will follow you.”
It took several more minutes to persuade Melinda, but that was okay because there was another hour before dark and Lacy needed the cover of darkness.
When she’d finally gotten Melinda to agree to her plan, they set into making preparations.
First they stuffed a sweatshirt with towels. Melinda dug up a long dark wig her daughter had used one Halloween. A half-gallon milk jug would have to serve as the head. In the garage they put the makeshift mannequin together in the front passenger seat of Melinda’s car using a king-size pillow to prop it up.
“That looks like a stuffed sweatshirt and a wig on a milk jug,” Melinda commented drily.
Lacy laughed for the first time in days. “Yeah, well, in the dark maybe it’ll pass.”
“Maybe.”
Lacy rounded up the shovel she’d found in the garage storeroom and a heavy-duty flashlight. She patted the pocket of her sweatshirt. “I’ve got my cell phone. Got the flashlight and shovel. I’m ready.” She wore a sweatshirt, in spite of the heat, to ward off mosquitoes, plus it was the only dark long-sleeved garment Melinda owned. She’d always been the one to wear bright colors. Jeans and sneakers completed her getup.