On Borrowed Crime

by Kate Young

  “I am. I swear I am.”

  I placed the receiver back on the hook, and as I watched him file out with the other inmates, a look of desperation on his face, I wondered if I could believe him.

  Chapter Thirty

  My mind reeled with so many things as I showered and dressed. I was going for nice without being over the top and giving Quinn the impression I was trying too hard to impress him.

  I spoke to Brad briefly before my shower and told him about my conversation with Kevin. I let him know about the picture Amelia had found. He’d told me he would be having a discussion with Kevin after his arraignment. The Sweet Mountain Police Department would allow him the professional courtesy in due course.

  After I hung up, I listened to more of Carol’s sessions. I stopped midway in the last session to get ready. She’d rambled for most of it, listing famous killers—Jeffery Dahmer, Son of Sam, Ted Bundy, and Aileen Wuornos. She stressed how they just continued on, living essentially normal lives as if their behaviors were completely sane. She kept alluding to the evidence left in plain sight with each case.

  So, even though everything in me screamed, “Cancel and race over to the lion’s den,” which is how I thought of Carol’s house now, and search for whatever evidence she left behind, I decided not to break the agreement; I’d just go over after dinner. The police had searched the Timms’s residence, I was sure. And if they’d found anything, perhaps Quinn would mention whatever it was. Or maybe it eerily went missing like the scarf, I thought. That was if Kevin had been truthful with me and there was even anything to find.

  I’d still not heard from Uncle Calvin, and I tried not to worry. Since I’d gone to work for him, he’d never not returned my calls. With something this important, I couldn’t imagine what would keep him from doing so. I even went so far as to call Mother to see if she’d heard from him. She hadn’t, of course, and told me he vanished for weeks at a time, sometimes months. He had, sure, on jobs he couldn’t discuss, but he’d never gone MIA when I’d called him. There were too many things and people to worry about, and my brain ached. I sat on the sofa and opened my laptop.

  The triangulation the IT specialists sent wasn’t as challenging to read as I’d anticipated. He’d included a summary I found highly useful. I put the coordinates into Google, and I watched as it traveled up Interstate 85 and took a service road that ran directly behind the abandoned Baptist Church in Cam County, Georgia. The exact location Brad had taken me to. Kevin had been honest about Carol’s whereabouts before each of their meetings.

  “Oh God,” I breathed as realization dawned. How would she know? I knew for a fact she hadn’t gone with Brad. Had someone else taken her there? Kevin? Had she gone on her own because she knew the place? My pulse quickened, and I grabbed my tablet off the end table, pulled up the dumping grounds doc, and scrolled to the article “On the Scene.” I needed to see if the article gave more clues to the location than I initially believed.

  Nothing specific. If Carol was really determined, I bet she could’ve figured it out. A few more searches would probably do the trick. There had to be local reports and news broadcasts of the discovery.

  While I waited on Quinn, I put my earbuds in to continue the session, and poured myself a glass of wine.

  “Carol is there a reason for the fixation on killers in fiction this afternoon?”

  “You said discuss my thoughts. These are my thoughts. Dr. Moody, did you know that when the average person thinks of a killer, their brain likely conjures up an image of a monster? When in actuality the person looks like you or me.”

  “Yes, I imagine that is true.”

  “If I were to write a novel, one that my club, the Jane Does, might read and discuss, I’d have my protagonist, um, Maggie, hide evidence about a murder in plain sight. Like in a framed print!”

  I froze mid-sip. Did Carol believe I’d ever hear this recording? Was this her way of leaving me a clue?

  “Maggie would be really creative. Perhaps in a bath—”

  The doorbell rang. “Just a minute,” I called, closed my laptop, and stood.

  Carol, did you leave evidence behind?

  I took a glance in the mirror over the sofa and smoothed out my long hair. I exhaled a long, slow, controlled breath. Something I was getting good at these days. My pale skin and shaken appearance wouldn’t do. I grabbed my brown leather carryall and dug through it to find my coral blush lipstick and clear gloss.

  “I’ll be right there,” I called when another knock came. It took me three attempts to apply the lipstick and dab a little gloss on top. What have I gotten myself into? No, I hadn’t gotten myself into anything. Someone dragged me into this mess, probably believing I wouldn’t have the constitution to fight back. Well, I was stronger than people thought.

  I practiced a couple of bright smiles in the mirror, and, once satisfied, I opened the door to see Quinn on the other side, dressed in blue slacks and a striped blue and white shirt with a navy sports coat. I met his gaze, noting he didn’t come across as I’d painted him a moment ago.

  He smiled and then focused on my face as if he discerned something off about me—probably sensing my ambivalence. “’Evening. You okay?”

  Of course, even with my most gallant attempt at hiding my emotions, Quinn would see through me. It was his job, after all, and denying my inner turmoil wouldn’t be the most intelligent approach. I decided to use it instead. No one would blame me for being upset by the fact my ex was arrested, especially when his crime had to do with another friend of ours.

  I smiled at him. “’Evening. Yes, I’m fine. Just had yet another shock today.”

  “If you don’t feel like going out this evening, we could stay in.” Ah, he hadn’t said we could do this another time, which surprised me, and it must have shown because he said, though not convincingly, “Unless you’d rather just take a rain check.”

  I gave my head a small shake. “No. I’m ready. It’ll probably be better for me to go out. Staying in and brooding over what I never saw or didn’t suspect isn’t ideal.” All truths.

  “Okay, then.” His eyes roamed up and down my body, and then his tight expression eased with his grin. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you—so do you.”

  “Thanks. I put a little effort into it.” He stepped aside, and I joined him on the stoop.

  “Oh. My. God.” An exclamation came from our left. Ellen stood a few feet from us. “I knew it! You were so damn jealous of my connection with Kevin that you and your stupid boyfriend here framed him.”

  Quinn took my arm and tried to guide me away from my cousin. “Ellen, I would advise you to think before you speak. I’m not here on an official capacity.” His gaze held a warning. “That can change.”

  Ellen folded her arms and glowered at us. “I’m not breaking any laws. And I have the right to speak to a family member of mine any time I damn well please.”

  I moved out of Quinn’s grasp. As much as Ellen and I were always at odds, I didn’t want her to be caught up in this tangled web. Family was family. “Quinn,” I said softly. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

  After a quick assessment of the situation, he said a terse, “I’ll be in the truck.”

  “Thanks.”

  I held up my finger and waited until Quinn was out of earshot. “Listen, Ellen.”

  “What are you going to do, get rid of me too? Well, I’m not defenseless,” Ellen spat, though she did take a step backward.

  No one on God’s green earth irked me the way she did. It was a fight to restrain myself from shaking her. “Are you nuts? I’m not going to do anything to you.”

  “Uh-huh. Just so you know, I’ve called Uncle Calvin.”

  My mouth popped open. What was wrong with her?

  “He knows what’s been going on while he’s away. You may be able to pull the wool over a lot of people’s eyes around here, but not mine. And Kevin must’ve discovered what you’ve been up to. He got beat up in jail! Did you know that?
Of course, you did because you went to see him. To gloat!”

  Ellen’s lost her ever loving mind!

  She opened her mouth to continue, and I’d had enough and growled in frustration. “Shut up.”

  She flinched and took another step away from me.

  “I don’t want to fight with you. Please, for once in your life, just listen.”

  To my utter astonishment, she bit the inside of her lip. I couldn’t believe how scared she acted. Of me!

  “I didn’t have anything to do with Kevin’s arrest. And my God, how could you even think for one second I had anything to do with Carol’s death? Sheesh, we’re cousins for God’s sake.” I lowered my tone. “I hate this. I mean hate it.” I drew out the word hate. “I’m not going to lie and say you and Kevin didn’t bother me. It was awful of y’all.” I motioned to her townhouse. “Uncouth and just plain mean.”

  She lifted her chin defiantly.

  I closed my eyes and slowly shook my head. This girl! She believed I was some crazy killer, and still she defied me. I looked her square in the face. “It doesn’t matter now. My relationship with Kevin was and is over. Make him hubby number four and have lots of babies together, for all I care.”

  “Then why did you go see him?” She sounded suspicious.

  “Because I needed to see for myself if he had anything to do with Carol’s death.”

  “And?” She sounded a little calmer.

  “I don’t want to believe he’s guilty either. I want to know who is and put them behind bars.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Calvin knows about this?”

  “He’s aware I’m investigating,” I said ambiguously.

  “Can I help?”

  Glad to no longer be fighting with her, my shoulders relaxed an infinitesimal amount. “You can stop going around accusing me of murder, for one. Then anything Kevin’s lawyer finds, let me know about it.” It would be good to know what defense the lawyer planned on using and if he had anyone doing any digging on Kevin’s behalf.

  “I can do that.” She dropped her arms. “Is Uncle Calvin going to get involved? I’d feel better if he did.”

  “He’s out on an assignment at the moment. He’ll be in touch when he’s able.” Boy, I hoped he would be able soon.

  “Yeah, that’s what he said.” She nodded toward Quinn’s truck idling away in the parking lot. “What about him?”

  “It’s just dinner.”

  A cunning smile played on her lips. “You’re working him?”

  I gave her the sternest warning glare I could muster. “It’s just dinner.”

  She held up her hands in what I took as defeat and started backing toward her house. “Be careful. Kevin believes we have a murderer in our midst, who has power to wield. Now that I think about it, who has more power than our chief of police? Wasn’t he there when your car ended up a blood bath? He’s always had it in for Kevin.”

  “Who told you about my car?”

  She shrugged. “People talk.”

  She nodded her head toward the truck. “My money is on him, the jerk.”

  And a moment ago she’d thought I was responsible.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Quinn and I didn’t speak much on the ride to the restaurant. We were seated in the back of the dining room, sipping on a glass of red wine and pushing around a beautiful starter of fried calamari on our plates and breaking the ice with small talk.

  “You spend a lot of time fishing these days?” I sipped from the glass. I wanted to show my interest in his boating story he’d just been telling me about. Ellen’s words regarding her suspicions came rushing back.

  He swallowed a sip of water. “As often as I can. Since buying the new bass boat, I’d feel like I wasted my money if I just let it sit in the garage all the time.”

  I nodded to show I was listening when, truthfully, I’d only been half listening because I noticed Judge Timms seated in the corner with a woman I didn’t recognize.

  “What about you? Any new hobbies?”

  “Not really. I’m still in the book club and—”

  To my surprise, Judge Timms walked over to our table. “Chief,” he nodded to Quinn and then to me, “Lyla.”

  “Hello, Judge Timms.” I forced a smile. The man made me feel extremely uncomfortable, but I had to deal with it for now. I needed access to his house.

  “Judge.” Quinn didn’t look happy to see him.

  I watched them intently over the rim of my glass.

  The man had the look of someone marinated in alcohol for days. His forehead and temples appeared damp, and his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. Not that people would grudge him his mourning process. The heavyset woman he’d been dining with sidled up next to him and took his arm. The woman was a good fifteen years or so older than Quinn and me, I estimated.

  “’Evening,” she greeted Quinn and me. “David, maybe we should call it a night.”

  “My sister.” The judge patted her arm and then pulled at his double chin. “She’s come to look after me.” He made a face as if he hadn’t been so keen on the idea.

  She smiled, and now I could see the resemblance. Same round face and eye shape. “I hoped getting him out of the house might improve his spirits.”

  “It has, Marigold.”

  He winked at me then and reached out and touched my shoulder, feeling the material between his thumb and index finger. “Thought you’d come by and see me. We have unfinished business.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

  His sister met my gaze and frowned. “You’ll have to forgive my brother. He isn’t himself tonight.”

  “I’m fine.” Judge Timms grinned. “Lyla and I are friends now, aren’t we, Lyla?”

  Quinn rose. “Judge, is there something we can do for you?”

  “Come on, David. Let’s leave these two youngsters to enjoy their evening.” His sister tugged at his waist, where her hand rested.

  “Okay. Yeah, let’s go have our dessert.” His gaze was on me the entire time he spoke, and I fought a grimace.

  Quinn’s stance did nothing to deter the judge as he stepped around and put his hand on the back of my chair. He leaned down and held his face close to mine. I could smell the amount of garlic he’d consumed, mingled with alcohol, as he whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t go barking up the wrong tree now.”

  I flinched, and he gave me a hard pat on the back. A little too forcefully because I was shoved into the table, rattling the plates and silverware. The candle on the table flickered and nearly toppled over. Thankfully Quinn saved us from disaster by securing it.

  “Oops.” The judge put his finger to his lips.

  “I’m sure you want to get back to your dessert,” Quinn said between clenched teeth, and gripped Judge Timms’s upper arm.

  The uncomfortable silence stretched for a few more minutes as the men squared off in a silent battle.

  Judge Timms jerked his arm out of Quinn’s hold and adjusted his tie. The tension in the room eased when the siblings went back to their respective tables.

  Quinn’s cheeks flushed with anger, and he was clearly rattled. He took a large swig of wine.

  I decided to take advantage and whispered, “What do you owe Judge Timms, Quinn?”

  He coughed and placed his glass on the table, saying nothing.

  “I overheard you the day I came to your office. And later Judge Timms let it slip that you owed him. I’m not an idiot.”

  Quinn glanced over his shoulder, where Judge Timms conspicuously watched our table. He snorted. “Love to stir up drama, don’t you?” Quinn’s gaze hardened. “You’re older and infinitely more beautiful, yet you’re just as stubborn and direct as you were in your late teens.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “So you can twist it around and make more trouble?”

  “I’m not the one who conveniently lost a valuable piece of evidence. It should’ve been made available to Brad.”

&nb
sp; “Brad, now is it?” he said in mock falsetto. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Did you think I would change? That when I grew older, the ingrained part of my personality would vanish?” I wiped my mouth with the black cloth napkin and leaned back in my chair.

  “Not vanish; perhaps soften.” He sounded bemused.

  “Soften I have. In those days, I would have made a scene. Shouting to everyone about you colluding with Judge Timms.”

  White brackets appeared around his mouth.

  I picked up my glass and sipped as he studied me, unmoving. “I never would have even kept our date before. Yet here I sit being civil.”

  Our entrees arrived, and I leaned back to allow the server to place the cedar-smoked salmon with sautéed spinach and a rice pilaf before me. Quinn had the filet mignon and a loaded baked potato, which took up half the plate.

  “Thank you. It looks delicious,” Quinn and I said in unison, and we both smiled a little. Even when our world crashed down around us, Southerners were nothing if not polite.

  “There isn’t any collusion.”

  “There’s something.” I sampled my salmon, which was indeed delicious.

  “It has nothing to do with Carol’s murder. I’ll tell you about it when we’re not out in public. Okay?” Quinn glanced around.

  Admitting he would be willing to confide in me later made me feel a little better. “Okay.”

  Quinn cut into his medium-rare steak and took a bite.

  “And losing evidence isn’t okay.” I scooped up some rice.

  His fork paused midway to his mouth. “It isn’t lost, and I’m not sure it’s even evidence. But, I’ll find it and make sure Brad has what he needs to leave my town for good.” His lips had curled when he said Brad’s name.

  “And what if the cases are related? What if Kevin is innocent?”

  “I wondered how long it would take you to jump to his defense. Even after everything that idiot has put you through, you still believe whatever he says. The man has a record of violence, Lyla. Did you know that?”

  “A juvie record doesn’t count, Quinn.” I took a bite of the spinach.