Justice

by Debra Webb

  “ It’ s okay,” Kayla assured. “ Just relax. Help is on the way. We’ ll figure this out later.”

  Christine’ s eyes closed. Her awkward, writhing movements ceased.

  Fear rocketed through Kayla.

  “ Stay with me, Christine.”

  As she checked the woman’ s vitals with her free hand she did the only other thing she could… she prayed.

  Chapter 8

  A t eight o’ clock on Friday morning Christine Evans was still holding her own in Intensive Care. The surgeon had said that, if she made it through those first critical hours after the surgery, she would probably survive. But he couldn’ t give any assurances.

  The bullet had done some serious damage, and the blood loss was extensive. Basically it was a miracle she was alive at all. Kayla couldn’ t help thinking she was hanging on so she could identify whoever had attempted to end her life. She just hoped her friend made it. Burying two friends in one year would simply be too much.

  Kayla had called the Cassandras. A forensics team had swept the crime scene, under her partner’ s watchful eye. She wanted to get back over there first thing this morning and go through the steps herself. A murderer just didn’ t walk into a person’ s home and take a couple of shots without leaving some sort of evidence. All one had to do was look closely.

  Oftentimes a person familiar with the environment would notice things a trained professional wouldn’ t. Kayla had been in Christine’ s bungalow enough times to know the way things should be. That wasn’ t the only place she intended to look. The killer might have been looking for access to students’ files or other sensitive records.

  Since Christine couldn’ t tell her what had happened, Kayla had to go on speculation. First she had to rule out robbery, then revenge or an act of passion. Her gut told her that none of those would be the perp’ s motive.

  Every instinct she possessed screamed at her that this was about Rainy. About the egg harvesting. But she had to view this like any other case. The fact that she had close personal ties to the school as well as the victim didn’ t change things. Standard operating procedure dictated the steps.

  To hell with SOP. As soon as Christine’ s doctor made his rounds and gave Kayla an update, she was going directly to Athena Academy. Maybe following instincts wasn’ t the course most cops would take, but, in Kayla’ s experience, when she didn’ t follow her instincts, things usually turned out disastrously.

  Half an hour later the surgeon checked in on his patient and advised Kayla that it would likely be touch and go for a few more days. The coma she was in was a good thing, since it allowed Christine’ s body to concentrate solely on healing itself. The doctor explained that many times after catastrophic trauma, a coma would be induced if a patient didn’ t lapse into one on her own. Like last night, he couldn’ t offer any real assurances other than her chances of recovery were well within the range to offer hope.

  The trip from Phoenix to Athens was spent in deep supplication for her friend’ s speedy recovery.

  As she pulled up in front of Christine’ s bungalow on the Athena campus, she punched in her partner’ s cell number and waited for him to answer.

  “ Got any news for me?” It was likely too early to have any feedback on the forensics search, but if the guys found anything other than the blood trail Christine had left in her attempt to get to the phone, Jim Harkey would know it, since he’ d been there.

  “ Nada.”

  Definitely not what she had wanted to hear. “ Dammit.”

  “ My sentiments exactly,” he echoed. “ Her blood, nothing else. No sign of forced entry, other than what you did to the front door getting in. No indication whatsoever that she’ d had company. Nothing. Prelim on the slugs indicates a silencer was used.”

  They wouldn’ t be getting any breaks on this one. There would be plenty of prints to run, some of which might belong to the Cassandras who’ d visited Christine’ s bungalow a few months back, on that fateful night when they’ d learned of Rainy’ s accident. And there would likely be many others. As principal of the academy, Christine often entertained distinguished guests and parents of potential students as well as staff members. The lack of sound would lessen the probability that anyone saw or heard anything.

  The memory of the invitation Jazz had received shook loose from the far corner of her mind to which she’ d banished it. The danger at Athena Academy had moved to a new level. Something else she had to consider as soon as her life calmed down for two minutes.

  Not going to happen, a little voice reminded.

  Probably not. Her life had always been anything but calm. Why would the routine be any different now?

  Kayla gave Jim her agenda for the morning and promised to check back in with him in a couple of hours. She emerged from the car, dragging on her jacket in deference to the cool morning air. She had a feeling the temps wouldn’ t reach the fifties as the weatherman had suggested. Christmas was scarcely more than a week away so she had no room to complain. The winter had been relatively mild thus far.

  Christmas. Man, she had to get a tree up. Jazz was counting on decorating this weekend.

  Then the significance of the day broadsided her.

  Friday.

  They had dinner with Mike tonight.

  Another round of hot curses spilled past her lips. Just her luck. She needed an evening with him like she needed a root canal.

  Kayla unlocked the padlock her partner had placed on Christine’ s damaged door and then ducked beneath the yellow crime scene tape.

  The smell of coagulated blood hit her nostrils the moment she entered the living room. She would never get used to that odor. Her fingers located the switch and flipped on the overhead light.

  It wasn’ t easy coming back to the scene of a crime that involved a friend or loved one, but Kayla had to look things over for herself. Jim was a damn good cop, the forensics guys the best, but she had to do this. Had to be certain nothing was missed.

  She moved through Christine’ s bungalow twice, taking her time, surveying from ceiling to floor and all places in between. One of her instructors at the police academy had reiterated over and over again how it was the little things that solved most crimes.

  In the kitchen she hesitated before moving on. Knowing full well the forensics techs had already done so she opened the dishwasher and peeked inside. Empty.

  She closed the appliance and leaned against the counter, took a moment to survey the small, galley-style kitchen one last time. A dish towel lay on the counter directly across from her position. Hanging from the overhead cabinet was a rack that held a half dozen or so stemmed wineglasses. But the rack and the glasses weren’ t what captured her attention. It was the tiny reddish speck on the white counter next to the dish towel.

  Kayla crossed the narrow expanse of tile to peer down at the speck. She looked from the speck to the array of wineglasses hanging above it. She withdrew a plastic glove from her jacket pocket and slipped it onto her right hand. Careful not to touch the rim of the glasses, she tilted each one and sniffed. At least two had not gone through the dishwasher. The scent of wine still lingered in the bowls. The fleck of red lay directly beneath one.

  Next she picked up the towel and sniffed. Aside from the scent all towels had after lying on the counter a day or so, the distinct aroma of wine was unmistakable.

  If Christine’ s guest had been invited in and they’ d shared some wine— tests performed at the E.R. indicated she’ d had at least one glass— then it was no wonder there were no signs of forced entry. Her shooter hadn’ t been a foe. He, or she, had been a friend.

  Playing devil’ s advocate, Kayla stood back and surveyed the small area of counter. It was possible Christine had had wine alone or with someone else prior to the shooter’ s visit.

  But why would she store unwashed wineglasses? Why simply dab them out with a dry dish towel and stick them back in the rack?

  Okay. If she’ d had wine last night, where was the opened bottle? It
wasn’ t listed on the forensics inventory her partner had rattled off to her.

  She opened the refrigerator. No wine. It wasn’ t anywhere else in the house because she’ d already walked through twice.

  No way. This would be too easy. She pivoted and crouched down in front of the sink cabinet. Sure enough, behind those innocuous-looking oak doors stood a half-empty bottle of red wine.

  Kayla shook her head slowly from side to side. She snagged her cell phone from her belt and entered Jim’ s number. Whoever had shot Christine had some brass ones, that was for sure. While she’ d lain there struggling on the living room floor, her shooter had painstakingly cleared away the signs of his presence— except for the wine. What had stopped him? Maybe Kayla’ s knock on the door.

  Or maybe Kayla was wrong. The wine could have been something Christine had opened days ago, but not likely. Anyone who drank wine knew that it wouldn’ t last more than a few days at room temperature after being opened. Not even red, when it was best served at room temp.

  She explained to her partner that she needed one of the techs to stop back by and pick up the wine and glasses. She didn’ t want to risk contaminating the evidence by trying to haul it in herself. Though whoever had done this had likely wiped the bottle as well as the glasses in an effort to clear away any prints, there was always the chance at least a partial would be found. Not to mention DNA evidence left behind on the rims of the glasses.

  Prints and DNA were pretty much useless without a suspect to compare them with, but Kayla would take any evidence she could get. One way or another she was going to bring down whoever was responsible for this.

  If she were a betting woman, she would wager that the culprit behind Christine’ s shooting was someone who wanted to stop the investigation into Rainy’ s murder.

  The idea that it could have been Betsy Stone entered her mind. That was one lady she needed to get her hands on. That she was conveniently away when this kind of thing went down was just that… too convenient.

  Since Kayla couldn’ t ask Christine about the AWOL nurse, she’ d ask Rebecca, the vice principal. Kayla needed to bring her up to speed on the investigation anyway. They hadn’ t talked much last night. Both had been too worried about Christine.

  But there were things that had to be done today.

  Locating Betsy Stone was the first in a long list.

  When Kayla arrived at the administrative offices another brick wall jumped out in front of her.

  “ What are you saying?” she demanded, too stunned to fully assimilate the vice principal’ s words.

  “ Everything is gone,” Rebecca repeated. She plowed the fingers of one hand through her long, gray-streaked hair. “ I can’ t believe it. This has never happened before.”

  The academy’ s computer banks had been wiped. Not a single bit of information remained. Nothing.

  “ How soon can you have the backup files?” Kayla hadn’ t found anything of note yet in her review of the files, but the fact that they’ d been wiped indicated there was something to find. She would be working this case full-time now, which would help in her search for clues as to how the egg-mining incident came about. But she needed those files.

  “ Monday if we’ re lucky.”

  Since Athena Academy was still covered under the government’ s umbrella of unofficial projects, there would be backup files. But like everything else it took time to get anything from the government. Calls had to be made, paperwork completed. A royal pain for the vice principal, who no doubt felt overwhelmed as it was.

  Rebecca took a deep breath and visibly grappled for calm. “ I’ ll let you know the minute they’ re downloaded.” She searched Kayla’ s eyes. “ Do you have anything yet on who did this? Is it possible that the two incidents could be connected?”

  Kayla shook her head. “ It’ s too early to tell. We don’ t have anything yet.” She didn’ t mention the wine or the lack of forced entry at Christine’ s bungalow. At this point even Rebecca was a suspect. Being promoted to principal would be a big step up for her. Every imaginable motive had to be eliminated.

  “ Please keep me informed.” She looked around her office as if she didn’ t know where to begin or what should be done next. “ I’ ve got a million things to do.”

  “ I’ ll get out of your way then.” Kayla managed a weary smile. She didn’ t really believe Rebecca Claussen was capable of attempted murder, but it was way too early to rule anyone out. Even mild-mannered science teachers-turned-vice principals.

  “ Just one other thing,” Kayla said, remembering the other crucial information she’ d needed. “ Can you give me the telephone numbers and addresses of any family members or friends Betsy Stone has listed in her personnel file? Also,” Kayla tacked on as an afterthought, “ I need to know if you hear from Betsy Stone.”

  Rebecca obliged without protest or inquiry. The latter surprised Kayla, but it shouldn’ t have. Nobody wanted to be under suspicion. If Kayla was focused on Betsy, maybe she wouldn’ t drag Rebecca into the scrutiny.

  Kayla took the info and left the administration building. She wasn’ t usually so cynical, but this was getting to her. Rainy was dead. Christine was hanging on by a thread. What the hell was going on here? She surveyed the buildings that made up the Athena Academy. It had once been a mental health clinic and dry-out spa for the rich and famous. Who’ d have thought all these years later, after massive renovations and being blessed with such a worthy cause, that insanity would still be thriving somewhere deep within those walls.

  She had to get to the bottom of this, find the one who had started it, and put a stop to the evil once and for all. Athena Academy would not be safe until she did. Not for her daughter, not for anyone.

  Kayla climbed into her Jeep and sat there for a while. The sun had climbed to the midmorning mark. Her vehicle faced east. Maybe that was a sign that she needed to consider all she’ d learned so far. After all, east was the traditional Navajo thinking direction.

  And she definitely needed to do some serious thinking.

  While Rainy was a student at Athena, she’ d had what those in charge believed to be an appendicitis attack. But that was a calculated deception. In reality she had been transferred to a hospital in Phoenix where a Dr. Henry Reagan, the prime suspect, had harvested Rainy’ s eggs, damaging her ovaries.

  Ads had been placed in a tabloid soliciting surrogates. They now knew that at least one woman, Cleo Patra, a Vegas showgirl, had responded to that ad and been implanted with a fertilized egg. Justin Cohen’ s sister was believed to have responded to the ad as well, and later died in childbirth. Betsy Stone had been her nurse.

  Cleo Patra had successfully delivered her baby but someone had stolen the child. Cleo insisted that a Nurse Stone had assisted Dr. Reagan. She claimed to have seen her on several occasions. Kayla had no proof that Betsy was guilty of anything. Betsy insisted she had worked for Reagan to supplement her salary and had never seen anything strange going on in the office. But after Christine’ s confession that she had caught Dr. Carl Bradford searching through the files, and that she’ d later caught Bradford and Stone together, Kayla had even more reason to believe Nurse Stone was guilty to some degree in this sinister plan. Unless she, too, had been Bradford’ s pawn.

  And now the nurse had seemingly disappeared.

  Somehow Rainy had connected all the scattered dots. She had learned at least part of what Kayla and the Cassandras now knew. That knowledge had gotten her killed. Had put them all in danger in one way or another during the past few months.

  But it wasn’ t going away. Now that they knew the truth, intuition warned Kayla that they wouldn’ t be allowed to live with that knowledge any more than Rainy had been.

  Rainy was dead. Someone had attempted to kill Christine. What if Nurse Stone was already out of the picture as well?

  Kayla had to find her.

  Kayla picked up her daughter from school. It was the last day until after the new year.

  “ Can we do the tr
ee?” Jazz asked the moment her bottom landed in the passenger seat. “ All my friends already have their trees decorated.”

  Of course they did. Kayla was always the last one to get around to the decorating thing.

  “ Sure.” Kayla pulled out onto the street. “ You know your dad is coming for dinner this evening.”

  “ Yep.” Jazz made a face that said she hated to ask but intended to just the same, “ Is it okay if you don’ t wear your gun for dinner?”

  Kayla frowned. If her weapon had ever bothered her daughter before she’ d never mentioned it. More proof that things were changing.

  “ I guess that’ d be okay,” Kayla relented. What the heck? It wasn’ t like she wore the thing 24/7. Shooting Mike most likely wouldn’ t be necessary. Yet.

  “ Did you cook?”

  Kayla glanced across the seat. If her daughter’ s eyes hadn’ t been as round as saucers and her voice hadn’ t sounded so incredulous, Kayla might have let the remark pass.

  “ What’ s that supposed to mean, young lady?”

  Jazz bit down on her lower lip, in an effort to hold back the giggles, no doubt. “ Maybe we should go out.”

  Kayla yanked one of her long braids. “ Not necessary,” she shot back. “ Lu Wan’ s is delivering our dinner.”

  Her daughter’ s face lit up. “ I love Lu Wan’ s!”

  The truth was, she and Jazz both loved anything oriental when it came to cuisine. So did Mike, she’ d recalled. Though Kayla was far from happy about this arrangement, she had to do the right thing. Tonight might as well be tolerable.

  With more than two hours to spare before the food and the father arrived, she and Jazz picked up a tree at a local lot and did the decorating thing. Kayla watched her daughter and her heart filled with gladness. How had she been so lucky? She couldn’ t help thinking of Rainy and how she’ d wanted a child so badly. She’ d had the terrific husband but no child. Kayla, conversely, had the terrific kid but no husband.

  Life could be so ironic.

  With the thought of Rainy’ s husband came Peter Hadden’ s assertion that Marshall Carrington was somehow involved in smuggling. She wouldn’ t believe that. Rainy would have known. Or would she?