Deadly Deception (SCVC Taskforce)

by Evans, Misty

  “Did you hear a gun shot?” she asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Could have happened earlier when you were gone. I was in the field on the tractor. Never heard anything.” Facing her, he lowered his voice. “Jacob is a cop.”

  Her face, grim and set with determination, blanched. “What?”

  “He and I had a pow-wow early this morning. He’s a detective with the LAPD, working undercover and investigating your brother.”

  “LAPD? Why are they investigating him?”

  He repeated what Jacob had told him.

  Disbelief registered on Ronni’s face. “Did Dupé know?”

  Thomas shook his head. “He wouldn’t have sent us in here blind. Not Dupé. But I need to speak to him and verify Jacob’s story.”

  “Use the landline in the kitchen. I’ll keep them busy upstairs and contact the authorities.”

  “Where’s your brother?”

  “In the chapel.”

  “Someone needs to secure him.”

  “You don’t think…” She stopped, took a deep breath. “I was with him right before Melanie screamed. He said there’s a Judas in the group. Someone deceiving him. I thought he was talking about me, but maybe he meant Kristine.”

  Pain was etched on her face. Thomas wished he could hold her, tell her things would be okay.

  She looked away, toyed with her hands. “When I got back here this morning, he was burning my picture in the kitchen sink.”

  “Burning your picture? Why?”

  “He’s off his meds. He’s not thinking clearly. He called me a…whore.”

  “Jesus.” This time, he did grab her and pull her in for a hug.

  She embraced him for a moment, then pushed back. “You go upstairs and secure the scene. Have Melanie call 911. I’ll go get Adam and see if I can find Lance.”

  “What about Dupé?”

  “Verifying what Jacob said has to wait.”

  He hesitated. “You sure you don’t want me to grab Adam?”

  “My brother, my responsibility.”

  “He’s a grown man. He’s not your responsibility.”

  She kissed him, a light peck on the cheek. “I respect your point of view, but you don’t understand.”

  “The hell I don’t. Remember what I told you about my father?”

  “That’s different. You couldn’t have stopped him from using drugs or overdosing.”

  “And you can’t stop Adam from doing what he’s doing.”

  She harrumphed, firmed her lips. He could see it in her eyes…she wanted to argue, knew he was right.

  Her hair was straight again. Polished. He touched the silken strands. “I like your hair better when it’s messed up.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t. You like things orderly and neat.”

  “Not you.” How could he explain? The truth was sure to drive a wedge between them again. And they really had more important things to do at the moment. “I like you, well, the way you were. Before.” He drew the word out, hoping he hadn’t just severed the tender trust growing between them.

  “Before…?” Understanding dawned. Her eyes went dead. “Before Valquis? That Ronni is gone, Thomas. She’s not coming back.”

  “She was back last night.”

  All business again, she turned on her heels. “We have work to do,” she said, and disappeared out the door.

  In the kitchen, Thomas grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and headed to Kristine’s room. Once there, he found Melanie crying softly into Jacob’s chest.

  “Did anyone call 911?” He moved around the body on the bed, snapping on the gloves.

  Jacob nodded. “I called it in, and confirmed she’s dead. Police are on the way.”

  Thomas’s mind logged the details he could see without touching or moving her. She was on her back, lying vertically on the bed with her head hanging partially off of the side. Her eyes stared blindly at the upper far wall. A pillow at the head of the bed had an indention—from her head most likely—but there was no blood there.

  Had she been lying down when the assailant entered? Perhaps she’d tried to get up or had seen the gun and tried to roll away from him? The blood splatter around the body suggested either was a possibility.

  Thomas knelt beside her head. A neat bullet hole dripped blood. Not ran, only dripped.

  Close range, small caliber.

  A large pool of blood had coagulated on the floor. The injury wasn’t all that recent. He gently pushed a fingertip to her cheek. Rigor mortis had set in. He checked her fingers. None there yet. The stiffening of a dead body began in the face and spread downward. How long had she been dead?

  He examined the position of the body again. It appeared she’d fallen backward or perhaps had been pushed down. Still, there was something that didn’t seem right. He gently lifted one arm. Blood splatter lay beneath. Had she landed face down, been shot, and then flipped over?

  Pillows were disrupted. One had a hole with burn marks. No one had heard the gunshot because a pillow had been used to suppress the worst of the noise.

  A skilled killer or someone who’d watched too many crime shows?

  He glanced at Jacob. “Who had motive?”

  Melly lifted her head from Jacob’s chest. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. “Lance. Kristine was pregnant with Adam’s baby.”

  She’d been gone all afternoon with Ronni in town, but where had Jacob been? “Adam happy about that?”

  “I don’t think he knew, but if he did…”

  “If he did, what?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Melanie.” He injected some force into his voice. “What?”

  She swallowed hard, glanced at Jacob. He gave a slight nod.

  “Adam believes God is angry with him, and that is has something to do with Roanna. But maybe he realized it wasn’t Ronni’s presence angering God. Maybe it was…”

  She pointed at the bed, at Kristine’s body. Raising her tear-stained face to Jacob once more, she asked in a jerky voice, “What if it was Adam? What if he killed her, Jacob?”

  Jacob shot Thomas a look. “Where’s your partner?”

  Adam was a loose cannon, and Ronni was on her way to the chapel to apprehend him. Alone. “Taking care of something.”

  The gun used on Kristine didn’t appear to be in the room. The cops were on the way. There wasn’t anything more Thomas could do here.

  Better keep an eye on Jacob.

  He stripped off the gloves, ready to settle in and play watchdog, but when he thought about Ronni confronting Adam alone, he headed for the door.

  “Where you going?” Jacob asked.

  He’s a cop, not a cold-blooded killer. Adam was the most likely suspect, followed by Lance. “To arrest a killer.”

  He left them standing there and went to find his partner.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Adam wasn’t in the chapel.

  Ronni had exited the house by the back door, and still managed to get caught by some of the people waiting for word on Kristine. She told them what she knew…Thomas was with Jacob and Melanie, and they were contacting the authorities. She didn’t confirm or deny anything about Kristine.

  “Where is Adam?” someone asked.

  “I’m going to find him,” she’d answered. And find him she would. Him and Lance both.

  Dr. Elgin and Ralph were waiting for her when she emerged from the chapel. “Need some help?” Ralph asked.

  Ronni glanced toward the men’s quarters. An uneasy feeling gripped her low in her stomach. “Have you seen Lance?”

  Both men shook their heads. Elgin spoke. “He’s probably at the honey house.”

  “You take the men’s quarters,” Ronni told him. “Ralph, you check the barns. I’ll check the honey house and orchard.”

  Together, they jogged past the cows in the pasture and the lavender field. Ralph broke away at the first barn, Elgin at the men’s quarters. Ronni continued on toward the orchard.

 
; Row after row was empty. Tree branches hung low from the fruit, branches still dripping rain here and there from the previous night’s deluge.

  As she neared the honey house, she slowed. Through one of the windows, she spotted a man moving around inside.

  The door was shut. She peeked in the window, saw Lance pacing the floor and talking to himself. His words were too muffled to understand, but it sounded like he was ranting about Kristine.

  Wait. He wasn’t talking to himself. Someone’s crouched on the floor in front of him.

  Lance was carrying a stainless steel hive tool used to scrap propolis from the hive supers. Every couple of steps, he smacked it into the other hand like a teacher wielding a wooden ruler. His voice rose…

  “Why her?” he shouted. “The only woman I ever loved?”

  Ronni couldn’t see who he was talking to unless she raised up and gave herself away. She wished she had her gun. Glancing around, she spotted a frame cleaning tool leaning against the house. Not much as far as weapons went, but the implement was shaped like a screwdriver with a curved end. Better than nothing, especially in close quarters.

  But if Lance had shot Kristine, he might still have a gun. She peeked in the window again, looking for a tell-tale budge under his shirt or along his waistline. Saw nothing that looked suspicious as he paced away from the window.

  The person on the floor moved, a head of dark hair coming into view. Ronni’s heart clenched. Adam.

  Lance shouted again. “Why did you have to pick her?”

  In a jealous rage, Lance had probably shot Kristine. Now he was out to get Adam. She had to save her little brother again.

  No gun. No backup.

  Not the FBI way. Holding the frame cleaning tool in her hand, she walked to the door and threw it open.

  Two startled sets of eyes swung her direction.

  “Put down the weapon, Lance.”

  “Weapon?” He glanced at the hive tool in his hand, then at a set of frames on the table where Thomas had dripped honey on her and licked it off. “I was cleaning…”

  Ronni watched his face closely as she delivered the news. “Kristine’s dead.”

  “What?” His lips worked, but nothing else came out. The hive tool dropped from his hands, hitting the floor with a sharp clang. “What are you talking about?”

  “She was killed. Apparently shot.”

  His features dissolved in fury. “You’re lying. I just saw her at lunchtime.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  “What?” He pushed past her. “Where is she? I want to see my wife.”

  Ronni grabbed him by the wrist and yanked his arm behind his back, sending him to his knees. She didn’t have handcuffs. “Adam, get me the twine over there.”

  “No more!” Her brother rocked back and forth on his knees, hands over his ears. “Make it stop!”

  Lance seethed with renewed anger. “You killed her, didn’t you? You bastard.”

  Like an enraged bear, he threw off Ronni’s hold and jumped to his feet. Grabbing Adam, he lifted him up and shoved him against the table. Adam didn’t fight, just fell backward as Lance’s hands went around his neck.

  “Stop!” Ronni yelled. She picked up the hive tool and swung it at Lance’s elbow. The impact made him howl and jump back, giving her the opportunity to take another swing at his kneecap.

  A second howl and he danced away, grabbing his knee. “You bitch,” he ground out.

  He lunged for her. At the same moment, Thomas entered the honey house. Ronni dodged Lance’s grip, nailing his hurt knee with a roundhouse kick. The man belly flopped to the floor.

  Thomas jumped on top of him, sinking his knee into the guy’s back. Ronni grabbed the roll of twine and together they tied him up.

  She swung around to check on Adam.

  Adam was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Lance squirmed under Thomas’s knee. “Adam’s the killer! Let me go. I didn’t do it!” He sobbed. “Kristine!”

  Thomas helped the man to his feet, shoved him into the nearby chair. “Sit down and shut up before I coldcock you.”

  The fight went out of Lance and he continued to sob his dead wife’s name.

  Thomas motioned Ronni outside. They could see Adam staggering across the field, headed for the house. He fell, sat for a moment, then rose and stumbled on, ignoring anyone who called out to him. “Cops are on the way. I’ll take care of Adam. You handle this asshole.”

  The humidity and the scuffle with Lance had messed up her hair. “Thank you for coming to the rescue. You and your red cape are working overtime, but I’m taking care of Adam.”

  She jetted after her brother, ignoring Thomas’s yells to stop. He wanted to go after her, but knew he couldn’t leave Lance.

  Dammit. Thomas went back to his prisoner. “Why would Adam kill your wife?”

  “He’s nuts.” Lance raised his gaze. “You saw him. He’s certifiable.”

  “He ever have episodes like this before?”

  “Couple of times.”

  “Why did you and Kristine live here, then?”

  “She…” Lance shook his head, dropped his gaze. “This was Kristine’s dream, to live on an organic farm and be a beekeeper. This place was perfect for her.” He met Thomas’s gaze again. “But then he brainwashed her. She believed she had some higher purpose.”

  “Like what?”

  “After living in that house with him, she became convinced she was supposed to bear his child.”

  “So your wife slept with Adam, got pregnant, and now you’re telling me that he killed her. Not you, the jealous husband.”

  “I loved her.”

  “You shot her in the head.”

  The man flinched, tears filling his eyes. “I would never hurt her.”

  “Right.” Thomas hauled him to his feet, shoved him toward the door. In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. The county cops had arrived.

  Lance and Adam were prime suspects, but his gut told him something was off. The murder was too calculated, too clean for a manic-depressive guy to pull off. And Lance might have been angry and jealous, but why kill Kristine when it would have been more satisfying to kill Adam?

  Outside, Adam and Ronni were nowhere to be seen. As Thomas marched Lance toward the house and arriving officers, he asked more questions. “Do you own a gun?”

  “I’m a simple beekeeper, man.”

  “Answer the question.”

  Lance glared at him. “No, I don’t own a fucking gun.”

  “Were you in the Army or another branch of the service?”

  “I oppose war.”

  Again with the non-answer. “What, the Army wouldn’t take you? You got flatfeet or something?”

  “I never applied. I’d run to Canada before I’d join the military.”

  I bet you would. “Ever been incarcerated?”

  He looked away.

  Thought so.

  They walked down a row of lavender, Thomas keeping Lance in front of him. “Got a record, Lance? Is that why you’re hiding here at Heaven’s Gate?”

  “I was a kid. I did some dumb stuff. Nothing involving guns, I swear.”

  Damn, juvie records were sealed. Thomas could get the info, but it would take time, and Coop or Dupé would have to pull strings.

  At the house, the officers forced everyone back, and a female officer strung yellow crime scene tape across the porch. An ambulance had arrived, the paramedics already upstairs. Thomas handed Lance over to a sheriff, gave his statement, and asked about Ronni and Adam. Ronni had caught Adam and they had been sequestered in the front parlor right off the door. The female officer, done with the tape, ushered Thomas inside.

  The scene in the room froze him in his tracks. Ronni sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, Adam kneeling in front of her.

  “I didn’t do it,” he wailed, his head in her lap. “I didn’t kill her!”

  Ronni stroked his hair, her gaze rising to Thomas’s face. In her eyes, he saw sorro
w and grief. An ache she’d been carrying a long time.

  She wanted to believe Adam was innocent, but she didn’t, and the knowledge was tearing her apart.

  An EMT entered. “Someone in here need medical attention?”

  “My brother,” Ronni said. “He’s bipolar and has been off his lithium. He needs medication.”

  “No!” Adam jumped up and put his hands out to fend off the paramedic. “No more!”

  The EMT shot Thomas a look, then acted like Adam’s best friend. “It’s okay, man. I just need to check your blood pressure. No drugs, I promise, unless you ask for them.”

  The only way they’d get Adam back to normal was to calm him down and get him admitted to the hospital where they’d put him back on his meds. Calming him down in this state would require sedation.

  Two officers filled the doorway. One was tall and skinny, the other short and overweight by fifty pounds. “We need a statement,” Skinny said, looking at his notepad, “from Adam Karsni. That you?”

  Adam’s eyes looked as though they would bug out of his head. “I didn’t do it!” His wild gaze shifted to Ronni and he pleaded, “Tell them I didn’t do it!”

  Her face paled. She said to the officers, “Adam is bipolar and off his meds. You won’t get a reliable statement from him in this condition.”

  “I’m not off my meds,” he yelled.

  Skinny’s partner adjusted his belt. “We need to confirm where he was, who he was with, and—”

  “Where’s Melanie?” Adam asked. When no one answered, he raked a hand across the fireplace mantel, knocking off the knickknacks and sending them to the floor. “Where is she?”

  Ronni moved toward him. “Adam, calm down. Let the paramedic help you, then you can talk to the police. I’ll be with you every step of the way. We have to figure out who did this to Kristine.”

  “Kristine was a whore,” he spit at her, stopping her in her tracks. “You’re a whore. You’re all whores and you won’t listen to me.”

  Skinny raised an eyebrow but seemed unfazed by Adam’s outburst. “We understand Kristine Phillips was living here in the house with you and was pregnant with your child.”