He stepped forward until he could see the main door. The chain bolt was in place. No one had gone out that door. He staggered to the window and pulled back the heavy drape. Sunlight blinded him, piercing his battered head. It took several seconds for him to focus on the lock. A lock that was clearly in the locked position.
“No.” The word was a croak of sound tearing at his throat. He lurched for the bathroom, reaching for one of the glasses and fumbling the paper coating off the top. He filled it with tap water and gulped thirstily.
Fay was dead.
It looked very much like he’d killed her.
Lee clung to the countertop, trying not to vomit. Fear sent beads of panic racing through his bloodstream. Beads that grew and spread, urging him to run.
“She wasn’t worth killing,” he told his image.
That fine distinction made him want to laugh, but laughter would open the door to madness. He’d never killed anyone, not even in the line of duty. Please, God, he hadn’t started with his ex-wife.
What about Meredith?
Thoughts of his two-year-old daughter steadied him. He needed to get a grip. He had to find out what had happened here last night. He needed to remember!
The blood had soaked one side of his shirt, plastering it to his skin. Damning evidence. But nothing was as damning as his gun being the murder weapon and the fact that the doors were locked from the inside.
He must have killed her!
Lee grabbed a washcloth and bathed his face in cold water.
“Are you going to run, Garvey?” he asked his reflection. “Pretty stupid. You’re a cop and you’ve got a daughter to think about.”
Meredith. Where was his daughter?
Kayla, of course. Who else would Fay depend on to care for her child? The two women shared a bond he’d never understood.
“Concentrate. Use your training and investigate.”
Carefully he combed the crime scene. There was no other way in or out of the room. The bolt was still in place on the door from his side, securely locked. The sliding glass door leading to the patio was also definitely locked, although the metal bar wasn’t in place. Odd, but it didn’t solve his problem. The snap lock was down. Someone could have exited that way, but only if someone else remained inside to flick the lock back into place behind them.
And he was the only someone left alive in here.
Lee refused to dwell on that. Instead, he retrieved his gun from under the bed. Definitely the murder weapon. No point worrying about prints. If he hadn’t fired the gun, it was a cinch whoever had had left as many of Lee’s prints . intact as possible. Besides, the police-issue 9 mm was registered to him.
He knew police procedure. His fellow officers would listen to his story, and they’d carefully check the evidence, then they’d lock him up and throw away the key.
Cold horror stabbed his stomach with icy shards of panic.
He’d avoided looking at Fay as much as he could. Now Lee studied her body dispassionately. There was nothing to see beyond what he’d already noted. She hadn’t expected to die. In fact, she looked as though she expected a lover. Her eyes were closed and there was that damnable smile on her beautiful face. Long, perfectly manicured fingernails were boldly painted, neat and unbroken. She hadn’t fought anyone off. Her cream-colored nightgown was seductively arranged, disturbed only where the bullets had entered and blood had seeped out. The flowers, the champagne, the chocolates—the entire setting spoke of seduction. But who was the seduced and who was the seducer?
“No way would I have touched you again. Not even if you promised me exclusive rights to Meredith.”
Noises outside sent him spinning toward the door. He went into an automatic defensive crouch, the gun aimed with deadly accuracy as the door came open against the chain.
“Housekeeper,” a voice called out.
He wasn’t in her line of sight. Thankfully, neither was the body on the bed.
He lowered his arms, shaking all over and not just from the coldness of the room. “Later,” he growled. His voice didn’t even sound like his own.
The door closed.
Lee tried to contain the erupting fear. He had to get out of here. What time was it?
Almost nine-thirty, according to the clock on the nightstand. The maid would be back. He probably had an hour.
To do what?
His eyes scanned the room once more. He couldn’t move the body. Couldn’t disguise the crime scene. He could either pick up the phone and call it in, or he could leave. Run and keep on running.
And where would that leave Meredith?
He took two steps in the direction of the telephone and stopped. Once he made that call, the investigation would be out of his hands. He’d be at the mercy of the local police. This was a very small town. They’d have to bring in the state boys for something as big as murder.
For the first time, he understood why his former partner had taken off two years ago when he found himself framed for murder. Joe hadn’t trusted his fellow officers to prove his innocence, so he’d set out to do it himself—and he’d succeeded. Lee knew he was going to have to try to do the same. No sane cop would believe he hadn’t murdered his ex-wife.
He wasn’t even sure he hadn’t.
He looked at Fay’s body and her perfectly sculpted features. Cold and lifeless in death, just as they’d been in life. His fingers tightened around the gun.
Had he killed her?
His gaze went from the door to the curtained patio.
Who else could have done it?
The conclusion was inescapable. He’d gotten drunk. He’d come here and he’d killed her. Then he’d passed out on the bed.
Lee very nearly lost his battle with his stomach.
Methodically he continued to wipe every surface in the room that he might have touched. If he hadn’t killed Fay, he was destroying evidence that might save him. And if he had killed her, he was making it harder on his fellow cops to prove their case.
The blood-soaked shirt clung to his skin. Slowly he peeled it off and wiped the blood from his skin. The motel generously provided plastic bags to store wet swimsuits. His shirt and the towel just fit inside.
He found Fay’s handbag hanging in the closet, along with several articles of clothing. Another oddity. Fay had always been careless with her personal belongings. And why would she have several sexy nightgowns and other outfits hanging in a motel closet?
He discarded the reason that immediately sprang to mind. She had never been faithful, but he couldn’t picture her turning tricks for money.
He pocketed her key ring, but found nothing else that might be of help inside her handbag. He left her purse gaping open and carefully wiped his prints. At the last minute, he opened her billfold and removed her cash, stuffing it into his pocket. He doubted anyone would buy the robbery theory, but a good lawyer might be able to make a reasonable-doubt case from it. He should also take her jewelry. Fay wore only diamonds and gold and a real burglar would remove them. But Lee couldn’t bring himself to touch the corpse.
He did, however, remove the two hairs laying on the bed beside her. His hairs. And no doubt there’d be other trace evidence of his presence here, but he couldn’t erase everything. He simply needed to muddy the evidence as much as possible.
At the sliding glass door, he paused to look around. He’d nearly left his windbreaker on the corner of the dresser. He started to put the jacket on to cover his bare chest and hesitated. There might still be blood on his back. He couldn’t take a chance of getting it on the inside of his jacket. His shirt and pants would be easy enough to dispose of, but the bright green windbreaker was more memorable. Any number of people might remember that he’d been wearing it last night. Particularly Kayla.
He used the washcloth to unlock the sliding glass door, pulling it closed behind him with more force than he’d intended. He looked around fearfully to see who had noticed the sound.
A few yards away, the big, muscular-looking bruise
r who’d checked him in last night was vacuuming the motel swimming pool. No one else was in sight. Muggy heat washed over him, a sharp contrast from the air-conditioned room. A sultry haze hung over the sky. Western Maryland was almost as bad in the summertime as Washington, D.C.
Lee forced himself to stroll casually, slumping a bit and keeping his head down and his face averted as much as possible. He added a limp as an afterthought. He didn’t know if the man saw him or not, but there was nothing he could do about it either way. Anyone could be watching him leave. Hopefully, all they’d remember was a man with a limp who wasn’t wearing a shirt.
His head threatened to explode as he came around the building and into the bright sun that bathed the parking lot. He ignored the pain, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. Fay’s shiny red convertible sat like a beacon in front of her unit, but there was no sign of his own car.
Had the murderer taken it?
His own room was on the other side of the L-shaped motel, which meant he had to cross the entire parking lot to reach his unit. His room didn’t have a patio, only a back window overlooking a lot of trees and fields that had been left to nature’s whim.
The maid’s cart sat outside a unit three doors down, but he saw no one as he unlocked his door and stepped inside the dark, sweltering room. The air conditioner in here must be set at ninety, he thought. Or maybe it didn’t work at all.
A glance around told him the maid had already been inside. The noose around his neck tightened another notch. She was certain to remember that the linens hadn’t needed changing, because no one had slept in the bed last night. She’d changed the towels he’d used after his shower yesterday and emptied the trash can where he’d tossed a candy wrapper.
Lee turned on the air, relieved when the machine kicked in and sent refrigerated coolness sputtering through the room. He stripped off his soiled pants. The blood on them had seeped through to the elastic waistband of his briefs. He crammed the briefs inside the plastic bag with the shirt and towel. The pants he rolled carefully so blood wouldn’t touch any surface inside the room.
There was still a chance—slim as an gnat’s eyelash—that he could pull this off. At least maybe he could create a reasonable doubt about his guilt until he decided whether he’d actually killed her or not. He put Fay’s keys next to his on the sink and stepped under the cooling spray of the shower.
The water helped. His thoughts kept running in circles, but he was narrowing the focus. He had two choices. He could run, or he could stick it out and try to bluff. He needed to get rid of the soiled clothing right away. He also needed to break up his service revolver and get rid of the pieces.
And he needed the name of a good local lawyer, just in case.
Above all, he had to find his daughter.
An image of Meredith’s laughing face blotted out everything for a moment. She looked uncannily like her mother, but Lee loved her anyhow. She was too young to be selfish and greedy. Too young to be anything but the daughter he adored.
If he went on the run, she would have to come with him—and that was no life for a child. But if he didn’t run, he was pretty sure the police would tag him with Fay’s murder.
Why couldn’t he remember what had happened last night?
He felt marginally better after a shower, a shave and several aspirins. He dismantled his gun and stuck the pieces in his pockets. His backup revolver was in his car—wherever that was.
Lee dressed quickly, trying not to let the incipient panic take control. He must stay calm. And think.
His car being gone was a bad sign. He only hoped it had been stolen. He had no memory of anything after the scene in the parking lot last night. Taking Fay’s car now would be risky.
The thought made him want to laugh.
He picked up the rolled pants and the bag with his shirt and briefs and sauntered outside. The maid stepped out of the unit three doors away and never once looked in his direction. She disappeared back inside as he walked toward Fay’s car.
As far as Lee could tell, no one paid him the slightest bit of attention when he climbed inside the sweltering vehicle. The maid would probably try Fay’s unit again as soon as she realized the car was gone. That gave him an hour at most before the cops started looking for him.
Funny how fast he’d started thinking of his fellow officers as “them.” He pulled onto Interstate 270 and headed away from the town of Fools Point, Maryland. An appropriate name, he decided with gallows humor.
Lee drove until he came to a scenic overlook. No other cars were there at this hour of the morning, so Lee parked and started walking. He’d intended to dig a hole in the soft ground and bury the bloodied clothing, but a wadded-up brown paper bag from the trash receptacle gave him another idea. Inside the bag, the smell of someone’s messy diaper made him gag.
Perfect. He took the bloodied items of clothing, dropped them in the mud until they were covered, then threw them in the bag with the smelly diaper. He doubted anyone would look beyond the smell emanating from the bag, but if they did, it was unlikely that they’d bother with muddy discarded clothing. And he was far enough from the crime scene that the police were unlikely to search for clues here.
Unless someone noticed Fay’s car.
He hurried back to the vehicle and drove until he could get off the interstate and turn around, back toward Fools Point. A few miles down the road, the barrel of his gun went into a muddy ditch.
Lee took the long way around past Trouble Lake. Once again, he pulled off the road. He didn’t see anyone and, hopefully, no one saw him. He tossed the cylinder of his gun into the murky water.
South of town was a heavily wooded area. The only turnoff was a small side road with no street sign, but a battered old sign proclaimed Rover’s Campgrounds. The dirt road was narrow and heavily rutted. An impossible choice for this car after yesterday’s heavy rains. He bypassed that and headed for town.
Fools Point only had two downtown streets, Main Street and Perry Road. He didn’t want to draw attention to Fay’s car by driving through the center of town, but there was no way to avoid it once he missed the cutoff for Jones Lane that would have led to Fay’s house. He slouched as low as possible behind the wheel and cursed. His head felt like mush.
In the middle of town sat the only traffic light for miles around. Naturally it turned red as he approached. His gaze swept along the empty street and up a hill to the restaurant where he’d eaten the night before. The converted estate house occupied the corner of the property. His shiny blue Corvette sat forlornly in the parking lot, right on the edge in full view of anyone passing by. There went any chance for an alibi. What were the odds a car like his had gone unnoticed overnight?
Fate wasn’t cutting him any breaks at all.
He turned past the restaurant and the church next door and found himself in the wealthier section of town.
A few years ago, Fay had inherited her parents’ large Victorian house. She’d been trying to sell it ever since. The red, white and green sign sat on the front lawn, with Kayla’s name and office number printed in bright bold letters. Lee pulled into the driveway. No one stirred as he parked the car in the back near the garage and wiped down everything he’d touched.
He left her keys in the ignition. With any luck at all, some fool would come along and steal the flashy red car.
. He cut through the backyard between houses, working his way around behind the doctor’s office and the row of shops that lined Main Street. He paused by a Dumpster outside the movie theater and tossed the grip to his gun inside. Then he headed down the alley until he came out on Main Street across from the bank.
Creek Street ran beside the bank. Kayla Coughlin lived in a small, restored duplex across the street. Unlike the duplexes he was familiar with, this house wasn’t split down the middle, but rather into a top and bottom unit. Kayla lived upstairs. Instead of renting out the downstairs apartment, she maintained her realty office there.
Lee studied the li
ght gray house with its black trim before crossing the empty street and mounting the porch. If his daughter wasn’t with Kayla, Lee didn’t know what he was going to do. Kayla would at least know where Meredith was. Not that she’d tell him willingly. Kayla always acted as if she didn’t like him, but once or twice he’d caught a different sort of look in her expressive eyes, which made him go out of his way to try to provoke a reaction.
Lee rubbed the back of his neck and reached for the doorknob. Thankfully, the door was unlocked. He mounted the long flight of stairs and knocked on her front door. The scent of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies filled the small hall. Kayla threw the door open seconds later without bothering to look. She was wiping her wet hands on a towel as she twisted away to answer Meredith at the same time.
“No more cookies. Your mother’s here. And you’re late,” she added in an aside toward Lee.
“I didn’t know I was expected.”
Her head whipped around to stare at him in startled surprise. “What are you doing here? Where’s Fay?”
In hell, unless he missed his guess, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. She eyed him suspiciously.
“I came for Meredith.”
“Oh, no you don’t.”
She tried to close the door, but he was already inside.
“Your hospitality is overwhelming.”
She released the door to glower at him. “Get out of here.”
“When I get Meredith.”
“No!”
“Daddy! Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”
His daughter came flying into the room and launched herself straight at him. Kayla and everything else ceased to exist. Lee dropped to his knee and scooped his daughter into his arms, standing to raise her high over his head, then swooping her downward for a hug.
Meredith shrieked in glee. Her tiny face was smeared with chocolate, but that didn’t stop her from planting sticky kisses all over his face. Lee didn’t mind a bit. He held her close, inhaling the scent of chocolate and child. “How’s my Merzie Dotes today?”
For His Daughter Page 2