Absolute Liability

by Jennifer Becton

  I kept one eye on the rearview mirror and one on the cars that surrounded me. I saw no one suspicious. I didn’t see Roger McKade, the arsonist and the main suspect in Amber’s murder. I didn’t see Leona Winchell’s bulldoggish body behind the wheel of any vehicles either. I didn’t really suspect her, but one couldn’t be too careful. Or maybe I should have been looking for Cat Smaha. Had he fooled everyone? Perhaps he’d bribed the inspector and was now protecting himself. And I didn’t see Gerry or James Gerwalt, but were they capable of murdering Amber?

  Who was capable of murder?

  Someone I’d been in contact with was a bloodthirsty animal. And I had to find out who it was.

  I looked and looked, but I saw no one.

  I saw no one at all.

  My life, which had started to feel stable when I left the MPD, was falling apart all over again. I was being removed from my house—albeit temporarily—and separated from my family—okay, my cat—and my life was in danger. I was especially upset about that last one.

  Maybe I was destined to be like Job. Yup, God and Satan had a bet going, and I was at its center. Things were taken away from me, and my life was shaken. Was it a test of faith?

  If so, I was probably failing miserably.

  And at that point, I didn’t have it in me to look for deep theological meaning in my plight. I had to concentrate on packing my stuff and getting to Vincent’s place.

  But first things first: a shower to wash off the horrors of the day. Afterward, I didn’t even bother to try to salvage my clothes. I threw them all in the trash and then filled a duffel bag with fresh clothes and got my work things together.

  Now to take care of Maxwell. Finding him outside was difficult, but not as challenging as convincing him to go into his cat carrier. After a couple of failed attempts, he was ready to go. I put cat food and toys into a plastic bag and carried everything across the street.

  I glanced at Helena’s house and thought about popping in, but it was probably Violet’s dinnertime, bedtime, or bath time. I’d totally lost track of the hour. I made a mental note to call her later.

  I trekked two houses down from Helena’s and knocked on Mrs. Helstrom’s door. A retired veterinary technician, Mrs. Helstrom now ran a pet-sitting business out of her house.

  She opened the door with alacrity. She did everything with alacrity. She’d probably been watching the action outside my house—and getting a good laugh at Maxwell’s evasion tactics—through the picture window in her front room.

  “Come in, darling!” She gestured toward her sitting room and shut the door behind us. “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” I said. I explained as little as I could about my situation, telling her I was staying with friends for a few days and asking if she could keep Maxwell.

  I extended the carrier to her, and she reached out without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course, I’ll keep him, dear.”

  I thanked her and felt relieved that at least one creature in my life was now safe. I doubted that the murderer would take the time to track down my cat.

  Mrs. Helstrom walked me back to the door, and when she swung it open, we saw Vincent standing on my front porch. I ignored the feeling of comfort he produced within me and tried to focus on the reality of the situation. He was checking on me.

  I tried to be glad.

  But I hated the idea of feeling glad to have a man checking on my safety.

  “Mmm, mmm, there he is again,” Mrs. Helstrom said. “Is he the friend you’re staying with?”

  Of course, Mrs. Helstrom had noticed him. Everyone noticed him and immediately assumed the wrong thing. I wasn’t even in a place to contemplate romance. I had bigger things on my mind.

  Such as staying alive.

  I hedged her question and said, “We’re working together on an insurance fraud case.”

  “Sure, sure.” Mrs. Helstrom tilted her head as if studying Vincent. He was walking back and forth across the front porch now. “He looks big. I like ’em big.”

  Her openly appreciative expression would have been amusing if I’d been in any other situation. I tilted my head sideways and looked at Vincent too. She thought we were going on a romantic trip, and I decided not to disabuse her of the notion.

  “Yeah, I like them big too,” I said, not realizing how true the words were until I’d spoken them aloud.

  “Well, I sure wouldn’t keep a man like him waiting. Get going,” she said with a grin and a gentle shove.

  “I’ll call when I’m back in town,” I said over my shoulder as I stepped from her porch.

  “Well, don’t you worry a bit about Maxwell,” she said as she tore her eyes from Vincent. “We’ll have a grand time.”

  Vincent watched me as I left Mrs. Helstrom’s and crossed the street. “Cat taken care of?” he asked.

  “Yup. Let me grab my bag and we can head out.”

  I went inside and quickly checked all the doors and windows. When the house felt secure enough, I gathered my stuff, locked the door behind me, and met Vincent at his truck. He was leaning against the back bumper. To any onlookers, he would appear to be a man without a care in the world, but I knew he was acting as my sentinel. Watching. Ready for danger.

  I wasn’t off for an overnight at a cute guy’s house, even if that’s what Mrs. Helstrom thought. A criminal had threatened my life, probably because I was about to discover that he’d committed insurance fraud, and he’d already killed one innocent woman. The truth was that this was a protection detail, and I had to be ready for incoming fire.

  On the way to Lake Montclair, I called Tripp to tell him of my decision to stay at Vincent’s and then phoned Ted to notify him of the situation too. Vincent had updated Ted on the findings at the warehouse, so I didn’t have to mention Amber. I just informed him of our plan and of my intention to keep investigating the frauds in the hopes that I’d find something to put Roger McKade away for good.

  “I can put another investigator on this, Julia,” Ted offered. “There’s no shame in lying low for a while.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Ted. I really do, but I can’t stop. I will be a part of capturing this guy. No matter what.”

  That pretty much ended the conversation, so we hung up, and I called Helena. She would worry if I just disappeared, which was a rather comforting thought. Someone would miss me. After reassuring her, I called both my parents. I told my father the truth and asked him to take precautions. Leave town, if possible.

  “I’ll do better than that,” he told me. “I’ll keep a loaded weapon on my hip. I’ve got nothing to fear from that bastard, but he would do well to watch out for me.”

  I didn’t argue with him. It was pointless.

  When I spoke to my mother, I told her I’d won a free trip for two to Savannah for the week but couldn’t go. Yes, it was a total lie. Beyond that, it was ridiculous and completely unbelievable, but because so few good things had happened in my mother’s life, she was always eager to leap at any opportunity for happiness. And so was my sister.

  The two of them would leave for Savannah in the morning on my dime. In the meantime, Tripp arranged for a car to patrol their neighborhoods throughout the night.

  I tried to settle in for the rest of the hour-long drive to Lake Montclair, but I grew restless quickly. I became conscious of every time Vincent checked the rearview mirror but refused to allow myself to ask the obvious question.

  After about the fiftieth mirror check, Vincent took pity on me. “No one.”

  Ten minutes after his pronouncement, we arrived at the lake house. And it wasn’t a moment too soon. I was exhausted, and now that I knew no one was following us, I thought I actually might be able to rest easy, even in a relative stranger’s home.

  From what I could tell, Vincent’s house was small and constructed in a rectangular shape that could have easily been mistaken for a mobile home, except I thought I detected a stone foundation as I squinted into the darkness. I couldn’t tell for sure. As
I got out of the truck and pulled my bag from the bed, I saw that the grass was clipped short and lights were on inside, so at least it had power.

  I couldn’t tell much about the rest of the property, but I could hear the lapping of lake water in the distance and see the shadowy figures of old-growth trees. I was sure the view would be stunning in the morning.

  I looped my bag’s strap over my shoulder and followed Vincent into the house. The entryway light seemed too bright, and I blinked as I walked along the short hallway and down two steps into the main living area.

  I looked around. It was nice. Clean. Masculine.

  A bank of windows ran along the back wall, looking toward the water, but it was too dark for me to see the lake. On the left was a kitchen, blocked off by a U-shaped group of cabinets, and on the right were a couch, a couple of easy chairs, and a large TV surrounded by a well-stocked bookshelf.

  The room looked lived in and comfortable. I put my stuff beside the couch while Vincent disappeared down the hall, probably to check on his son.

  I shucked my jacket and then removed my gun and holster from my belt and placed them in my bag. While Vincent was still gone, I took a few moments to snoop through his bookshelf and found it full of volumes on economics, history, and philosophy. The selection surprised me.

  Growing wearier by the second, I untucked my shirt and flopped onto the sofa. The upholstery was old and brown and sort of scratchy, but I was so exhausted I didn’t want to move.

  According to the digital clock on Vincent’s DVD player, it was after 10 PM. I was shocked. Murders take a long time to work through, but I couldn’t fathom how so many hours had passed since we’d found Amber’s body that morning. I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but I was too tired to bother with hunger. I was almost too tired to move.

  I managed to muster the energy to glance up as Vincent returned and dropped onto the sofa beside me. He removed his shoes and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Late,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I followed his lead and toed off my shoes and socks. I tucked my feet underneath me.

  Once my legs were situated on the couch, it occurred to me that my position angled me quite close to him, but that didn’t seem to matter. I felt neither discomfort nor romantic attraction; I felt nothing but solidarity, as if he had always been this close. As if he were meant to be.

  It was strange. I’d been going it alone for so long—since I left the MPD, in fact—that I had forgotten the simple comforts of connecting like this, of uniting with someone for a common purpose or even against a common enemy. I had friends, of course—Helena in particular—but when it came down to it, even Helena only knew pieces of me. She had chosen a different kind of life. Sure, her time as a defense attorney acquainted her with the seedier side of life, but I’d lived it. And was still living it.

  As a law enforcement officer, I’d grown used to working with a partner. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that when I started working at the DOI.

  If I let myself consider it—and I didn’t—I might realize I’d also been missing the presence of a man in my life.

  I studied Vincent’s profile for a while. His eyes were soft, his jaw relaxed. He radiated a tired strength. I took in the rest of his appearance. His shirt was untucked, and the sleeves were rolled up, exposing his “hold fast” tattoo. His legs extended almost to the far edge of the coffee table, yet he managed not to be lanky. I found that I liked the contradiction.

  I liked him.

  Moreover, I liked who I was when I was with him. I was not my past; I was just me.

  I finally spoke. “Everything okay with your son?” I’d been expecting to find a babysitter parked in front of the TV, but apparently, his son was all alone.

  He turned his blue eyes on me full force. “Sure, he’s fine.”

  “Oh,” I said. He didn’t seem concerned at all, and I was too tired to ponder exactly what that meant.

  We looked at each other for a while. By tacit agreement, neither of us moved. I don’t know how it was possible, but we seemed to solidify our friendship and our partnership without saying a word.

  I knew that if I allowed myself, I might fall asleep in the warm, large comfort of Vincent’s presence, and it was a temptation. I had gone so long without a true partner that I could have just closed my eyes drifted off in the security of it.

  I could rest here in the knowledge that whatever tomorrow might bring—and it could very well bring death and mayhem—Vincent and I would face it together.

  But I forced myself to get up and grab my overnight bag. “Bathroom?”

  “Down the hall. First door on the right.”

  I headed where Vincent had directed and flicked on the light over the sink. It put out a dim, yellow glow, but it didn’t do much to cut the darkness in the tiny space. I ran my fingers along the porcelain sink. It seemed clean enough, and so did the shower.

  I changed into a pair of pajama pants and an old MPD t-shirt, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. After completing my nightly ritual, I was ready to pass out.

  So I was glad to see Vincent tucking a set of dark blue sheets into the couch cushions when I came out of the bathroom.

  I dropped my bag beside the sofa while Vincent added a light blanket on top of the sheets and dropped a pillow near one of the armrests. In all, it looked heavenly. Of course, as tired as I was, a bed of nails would have looked just as inviting.

  He finished tucking in the blanket and stood upright, taking in my nighttime look. I tucked my arms over my braless chest. He looked away, and I tried not to blush.

  He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll sleep here.”

  “Look, let’s not get into one of these stupid discussions about who sleeps where. The couch is fine for me. I’m sleeping right here.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m in the room at the end of the hall if you need anything.”

  I was glad he didn’t argue because my knees had gone weak with fatigue. I moved over to the makeshift bed and watched Vincent disappear down the dark hallway.

  I heard him say, “Night, Julia.”

  “Night.”

  I lay down on the couch, thinking I sort of liked it that he’d called me Julia. From him, it felt like an intimacy. Then I lay there trying to think about nothing at all: not fraud complaints, my family, or Mark Vincent. And I definitely didn’t think about Amber as I snuggled into the couch cushions. The sheets were cool and made the whole setup even more comfortable, and I fell asleep surprisingly fast.

  With a child in the house, I expected to wake up early to the sound of cartoons.

  I did wake up to the sound of cartoons, but it wasn’t early. It was more like 9 AM.

  And the child wasn’t exactly a child.

  I squinted at the person in the armchair beside the couch. He was practically a man. He was wearing a pair of ragged, cut-off sweatpants and no shirt. His chest was hairless and lean, but he was just on the verge of becoming an adult. Eighteen to twenty-one, I’d guess.

  He was slouched over a bowl of cereal and watching some cartoon featuring what looked like a wad of meat.

  He noticed I was awake and turned to study me. He had Vincent’s blue eyes, but his face was less hard planes and more rounded softness. Maybe the remnants of childhood, maybe something from his mother’s side of the family.

  “When Pops said he was bringing a woman over, I wasn’t expecting to find her sleeping on the couch.” He looked me over pointedly. I don’t know if I passed or failed in his assessment. I didn’t really care. “And I was expecting someone a little older.”

  I sat up and adjusted my t-shirt so he wouldn’t be able to see the outline of my body. “When he said he had a son, I was expecting someone a little younger.”

  “I guess it’s a morning for surprises.” He took another huge bite of cereal. Milk dribbled down his chin and he wiped at it with the spoon. “So you’re not his honey then?”

  “Nope. And you’re not a six-year-
old.”

  “Nope. Eighteen.”

  “You live here?”

  “Nah. Not permanently. Just for the summer. I’m studying at Central Georgia College.”

  Oh. That explained why Vincent kept a place so far from Atlanta, where the main DOI office was located.

  “Got a major?”

  “Communications.”

  I almost laughed. The catch-all major for undecided and directionless students strikes again.

  “Got a name?”

  “Justin Montgomery. You got one?”

  “Julia Jackson.” I thought for a moment. I couldn’t help myself. Curiosity got the better of me. “You took your mother’s last name.”

  “Sure.” Another bite of cereal. “She raised me.”

  “So does that make you the son Vincent never knew he had?” I seriously hoped I hadn’t wandered into some complex family situation. I, and the danger I would inevitably invite, would not make a tense situation any better.

  “Nah. He knew about me. Divorced my mom and joined the Navy anyway.” His tone was neutral. His face was blank. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or accepting of the events in his past. “My mom had custody. I hardly ever saw him ’til he retired or whatever it’s called.”

  Huh. I hadn’t pegged Vincent for a deadbeat dad. He seemed like the kind of man who took care of everything: business, family, even me.

  I ran a hand through my sleep-tangled hair.

  I didn’t like to admit it, but Vincent really was taking care of me.

  But to abandon a kid? It just seemed so un-Vincent. I guess my instincts could be wrong, though.

  “So you’re not with Pops?”

  “No. This is more like a protection detail.”

  He faced me fully, probably interested in what depraved deed I’d been involved in to warrant his father’s protection. “You witness a murder or something?”

  “Or something.” I wasn’t in the mood to explain, and it was probably best if Justin didn’t know all the details. He may be eighteen years old, legally an adult, but that didn’t mean he should be acquainted with every aspect of the larger world. I wished I’d had someone to shelter me, just a little bit, when I was eighteen.