by Lauren Carr
Uncertain of where Joshua was going, Russell stammered out his answer. “Toby’s mom told us.”
“She knew about Douglas O’Reilly?” Joshua asked.
Russell nodded his head. “Toby told her about it right away. He wanted to go to the cops but she wouldn’t let him—she kept saying that we had all made a mistake and now we had to live with the consequences like men. She thought Toby was weak when he killed himself because he couldn’t live with the guilt.”
“And when Virgil decided to come out with the truth?”
Russell slowly shook his head. “She called me and told me to stop him because Toby had shamed her enough by killing himself. If it came out that he had killed a man—”
Joshua was on his way out the door when he met Curt in the corridor outside the sheriff’s office. “Is Larry Van Patton still in the holding cell?”
Sawyer nodded his head. “Waiting for the feds to transport him to a federal prison.”
“Get me Lorraine Winter’s picture from the DMV!”
Larry Van Patton was eating his lunch when Joshua suddenly appeared at the door to his cell and held up a color photograph of an elderly woman. “Is this the woman you saw in the kitchen at Dolly’s the night Ava Tucker and Virgil Null were murdered?”
“That was a long time ago,” Larry argued while setting aside his lunch tray and shuffling to the door.
Shaking the picture, Joshua ordered, “Look at it!”
Larry took the photograph. He studied the image for a matter of seconds before nodding his head. “Yep, that’s her. I’m certain of it. I had forgotten her wild eyes. She had this crazy look.” He handed the picture back to Joshua. “That’s her. No doubt in my mind.”
Joshua whirled around on his heels to find Curt Sawyer pressing the button on his radio to call his deputies to Lorraine Winter’s home. “I need to call Cameron.”
While waiting for what seemed like an extremely long time on the porch of Lorraine Winter’s small, run-down home built into Chester’s hillside, Cameron strolled over to peer into the backyard. She figured that maybe Lorraine hadn’t heard her knocking on her door because she was outside.
That was when the detective noticed that Lorraine’s backyard was adjacent to Dolly Houseman’s backyard. Only a broken-down privacy fence separated the two lots. Her brow furrowed. Why didn’t I notice that before? They’re neighbors.
“What do you want?” Lorraine demanded from the other side of the screen door.
Forcing a smile on her lips, Cameron went back to the door. She was taken aback when she saw the elderly woman.
When the detective had met her earlier in the week, Lorraine Winter had been dressed in clean, pressed clothes. Her hair was brushed without a strand out of place. She was as neat as a pin.
This time, her unkempt gray hair fell lose down to the middle of her back. Her flabby frame was encased in a worn housedress under a tattered robe that hung open. Her feet were nestled in shabby blue bedroom slippers.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Winter,” Cameron said once she regained her composure, “but I had some questions for you about your son, Toby.”
“He’s dead,” Lorraine announced in a matter-of-fact manner.
Even through the screen door, Cameron was unsettled by Lorraine’s wide eyes. They were filled with a fury that seemed to pierce through the screen barrier between them.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Winter,” Cameron said gently. “But, I understand he committed suicide at Raccoon Creek—”
“Hung himself,” Lorraine said.
“Did he tell you why he wanted to die?”
Lorraine stared at her. “Why are you asking?”
“Because there’s another family who lost their son, and I believe Toby may have been involved. If your son told you what happened that night, and the truth could finally come out, then maybe things could be set right—or at the very least, this family could have closure.”
While Cameron waited, Lorraine’s lips pursed.
Cameron could feel the hatred boring into her from the old woman’s eyes.
A slow smile worked at the corners of Lorraine’s lips. Finally, she pushed open the screen door. “Come in,” she invited Cameron in a crackly voice that oozed with unnatural sweetness.
Cameron stepped into the small living room filled with tan furniture devoid of cushions or warmly colored throws. The pictures on the walls were old and yellowed. The less-than-homey décor sent a chill through her. She was so busy taking note of the décor that she was startled when she heard the click of the lock on the door.
“Come into the kitchen.” The corners of Lorraine’s lips curled into a grin that appeared out of place. She flashed Cameron a smile that revealed discolored and uneven teeth.
While following her out of the room, Cameron asked, “Did Toby ever mention the name Douglas O’Reilly?”
In the kitchen, Cameron felt as if she had been transported back in time to the home of her nasty aunt who had despised her. The appliances and cupboards that had once been white were yellow with age. The black and white tiled floor was chipped.
The only freshness in the dreary room was a breeze that swept in from the backyard through the screen door.
Lorraine went over to the cupboard across the room and reached up to take out a teacup.
Standing behind her, Cameron noticed Lorraine’s bandaged right hand as she reached into the cupboard. Nodding toward the gauze wrapped injury, she asked, “What happened to your hand?”
“Cut it on a butcher knife.” Carrying two teacups, Lorraine turned around and flashed that odd-looking smile at her again. “You look like you take sugar in your tea.”
“Yes, I do.” She jerked when she felt her cell phone vibrate on her hip. Taking it from the case, she checked the screen to read the caller ID, which said, “JOSH.”
Pressing the button to take the call, she turned around. “Yes, hon?”
“It’s her!” Joshua called out.
“What?”
“Lorraine! She killed them!”
Hearing a movement behind her, Cameron turned around in time to see the flash of the cast iron frying pan before it made contact with the side of her head.
Everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Isn’t that Cameron’s cruiser?” Hunter Gardner rolled his car to a stop in the middle of the street when he noticed the white Pennsylvania State Police cruiser parked in front of the little house in the middle of the block.
They were on their way to his grandparents’ home, two doors down from Lorraine Winter’s house, where his mother was staying while recovering from the trauma of the night before. So far, Belle Fontaine was insisting she didn’t ever want to return to the home she had made with Royce Fontaine.
Her feelings were compounded after a long night of comparing notes with her former in-laws. For years, the Gardners had believed their former daughter-in-law was pulling away from her late husband’s family—possibly painful memories of her loss or shutting the door on her past to enjoy the life of being a rich man’s wife.
Hours of heart-to-heart conversation revealed that it was Royce Fontaine who had cut Belle off from Mike’s family. Numerous messages and attempts to reach out had been intercepted and concealed in his continuing effort to have the object of his obsession all to himself.
By morning, Belle had made the decision to legally change her name back to Gardner.
There were many decisions to make.
“The doctor told her not to drive, but Cameron insisted on picking it up yesterday,” Tracy said in response to Hunter’s question. “That’s Cameron for you.”
“What’s it doing in front of Lorraine Winter’s house instead of at your place?” Hunter asked.
“She’s working on Ms. Houseman’s murder,” Tracy said. “Maybe she’s
questioning Mrs. Winter to see if she saw something. She lives right behind her. If the killer went out the back door, she may have seen him.”
Staring at the cruiser in front of the broken-down house, Hunter eased the car forward a few feet before stopping once again. The driver in the car behind him honked his horn.
“What’s wrong?” Embarrassed to be a part of the traffic hold up, Tracy said, “Cameron is a trained detective. She can take care of herself.”
“Have you met Lorraine Winter?” Hunter pressed his foot on the gas pedal. “I swear the Brothers Grimm based the wicked witch in Hansel and Gretel on her.”
“Every neighborhood has one nasty old woman.” She picked up her cell phone, which was vibrating on her hip. The caller ID indicated that it was Sheriff Sawyer. “Curt, are you calling to put in your dinner order?”
“Tracy, it’s me,” Joshua said. “Are you with Hunter?”
“Sure—”
“Are you two at his grandparents’ house or ours?”
Shooting a look of concern across at Hunter, Tracy pressed the speaker button. “We’re on our way to the Gardners. Why?”
“Lorraine Winter killed Dolly,” Joshua said. “She also killed Ava Tucker and Virgil Null. Cameron is with her now, and when I called her I heard a crash and scuffle. The phone is still on and she’s making noises like she’s hurt. Police are on their way, but Hunter, you were with military police. Can you—”
“I’m on my way.” Hunter was already making a U-turn in the middle of the narrow street. The driver behind him blasted his horn while swerving to avoid a collision “Tracy, get my gun out of the glove compartment.”
“I just want you to see if Cameron is okay,” Joshua said. “Backup units are on the way.”
The room was spinning. No matter how hard Cameron pressed her eyes shut, every time she opened them, the room continued to swirl around her.
The floor felt gritty on her face and hands. Pushing herself up onto her knees, Cameron dropped face first back down onto the floor when nausea overcame her. Something warm and moist dripped into her eyes. Thinking it was sweat, she wiped it away to realize that she was losing the feeling in her fingers. In spite of the numbness, she could recognize the feel of it.
Too sticky. Nope, it’s not sweat.
Squinting, she peered at her fingertips. Even through the blur, she could recognize it as blood.
The sound of running water roared in her ears. Footsteps resembling that of an oncoming gorilla across a tile floor echoed inside her head.
A pair of dirty blue slippers stopped in front of her.
Shoot her! Cameron heard inside her head. Get your gun and shoot the old witch dead. Now! Before it’s too late.
“What are you doing here?” she heard Lorraine ask in a puzzled voice.
With numb hands, Cameron groped for her gun in its holster strapped to her hip. With effort, she unsnapped the holster and fumbled around to grab the grip and remove the gun. Rolling over onto her back, she aimed it up at the figure standing over her. The gun shook in her hand.
Shoot!
She pressed her finger on the trigger, which didn’t move.
Pull on the trigger. Harder. Why aren’t you firing, you dumb—the safety! Turn off the safety!
Clumsily, she lowered the gun and felt for the safety to unlock it.
“What are you trying to do?” Lorraine took the gun out of her hand and peered at it. “Stupid girl. You could hurt someone with this thing.” She tucked the gun into the pocket of her robe. “There. That’s better.” Rising back up to her feet, Lorraine went over to the knife block and removed the butcher knife. She studied the blade in her hand. “Now I remember what I was going to do.” She opened the cabinet under her sink and took out a garbage bag.
Joshua stared at the clock on the dashboard of the sheriff’s cruiser. “What’s our ETA now?”
“Thirty seconds less than the last time you asked,” Sheriff Sawyer said. “I wish you hadn’t called Hunter.”
“He’s right there,” Joshua said.
“He’s not even a rookie! Every deputy in the county is on his way. Chester’s police are right down the road. She’s going to be all right.”
“Lorraine Winter has killed three people.” Joshua held up his cell phone. “Cameron is hurt.”
“And what are you going to do if your daughter’s fiancé gets hurt—or worse—because you ignored police procedure and sent him in to save your new wife?”
Joshua bowed his head and closed his eyes to say a prayer.
“Stay in the car,” Hunter told Tracy.
Even as he gave the order, she trotted down the steps to Lorraine Winter’s small porch. “Cameron is my stepmother and I love you. No way am I staying out here and letting you go in there alone to save her.”
“I thought you didn’t like Cameron.” Holding his gun up and ready to fire, he moved up to the front door.
Keeping close behind him, Tracy followed. “She’s growing on me.”
“You want to help?” Hunter said. “Stay out here. Tell the officers when they arrive that I have gone in. That way I won’t get shot. If you see Lorraine coming around from the back, scream bloody murder. Don’t try to stop her. Tell me that you understand and will do what I said.”
“I understand.”
“Stop kicking me, you stupid girl.”
In spite of the old woman’s command, Cameron delivered another kick that planted the heel of her foot to Lorraine’s nose. She heard the crack when her nose broke. The old woman dropped Cameron’s other foot to grab her face, which was covered with blood from the blow.
Cameron was too heavy for the old woman to drag easily into the bathroom where she intended to cut her up in the bathtub, which she was filling with water. Her struggling made it even more of a chore.
Upon her release, Cameron attempted to fight the nausea and crawl up to her feet to scurry to safety on the other side of the screened back door. She made it only halfway to the door before vertigo plunged her face first down onto the floor.
“Bitch!” Lorraine screamed when she saw the blood. Grabbing up the knife that she had placed on the floor with the garbage bag, she lunged for the young woman’s back.
“The door’s locked,” Tracy said.
“No kidding,” Hunter replied.
“Bitch!” they heard Lorraine Winter curse from inside the house.
“Stand back.” Hunter delivered a kick to the old door, which broke free from its lock. It swung open as if to invite him inside. “Cameron! It’s Hunter Gardner!” he announced while rushing inside with his gun drawn. “Are you okay? Police are on the way.”
The sound of the door being kicked in roared in Cameron’s head.
“Cameron! It’s Hunter Gardner! Are you okay? Police are on the way.”
In the distance, Cameron picked up the sound of sirens growing closer.
Lorraine Winter heard them too. Her wild eyes grew wider. With a sadistic grin that stretched across the width of her face, she scurried out of the kitchen and through a door leading down to the basement. Placing a finger to her lip, she gestured to Cameron to be quiet before closing the door behind her.
“Cameron, are you okay?” Hunter Gardner rolled her over and quickly examined her. “Oh, dear God, look at you! What did she hit you with?” She felt his hand on her neck. “Where’s Mrs. Winter?”
Cameron opened her mouth to speak, but only unintelligible noises came from her lips. Her jaw shook. Her teeth chattered.
“You’re in shock. EMTs are on their way.” He glanced up at the screen door leading outside. “Did she go out the back door?”
With a gleeful light in her eyes, Lorraine eased open the basement door and crept forward. Like a child sneaking downstairs to shake presents on Christmas morning, she tiptoed into the kitchen.
Seeing her, Cameron tried to
force a warning from her throat. All that came out was a high-pitched shriek.
“It’s okay, Cameron.” Hunter tucked his gun into his waistband. “We’ll find her.”
But you’ll be dead before they come in. There she is. Turn around. Hoping he could understand her fear, Cameron grabbed Hunter’s arm and squeezed.
Seeing her cell phone on the floor, Hunter picked it up. “Mr. Thornton, are you there? … Yeah, I’m in. She’s got a wicked head wound, but she’s alive...Mrs. Winter appears to have escaped out the back …”
Lorraine covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the giggle bubbling to her lips in anticipation of her next brutal murder. Taking Cameron’s gun out of her bathrobe pocket, she tiptoed across the kitchen toward her next victim.
The warning failing to come, Cameron’s eyes pleaded with Hunter to grasp their message.
In the sheriff’s cruiser, Joshua let out a deep sigh and gave Curt Sawyer a thumbs up. “We’re coming up Fifth now,” he told Hunter into the phone. “Dispatch says units have just arrived on the scene. Where’s Tracy?”
“She’s—” Hunter’s response was broken off by a loud scream that almost pierced Joshua’s eardrum. He felt his heart skip a beat as a series of gunshots erupted through the phone’s speaker.
“Hunter!” Joshua shouted into the phone. “What’s happening? Who’s shooting?”
Curt cringed when he heard an officer reporting across the police channel. “Shots are being fired from inside the house.”