by BJ Bourg
I played it over in my head, trying to visualize everything as it had happened. “Y’all dumped their bodies on the side of the highway?”
“Yeah. We loaded them in Marty’s mom’s car and dumped their bodies off the shoulder of the road.”
“And what about the baby?”
“We brought her to my camp and me and Marty took turns watching her.” He shook his head. “One day I came home and she was gone. When I asked Marty about it, he said he gave her to Peter. Peter must’ve turned her over to the buyers, because when I went to his house the baby was nowhere to be found.”
I took a minute to catch up on my notes, looked up at Tom. “Why’d you set the house on fire?”
“I didn’t,” he said simply.
I waited and turned my hands up when he didn’t offer a name. “Then who did?”
“That was Marty.”
“Why’d he do that?”
Tom rubbed the fingers on his right hand, sighed. “I took off my boxing ring to slip on the brass knuckles right before we entered the baby’s room and I must’ve dropped it. I realized it was missing later and I sent Marty back to the house the next night to find it.”
“Did he find it?” I asked.
“He told me he couldn’t find it and that was why he burned the house down—to destroy the ring and any other evidence. He was acting really weird and skittish after that night. And when I saw him talking to you at the gym and he took your card”—Tom shook his head—“I figured he was about to rat. I followed him and saw that he went back to where we dumped the body. When I saw your car pull up I realized what was going on. I saw Marty put something on your windshield. I tried to go get it, but you came back before I could reach your car. I realized later that it was my ring.”
“Is that why you killed him?”
He hung his head, spoke in a low voice. “Marty was a good kid. I shouldn’t have involved him. I just didn’t want to go back to prison. I had so much to live for and I started to realize that I’d risked it all by dragging him into my mess. I knew the only way I wouldn’t get caught was if he was gone.”
“When’d you do it?”
“The morning y’all found him. I went over to his house and made us each a drink. I spiked his with sleeping pills. I got him to admit he gave you my ring. He said he was going to talk to you, but changed his mind at the last minute. He apologized, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he cracked.
“As soon as he fell asleep I put his gun in his hand, put it to his head, and pulled the trigger. I typed out the suicide note, planted the evidence in his car and put the keys back in his pocket.” Tom looked up and stared me right in the eye. “You almost caught me in the house. I heard a noise and saw y’all pull up. I slipped out the side door just in time. I hid in the trees and watched you go in through the back door.”
I shivered as I realized the sound I’d heard in the woods was him watching me—and without my knowledge. What if he’d used Marty’s gun to ambush me and Dawn? Things could’ve turned bad for us—again! My mind drifted to Samantha. Who would raise her if I were gone? I shook off the thought, glanced over my notes. “So, you said earlier that Marty took the baby to Peter. Why didn’t you do it? I mean, if your job was to recover the baby so Peter could give it to the couple who purchased her, why would Marty have to go behind your back and bring it to Peter? Were you planning to double-cross Peter?”
Tom hesitated again, lowered his head. “You’d have to see her to understand. She was such a fun little baby, always happy. I guess...I must’ve bonded with her. I just couldn’t turn her over. I guess I saw a little of Jeri in her eyes and thought I could take care of her. You know, trying to make up for old sins.”
I tossed my notepad and pen on the desk and leaned back in my chair. “I understand what happened with Bill Prince and Marty, but why kill Doctor Wainwright and his wife? Y’all were partners...friends, even.”
“When Peter came back from bringing the baby to the buyers, he found out the body he did the autopsy on was Bill Prince and he got really mad. Called me up and told me I’d gone too far, that murder wasn’t part of the deal. Called himself a businessman—a professional—not a lowlife killer like me. He said it was over and he was calling the law to turn me in.” Tom looked up with cold eyes. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”
I scrunched my eyebrows as I mulled over his statement, winced in pain. When I looked up, I tried to appear empathetic, but it was difficult. “Are you remorseful at all for what you did?”
“My only regret is getting caught and ruining the good life I built for myself.”
I walked out of the interview room, secured the door behind me—locking Tom inside—and stepped into the observatory. Dawn turned and squinted when the light flooded the room. I closed the door quickly, moved beside her to watch Tom through the glass. “What do you think?” I asked.
She gawked. “I think you need to go to the hospital. You look awful!”
“Gee, thanks.” I nodded in Tom’s direction through the glass. “The interview—what’d you think about the interview?”
“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “You got him to talk himself all the way to a lethal injection. Case closed.”
“What’d you find at the cabin?”
“Baby supplies, a bottle of Nembutal in the name of Spencer Draper and a fire pit with some burnt clothes.”
“He had Spencer’s sleeping pills? Don’t tell me Spencer’s in on it, too.”
“No, he’s not. I called Spencer and talked to him about it. He suffers from insomnia. Says his pills were stolen a while back and he had to report them missing to get a refill. At the time, he suspected one of the street rats who used to hang around the place and he kicked the kid out of the gym. He feels bad about it now.”
“Do we have a record of it?”
She nodded. “I have a copy of the report for the file.”
“Can you think of anything I forgot to cover?”
Her brows furrowed, moving her hands around as she thought about it, then shook her head. “No, I think that about covers everything.”
“Can you upload his recorded statement while I type the arrest report?”
She nodded, grabbed my arm to stop me from walking away. “Please go to the hospital.”
I smiled, groaned inwardly at the pain the motion drew. “When I finish the paperwork, I’ll go straight to the emergency room. While I’m there, I’ll update Janice.”
CHAPTER 46
Magnolia General Hospital
The nurse was just securing the bandage across my ribs when Debbie rushed into the room with Samantha stumbling behind, trying to keep up with her mom’s longer stride. “I came as soon as I heard,” Debbie said, out of breath.
I scowled. “Heard? From who?”
“Dawn called. Said you’d been injured, but it wasn’t bad. She thought I should know.”
My scowl eased into a smile when I saw Samantha, but she stopped dead in her tracks when our eyes met. She dipped behind Debbie, wrapping an arm around her leg. She peered around her mom, mouth wide.
I slid off the bed and stepped forward, squatted in front of her. “Hey, Pumpkin, it’s okay. I’m fine. The good nurse said I’ll be okay.”
Samantha’s little brows furrowed. “Daddy, are you blind?”
I laughed. “No, Sam, my eye is just swollen shut. When the swelling goes down it’ll open again and I’ll be able to see just fine.”
She seemed to relax a little, ran into my outstretched arms. I held her tight against me and felt warm tears leak down my neck. I pulled back to look at her. “Are you okay?”
She leaned forward and buried her face against my shoulder and whispered, “I miss you, Daddy.”
I squeezed her tight and held her for what seemed like forever, keenly aware of Debbie standing nearby watching us. We were finally interrupted when the door swung open and Dawn walked in. She shot a glance in Debbie’s direction, nodded, and then smiled down at Samantha. “He
y, Cutie! How are you?”
“Miss Dawn!” Samantha pushed away from me and threw her arms around Dawn. “You saved my daddy again!”
Dawn laughed. “Not this time, Sweetie. Your daddy got the bad guy all by himself.”
They chatted briefly and then Dawn glanced over at me. “I just talked to Janice and told her everything.”
“How is she?”
“She’s good. They released her. She’s heading to the hotel to be with her family.”
It suddenly occurred to me. “The Abernathy’s are staying there, too. We need to—”
“I already called ahead and told the deputies to make sure their paths don’t cross.”
I sighed.
Debbie took Samantha’s hand and directed her to the door. “We’re going to go now and let you work, Brandon. I’ll call you later so we can talk. Is that okay?”
Ignoring Debbie’s comment, I followed them to the hallway and bent to kiss Samantha’s forehead. “I’ll come pick you up soon, Pumpkinseed.”
This brightened Samantha’s mood and she skipped after her mom down the hallway and toward the main entrance. Debbie turned to look at me as she reached the sliding doors, but I averted my eyes.
I didn’t object to Dawn driving me home. The emergency room doctor had read off a long list of injuries that included a broken rib, broken nose and an orbital fracture. My head pounded and I allowed my eyes to slide shut as the hum of the engine sang softly to me. It seemed I’d just dozed off when the car lurched to a stop. I looked up to see the paved sidewalk that led to my apartment. “Damn, that was fast.”
“You snore when you sleep,” Dawn said.
“No I don’t!” My face flushed and even that hurt. “I wasn’t even sleeping.”
“Believe what you want.” She started to open her door, but I stopped her.
“I’ve got a broken nose—not a broken leg. I’m good.” I thanked her for the ride and labored toward my front door. I heard her drive away, but was too weary to turn and wave goodbye. I’d just plunged the key into the knob when I caught movement to my left. I turned to see Kristen standing there in sweat pants and a tank-top. She immediately threw her hand to her mouth.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“I got in a fight at work. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” she echoed. “It looks like you got hit by a freight train! I thought that last shiner was bad, but this is horrific!”
“Occupational hazard. I accepted the risks the minute I accepted the badge.” I pushed my door open and stepped back. “Care to come in?”
“Oh, I wasn’t planning on coming in. I just walked over to say hello. I’m not really in the mood to hang out.”
I smiled. “I guess I deserve that.”
“I’m not saying no,” she quickly explained. “I’d love to come inside and hang out with you. I was starting to think you didn’t want to be friends. I hadn’t seen you in a while and you haven’t stopped by.”
“I’ve been so busy with work.” I sighed. “Story of my life.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
I pointed toward her apartment. “Maybe you should lock your door before you come in. There’ve been reports of some burglaries in the surrounding neighborhoods.”
“I already locked it.” She slipped inside of my apartment and looked around. “Wow. You have been busy. So busy you didn’t even have time to furnish this place. I don’t feel so neglected anymore.”
I walked over to the counter and turned a barstool in her direction. “I’ll make us a drink.”
“Do you have a beer?”
“No, but I make a mean Bloody Mary.”
“Oh, I’d love a good Bloody Mary.”
As I made our drinks, I explained how the furniture on my face had gotten rearranged.
“Were you scared?”
“No, there wasn’t much time to think. All of a sudden, he was on me and we were fighting.”
“The sheriff talked about it on the news, but he didn’t say which cop had captured him.”
“Good. I don’t like the attention.”
“So, if you don’t mind me asking...what’s the status of your relationship with your wife?”
I paused, the bottle of vodka suspended over the glass. Without turning to look at her, I said, “As much as I hate to say it, I think we’re getting a divorce.”
“Your choice or her choice?”
“Mutual, I guess. She claims she doesn’t love me and I don’t think I want to be with a woman who isn’t sure if she wants me.”
She grunted. “Makes sense to me.”
When the drinks were made, I handed one to Kristen and took a seat beside her with mine. She took a huge drink from it. “This is divine!”
“Lots more where that came from,” I said.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Detective?”
“No... I’m trying to get myself drunk.”
We talked late into the night, drinking one Bloody Mary after another. The more I drank, the less guilty I felt about having a woman in my apartment. It was a little after midnight when she turned to the clock and gasped. “It’s late and I have to get to work in the morning.”
“I do, too, but I don’t really care about that right now.”
Kristen laughed. “I care. I need my job.”
I followed her to my front door and walked her to her apartment. As I watched her struggle to unlock the door, giggling because she couldn’t find the keyhole, I couldn’t help but imagine what life after Debbie would be like. Can I find someone who’ll accept me and my job or will I end up all alone and miserable? How will I go through each night knowing Samantha is under a different roof? Who’ll be there to protect her if something goes wrong? Could I really get seven and seven custody like Dawn suggested?
Kristen finally got the door open and turned to me, her mouth wide in laughter. She placed her hand on my chest as she said, “I didn’t realize how much I drank...I’m so drunk! I almost couldn’t get it in the hole!”
I laughed with her. Our faces were inches apart. She leaned closer as she laughed and our foreheads touched. We pulled away slightly and our laughter started to fade. Her expression became serious. She gave me that knowing look, her eyes glistening in the glow from the streetlight. Her lips parted slightly, head tilted. She started to lean into me and I was drawn to her. I could feel the warmth of her sweet breath. The tips of our noses brushed slightly as we moved even closer. I started to close my eyes, but suddenly pulled back, turned my face away. “You’re drunk,” I said.
“So are you, but we both know exactly what we’re doing.” I felt her cool hand press against my face and then her soft lips met mine for a long moment. When she pulled back, she leaned against my ear, whispered, “Lots more where that came from.”
CHAPTER 47
Tuesday, June 26
Magnolia Parish Substation, Seasville, LA
As we sat at our desks, Dawn was rattling on about the DNA test on Shelby. If her DNA came back to Janice Prince, the sheriff wanted us to get a warrant to recover her from the Abernathys, and Dawn wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She would intermittently check the time on her phone, go to the fax machine, complain about the results being late, and then plop back down in her chair. She must’ve repeated that process a dozen times, but I didn’t care and I didn’t pay her much attention. My mind was on my conversation with Kristen the night before.
Something that kept replaying in my head was Kristen saying she had only walked over to say hello, but had already locked her apartment door. Why had she locked her door if she’d only walked over to say hello? It was as though she knew I was going to invite her in, and she was going to accept. There was a familiar ring to her comment, as though I’d heard it before.
A loud ring sounded across the hall to indicate a fax was coming through. Dawn jumped up and rushed out of our office. “The results are here!”
I refocused my attention on Kristen’s comment. What
is it about what she said? Did it have something to do with another comment she made? Or did it trigger a memory of someone else’s—
I bolted upright in my chair. “That’s it!”
“What’s it?” Dawn walked into the room studying the lab report.
I shoved files around on my desk until I found my notes from Tom Kosinski’s interview. “Tom said they went in the house to kidnap the baby—nothing more.”
“Okay...and?”
“And he said they were surprised by Bill and Bill attacked him.” I flipped through the pages, found what I was looking for. “But here, later in his statement, he says, ‘I took off my boxing ring to slip on the brass knuckles right before we entered the baby’s room and I must’ve dropped it.’”
She looked up from the lab report. “I don’t get it.”
“It was a planned attack. He removed his ring and put on the brass knuckles. Why would he do that unless he knew he was going to beat somebody’s ass?”
“That makes sense.” She glanced back down at the records, unimpressed with my revelation. As she read, her brow puckered. She shook her head, pulled the page closer to her face, squinted. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“What’s that?”
“Janice is the mother, but neither Bill nor Derrick is the father.”
A thought occurred to me that made the blood in my veins turn icy. “Look at my face,” I said.
Dawn did as I asked, shrugged. “It ain’t getting any better.”
“I have a fractured orbital socket. A broken nose. A broken rib.”
“What are you getting at?” She held up the lab report. “Are you the father?”
“No... Tom Kosinski is.”
She gasped. “No way! Why would you say that?”
I wiggled my mouse to bring my computer screen to life and pulled up the pictures from the first crime scene. I scrolled through them until I came to the picture of Bill with his outstretched arms. “This picture has always bothered me, but I didn’t know why—until now.”