Evil Never Dies (The Lizzy Gardner Series Book 6)

by T. R. Ragan

  “Not in a million years. Go ahead and arrest me for disobeying your orders because I’m going after that man with a vengeance. He’s been molesting and abusing women for too long. It’s going to stop. And you,” Lizzy said as she came to her feet, “should be ashamed of yourself. I wonder if you’d be telling me to back off if you had a daughter or a sister who had been assaulted by that pervert.”

  Lizzy walked to the door, and then turned to face him one more time. “If you change your mind and decide to do the decent thing, let me know. I don’t plan to stop gathering evidence against this man until I have enough proof to put him away for a long, long time, but I sure could use a little help. If your conscience ever speaks to you, you know where to find me.”

  After shutting the door behind her, Lizzy wove around desks and people until she was walking through the main door. She marched across the pavement until she reached her car and climbed in behind the wheel.

  Her hands were shaking. She’d never felt so angry, so confused, and yet so determined to see one man put away. Her outrage and resentment bubbled inside her, so close to the surface. Her fingers curled around the steering wheel. Everywhere she looked—narrow-minded, prejudiced, biased people.

  Evil.

  The world had never felt so stifling and restricted, so small.

  And Hayley.

  Would Hayley ever step that far over the line?

  Maybe.

  Yes, there were times when she appeared to be a walking time bomb, but she was also, without a doubt, one of the most caring people Lizzy had ever met. Unless it was in self-defense, Hayley would never take a life. And yet something niggled deep down inside Lizzy . . . something coarse and foul, something that smelled a lot like doubt.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lizzy had been sitting at her desk inside her office on J Street in Sacramento, doing nothing but listening to the sound of her breath, when the door opened. A wisp of cool air and the smell of coffee and doughnuts followed her sister, Cathy, inside the office.

  Her morning was quickly going from bad to worse.

  Cathy set a cup of coffee and a white paper bag on the corner of her desk and then pulled the strap of her purse up higher around her shoulder. “Are you here alone?”

  Lizzy managed a nod, wishing her sister would go away and not come back some other day.

  “You haven’t returned my calls.”

  Lizzy said nothing.

  Her sister took a seat in the chair facing Lizzy’s desk. “I’m sorry. About everything . . . about Richard and all the ugly things he said to you . . . but mostly I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” Cathy reached out and put a hand on top of Lizzy’s. “Talk to me. Please.”

  Lizzy didn’t like seeing her sister in pain, and yet she felt helpless to help her feel any better, afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid that in the end, no matter how hard they both tried to say and do the right thing, they would both be eaten alive by past events and crippling guilt.

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Lizzy finally said.

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “I’ve done nothing but cause trouble since the day I was born. I’ve left a clear path of destruction: Mom and Dad, you, Brittany, Hayley, Jessica, Kitally, and Jared. If it weren’t for me, Jared would still be alive. Do you have any idea what that man did for me?”

  Cathy watched her closely as she waited for her to continue.

  “Jared lifted me from the depths of hell. That man asked for nothing in return. He would have been happy to live a nice, quiet, simple life . . . just the two of us. He talked about having kids someday, taking them camping, watching them play sports, a normal everyday life. But when it came to settling down, I fought him—why? What was so important about my work that I couldn’t fathom a simple life?” She looked around the office, held her arms out wide. “Look around you. What do you see? I’m not exactly changing the world, am I? I gave up a beautiful life for this.” She forced air through her nose. “I let Jared die for this.”

  “Lizzy, it wasn’t your fault. You were both in a dangerous business. You both knew the chances you were taking. And I’m sorry, but this is no time to feel sorry for yourself. If Jared were here now, he would want you to pick yourself up and carry on. You know he would.”

  “I think you should go.”

  “No. I’m not finished. I know you’re hurting, and I know you don’t want to hear about what Jared would do or not do, but it’s the truth.”

  Lizzy fiddled around with the papers in front of her.

  “I kicked Richard out of the house,” Cathy blurted.

  And there it is, Lizzy thought. One tiny step for mankind. One itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny drop of hope amid a lifetime of despair. She looked up at her sister, away from all the mounds of paperwork and meaningless notes. “I’m glad.”

  “I was hoping you might consider moving back into the house with me.”

  Lizzy shook her head. “No. You and Brittany need time to yourselves.”

  “Brittany will hardly look at me,” Cathy told her.

  “All the more reason for you two to spend time alone, without Richard or me to complicate matters. Talk to your daughter,” Lizzy said. “Be honest. Tell her the truth. Brittany deserves to know everything.”

  “She keeps asking about you, Lizzy. She wants to see you. Brittany needs to know that you’ll be all right.”

  “Not now,” Lizzy said. “Not yet.”

  Cathy released a weighty breath. “Brittany was accepted into Sac State. You know how creative she is, and, well, it turns out she’s interested in studying art. She won’t start until the fall, of course, but she’s been invited by the famous artist Ian Berg to take an art class. There will be other artists helping out, but Ian Berg will be overseeing it all.”

  “I’ve heard of him. That’s really great. Tell her congratulations.”

  Cathy sat there for a moment longer, waiting for something more. Finally, she came to her feet and headed for the door.

  “I will call her,” Lizzy said. “I promise.”

  “Eat a bagel, Lizzy. You look as if you’re trying to starve yourself to death.”

  And that was it. She was gone, leaving Lizzy alone to punish herself with her self-hatred and dark thoughts of the past and future.

  For the rest of the day, Lizzy did her best to lose herself in busywork. At three o’clock, an elderly man came through the door with a file tucked under one arm. His walk was slow, his back hunched, his cane trembling as it fought to keep him upright.

  Lizzy stood, ready to help.

  “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll get there.”

  Lizzy did as he said. She folded her hands on top of her desk and then watched him closely, ready to jump up and help him after he fell. But against all odds the old man made it all the way to the chair in front of her desk without any mishap. He took a seat and then tucked his cane between his knees.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Lizzy gave him a smirk.

  “I have a job for you and your girls. Are they around?”

  “Nope. It’s just you and me. Why don’t you tell me what the problem is?”

  “Somebody killed my wife.”

  Lizzy released a steadying breath. She hadn’t thought the old man could surprise her, but she’d been wrong. She had no words.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me who did it?”

  “Who did it?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I intend to find out, and I’m hoping you will help me.”

  Lizzy scratched a nonexistent itch on her neck. “Mr. . . .”

  “Call me Gus.”

  “Gus. How old are you?”

  “Why? Do you have some sort of age limitation?”

  “No. Never mind. I don’t think I’m the
person you should be talking to.”

  “The police have swept away my concerns as senility and paranoia. Is that what you’re doing?” He handed Lizzy a thin manila folder that looked as if it had survived two wars. “Don’t just stare at it,” he told her. “Open it up.”

  Despite his crotchety tone, she did as he said. A medical report sat on top of the pile of papers. She skimmed through it. “It says here that your wife, Helsie, died of chronic heart failure.”

  “Lies.”

  Lizzy continued to flip through the pages. “I don’t see anything that even remotely suggests homicide.”

  “She told me more than once that friends of hers, perfectly healthy people when they arrived at the nursing home, were dying. In the end, I believe Helsie knew too much about whatever was going on in that place. She said they were asking her a lot of questions, and she was sure they would come after her, too.”

  “Who was asking her questions?”

  “Staff members at Shady Oaks Nursing Home.”

  “According to this report,” Lizzy said, “your wife had dementia.”

  “More lies. Told by the doctors hired by Shady Oaks.”

  “How long was she there?”

  “Two years.”

  “If she didn’t have the disease and she was healthy, why would you agree to put her into a nursing home?”

  He laid a shaky fist on top of Lizzy’s desk. “Yes, it’s true. Helsie was diagnosed with vascular dementia four years ago.”

  Lizzy sighed.

  “It’s not what you think. She went for regular checkups, and her doctor was always surprised by how sharp she was. She knew exactly what was happening to her, physically and mentally. Sure, she had difficulty walking down stairs and she tended to burn the chicken every once in a while, but I swear her memory, more often than not, was better than mine. And then, two years ago, out of the blue, Helsie announced that she wanted to go to a nursing home where complete strangers could look after her.” The old man looked down and away. When his gaze met Lizzy’s again, his voice was rough. “I was angry at first. It felt like she was abandoning me, but there was no talking her out of it. Later I came to realize she didn’t want to be a burden to me. She even admitted that sometimes she woke up in our bed and didn’t know who the man was lying next to her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Lizzy could almost see the memories swirling about inside his head, all the memories of the life he once knew. “Helsie died two months ago. Heart failure.” He shook his head. “Makes no sense. She was in great shape. I went to visit her every day.”

  “So how did she seem in that last week before she passed away?”

  He shook his head, slowly, regretfully. “That’s the kicker in all of this. My son thought I needed a break. It took some doing, but he finally convinced me to come visit him in Montana. We set up camp in the mountains where nobody could bother us. The weather was surprisingly good for that time of the year so we even stayed an extra few days. By the time I returned home, Helsie was dead.”

  Lizzy’s heart went out to the man.

  “I had a dozen missed calls by the time I returned. The nursing home’s chief medical officer told me she died of heart failure caused by clogged arteries. It didn’t make sense, but I was in shock and why would I doubt what the doctors told me?”

  “I don’t know,” Lizzy said. “Why are you doubting them now?”

  “Because of an anonymous note I found in my mailbox.” He gestured with his chin toward the folder. “It’s in the very back.”

  Lizzy flipped through the file and picked up the handwritten note. It had been written on a simple stationery with a squiggly design in the bottom right-hand corner. The message was short and sweet.

  EVERYTHING IS NOT WHAT IT SEEMS. NEED AUTOPSY.

  Lizzy looked at Gus. “Did you have the body exhumed?”

  “I tried. My application was denied. I guess that only happens in the movies. I should have requested an official autopsy when I first learned of her death. But like I said before, I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time.”

  “I understand.”

  “I thought you would.”

  “How is that?”

  “I’ve read about you. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to help me?”

  She stared into Gus’s rheumy gray eyes. “I can try, but you should know that I’m having a difficult time just getting through the day.”

  “I call it teetering on the edge of insanity,” Gus said.

  She looked at him for a long moment. There was something about the old man that calmed her. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but it was simply there, like the air that she breathed.

  “I don’t have much money,” he went on, “but I can help you out if you ever need any work done.”

  Lizzy tapped her pencil against her chin. She didn’t want or expect anything from Gus, but she didn’t want to offend him, either. “What kind of work?”

  “You name it . . . plumbing, electrical. Whatever you need done.”

  Lizzy offered him a hand. “Well, Gus, it looks like you’ve got yourself an investigator.”

  They shook hands. For an old guy, his grip was surprisingly strong.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hayley walked outside, where Kitally was waiting by the car. Instead of her usual avant-garde getup, she wore jeans, T-shirt, dark sunglasses, and a white baseball cap. Hayley might not have recognized Kitally at all if it weren’t for the rainbow-colored dread hanging over one shoulder.

  The jeans and T-shirt complete with silly logo weren’t the only things throwing Hayley off. There was an eleven-by-fourteen magnetic sign on Kitally’s Toyota. It read: H & K HOUSE CLEANING SERVICES. In the backseat of the car were buckets and mops and all sorts of cleaning supplies.

  “Looks like you thought of everything.”

  “Pretty much,” Kitally said, holding up a T-shirt with the H & K logo. “This one’s for you.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  Kitally shrugged. “Your loss. Do you have the flash drive?”

  Hayley patted her pocket and then held up a large envelope filled with porn.

  Kitally looked inside the envelope. “Gross. Where did you get these?”

  “I’ve been collecting all sorts of goods that could be used as evidence we might need to put these guys away. This is just one of my gold mines.”

  “Maybe you should have left those pictures wherever you found them so we could report that particular weirdo.”

  “No way,” Hayley said. “The loser I took these from likes to look, but he doesn’t touch. Those guys are a dime a dozen. We can get him anytime. Right now, we need to focus on the pervs who are doing the most damage. And Holmes needs to be put away. Besides, he’s number three on the list.”

  “I didn’t see anything on the news or in the paper about Owen Dunham, did you?”

  “Never heard of him.”

  Kitally lowered her voice. “The guy without balls . . . does that ring a bell?”

  Hayley stepped closer and said in a low voice, “Listen. Unless we’re talking to Lizzy about any of the people on our list, it’s best if you don’t ever mention his name again. Let it go. That’s how it has to be, OK?”

  “Got it,” Kitally said before they both climbed into the car.

  On the drive from Carmichael to West Sacramento, Kitally said, “Do you think this will work?”

  “It has to.” Donald Holmes was a guard in the state women’s prison. After a yearlong investigation, he was convicted of raping two teenagers and yet all he’d gotten for it was community time and probation.

  “Did the investigators ever talk to any of the women in the prison who filed complaints?”

  “No,” Hayley said. “They’re merely pri
soners, so they don’t count.”

  “What little time I did in detention was enough to make me realize I don’t ever want to end up in prison,” Kitally said. “I have to say, I am beginning to feel the weight of everything we’ve been doing lately.”

  “What do you mean?” Hayley had never spoken a word to Kitally, Tommy, or anyone else about the man whose life she’d taken months before. Sometimes she woke up in a cold sweat at the thought of what she’d done. She couldn’t say she regretted it—the man had destroyed too many lives to count—but still, the act itself had left a bad taste in her mouth. Nobody else knew, and she was determined to keep it that way. “I thought you were excited about Wallace getting ten years,” Hayley said. “What happened to the enthusiasm?”

  “I guess I’m having second thoughts. Me, you, and Lizzy are all risking doing more time than this rapist. And for what?”

  “You’re not making sense,” Hayley said. “This is all coming out of left field.”

  “I just read about a case where a hacker was able to expose a rapist, but the hacker ended up doing more time than the rapist. Not cool.”

  Now they were getting somewhere, to the root of Kitally’s change of heart. “Calm down,” Hayley told her. “I don’t know the details of the case you’re talking about, but we’re not going to get caught. I’m going to plant the child porn on Holmes’s PC and place the drugs and the pictures inside his house, somewhere where the cops won’t be able to miss it. Then we’re going to use this nifty throwaway phone that criminals love so much and call 911 to report a rape currently taking place inside his house. Done deal.”

  “We’re taking a lot of chances to put away one rapist out of a thousand. And like you said the other day, how long will they keep him behind bars after he’s caught?”

  “You’re looking at this all wrong,” Hayley explained. “It may be only one guy, but we’re helping dozens of future victims by getting this guy off the streets. You have to keep your eye on the prize. This is less about putting the rapist away and more about helping innocent women and young girls who don’t stand a chance against monsters like Holmes.”

  The rest of the drive was quiet.