by Sharon Sala
Thomas John’s favorite byword had been “blood will out.” Marcus wondered if, by the time T.J. reached his age, his impressive bloodline would hold him steady, and if his portrait would be hanging among the others. It was going to be up to T.J. to carry on. Marcus had sacrificed so much and done what had to be done to keep their heritage secure. He hoped T.J. was up to the task of safeguarding it for the future.
* * *
Fresh from his night with Lainey and the goodbye kiss they’d shared, Sam walked with the stride of a man who’d shed a great burden. He moved across the hospital lobby toward the elevator, anxious to see if there was any change in Trina’s condition. When he saw the elevator doors beginning to shut he grabbed them, then strode in, nodding to the other man in the elevator, who was holding a small potted plant.
“How’s it going?” he said and pressed the button for the third floor.
“Oh, I’m fine,” the killer said. “Are you going to see Trina?”
“Yes,” Sam said as the door opened to the second floor.
“Then, give her my best,” the killer said, and headed down the hall carrying the potted plant before him like a shield.
“Will do,” Sam said, and then promptly forgot all about it.
He got off on the third floor and walked swiftly toward ICU.
Clarice Powell was on duty when Sam stopped to sign in.
“Good morning, Clarice. Has the doctor already made rounds?”
“Yes, he was in early.” She pulled the chart. “No changes noted, but she’s stable, no fever, which means no infection, which means she’s healing.”
Satisfied, Sam went inside and headed straight to Trina’s room. Cain Embry was still on duty when Sam walked up.
“Morning, Cain.”
“Good morning, Sam.”
“Everything okay here?” Sam asked.
“Yes.”
“Good,” Sam said and entered Trina’s room. He leaned down and kissed the side of her cheek, and then spoke softly close to her ear.
“Hey, little sister, it’s Sam. You’re safe and you’re healing. I love you, baby.”
Then he sat down in a chair beside her bed, laid his hand on her arm and started talking. When he’d been hospitalized for so long, there were things that had worn on his nerves, and one of them was the strident tone of people’s voices. Regardless of whether Trina could hear him or not, he was intent on keeping the tone of his voice soft and even.
After reminiscing about some of her childhood mishaps, and how he and Trey used to sneak her extra cookies when she was little, he shifted to holiday memories.
“Do you remember the last Christmas that Dad was with us? You wanted an air rifle, and Mom wanted you to have a Barbie playhouse. They had the biggest argument I ever heard them have, and it was over your present. It got so intense Trey and I were afraid they’d forget about buying us anything, but you were oblivious to the undercurrents. Dad took you out to the mountain to target practice, and Mom began teaching you how to cook. By the time Christmas came, Mom and Dad had made up and you got a puppy. That was Boomer. He was a good old dog, wasn’t he?”
He watched her face intently for any sign of movement but saw nothing, so he told himself to be satisfied just to be with her. He noticed her lips looked dry and got up to put some glycerin on them. He was washing his hands when he got a text from Trey that ended the visit. He stopped by her bed to tell her he was leaving.
“Trina, honey, I have to go now, but I’ll be back. Love you.”
He left ICU and met Lee getting off the elevator.
“Hi,” Sam said. “I’m going to the precinct. She’s stable. No change.”
“Thanks,” Lee said. “I took my lunch hour early so I could spend it with her. See you later.”
Sam drove straight to the precinct, and then hurried down the hall to Trey’s office.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I have a social security number on Donny Collins. I was about to start running his name through the computer to see if he popped up anywhere, but I have a prisoner who’s being transferred, and the US Marshal just arrived. You probably know more about running traces than I do. Are you willing?” Trey asked.
“Absolutely,” Sam said. “Should I use your computer?”
“Yes. I left you the log-in info,” Trey said. “Work your magic, brother. I need to know this guy’s status ASAP. The minifridge has cold pop, and there are snacks in my desk drawer. Sorry I can’t offer a better lunch.”
“I’m good,” Sam said. “I had a big breakfast with Lainey.”
Trey’s eyes widened, and then he smiled.
“I’ll be damned. Well, I’m happy to hear that. Text if you need me.”
As soon as Trey left, Sam shed his coat, rolled up his sleeves, sat down at the computer and got to work.
* * *
The killer was on a mission.
All the old roadblocks had disappeared with the death of Betsy Jakes. Now he had a new one, but he was working on correcting his one mistake. There was a man he knew who used to work for Colquitt Mining in Kentucky until he retired and came back home to West Virginia. His name was Moses Ledbetter, and he was a demon with explosives. After a brief phone call on a throwaway phone, an amount of money was agreed upon and delivery was due in three days.
Yesterday he’d taken a late lunch and gone to the local library to see what he could find on the hospital layout. He’d logged on to a library computer to see what was available, and when he found a site with the original blueprints and a story on the date they broke ground, he was elated.
He began studying the layout, even taking a few pictures with his phone. After he returned home for the evening he studied the pictures some more, taking note of stairwells, air shafts and the hospital lab, and where they were in relation to ICU.
Satisfied that he had the important locations fixed firmly in his mind, he’d headed for the hospital that morning to see if the layout was the same or if, over the years, remodeling had changed it. He’d bought a potted plant to use as cover, so it would seem as if he was on the second floor to visit a patient, when in actuality he was checking out what was directly under ICU.
It was a fluke that he’d ridden up in the elevator with Sam Jakes. He had to admit, the man made him nervous. He was so big and, from what he’d heard, very unpredictable. He didn’t want to have to go head-to-head with the man in a fight. He would lose hands-down. So he kept walking the hall, needing this to be over, but so far all he’d seen were patient rooms, which weren’t what he wanted.
He was headed down the west hall when he saw a man he recognized from church walking the halls in his hospital gown and pushing a pole holding his IV.
“There you are, Mr. Berry! They mentioned your name on the prayer list at church. Looks as if you’re doing well now, up and walking about.”
Sherman Berry smiled. “Why, I am doing better, thanks, but I wouldn’t wish hemorrhoid surgery on my worst enemy.”
The killer chuckled. “Ouch! I’m glad to see you’re doing well. If you’ll tell me which room you’re in, I’ll just set this plant on a table and be on my way.”
“Are those for me?” Sherman asked.
“They sure are.”
“That’s wonderful! I appreciate the thought. I’m just down the hall in 224. Bed A. I have a roommate, but they have him out running tests,” Sherman said.
“It’s great to see you up and about,” the killer said, and strolled on down the hall as if he owned it.
He left the plant in the room, and then continued down the corridor in the other direction, but he found nothing suited for what he needed. He paused, trying to picture the blueprints again, and decided to go down one floor and see what was below him.
The force of the bomb he’d bought woul
d take down an entire building. He just wanted to cover his bases and be sure that the force of the blast was directly under ICU. The damned woman had already survived a bullet in the chest. He needed to be sure her luck finally ran out.
Instead of going back up the hall to the elevator, he backtracked a couple of doors to the stairwell and went one floor down, then stepped out of the stairwell to look around.
It was the door right in front of him that caught his eye. He crossed the hall, went inside the chapel and walked down the aisle to the altar. He looked up, imagining the location of the ICU, and smiled. This was the perfect place from which to send a few more souls winging their way to heaven. He left the hospital in haste, anxious to get back to what he’d been doing. Time was running short.
* * *
The first trace Sam ran on Donny Collins was the work history associated with his social security number, and he was a little shocked by what came up. Sometimes an answer came easy, but not often. This was one of those times that it had, and it felt good to be helping find their mother’s killer.
He sent Trey a quick text.
No work history on D. Collins after May 1980
Then, just to be thorough, he ran the same number through military records, then checked for legal name changes and still came up empty. Gut instinct told him that the body his mother dreamed about seeing at the bottom of some mine shaft was Donny Collins. The puzzle was why it had happened and who’d done it.
The phone rang and he answered without thinking. “Chief Jakes’ office.”
“This is Sheriff Osmond. Is the chief there?”
“Hello, Sheriff. This is Sam Jakes, Trey’s older brother. I’m here helping with the case. He’s here but away from the phone for a bit. Can I give him a message?”
“Well, hello, Sam. I’m sorry about your mother. She was a fine lady. You said you’re helping with the case?”
“Yes, I own Ranger Investigations out of Atlanta.”
“The reason I called was to let Trey know I got clearance to begin searching the old Colquitt Mining site west of Mystic tomorrow.”
Sam’s pulse kicked. “Am I allowed to be there?”
“It’s fine with me,” the sheriff said.
“I’ll give him the message. Thanks for letting us know,” Sam said.
“Then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sheriff Osmond said and disconnected.
Sam jotted down the message and left it on Trey’s desk, then he went back to the computer to check a few more sites to see if Donny Collins popped up.
Another twenty minutes passed. He sent a text to Lainey reminding her of their dinner date that night and saying he would pick her up at six thirty. A few moments later he got a text back with nothing but a heart emoticon on the screen, which made him smile. Yeah, he loved her, too.
Sam was still at the desk when Trey returned. Sam handed him the note from Sheriff Osmond.
Trey scanned the note with interest. “Osmond is going to the mine tomorrow?”
Sam nodded. “He said I could go, too.”
“Good. I’ll make arrangements before I leave here tonight,” Trey said, then glanced at the computer screen. “So you’ve found nothing else anywhere?”
“His social security number hasn’t been active since May of 1980. There are thousands of Donald Ray Collinses in the US, but none that match the one we’re looking for. I even checked the registry for legal name changes on the off chance that he would have changed his name for some reason. There’s nothing, Trey. It’s as if he dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Or down a mine shaft,” Trey said.
Sam shuddered. “So where to now?” he asked.
Trey picked up a pen and started pacing as he talked. “My gut tells me the gossip about cheating has something to do with what happened,” he said.
Sam remembered Lainey standing up, holding the diaries. “Where are those diaries Lainey brought? She said there were names.”
“There are, but not given names. Her mother either used nicknames or wrote them in some kind of teenage code talk.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
Trey dug the diaries out of his desk drawer.
“See for yourself. They’ve already been entered in as evidence. I’m reading them on my downtime.”
“I can read them for you,” Sam said.
“Good. Take them with you and make notes,” Trey said and handed them over.
“Okay, but in the meantime, who in the senior class had the most to lose by being found out?” Sam asked.
Trey paused. “Someone who might not graduate?” he finally said.
“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “When we were in school, the kids who barely slid through knew they were on shaky ground. One test wouldn’t have made that much difference to them. Most of them were going to get jobs anyway, with or without a high school diploma, right?”
“Right,” Trey said and started pacing again. “So who did have the most to lose if they failed that test?”
“Let’s ask ourselves that question another way. Who had the most to gain by acing it?” Sam asked.
“The same ones who would lose big if they failed,” Trey said. “The valedictorian and salutatorian.”
“But would you really kill someone over that?” Sam asked.
Trey paused again. “What if it was an accident? What if you didn’t mean to, but it happened? What would you do then?” he asked.
Sam stood. “Hide the body.”
“But what if there were witnesses?” Trey added.
Sam stared across the desk at his brother.
“Then you would have two choices. Either run for your life or try to stop them from telling.”
“And the witnesses had only one choice,” Trey added. “Tell what they’d seen.”
Sam shuddered. “What if this is it, Trey? What if this is the reason Mom and her friends were even in that wreck?”
“But three of them lived,” Trey said. “Why wait this long to silence them?”
“Because the killer lucked out. None of them remembered what had happened,” Sam said.
“So why now? Mom’s memories were triggered by Dick Phillips’ death. If Dick hadn’t died, she would have likely grown old with those memories forever locked in her mind,” Trey said. “So why did the killer go after Dick in the first place?”
“Something must have changed for the killer,” Sam said.
Trey’s eyes widened. “That’s it! We have to figure out whose life is changing and let that lead us to our killer.”
“It would have to be something big,” Sam said. “Something that would throw him into the public eye in some way.”
“I want to talk to Marcus Silver,” Trey said.
“But he already said winning that money wouldn’t have changed a thing about his life, and no one challenged that statement,” Sam said.
“Winning isn’t always about the prize. Sometimes it’s about the honor.”
“Are you going to talk to him now?” Sam asked.
“Yes. I don’t want to give him a heads-up. I want to see how he reacts when I show up at his house.”
“I’m going with you,” Sam said, then grabbed his jacket and hat, followed Trey out the back door and then slid into the passenger seat of the cruiser. “Impressive layout,” he added, eyeing the dash cam, the radio and the in-dash computer the department used to run checks and warrants.
“It serves most of our needs,” Trey said as he drove out of the parking lot and headed down Main Street. “So talk to me about Lainey. Last I knew she threw a coffee cup at you.”
“I went back,” Sam said.
Trey grinned. “You always were a glutton for punishment.”
Sam sighed. “And slow to admit I’
m wrong.”
“I wasn’t going to mention that. So you two really made up?”
“She’s willing to give me another chance,” Sam said.
“Then, don’t blow it.”
“I won’t do it intentionally,” Sam muttered. “My main concern is not hurting her or scaring the shit out of her.”
Trey nodded.
“Hey, Trey, did you know she was diagnosed with breast cancer last year?” Sam asked.
Trey looked startled. “Hell no! Is she all right now?”
“They took both breasts, and she finished the chemo treatments not too long ago. She’s way too thin, but her hair is growing back and for now she’s cancer-free.”
Trey gave his brother a quick glance and saw tears in his eyes. “So she’s okay. That’s great!”
“Yes, it is,” Sam said. “But she said something to me that I haven’t been able to forget. She said if Mom hadn’t been murdered, I wouldn’t be here and we would most likely never have seen each other again.”
“Wow,” Trey said. “She didn’t cut you any slack, did she?”
“No, and rightly so, but it made me think how random life can be. Mom wanted us all to be happy. Our happiness was all she talked about, like hers didn’t matter anymore, but if none of this killing had started, where would we be?”
Trey thought of how far apart he and Dallas had been before Dick was killed. “She was overjoyed when Dallas and I got back together.”
Sam nodded. “She told me when she called to talk to me about giving you Dad’s pistol on your birthday. I could hear the joy in her voice.”
Trey smiled. “Yes, and thank you for being okay with that. It meant a lot.”
Sam shrugged. “It should be yours. Both of you were in the same profession. I know how proud he would be.” Then he added, “She left a message to all three of us in my letter. I think she expected to be the next victim, despite anyone’s efforts. She wanted us to know that she was okay with dying. She said she missed Dad so much, and that by the time I read the letter, she would already be in his arms.”
“Oh, God,” Trey said and took a slow, shaky breath.