by Rita Herron
Pallo Whiting had worked as a janitor at the school both of the girls attended and had apparently watched them for weeks before taking them. The fact that the girls had recognized him from school made it easy for him to lure them outside their homes. Damn man had used a common ploy—he pretended to be hunting for his puppy. A puppy that he’d intentionally put out near the little girls’ yards.
Korine swallowed back bile. Polly Porter had been relieved that Whiting was dead, but she wasn’t a killer. Thank God. The little girl needed her mother.
Korine rang the doorbell, while Hatcher scanned the property surrounding the apartment complex. The buildings were old, desperate for repairs, and catered to residents who needed subsidized housing.
A fortysomething woman with short, black hair answered the door, her eyes narrowed. “I’m not buying anything.”
Korine flashed her badge. “We aren’t selling anything. We just need to talk about what happened to your foster child.”
A frown deepened the grooves beside her eyes. “That guardian ad litem, Laura Austin, convinced them to take Lottie from me, so unless you’re here to tell me I can have her back, I ain’t got nothing to say.”
“You lost Lottie?” Hatcher asked.
A wave of sadness washed over the woman’s face. “The state said she needed a family with child-counseling experience. I guess they blamed me for that crazy man abusing her.” Pain colored her voice. “As if I didn’t blame myself enough.”
“Why would you blame yourself?” Korine asked gently.
The woman rubbed her temple. “I had a bad migraine. Lay down for a bit. I thought Lottie was watching TV, but she slipped out.” She brushed at a tear. “I couldn’t have kids of my own and loved that little girl like she was mine. I’ll never forgive myself for that day.”
Korine’s heart went out to her. “I’m so sorry for both of you. Maybe the court will reconsider.”
Lynn blew a breath that lifted her bangs from her forehead. “I don’t think so. They won’t let me foster kids anymore at all.”
Korine’s throat closed. She didn’t know how to respond to that. The state did have to be cautious. But this woman was hurting and had lost the child she loved because of Whiting.
Was she bitter enough to kill him?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The anguish in the woman’s voice sounded real. She’d obviously loved the little girl, which meant she had good reason to hate Whiting. “Did you know that Whiting escaped prison during a bus transfer?” Hatcher asked.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, that’s why you’re here? You think he’s coming after Lottie?”
“Lottie is safe from him.” Hatcher shifted. “Did you know about his escape?”
The woman shook her head no. “Do you think he’s coming after me then? Two of the other little girls’ parents and I testified against him.”
“You didn’t hear from the other parents after the prison escape?”
She shook her head, but her eyes darted to the side table where her phone was. He sensed she was lying, that someone had given her a heads-up.
“I haven’t heard from them since the sentencing. We all needed space and time to heal.”
Korine cleared her throat. “Where were you last night, Lynn?”
Confusion flashed on Lynn’s face. “Why do you want to know where I was?”
Hatcher folded his arms. “Please just answer the question, ma’am.”
“At the women’s shelter,” she said. “I’m there most nights, especially now they took Lottie.” Her voice trailed off, wistful, sad. “It’s just too lonely here by myself.”
Hatcher sympathized, but he had a job to do. Emotions had no place in it. Hadn’t he learned from prior cases that people could be consummate liars? “Can someone verify that you were at the shelter?”
“You could go by Hope House, but they have a strict rule about not giving out information. They’re there to protect women and children in trouble. Sometimes that means keeping secrets.”
And not talking to the police.
Hatcher knew the drill and understood.
Anger simmered below the surface of her words. “Now, tell me the truth. If someone saw him lurking around here, I have a right to know.”
“He hasn’t been lurking around here,” Korine said. “He’s dead.”
Lynn gasped. “What? How? Where?”
“He was murdered,” Hatcher said matter-of-factly.
Shock streaked her eyes. Then relief. “Well, good. When you find his killer, let me know. I’d like to shake the hand of the person who rid the world of that monster.”
“What do you think?” Korine asked as they left the Green apartment.
Hatcher shrugged, his gaze lingering on the place as he backed from the drive. “A tough situation. She had good reason to hate Whiting.”
“But you don’t think she killed him?”
“My gut says no. And no one at the shelter will give us information.”
“That’s true,” Korine agreed. “Maybe the guardian ad litem can shed some light on Ms. Green. But we should talk to her in person.”
Korine called Cat and learned Austin’s office was in the courthouse, but she’d gone for the day, so they drove to her townhome. Hatcher rang the bell, and Austin answered a minute later.
Korine introduced them, and Austin invited them into the foyer. Korine quickly explained the situation. “Tell us about Lynn Green.”
Austin pursed her lips. “I don’t discuss my clients.”
“We don’t need details, just your impression of her,” Hatcher said. “We’re trying to clear her of Pallo Whiting’s murder.”
The young woman hesitated. “All right, but I can’t share confidential information.”
“Understood,” Korine said.
“Lynn Green is a loving, caring person,” Laura said. “But she was caught in a bad situation.”
“Did she do anything to suggest she was responsible for what happened to Lottie?” Korine asked.
“Absolutely not. She loved that child more than anything. It broke my heart to separate them.”
“But you did. Why?”
Austin cleared her throat. “My job is to look out for the child’s best interest. I spoke with the child psychologist and forensic interviewer, who agreed that Lottie needed a safe haven and stable environment. Returning to the place where she had been lured by Whiting triggered nightmares. Lynn was devastated by what happened to Lottie and was emotional herself. That wasn’t helping Lottie.”
“You said Lynn was emotional. Do you think she would go after Whiting for what he did?”
Austin shook her head. “Lynn is protective of children and she hated Whiting, but she’s a tender heart and wouldn’t hurt a fly. She suffered her own hard knocks—grew up with an alcoholic father and ran away when she was a teenager. When she isn’t volunteering at that shelter, she volunteers at the animal-rescue center.”
“Please call me if you think of anything that might help,” Korine said.
The young woman agreed, and Korine and Hatcher said goodbye and left.
“Where next?” Korine asked.
Hatcher cleared his throat. “I want to talk to a man named Ned Banning. Whiting killed his son in prison.”
“That would be motive.”
Hatcher pulled into traffic, drove several blocks, then veered down a side street and stopped at a fish market located at the pier. The area looked almost deserted, although a low light burned in a covered shed at the end. The pier housed stalls for shrimpers and fishermen to sell their products during the summer and was overrun with tourists and locals, buying the fresh catches. Except for a heavyset guy in a bloody apron hosing down the end stall, the booths were empty.
The scent of fish and the marsh enveloped Korine as they parked.
Hatcher opened his car door. “You can stay here.”
She squared her shoulders. She might have allowed him to take the lead in bed, and he had more experience th
an her in the field, but he wouldn’t shut her out. “I’m here for backup, Hatcher, not to sit on the sidelines.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I thought you might call Cat and track down the family of the other prisoner Whiting killed.”
Korine gritted her teeth. “I can do that, but I’ll be watching in case you need me.”
“I won’t.” In spite of his cold tone, his gaze met hers, dark eyes raking over her. Heat flickered in the depths, a sensual, hungry look that turned her stomach upside down.
Damn him. The chemistry that had made them tear each other’s clothes off in a hasty frenzy of lust a few months ago still simmered between them.
But they couldn’t act on it.
Irritation flashed in his dark eyes as if he felt it, too, and didn’t like it, but he didn’t comment. He stalked down the dock to see the man.
She punched Cat’s number and explained what she needed.
“Whiting killed two men. The first is twenty-seven-year-old Gerard Banning. His father works at the fish market. The second is fifty-one-year-old Tyrone Hubbard, a lifer, in for a gang-related shooting. Whiting stabbed him in the mess hall.”
“What about Hubbard’s family?”
“He had one daughter, but I doubt she’s your killer. According to his file, she hadn’t spoken to him in years. Didn’t attend his trial, never visited, sent mail, or called. She lives in Seattle with two sons. Never met their grandfather.”
Korine massaged her temple where a headache was starting to pulse. So far, everyone they’d talked to had motive, but they also had alibis.
A movement caught her eye. Hatcher flashed his badge as he approached the fisherman. Suddenly the man shoved a cart toward Hatcher, then jumped into his boat, which was tied to the dock. The man fired at Hatcher.
Hatcher ducked to avoid the bullet; then the boat sped away.
Korine slipped her weapon from her holster, threw open the car door, and took off running.
Hatcher cursed as he dove behind a barrel, then fired at Ned Banning. Footsteps pounded on the dock, and Korine’s voice echoed behind him. “Hatcher?”
“I’m here.” But Banning was getting away.
Hatcher jumped up and ran to the edge of the dock. A wave crashed against the shore from Banning’s boat. Hatcher quickly searched for another boat to give chase.
Korine must have had the same idea and ran to the opposite side. “Come on!” She jumped into a small fishing boat tied near another stand and fired up the engine as he raced toward her. Seconds later, she grabbed the wheel and sped after Banning.
Hatcher kept his eyes and gun trained on Banning as Korine steered the boat around the cove into open water and raced up behind Banning. Banning swung around and fired at them.
He and Korine both ducked to dodge the bullet as she closed in. The boat bounced over the choppy waves, but Banning accelerated and added distance between them. A second later, he was going so fast he skimmed a dock and nearly lost control.
Korine punched the gas and swerved around a buoy. Banning looked panicked as he glanced back at them. He released another round and sped up. Hatcher fired at him, and Banning jerked the wheel to the right, but in his haste, misjudged and slammed into the embankment. The impact sent Banning over the wheel and into the water.
Korine guided their boat to the right and coasted to the shore. Banning flailed in the water, but his jerky movements suggested he didn’t know how to swim. He shouted, gurgling water as he fought to stay above the surface. The current dragged him under.
Hatcher cursed, shucked his gun and jacket, then jumped in to save the man. Cold water seeped into his pores as he dove beneath the surface.
Banning panicked and fought, kicking and clawing for the surface.
Hatcher grabbed his arm and tried to pull him toward the shore, but Banning struggled to get away from him. Furious, Hatcher dragged him above the surface, then punched the man in the jaw.
Banning went limp, his head lolling to the side. Hatcher slid one arm around his upper torso, then paddled to the edge.
Korine guided the boat to the dock, cut the engine, and climbed out. She rushed to the edge just as he crawled onto the shore with Banning, then she grabbed Banning’s arm and helped haul him onto the embankment.
Banning stirred, sputtering water, his eyes wild. Panic flashed onto his face, and he shoved at Hatcher to escape, but Korine pressed her gun to the man’s cheek. “Move and I’ll shoot.”
Banning froze, face contorted with fear.
Korine tossed Hatcher her cuffs.
“You’re under arrest for attempted murder,” Hatcher growled.
He shoved Banning to his side, jerked his arms behind him, and handcuffed him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Laura Austin’s hand trembled as she punched the number of her best friend, Liz. The two of them met on the swim team in college and had been close friends since. Laura traced her finger over the photograph of her baby boy and five-year-old daughter, her heart squeezing.
She’d do anything to protect her children. Anything.
Although Liz didn’t have children yet, she would one day, and she would be an awesome mother. Just as she was a fierce advocate for the victims she worked with—some were abused women, others children. Domestic violence ran rampant in every city, and Liz had devoted herself to counseling victims as well as helping them maneuver the legal system and reroute their lives. She held their hands through trials, arranged for court orders, and aided in the victims’ recovery on multiple levels.
The phone rang three times; then Liz finally answered.
“It’s Laura, Liz. The FBI just stopped by, asking about Lynn Green and her foster daughter, Lottie.”
“What’s wrong? Are they okay?”
“Pallo Whiting was murdered last night.”
A strained heartbeat stretched between them.
“What did you tell them?” Liz asked.
“Nothing, just that Lynn loved Lottie and wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Another heartbeat passed. “Let’s meet in the chat room.”
“That’s what I was thinking. I’ll let Rachel know.”
“I’ll call Bev. We all need to talk.”
Laura hung up, her nerves on edge. She ran her finger over her baby’s face in the photograph. Her children deserved to grow up in a safe world.
When she, Liz, Rachel, Bev, and Kendall had first met, they’d been young and trusting. Innocent.
None of them was innocent anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hatcher gripped Banning by the collar and shook him. “You don’t get to pass out after that stunt. I know you hated Pallo Whiting for killing your son. Then he escaped and you murdered him.” Although the MO of the crime—cutting the man’s penis off—seemed more personal, a crime of passion, something the parent of one of the child victims would do.
Then again, the signature SS could have been a ploy to throw off the police.
Although they hadn’t divulged details of the justice symbol, so how would Banning have known about that?
Banning’s eyelids flickered open, then closed, and he moaned.
“Did you help him escape so you could murder him?” Hatcher barked.
The big man moved his head from side to side. “You got it wrong. Didn’t kill him.”
“Sure you did,” Hatcher muttered. “Really, I don’t blame you. He killed your son, so you had to pay him back.”
“No,” the man mumbled again. “Wish I had, but I didn’t.”
Hatcher’s breath hissed between clenched teeth, and he exchanged a questioning look with Korine. “Then why the hell did you run?”
Banning coughed, his thick lips curled into a snarl. “Because I knew you Feebies would try to pin it on me the way you pinned that crime on my son.”
Hatcher released the man’s shirt collar. “Do you know how many men in prison claim they’ve been framed?”
Banning’s breath rattled out. “Probably thousands, bu
t my son was innocent. His ex-wife wanted to get back at him because he left her, so she came up with a plan—”
“That doesn’t give you the right to kill Whiting,” Hatcher said.
“I told you I didn’t, but you’re probably no better lawman than the one who arrested my son. That lazy jackass got Gerard killed.”
Hatcher bit back an argument. Banning could be right about the lawyer. He could have someone look into Gerard’s case, but it was too late to save Gerard.
But now that his father had shot at him and Korine, he couldn’t just release him.
He jerked the man to his feet and shoved him toward the dock. “Maybe you didn’t have anything to do with Whiting’s death, maybe you did. But a few days in lockup will give you time to cool down.”
“I want an attorney,” Banning bellowed.
“I thought you didn’t trust lawyers,” Hatcher said with an eyebrow raised.
Banning gave him a go-to-hell look.
Korine jumped into the boat, Hatcher shoved Banning down inside it, and then she started the engine and guided the boat back to the fishing dock. Together they escorted Banning to Hatcher’s SUV and stowed him inside.
“Why don’t you do some real police work and protect the innocents instead of locking up people who’ve been hurt by the likes of Whiting?” Banning shouted as Hatcher pulled from the parking lot.
Hatcher silently cursed. Banning had a point.
He had taken justice into his own hands when he’d killed the man who’d murdered his wife. And he hadn’t regretted it for one second since.
But he couldn’t condone others doing the same by looking the other way.
Could he?
Korine’s hopes of quickly finding Whiting’s killer died as she and Hatcher parked at the field office in Savannah.
Hatcher climbed out and retrieved Banning from the back seat. Banning had clammed up, his body rigid, his eyes stony. He was probably regretting firing at them. If he hadn’t, they wouldn’t have had reason to bring him in.
Was he right about his son being framed? If so, the system had failed his family . . .