Blood Stained

by CJ Lyons

  Zeller narrowed his gaze at Lucy. "I remember you. Why do you always bring trouble with you?"

  Then he gave Jenna a grandfatherly smile, even though he was only in his late forties. "I never been where you are, young lady. Most of us around here haven't. But you need anything, need someone to talk to, you just let me know."

  "We appreciate that, Sheriff," Lucy answered for Jenna. She felt protective of the younger woman. "How long do you think you'll need Inspector Galloway here for the investigation? It'd be nice to get her back home."

  Jenna planted both feet on the ground. "No. I still have a fugitive to catch."

  "Who's that, then?" the sheriff asked. "I thought you were following up on Rachel and the New Hope Killer. Is there something else going on in my jurisdiction I should know about?"

  "No," Lucy said in a firm tone.

  "Yes," Jenna argued. "I'm on the trail of a kid who sent a federal agent a threatening letter. In violation of US Code 18-876."

  "What kid?"

  "Adam Caine. And we'd already be long out of your jurisdiction if my partner here hadn't—"

  Lucy spun to face Jenna. "I'm sure the sheriff has more important things—"

  "The Caine boy's back?"

  Before Lucy could answer, Deputy Bob poked his head inside the office. "Docs cleared Roy. Once we're done processing, I'll take him upstairs to interview number three."

  Jenna stood. "Can I listen in?"

  The sheriff glanced at Lucy who nodded. "After you give your statement. Roy can stew awhile, think on what's happened today." The sheriff motioned for Bob to take her. Then he scrutinized Lucy. "You remember me from before?"

  "You were Chief Deputy then."

  "Sheriff Dobbs was running unopposed that June. But after you and—" He raised his hands wide. "Everything, he lost. So I became Sheriff by default. Oh, it's official. Ratified by the County Commissioners and all, but still. Not how any of us wanted things. I'm sure you understand if the last thing I need on my watch is you barging into my jurisdiction and stirring up ancient history."

  "Not my intention. I just came to see if I could help Adam Caine. Figured I owed him that much." She made a mental note to call her office and get the ball rolling on tracking down Clinton Caine's whereabouts as soon as she was finished here.

  He scowled. "Reckon you do. Owe him. You see the New Hope substation? They dedicated it to Marion Caine. Only place Bob will work out of."

  "He's a good man. Saved our butts today, that's for sure."

  "Yeah, he's okay. Gets a bit moody at times. Mainly come spring."

  "On the anniversary?"

  He nodded. "Has it in his head that if he went into that cave with you, things would have worked out differently."

  "He's wrong."

  "Hear you're working sexual predators and crimes against kids. You like that stuff?"

  "I don't like the crimes. But," she shrugged, "I'm good at it."

  "Not many can stomach it." He jerked his chin as if in approval. Like she'd redeemed herself somehow. "But it needs to be done. Imagine it must be hard to keep that kind of work at work, not bring it home with you?"

  Before Lucy could answer, a female deputy ran in. "Sorry to disturb, Sheriff, but I've got a mom out here says her six-year-old never came home from school. I think you should talk to her. Sounds for real."

  Zeller got to his feet—not appearing rushed but definitely moving faster than Lucy would have otherwise given him credit for.

  "Can I help?" Lucy asked.

  "This what you do in the city?"

  "High risk missing juveniles? Yes."

  "Come along with me," he commanded her, jurisdiction be damned. "If this is for real, we're going to need all the help we can get."

  As Lucy followed him from the office, he glanced over his shoulder at her and shook his head. "Trouble. Always trouble."

  <><><>

  Morgan's fun was over much too fast. Not the fish's fault. Not this time.

  Clint had gotten upset. Grabbed the poker he'd been heating in the fire and plunged it into the fish, spearing it, gutting it, batting it until bits and pieces sprayed the cabin like a piñata bursting.

  It would have been a great climax to the week, especially if Morgan had a chance to play as well. But coming so early, before the fun even got started, before Morgan had a chance to try any of the bright and shiny tools in the doctor's kit, well, that was disappointing.

  Morgan really was to blame. And the Google alerts Morgan set up for each of Clint's children. When Clint saw them come across the phone, he went ballistic. No one messed with his kids. No one.

  The fish paid the price.

  They both knew it had to be Adam. Sending a message to Daddy.

  How could Adam be so stupid? He could ruin everything. Should've killed him when they had the chance in Cleveland, instead of leaving him for the cops to grab.

  Morgan shrugged and turned to the dirty work of moving the fish onto the chair beside the fire. A quick dousing with the doctor's favorite scotch, a tumbler overturned on the hearth, and voila! Instant inferno destroying all evidence they were ever here.

  They watched from the van, making sure the entire cabin was demolished, then left. Once they hit the highway Morgan used a burner cell to call 911. Didn't want the entire forest to burn. Much too lovely a place.

  But a fire could be a good thing. Cleared out the weeds and brush, leaving healthy trees more room to survive.

  Sometimes Morgan wondered if Clint's attachment to his other kids was like that. Clearing them away would give Morgan space to breathe. Might be a chance to get rid of the weeds.

  Starting with big brother Adam.

  Chapter 18

  Bob escorted Jenna up a set of creaky wooden stairs to an interview room on the second floor. She was glad she kept her coat. The room boasted no central heat and a draft around the window AC unit. The radiator along the wall hissed and creaked but when she touched the ancient cast iron housing, it was cold.

  "I'll be right next door," Bob said, hesitating as if worried about leaving her alone. "Watching over Roy."

  "Don't let them start without me. I want to hear what the hell that was all about out there."

  He gave a little shake of his head and his finger reached for his hat even though it hung on the pegboard downstairs. "Doubt anything he says will answer the questions you have."

  A few minutes later the detective arrived. To Jenna's surprise he was African American.The first black face she'd seen since leaving the city this morning. He was in his late fifties, older than the sheriff, even, and she wondered how he wound up here—a drafty room that smelled of wet socks in a building so old it should have had a moat dug around it. Helluva way to end a career.

  "Let me guess," she said by way of breaking the ice as he arranged his recording equipment. "Your family's been here milking cows for the past two hundred years, right? Isn't that everyone's story around here?"

  He chuckled. A deep rumble so genuine it made her smile. She loved men who knew how to really laugh. No pretense at politeness, just letting it all hang out. "Not my family. Far back as I know they've been boosting cars and rolling drunks in Newark." He put out his hand. "Ed O'Hara."

  "O'Hara?"

  "Stepdad adopted me. Now his family, potato farmers back two hundred years—until they got conscripted into the English army and sent over here. Fell in love with this area. Said it had almost as many shades of green as back home in Kerry, so they stayed."

  "Haven't seen much of that green today."

  He gave her a knowing smile. "Come back in the spring. June. When the mountain laurel starts blooming and the wheat smells so sweet." He sighed, then flipped his notebook open. "You ready, Inspector Galloway?"

  He made all the official noises for the recorder: her rights, the time and date and circumstances of the interview, his credentials. She almost lost track of why they were there until he paused and nodded to her.

  The statement took less than four minutes.
It came out smoothly, just as she'd rehearsed in the car. Sounded like any other witness statement she ever reported. No hint of the shock that ambushed her after, no tremble to betray the roiling in her gut now. Amazing. A man's life ended just that quick. A few sentences and it was over.

  He asked a few questions for the record, but given that the entire incident had been recorded by dispatch and Bob's dash cam, there really wasn't a whole lot more to add. He shook her hand again. "Thank you, Inspector Galloway. Please let me know if there's anything you need."

  She sat there for a moment, one side chilled by the draft, the other sweating from the radiator which had finally kicked on. Leroy Lamont's body would be in some morgue somewhere by now, the routine of evidence collection underway. That's all he was anymore. Not a man, just a case number.

  At least his family had a body. Knew how and why he died. More than those women in the cave. Women like Rachel Strohmeyer. Jenna wished to hell she'd been able to talk to her before she died. She wasn't sure why, especially after how freaked out she'd gotten in the caverns that morning, but it felt like something she needed.

  And she wasn't going to get. She stood and left the room.

  "You need anything?" Bob asked, concern in his eyes as she slipped into the dark observation room.

  Everyone kept asking her that. What she needed was a shot of tequila and some mind-blowing, head-banging sex to wipe the memory of Leroy's mouth moving, the warmth of his blood, the stink of the fire from her mind.

  Not that she was going to get either. Although…

  She sat down, edging her chair close to Bob's, and covered his hand with hers. "Thanks. And thanks for not telling Lucy how I lost it down in the cave this morning."

  "Nothing to tell." He flipped his hand palm up, intertwining their fingers. "Can I ask something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but—"

  "Go ahead."

  "What was it like?"

  She hesitated. Not because she didn't have an answer but because she knew he wouldn't like it. And right now she very much wanted him to like her. More than like her.

  She glanced through the one way mirror separating them from Roy. The meth dealer sat with his head on his folded arms. His shoulders moved like he was either crying or snoring. She wasn't sure which.

  "It was just like training. A man shot at me and my partner, my weapon was in my hand aimed at him, so I pulled the trigger. It didn't feel like anything. No thought, no angst. Just: clear shot, center mass, double-tap."

  He was silent. She didn't dare look at him for fear she'd ruined everything. But his fingers tightened around hers. "I wish it had been me."

  "No. You don't." She swung around in her chair so she faced his profile instead of his reflection in the glass. "I'm glad you're here with me. I really need a friend right now."

  "A friend?" he turned to her. His gaze settled on her lips, his body angled towards her, closing the distance. "Is that all you need?"

  To hell with the small talk. She grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him to her in a kiss that rocked her chair off its legs. Within minutes they had each other's shirts off, lips pressed together, hips rocking in synch, pausing only long enough to lock the door.

  "He can't hear?" she gasped as Bob undid her slacks.

  He shook his head.

  She wove her fingers through his hair, not caring if it was sweaty from wearing his hat all day. She wished he had the hat now, had some ideas for that Stetson. Maybe later…

  <><><>

  The boys loved the cave. They'd been a bit surprised when Adam took them to the pit where Sally was just waking up, but then they raced down the ladder with him and all three of them opened the new toys he bought, laughing like it was Christmas morning.

  Adam watched them and smiled. Warmth filled him from the inside out and it had nothing to do with the kerosene heater he brought to the pit. This was what family felt like. How could he have forgotten this?

  Memory twinged, a tiny kick at the base of his skull. A stray voice inside his head wondered if he'd ever had this feeling before. Sally laughed as Darrin pretended to make Miss Priss talk in a falsetto and Adam shoved his inner voice aside.

  Just after dark, which came early this late in the year, he let them use their new flashlights to go outside and collect wood for a fire. Sally was in charge of pinecones and the older boys in charge of tinder. He taught them how to look under the hemlock boughs to find wood not wet from the snow that now fell at a steady rate, like a lace curtain they parted with every movement. Already a few inches covered the ground with more to come. They bundled back inside and he showed them how to build a fire, although he cheated by using one of the pre-fab logs he'd gotten at the store.

  They moved the sleeping bags down to the pit where they made grilled cheese mountain pies for dinner followed by s'mores. He thought for sure they'd all be so exhausted they'd fall right asleep. Lord knew he was about ready to drop. Family was exhausting. But they wanted stories.

  Holding Sally in his lap, he told all the stories he could think of. Fairy tales he'd read, short versions of his favorite books, ending with the cave scene from Tom Sawyer, figuring that was only fitting. Soon Sally was asleep, curled around Miss Priss, her thumb in her mouth, so he snuggled her into her new sleeping bag. The boys were fighting exhaustion, their eyelids drooping.

  "You sure my mom knows where I'm at?" Marty asked, stifling a yawn. "She gets worried sometimes."

  Adam remembered how angry Marty's mom had been when he spied on them through the window. "Then why was she yelling at you last night?"

  The kid was so tired he didn't even wonder how Adam knew. "I had a bad dream and got scared. Wanted my dad."

  "She ever tell you about your dad?"

  "All the time. He's a hero. See. US Army." He extended his watch proudly. Darrin, sitting silently beside him, reached a reverent finger to touch it. "Flies helicopters. Kiowas. Then he got shot down and died." Marty stuttered the last word out and pulled his arm back, clutching his watch. Darrin gave him a one-armed hug.

  Maybe Marty's mom hadn't been angry, just upset, Adam thought. Still, she had no right to take it out on a little kid. Or to hide the kid's real father from him.

  "I want to go home now," Marty announced in a loud voice that echoed up through the cavern. "I miss my mom."

  "I want my mommy, too," Darrin chimed in. "And my sister. Can we go home now?"

  Adam was surprised. Hadn't he given them everything they wanted? How could they want to leave? Family was supposed to stay together and like it. "Didn't you guys have a good time?"

  Darrin nodded but sniffed back tears. Marty was more direct, standing up and kicking his sleeping bag aside. "I want to go home. Now."

  "You can't. Not in the middle of the night." Adam tried reason. "I can't leave Sally," he lied. "Just go to sleep."

  "No. You can't make me. I want my mommy!" Marty screamed the last. Adam was surprised Sally didn't wake, but she merely gave a twitch and kept right on sleeping. Darrin began blubbering, clutching Marty's hand.

  They were far enough away and deep enough inside the cavern that no one would be able to hear Marty's screams unless they stood right outside the entrance. Even then, they'd probably just be distorted echoes.

  Adam did what Dad would do: give the boys time to think about their actions and the consequences. He scrambled up the wooden ladder then pulled it up behind him. The fire below was almost out, but he'd keep an eye on the kids, make sure they didn't burn themselves. They had the red glow from the kerosene heater, plenty of food and water, and if they were good, he'd leave one of the lanterns he'd set on the upper edge of the pit going.

  Now both Marty and Darrin choked out shouts as they ran to where the ladder had been. As their noise escalated, Adam regretted not using the chloroform soaked rag in his pocket, but he'd been too scared it might be too much for them. They were so much tinier than the fish Dad used it on.

  The noise echoed, bouncing back and forth from the
cavern walls until it was like a Ping-Pong ricocheting through Adam's brain. He fled. Raced out into the fresh air, stood in the cold, stared up at the snow-filled sky, and wondered what he'd done wrong.

  Chapter 19

  It didn't take long. Bob seemed to understand this had nothing to do with him. Or even sex.

  It was all about Jenna regaining control. Feeling powerful. In charge of at least one small piece of her life.

  As they fumbled their clothes back into place, Jenna enjoying the way Bob looked down every time she made eye contact then looked up again with a flush, O'Hara entered the interview room and sat down across from Roy.

  Bob snapped the intercom on and waited for Jenna to take her seat first. Seemed he didn't mind letting ladies go first in most things, she thought with a smile, re-buttoning her shirt. Sex without a condom—she'd never done that. Not even in the back seat of Ricky Jimenez's dad's car during her first time as a kid. But damn, the risk was exhilarating. And it felt so natural. As natural as holding a pistol, taking aim, pulling the trigger.

  She should reassure Bob. She'd been tested. Was on the pill. But he didn't ask. Either he trusted her or he was embarrassed. He sat down beside her, his leg pressed against her thigh. Then his hand was there. Resting, as if it belonged there, yet not possessive. All she had to do was shift her weight and it would be gone.

  Her choice. She liked that. Liked that he didn't ask all the awkward questions that usually spoiled the mood. Liked the feeling of being wild and doing what she wanted. She let his hand stay where it was.

  Was about to do some exploring with her own hand below the table when Roy burst out crying. Not just tears and sobs but hair-pulling, shirt-renting cries of grief.

  "What did O’Hara say?"

  "Told him they found Rachel's body in the fire," Bob whispered back. "Poor girl."

  O'Hara leaned forward. He faced away from them, but he seemed to be trying to comfort Roy by patting his wrist.