by Nadirah Foxx
Dad shook his head. “In the military, you meet a lot of men and women who are fierce about protecting, but when ordered to, they kill. They carry out their missions. Same thing with the police. They’re trained, but sometimes there’s a hitch. The wiring gets tangled, and they choose the wrong path.”
“You’re wrong about Matt.” I truly believed it. I had to believe it. “I’m going to bed.”
First thing in the morning, I’d check in with Scott. If Matt’s lawyer couldn’t help him, maybe Richard could.
∞∞∞
Pale sunlight streamed through my bedroom window and cast a dreary glow on the world. After spending the night tossing and turning, going over Matt’s arrest and the so-called evidence, my mood matched the view outside.
Was he lying to me about being diabetic? If it was the truth, why was there ketamine in his fridge? The possibility boggled me. Was it a new bottle? Could the police determine if the substance in the dead girl’s body came from the vial?
While I stared out at the street, my phone buzzed with a text. Peering down, I read the offending message.
Leo Kilpatrick: The cop is out of the way. We can be together.
Anger flared in my veins. What did Leo do to get Matt arrested? My head said leave it alone, but my gut resisted. Quickly, I typed out my reply.
Rachel St. John: Why now? Remember, you left me?
His response came within seconds.
Leo Kilpatrick: All history. Meet me?
Rachel St. John: Fuck off!
I didn’t wait for another reply. Instead, I blocked any future messages and calls from Leo. What I needed to do was help Matt. Before I could look up Richard’s phone number, Scott called.
“Hello?”
“Rachel, are you up?”
“I haven’t slept. What’s going on?” I slipped off my chair and went to the closet. No matter what Scott told me I was going to see Matt and make sure he was all right.
“They’ll arraign Matt this morning. The lawyer thinks he’ll get bail, possibly house arrest.”
“Wait. I’m confused. Arraignment means that they believe Matt is guilty, right?” I pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweater. “I thought they only wanted to question him.”
“No. The evidence points to Matt.”
From what Crystal had said, Scott and Matt had known each other for years—since childhood, actually. Surely, Scott didn’t think Matt could have done such a heinous act. “Scott, please tell me you believe in Matt’s innocence.”
Scott breathed into the phone. “I know Matt. He wouldn’t kill anyone.”
Blowing the air through my cheeks, I relaxed a bit. Matt needed our support and help. “Is this lawyer any good?”
“He’s my cousin.”
Sorry, that wasn’t comforting. Sometimes family couldn’t be trusted, no matter how close the relationship. I wasn’t anyone’s detective, but there had to be something I could help with. “Scott, is there anyone who might hate Matt?”
“Other than your ex?”
I flinched as if Scott’s words slapped me. An emptiness settled in the pit of my stomach. Was Leo capable of setting up Matt? If so, how and why? “What makes you think Leo is my ex anything?”
“Come on, Rachel. I saw the picture.” He paused. “I recognized him that night at the bar. I’d be a piss-poor cop if I couldn’t remember a face. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him.”
My mind drifted back to that night.
Scott stood, paused, and furrowed his brow momentarily. “Matt, isn’t that…”
“I got this,” Matt said angrily as he placed a hand on Scott’s arm.
“Rachel?” Scott’s voice disrupted the memory.
“Sorry.” I sighed. “Leon and I had a thing in high school, not a big deal,” I lied. “Why would Leo set up Matt?”
“I never said he did.” Scott disconnected the call. Seconds later, I got a text message.
Scott Dixon: Meet me at Matt’s apartment.
What the hell? First, he hung up on me, and then I get a text? I had no choice but to meet Scott.
“Going somewhere?” Dad asked as I barreled toward the door.
“I’m meeting Crystal’s husband,” I said over my shoulder. “I’ll call you later.”
∞∞∞
Scott stopped me on the sidewalk outside Matt’s building. He glanced around nervously before speaking, “Thanks for coming.”
“You want to tell me what the phone call was about? You hung up on me.”
“Some things should be said in person.” Scott grasped my elbow and escorted me toward the parking lot, stopping at his car. He pressed the key fob and said, “Get in.”
Reluctantly, I did as he asked. Once inside, I faced him. “What the hell is going on, Scott?”
Instead of speaking, Scott pulled out his phone and scrolled through it. After a few minutes, he passed it to me. Displayed on the screen was a picture of two similar-looking boys. One had longish, dark hair with a permanent scowl on his face. The other was taller and had a preppy appearance. They couldn’t have been older than thirteen.
“Recognize them?” Scott said.
“Should I?” I returned the phone.
He pocketed the device and stared straight ahead. “I swore I’d take this secret to my grave.”
“What secret?” My heart rapped against my ribs, and the hurried beating rung in my ears. It was the moment I feared in my dream—learning that Matt was indeed a ruthless killer, and I’d been a fool.
Scott pressed his lips together and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. He cleared his throat, glanced over at me, and said, “If I don’t tell you directly, then I haven’t breeched my silence. Right?”
“Scott,” I said solemnly. When he didn’t offer any information—only flashed his phone again—I decided to play the game. “Okay. Let’s start with the picture. Who are the boys?”
“Don’t you see anything familiar? One of those boys kept his hair long through high school.”
I kept staring but came up empty. “I don’t see it.”
“Maybe this will help jog that faulty memory of yours.” He reached into his jacket and removed a picture that I recognized. Scott held it next to the phone.
My jaw dropped as I pointed between the two photos.
“Now do you recognize the boy with Leon?”
It wasn’t possible. If they knew each other, then why the animosity? “Were they once friends?”
Scott scoffed. “No. They were never friends. Matt tried, but Leon was too filled with hate and jealousy.”
Frankly, I didn’t see why Scott needed to keep a non-existent friendship secret. Maybe it ran deeper. Years ago, when I asked Leo about siblings, he said he had no one in his life that mattered to him. Matt, on the other hand, had foster brothers and sisters.
So did Leo.
That must be it. They were foster brothers. I bet it was a case of good brother-bad brother. Matt probably had an easier life because he followed the rules while Leo never did.
“I still don’t believe Leo could have done this to Matt. It’s too extreme.”
Scott put away the photo and the phone. “That’s how Leon operates. Always has.”
A shudder passed through me. It was a side of Leo that I’d never seen—thank God. To think he could have killed the girl in such a gruesome manner… Bile rose up my throat. I fumbled for the car handle and opened the door just in time. Vomit shot out of my mouth and splattered onto the asphalt. So much for last night’s dinner.
“Rachel?”
I ducked my head back inside and rifled through my purse for a tissue. Luckily, I found one and a pack of gum. After wiping my lips, I unwrapped the spearmint stick and shoved it in my mouth. “I’m okay. Just having a hard time imagining Leo killing someone.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure it was him?”
“No. I just have my suspicions.”
Facing Scott, I said, “Then we need to prove it.”
He sh
ook his head. “We don’t need to do anything. This is a police matter.”
“But—”
He held up a finger as his phone pinged. Scott took out the device and held it to his ear. “Yeah. We’re here. Around back… Yeah, I can do that… See you soon, man.” He disconnected the call. “Matt’s been processed. He needs someone to post bail.”
“Let me—”
“No.” Scott reached into the center console and pulled out a set of keys. “Take these and wait in Matt’s apartment.”
“Where are you going?”
“Downtown. I can post bail. You just get things cleaned up for Matt. He’ll be on house arrest and won’t be able to go anywhere.”
I take the keys. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Could you go by my Dad’s and pick up my overnight bag? It’s still packed.”
“Once I take care of bail, I’ll run over there.”
I nodded and opened the car door.
Scott leaned across the seat. “Rachel, don’t worry. Justice will win out. You’ll see.”
Somehow I doubted his words.
24
More Evidence?
Leo
It was a glorious morning. I didn’t give a damned if the birds sang or not or even if the sun shone. As I pulled a six-pack from the fridge, I listened to the contented beat of my heart. It was the only music I needed that day.
Padding barefoot across the scantily furnished apartment, I thought about the late-breaking news.
Police have arrested a suspect in the horrendous death of a runaway.
Sometimes plans turned out better than expected. And my scheme was a stroke of fucking genius. To be honest, I figured the cops might have hesitated before arresting Matt. Thought that they’d want to protect their own—make sure he was culpable before executing the warrant. All in all, I guessed it would be at least a week before someone discovered the connection. I was always right about a lot of things, but this was one time when I’d wallow in being wrong. It meant that the golden boy wasn’t so golden anymore.
With women, however, I was never wrong. Rachel shocked me. Made me look hard at my beliefs, searching for flaws. The problem wasn’t me. It was her. She didn’t play the way she was supposed to. Most women ran when faced with a repugnant situation. They’d extricate themselves and be on their knees, thanking God they survived.
But not Rachel.
She was either incredibly brilliant or stupendously dumb. Instead of dropping the cop like a bad piece of meat, she stuck around. I guarantee she refuted the evidence. Probably claimed that Matt wasn’t the type to kill anyone. Like a faithful puppy, she believed in him.
What made him so deserving of her loyalty? She didn’t give it to me.
She was supposed to be loyal to me.
As I watched her fumbling around his apartment, picking up the broken glass in the living room, I wanted to hurl. If that was my mess, would Rachel clean up behind me like it was her sworn duty? I tried to imagine her scrubbing blood out of a carpet or setting fire to destroy evidence. I smiled. Rachel wasn’t the type. Maybe she’d find pride in my handling of the dirty work?
Still, watching her work so hard angered me. Why was she degrading herself for him? She wasn’t a lowly housekeeper. Rachel was a woman who was supposed to be worshiped—idolized even. Her hands weren’t meant to do menial chores. When she was mine, she’d never have to. Rachel would never lift a finger to care for me. I had better pursuits for her hands—pleasuring me over and over again, for instance.
I sat back on my chair and put my feet up on the desk. Placing the cameras in the apartment after the detectives left was a smart move on my part. Slipping into the loft was easy. Neighbors probably thought I was just another cop on the job.
I’d admit second-guessing myself before I purchased the equipment. I thought it was a waste of money and wondered when—or if—I’d ever use it.
Turned out it was just another helpful tool—like the police scanner—allowing me to do my work. Anything that kept me ahead of the do-gooders in life was a plus.
Reaching for my bottle of beer, the smile returned. The vacuum stopped working as expected. Rachel unplugged it and scratched her head before removing the canister.
Smart girl.
She peered inside it, noticed how full it appeared to be, and took it to the kitchen. I flipped another switch on my dashboard, and the camera in that part of the apartment came into view. Leaning forward, I slipped on my headset and turned up the audio.
Rachel was more intelligent than I gave her credit for. Instead of dumping the contents directly into the trash, she grabbed a plastic bag and emptied the crap. Naturally, something caught her eye. She reached for some paper towels before putting her hand into the pile of shit. Rachel’s mouth gaped as she removed the dusty, bloody knife. Her free hand went to her mouth.
“My God,” she mumbled.
Too bad cameras couldn’t peep into her mind and capture her thoughts. I would have loved to know them. The color drained from her beautiful face while her lips trembled. Her eyes blinked rapidly. Would she cry? Was her mind scrambling for answers?
I knew Rachel better than she knew herself. She didn’t tolerate liars. It was why I left years ago. I wasn’t a good person. I needed time to grow, find my true calling in life, and then come back to claim her.
Twisting off the lid of the longneck, I imagined the questions swirling in her head as her heart flipped between grief and disbelief.
Was that more proof tying Matt to the crime? What if he killed others and that was evidence the cops would want?
I rubbed my hands together eagerly. What would my gorgeous bride-to-be do?
My plan was simple. As soon as Matt was convicted and sentenced to die, I’d propose to Rachel. She’d say yes because she ultimately wanted to be with me. I understood her better than any man. I knew her pain. I knew her sorrow. Sure, she’d be upset about the cop. She might even shed a few tears, but that would pass. Just like his memory would fade. People would soon forget about the cop turned killer.
I forgot about him years ago.
Another thing I was certain of? She wouldn’t end up with Matt. He was going to lose. Well, he lost last time, but he wouldn’t even get a taste of the good life.
If things went the way I wanted, he’d spend time in the general population among those he’d sent to prison. They’d smash in his pretty face. Pass him around like a piece of meat, fucking him along the way. No visitors for the motherfucker either. And just when he thought he’d die of boredom—or a shank to the kidneys—the guards would strap his motherfucking ass to a gurney and inject poison into his veins. The last face I wanted Matt Wallace to see was mine from the front row with a smile on my face. I’d already planned to pose as a reporter so that I could record the moment for all posterity.
Would I do him the favor and see to the funeral arrangements? Yeah, I would throw his ass in the flames, pour him in a pot, and toss the whole thing into the Detroit River. It would be the least I could do for him.
I was sure he had a similar fate in store for me. Too bad his dream would never happen.
Heat radiated in my chest as joy spread throughout my body. I’d never had anything good in my life—other than the time I spent with Rachel. People disliked me from the moment I was born. My mother tossed me away like trash. I never knew the man who donated to the cause. He probably had foresight and got out of town as soon as they conceived me. Every single foster family hated me too. I rarely spent any considerable time under their roofs.
I thrust my fist in the air.
Yes!
My time had finally come.
Turning away from the screen, I picked up the file in front of me and rifled through the pictures. Usually, I didn’t compile so much data before striking, but that was a special situation. Righting wrongs and proving myself were involved. The golden boy would finally get his punishment.
And Rachel?
She’d
see that I was finally worthy of her.
I ran a finger over Rachel’s profile as I turned up my beer. So fucking beautiful. She wouldn’t be the one who got away.
A noise from the camera snagged my attention. Rachel faced away from me. She was busy at the sink. A bottle of bleach sat on the counter to her left.
What the fuck!
Seconds later, she turned around. The knife, that wonderful piece of evidence, gleamed as the overhead light bounced off its surface. She wasn’t supposed to destroy the evidence. She gave Matt the benefit of doubt. He wasn’t worth it! Just when I planned on giving her another chance…
I grabbed my phone and considered texting her but hesitated. Rachel needed a clear sign. Something she couldn’t refute.
25
Disbelief
Rachel
Two hours later, Scott returned to the loft with Matt. As soon as I heard the key in the lock, I rose off the sofa. When the door opened and closed, I rushed across the floor. I was expecting to see a tired, slightly dirty Matt. My jaw dropped as I got closer to them.
Fatigue wasn’t an adequate description at all. Matt tried to avoid making any eye contact as he pushed past me and into the kitchen. He went straight to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of beer, and headed for the stairs. Before Matt could leave, I grabbed his arm, and he winced. That was when I got a good glimpse of the black eye and the bruising on his neck. There was a myriad of scratches with dried blood in the crevices.
“Matt, wh-what happened?”
He yanked away from me.
My breath quickened, and I swung around toward Scott.
“What’s wrong? What happened to him?”
“Leave it alone, Rachel,” Matt mumbled as he dragged his feet up the steps.
Scott grasped my elbow and tugged me toward the living room. “He had a confrontation with a couple of inmates.”
I inhaled deeply, trying to calm down. Exhaling, I said, “What did they do to him?”
Scott glanced toward the ceiling. “Matt’s strong. The only thing injured is his pride. Give him time. He’ll sleep it off.”
Sadly, I wasn’t convinced. Maybe it was a male thing to shrug off an injury, but Matt wasn’t simply wounded. He looked like somebody had tried to kill him ahead of schedule. There wasn’t anything I could do about it. Yet. Nodding, I then remembered my discovery.