Screaming To Be Solved

by Lauren Hope

  Marxie stopped pacing, stood and stared at the chief. She took her eyes from his to Beau, hoping to pour the hurt and bafflement she felt into them. Incredulous, she poked a finger to her chest. “And you didn’t think I should know any of this? How could you?”

  “It might’ve been a bad decision,” the chief admitted, holding his hands up, “but it was necessary. For one minute, try—and I know it’s hard—but try to remove yourself from the pain and hurt and think like a cop’s wife. You were one for three years, you know how things work. Think.” He paused, as if hoping she’d take in what he was saying. She tried, tried to dull the ache in her heart, the confusion in her head. What would Evan say about this? How would he explain it to me? She closed her eyes, let his face float into her mind, let herself remember his words and his voice.

  When she opened them again, she stared at Chief Raines. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  He nodded. “There’s a sizeable drug ring out there. We have one man penetrating the group. He alone is supposed to bring down a giant chain of users and dealers. He tells his wife, just one person. But she, needing to confide, tells someone else. Just one person, maybe her mother. Then her mother tells . . . ” He drifted off and gestured with his hand to continue. “See, the cycle continues. Now, I didn’t tell you,” the chief looked at Beau, “we, none of us in the department told you, because the investigation was and still is, ongoing. To date, it may be the longest running open investigation this town or department has seen. We’ve pulled in a lot of guys—not all of them though—and little by little, they’re bringing each other in. It’s a big circle of us not seeming suspicious, catching them on routine offenses, nailing them for the drugs, and them ratting each other out. Evan started that.

  “Now, be angry at us if you want. But be proud of him. He did right by us. And you. We’re baffled by this new loop just as you are. But when you’ve got drugs around and men wanting to stay out of jail, anything can happen.” He shrugged, hung his head again. “They might’ve shot him while he was in the car, for some odd reason, drug him out. We don’t know Marxie, and may never.”

  She nodded, numbly. Slowly that’s what her mind was doing, shutting down, going numb. It hurt too much to think, to feel, to wonder. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She walked to the chair Beau occupied, slumped on the arm of it. “I’d actually thought of that. I’d wondered out loud to Detective Carter if that could be a possibility.”

  Chief Raines raised his head. “And his answer?”

  “Doesn’t know,” she shrugged. “He’s slow to set anything in stone. It’s all theory for him until solid proof comes.”

  “Sounds smart. But I’d be careful.”

  “Why? Is there something I should know about him?” She looked from the chief to Beau.

  “No,” Beau said, putting a hand on her back. “We just want you to be careful.”

  Why was this sounding so familiar? And why did all the men in her life think she needed someone to tell her who to be careful around? She was a great judge of character. She’d married Evan, hadn’t she?

  She sighed, turned to face Beau. “Around Detective Carter?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? I’m sure he’s a great cop, Marxie. We’ve checked him out and he seems okay. But we’re family. We know you, Evan, the case. If you’ve got any concerns or questions, or he’s not treatin’ you right, you can come to us.”

  “And you’ll help me right away,” she said a bit too heatedly, “tell me everything, right? Kind of like you did with this?”

  “Ouch.” Beau put a hand to his heart, winced. “Okay, we deserved that.” He looked to his father who nodded agreement. “But we were lookin’ out for you. When have we not? We’ve always had your best interest at heart. Evan’s too. If we would’ve told the real story back then, and word got around, it would’ve ruined all the things he worked for. That’s what we’re afraid of now. Why Dad didn’t say something when you came to him the first time a few days ago.”

  “I know.” She ran a hand through her hair, tucked the flyaway strands behind her ear. “It’s just hard.” She sniffed as one tear fell from each eye.

  “We know, gal. We still miss him too.” Chief Raines came to her, leaned and put a cheek on her hair. It reminded her of her father, the way he was tender with her when she was brokenhearted.

  “Thanks guys. Sorry if I went a little ballistic today.”

  “Hey, no complaints from us.” Beau stood to wrap her in a hug. “You’ve got every right to be jumpy and upset.”

  “We want you to be, in fact,” the chief chimed in. “With all this new stuff, we don’t know what else might pop up. Not trying to worry you anymore, but you be on your guard, you hear?”

  She grinned and wiped a hand over her wet cheeks. “Yes, Dad.”

  He laughed and his eyes squinted companionably. “Hey, I’m not that old yet.” He wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close. “I do love ya, though, kid.”

  “I know. And for what it’s worth, I understand. I’m not saying a word to anyone. I’ll never compromise an investigation. Especially one Evan worked so hard for.”

  “That a girl.”

  Beau smiled at her, ruffled her hair. “Good to see ya. I’m sorry you had to have all this put on you today, but I’m here for the long haul if anything else pops up. My opinion? You take a few days, try to put all this behind you and let the detective close this case out after we talk to him. Most likely thing is what Dad said, a drugged out Henry shot Evan and for some reason drove him out to water and blew up the car. Doesn’t make much sense to us, but when you’re high, you do some crazy things.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” She shrugged, gathered her purse and walked to the door.

  “You tell your parents hello for me if you get by there.”

  She smiled. “I will, Chief. Bye y’all.”

  “Bye honey, you call me if you need anything,” the chief added.

  Beau waved as she stood in the doorway. “Hey, if you stay in town, Marxie, call, and I’ll take you for a bite to eat.”

  She nodded. “ ‘Kay. See ya.”

  The minute she walked out of the office, the smile disappeared from her face. Her shoulders slumped and she shuffled the rest of the way down the hall, not even acknowledging Rita’s farewell.

  She was tired down to her bones. Scared and sad and deeply sorrowful that Evan’s last days had been spent in secrecy and doing work no one had yet acknowledged.

  She understood it, yes, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Part of her had to remember that this is what Evan signed on for. “To serve and protect” was his motto, his duty. She would have to find comfort in that, have pride that he paid the ultimate sacrifice doing what he loved.

  But that didn’t ease the ache in her heart. Or the zillions of questions she felt were still unanswered. If the chief didn’t have information, if his own department didn’t know what had happened to her husband, who would? Would she ever truly find out who had taken Evan from her? And why?

  She had to. She couldn’t live not knowing.

  Right now, Grant felt like her only hope. A bit overprotective or not, he might be her only option. The chief hadn’t mentioned getting anything out of SCMPD, and he had work to do in his own precinct. Plus, he’d known about Evan’s undercover work from the beginning. He might’ve suspected or at least anticipated some shady and unknown activity to pop up, given the circumstances. But for Marxie, this was all new. A blow to the heart. A fresh, gaping hole in her life.

  She had to fill up holes, patch up blows.

  Maybe Beau was right. Maybe she needed a few days away. Rest and good company. Mom and Dad would be happy to see her, would welcome her for dinner and love it if she dropped by and spent the weekend with them. She could go to their house . . . but she had work that dictated she be at home, namely within quick reach of the Monroe-Williams office.

  Liz was away still on business. There was no way she was calling her friend back from New York so she co
uld cry on someone’s shoulder.

  Maybe this was God’s sign that Marxie should be alone. She was a grown woman, an adult, she could handle things. Though this was a huge obstacle, she’d get through it.

  But she didn’t want to go home and sit in the shadows, either. She needed something.

  Work. That’s it. It was one of the few things that had kept her sanity in tact and her hands and mind busy in the days and weeks after Evan’s death. She’d built her business in the wake of her grief. Yep, a few solid hours worth of work and her head would be clearer. Then she’d call for some companionship.

  Maybe Grant would do the trick. He could even answer some questions while she told him about her visit with Chief Raines. With Detective Carter as company, she’d kill two birds with one stone.

  Ah, this was her Mecca, Marxie thought as she breezed through the sliding doors. The holy land for women like herself: Design Palace.

  Taking in the sights and scents of the huge warehouse thirty-five miles from Savannah, she closed her eyes, allowed a quick smile and thought that indeed, this was a palace. Royal grounds for her kind.

  She would buy things today. Good things. Items and colors and fabrics that would go fabulously in the law firm. She might even pick up some extra knick-knacks for the store—they never failed to have a marvelous clearance rack here at The Palace.

  She loved bargains. It was how she’d gotten E.M. Vaughn off the ground—meticulously accounting for each penny spent. So she’d browse, and she’d find, and she’d buy.

  And hopefully, hopefully, the images of Evan, stumbling with a bullet in his body, bleeding from torn flesh, ripped veins and ruptured vessels, would subside. Please, God, help them go away.

  She never ever wanted to forget her sweet Evan, but God help her, she couldn’t survive if these flashes of him, alone, scared, and mangled from a searing bullet kept running through her head. How much was one woman supposed to take? First, she’d had to deal with his annihilation, his complete non-existence from one moment to the next. Then it had been the water. The cold, dark, lonely water. And now a bullet. Where was he shot? And how many times? She hadn’t even thought to ask Grant those questions. Wasn’t even sure it mattered, really. All she knew was that bullets were painful. That was enough to have her mind, and her stomach, churning.

  Poor Evan. Dear, sweet, Evan. Doing his duty. Performing his job with courage. And some thug, some drug freak had gone on an angry rampage and killed her husband.

  It all made more sense now. Now that she thought back to their life before the accident, the weeks leading up to his death. He’d been gone more than usual. Quiet, more withdrawn. His perfect eyes had shown shadows, his smile more often a frown.

  He’d been keeping a secret from her, and that would’ve troubled him more than the job itself, even if the secrecy was mandatory. They were honest with each other, always. The friendship they’d formed in the latter years of high school budded the truthful communication they shared in courtship and marriage. His battle through college with alcoholism and the following years of sobriety had made it even stronger. After that, their openness never ended.

  Her Evan, he was a good man. She was so lucky to have had him, even if for a short time. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. But oh, how she wished, just this one time, the Lord would’ve given longer.

  Brushing a hand over the dull ache in her chest, she cleared her mind and focused on the vibrant fabric on the clearance table.

  FIFTEEN

  With the windows down, singing her heart out along with the belting Carrie Underwood, Marxie swung onto her street. Noticing Grant’s black Jeep parked in her driveway, she frowned.

  She’d decided on her lengthy drive home she was irritated with everyone right now. The chief, Grant, anyone who knew information about Evan and had kept it from her, thinking they could dictate how she’d feel and react. The chief and Beau had withheld for two years Evan’s undercover work, and after replaying in her mind her and Grant’s conversation in the park, she realized he said he’d known Evan was shot but waited to tell her.

  She had been anticipating calling him tonight, filling him in on the new details if the chief and Beau hadn’t yet. But she’d wanted to make the connection, not have him waiting in her drive. She knew he was available for help whenever she needed, he’d made that clear. So she hoped this little impromptu visit was about Evan and the case, not another moment to warn her on whom to be cautious around.

  She pulled in the driveway behind his car, eased hers into park. By the time she gathered her purse from the passenger seat, shoved her cell phone into it, and loaded herself down with some of her purchases from the day, he was already at her door.

  And looking furious.

  “Where have you been?” he huffed, anger clearly on a tight leash.

  “Out.” She furrowed her brow at his aggressive stance, shoved out of the car and past him.

  “No you don’t.” He grabbed her arm, spun her around to face him. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours.”

  Her eyes widened now. “Is there more information? From Lawson?”

  “No,” he sighed, frustrated.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

  Hands full, she juggled bags, dug it out of her purse and frowned at the screen that displayed five missed calls. “All from you?” she asked dryly, holding up the slim phone for him to see.

  “Yes,” he hissed between clinched teeth. “Usually why people carry those things is so other people can get in touch with them. What’s your excuse?”

  “As if it’s your business, I normally use it for work and emergencies.”

  “And you don’t consider what’s been going on an emergency?”

  Hurt, she dropped her eyes, yanked her arm from his grip. “Of course I do. I had things to do. Places to go. Work . . .”

  “I know, Chief Raines called me, told me you left there hours ago pretty upset.”

  “Of course I did. Wouldn’t you be if you learned your husband was shot instead of killed in a car accident like you were told?”

  He took some of the bags from her, situated them in his grip. “Yes. That’s the very reason I’ve been worried about you. You’ve had a lot thrown at you the last few days. Your friend’s gone, you’re staying alone, it’s a lot to take in. I don’t want you going off on your own, got it?”

  She narrowed her eyes, tried to control the anger that had begun to simmer. “Oh, just like you want me to be careful around Chief Raines, right?”

  “Honestly, yes. I’m the lead investigator on this case and I’d like to keep some of our details close to the vest if that’s okay with you.”

  “And telling details to Evan’s old boss and a Chief of Police is going to affect us or the investigation, how? You’re ridiculous, you know that!” she sputtered and stormed away toward the house.

  “Hey!” He called after her angrily. “Hey,” more gently this time. “Wait. You’re right.”

  She turned, faced him with wary eyes.

  “You’re right,” he repeated. “I’ve got no reason to interfere. And no reason to tell you not to go to Raines. It just caught me off guard, that’s all. He called, demanding answers, wanting my info sent to him, the M.E.’s report, in detail, emailed right away. Yet when I’ve tried to get in touch with him, he’s always conveniently unavailable. And I only learn about this undercover work after you pry it out him, even though I’ve been after him from the get-go. I’m just a suspicious guy I guess. It comes with the job.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t meaning to speak bad about your friend, and definitely not about a cop that could pull rank on me. With all the twists in this case, I’m just being cautious.” He stepped toward her now and her belly did a strange jump. He set the bags on the porch at her feet and came closer, looking down at her with earnest brown eyes. “And that includes with you.”

  “Me? Why? Do you think I’m in some kind of danger?”


  “Just covering all my bases.” He put a hand on her forearm and squeezed gently. “Someone did murder your husband, Marxie. Even though it’s been two years, we have to remember that things are changing. New facts are coming to light. I just want you to be aware.”

  “I am aware,” she shot back. How many times was she going to hear this in one day? “Though I appreciate your concern, I’m perfectly capable of choosing who to share things with, especially personal information concerning my husband and me. If, in fact, there are some details that need to remain confidential, I will of course abide by that. You’ll just let me know before hand so I’ll be sure to keep that, what did you say, ‘close to the vest’?”

  He breathed a heavy sigh, rubbed a hand over his head. “You’re mocking me now? Nice. I wondered if you’d be a handful.”

  She almost walked away, just left him standing there in the hot, late afternoon summer sun, but his words rang through her head and curiosity won over stubbornness. “You wondered about me? You’ve known me less than a week. How have you had time to wonder?”

  He looked like a kid that had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Guilt spread across his face quick as wildfire in a dry field, and if she hadn’t been so angry, it might’ve been amusing to see him caught off-guard. When she continued to glare at him, he stammered. “Uh, well. I don’t—didn’t know you. Ahhh.” He stopped, breathed, began again slowly. “What I mean is I saw the paper.”

  “The paper?”

  “The Post, from two years ago. When SCMPD sent a packet with Evan’s info in it, the front page of The Pembroke Post was in there. You were on the cover.”

  She rubbed a hand over her eyes, filing through pictures in her head. “At the funeral . . . right. I remember I couldn’t decide if I was angry that they’d invaded my privacy or honored that Evan was getting the coverage he deserved.”