by Karen Cote'
“We’re not sure yet.” He licked his lips with uncertainty and then asked, “Do you know what luminal is?”
“It’s that stuff that detects blood after someone tries to clean it up.”
Not quite a smile, his mouth quirked at the raw definition.
“Exactly. After we ran the tests to determine the blood was human we waited until after dark to apply the luminal.” He paused and then, “We found more…a lot more around your bedroom. From what we can tell there was quite a struggle.”
Images of horror swept through her mind.
Lily lifted her chin to keep it from wobbling. “Do…” she started, but her voice cracked and she had to begin again. “Do you think someone was killed here?”
She held her breath for Mark’s answer and after hesitating, he nodded.
“Either that or critically wounded,” he said. “We don’t know much more than that. Jet’s calling some people he knows in the city.”
“Because Anthony might be involved,” she said, but it was as if another person was speaking. She shook her head and groped at the French doors. “I need some air.”
She didn’t wait for permission and exited out into the heat. She plopped down on the patio stairs. Her head fell into her hands and her fingers stretched up to rub into her scalp.
Was it possible for one nightmare to surpass another? Which was worse? The hatred of the man she loved or the idea that something very bad had happened in the same house she’d slept in. Analytically both were equal in their differences depending on the stress level of contemplation. The scenario of an emotional trauma generally usurped a physical injury as long as said injury of reference didn’t directly align with the subject involved.
A hysterical gurgle of laughter warned her she was losing it. She swallowed it away.
Hiding behind her training wouldn’t help this time. Where was the strength that had carried her through Jerry’s death? Not in Windom Hills, that was for sure.
Lily peered through her fingers at the lush green grass and could’ve wept for a mere smidgeon of normalcy.
Her gaze touched on the birdfeeder propped up against the house beneath the patio deck. Confusion puckered her brows beneath her fingers. The birds couldn’t reach the seed under there. Suddenly the importance of putting something in order was paramount.
She rose and stepped down to move it back to its original spot in the middle of the yard.
“Where are you going?” Mark’s voice reached her from the top of the stairs.
“Someone’s moved the birdfeeder,” she tossed over her shoulder.
“It’s not a good idea to touch anything. The entire house is a crime scene now and if a District Attorney is involved things are gonna get complicated.”
“I’m just putting it back where it was,” she said, grasping the ceramic bowl mounted on the pedestal.
It wasn’t that heavy and she tilted it and began rolling it away from the house. She jerked in her tracks when the wall shifted.
“Lily,” Mark protested, but then he too noted the cubbyhole opening in the wall. “What in the world?”
Lily sat the birdfeeder upright and approached the wall muttering, “This place is so weird.”
Mark’s curiosity overrode caution and he pulled at the opening.
“Oh crap! Lily, get back!” Mark shouted, but he was too late.
What looked like a man’s pant leg beckoned and as if drugged, Lily inched forward. Mark tried to grab her, but she evaded him.
A rupture of screams tore through her throat and the last thing Lily remembered was Mark’s arms circling around her.
* * * *
Twilight cast a glow over the lake and deepened the shadows around the crime scene. It also added fuel to Jet’s already black mood.
His cop’s detachment followed Capriccio’s lifeless arm flopping alongside the gurney over the terrain of the backyard. Even without his experienced immunity, Jet wouldn’t care about the other man’s death. As far as he was concerned, it pushed the earth’s exfoliation of evil to the underground.
“You know,” Agent Deke Sarnecky said, his eyes trailing after the corpse, “if I wasn’t your alibi two days ago I’d suspect you of slicing that grin into our fine District Attorney’s neck.”
His chubby-face grinned at the deadly look Jet shot him.
“Be careful,” Jet warned. “I still have pictures of you with a certain blonde doing some pretty dirty acts.”
Deke snorted. “You’re in those pictures too. Besides, college was a long time ago and sex isn’t against the law any more now than it was back then. I might even earn the reputation of being a ladies-man at the Bureau.”
“Maybe,” Jet conceded. “But it’s not those light-weights I’m thinking of.” A side of Jet’s mouth lifted at the fear in his friends eyes. “You answer to a much higher authority.”
Deke lifted a fat finger to pull at the tie bridging the gap in his collar.
“Abby would sentence me to the couch for a year,” he accused.
“Exactly. So don’t push me.”
“Jerk-off,” Deke muttered.
“Wanker,” Jet came back.
Deke chuckled. “Aren’t we candidates for the mutual admiration society?”
Jet sobered. “I hate having this puss festering in my backyard Deke. I left all this years ago to you guys in the city.”
“You were the one with the hard-on for Capriccio this past month. Hell, what are you worried about? Thanks to you, I opened up an investigation against him. Do you think my superiors are going to reward me after all this?”
“I thought eliminating corruption was part of the FBI’s job?” Jet pointed out.
“It is,” Deke defended scratching his head. “But I gotta tell you that with drugs involved, the situation gets complicated ten-fold. Don’t get me wrong, there’s enough evidence on Capriccio to prove he was into some bad stuff, but if he got whacked stepping on the meth-balls of someone’s turf; it’ll be hard to get a conviction. These guys work in the dark and we need an underground team to expose them. That takes time.”
“What about the kids from the rehab center?” Jet asked.
Deke shrugged. “There’s one kid who’s pretty scared, but looks like he wants to talk. Capriccio’s death might open him up, but my inner-vibe tells me that the dirt won’t stray far from its immediate source.”
“Other than clearing Jerry Delaney’s name,” Jet inserted, “I don’t think I care whether or not Capriccio’s murder gets vindicated.”
Deke was silent for a moment and then almost reluctantly said, “You know I’ll have to interview Lily Delaney for this, don’t you?”
Jet’s head spun warily toward him. “You’re not including her as a suspect are you?”
The agent stuck his hand in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You know everyone’s a suspect. Personally, I don’t think a woman could do this especially by herself. But I will need to talk to her.”
“It’ll have to be later,” Jet replied grimly. “She’s sedated at the hospital. Unlike you and me, she’s not used to this type of garbage. What about Bailer? Did you contact him?”
“I spoke with Fred Bailer earlier today,” Deke admitted. “A very interesting conversation indeed.”
“Do you like him as a suspect?” Jet asked. It would be a surprise to him if he did. Bailer was too much of a delicate flower for something like this. Hell, after meeting him it was inconceivable that Lily had asked for his help in the first place.
“Mr. Pansy-pants?” Deke shook his head. “He’s been out of the country for four months. It doesn’t make sense to show up out of the blue and kill a District Attorney. There’s no motive.”
“Are you sure he was out of the country for that long?” Jet asked.
Deke nodded. “I verified it myself.”
Sick reality sunk into Jet’s gut. Fred Bailer couldn’t be the father of Lily’s baby. Furthermore, since Capriccio shot blanks there was only one other rationa
l conclusion and it pointed directly at him.
Had Denie gotten her information wrong or just flat-out lied. Why would she lie? Because of Celeste? Moreover, why had Lily spurned the idea of being pregnant after the condom broke? At Don’s bar, she’d stressed that assurance further.
“There’s another thing,” Deke cut in on the agony of Jet’s revelation. “Contrary to what you suggested, Bailer told me that Capriccio wasn’t what brought him to Windom Hills.”
He smirked at Jet’s sharp look.
“Apparently,” he went on to explain, “Bailer’s parents were in cahoots with some big-wig doctor who’s about to get a malpractice charge of prescription drug distribution and falsifying patient’s records. It’s a big scandal scheduled to hit the papers in the next few days.”
“What’s that have to do with Lily?” Jet asked, searching for some relevance. “Was Capriccio in on it?”
“No.” Deke scowled. “I told you, Bailer coming here had nothing to do with Capriccio. Bailer believed his ex-wife was contacting him because the family physician had fabricated her infertility.”
“What?”
“Crazy, isn’t it? How the power of money induces people to believe they have the right to manipulate others and ruin lives?”
Jet was dumbstruck at the inference. Deke incorrectly deduced that his friend wasn’t computing the context of his words and slapped a hand on Jet’s shoulder.
“To put it in simple terms Watson, thanks to a bunch of lies from a few sick-ass people, until just recently your Lily Delaney thought she was barren.”
* * * *
“Lily, wake up.”
Lily blinked her eyes open to Denie standing by her bed.
“Come on,” Denie urged. “Jet asked me to take you to your house. They know who killed that Capriccio fellow.”
“Who?” She sat up too quickly and the room spun.
“Come on, I’ll tell you on the way.”
Lily was still groggy from the light sedative, but responded to the urgency in Denie’s tone.
“I need to get dressed.”
“We’ll take care of that later. Right now just get your shoes and robe,”
Lily did as instructed despite the bits and pieces not making sense. Such as Denie’s black hooded sweat suit.
“Is it raining?” Lily asked.
Denie pressed a finger to her lips and opened the door. She looked down the hall before ushering Lily out.
Something was certainly off kilter here.
Denie led her out the rear exit door and skimmed the area as she rushed Lily to her car parked in the shadows. As they drove away, Lily glanced back through the rear window at the empty parking lot.
“What’s going on, Denie?” Fully awake now, Lily wanted answers.
“I told you, we’re going to your house to wait for Jet,” Denie responded, but she kept glancing in the rearview mirror.
Despite the heat, Lily shivered at the mention of her home. “Anthony’s dead,” she said.
The hollow realization brought no relief. Other than regret at not being able to clear Jerry’s name, Lily didn’t take satisfaction in knowing how brutal Anthony’s murder was. She wasn’t built that way. She never had been.
“That’s right,” Denie said callously. “And we need to get you safe.”
“Safe?” Lily questioned. “From who?”
Denie’s head whipped toward her before settling back onto the road.
“How am I supposed to know all the details? I’m just the help.”
Her attitude caught Lily off guard. It was as if Denie’s disposition had returned to the woman Lily had first met. But why would she be hostile toward Lily now?
“I’m sorry,” Lily replied. “I know I’ve been a lot of trouble to you, but I don’t understand why I had to leave the hospital.” She pushed through her tumbled hair and confessed, “I’m not sure I’m feeling up to going back into the house.”
“You’ll be fine,” Denie muttered in an abstract voice. She shot another glance in the rearview mirror as they pulled into Lily’s driveway.
The yellow crime scene tape circling the home churned Lily’s stomach. She looked doubtfully at the taped entrance.
“Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?”
“Come on,” was Denie’s response.
She opened the door and got out. Reluctantly, Lily did the same. Denie reached into the back and grabbed a small tote bag. Then she started toward the front entry steps.
The house appeared dark and eerie as Denie cut the tape and tugged on the doorknob. It was locked.
“Where’s your key?” she asked.
Lily scrunched her brows. “In my purse, but I’m not sure where that is.”
Denie’s lips thinned. “Probably at the hospital.” She glanced around the front entry. “I’ll have to break the window.”
“Are you sure?”
Denie reached into her bag and pulled something out. A gun? Lily flinched and backed away when Denie began smacking the butt of it against the hard glass of the door. After a few tries the glass gave way under the pressure. Denie reached in and unlocked it.
Alarm bells beckoned in Lily’s head not to enter and Denie must’ve sensed her withdrawal. She pointed the gun at Lily.
“Upstairs,” she said softly.
Lily swallowed and shook her head.
“Upstairs,” Denie repeated. “Or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
* * * *
Jet took time enough to shower before heading to the hospital. The need to see Lily was eating him up inside, but he had to get the stench of murder off him, if not physically at least mentally. Other than the desire to see for himself that she was okay, he had a lot of explaining to do. How would she ever forgive him for accusing her like he did?
He’d tried calling Denie, but for the first time he could remember, his reliable employee wasn’t answering her phone. Wasn’t that a coincidence?
Jet entered the hospital double doors at the same time Mark was coming up the hall.
“Why aren’t you guarding Lily?” He interrupted Mark’s greeting.
“Someone threw a rock through a window in one of the rooms.”
Jet’s heart stopped. “Lily’s?”
“No, the opposite wing.”
“And you left Lily alone?” Jet growled. “Which way is her room?”
“This way,” Mark answered and then defended his actions. “What was I supposed to do? I had to respond.”
“Why didn’t you call me or Nathan? And while we’re on the subject of your dumbass decisions, would you like to elaborate on why you took Lily to her house when I told you it was off limits?” Jet finally asked the questions that had plagued him all day.
Mark’s discomfort was less than reassuring. “She called me for a ride to get her car.”
“Why?”
“She was leaving Windom Hills.”
Jet stopped abruptly. “Leaving? We’re in the middle of a murder investigation.”
“She didn’t know that at the time,” Mark replied.
“You did,” he spat out. “And isn’t it funny she called you. Why do you think that is?”
“Well that’s a good question, boss. What did you do to her?”
There was heavy tension in Mark’s voice and Jet forced himself to calm down.
The idea that she’d been leaving him left him more shaken than he could’ve envisioned. Without another word, he picked up speed toward her room.
He pushed through the door. It took a moment to adjust his vision to the dim lighting of the room, but when he did, Lily wasn’t in the bed. He frowned and went to the bathroom, but it too was empty.
Lily was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
“Get on the bed,” Denie ordered motioning toward it with the gun.
Lily’s compliance since ascending to the master bedroom shifted to anger.
“Alright Schizo-girl,” Lily lifted her chin in contempt. “What’s going on? Did we
forget our meds today?”
Denie’s lip curled as she reached into her pocket. She flung something at Lily and she instinctively caught it. It took a moment to recognize the object in her hand.
“Laugh all you want sister,” Denie sneered. “I’ll consider your smart ass remarks as part of your last words.”
“How did you get Anthony’s ring?” she asked.
A cold smile lit Denie’s face. “How do you think I got it?”
“Well I don’t know,” Lily cocked a brow. “Grave robbery?”
Lily realized she shouldn’t be antagonizing someone holding a gun on her, but since this could only be a dream, she might as well act tough in it.
“Not quite,” Denie’s smile was smug. “Your boyfriend was still breathing when I took it off him.”
The hood had messed up Denie’s hair and Lily could swear she detected actual blonde horns.
Despite Lily’s inner hard stance, tears bubbled up as the seriousness of the situation took a darker turn.
“You killed Anthony?”
“I can’t take all the credit,” she said. “But you will.”
With her empty hand, she reached into the tote hanging off her shoulder and fished around in it, not taking her attention off Lily. She pulled out a pen and notebook.
“Dr. Lily Delaney, you are about to write a confession. No one believed Anthony Capriccio killed your brother so you had to take matters into your own hands. But you just don’t have the guts to live with what you did. You sunk further into depression when your ex-husband refused to break off his engagement with a very influential family after you told him you were pregnant. With your brother dead, what in the world did you have to live for?”
Amidst the horror closing in on Lily, Denie threw the notebook and pen at her feet.
“Put that in a letter,” she demanded.
“Have you lost your marbles?”
Denie spun around at the male voice.
“Nathan,” Lily breathed, never so glad to see anyone in her life.
Instead of the reaction Lily expected, Denie only glowered at him.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“You just confessed to murdering someone,” he yelled.
“It’ll take the heat off us,” she reassured.