by Lauren Carr
“The car’s been closed up all this time,” Joshua said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s had time to ferment.”
“It’s been sitting in that seat cushion for three years. The car has been sitting out in the open. Even if forensics can extract DNA from the urine, most likely it’s going to be so degraded that it won’t be usable.”
“Deputy Gardner, stop being such a pessimist. We’ll never know unless we try.”
“You need to point your toes more,” Elizabeth said while J.J. helped Poppy into her coat.
Startled by her comment from behind the reception desk, J.J. was uncertain what to say.
As Madison had thought, Heather had some wonderfully imaginative suggestions in choreographing the waltz that they couldn’t wait to try. J.J looked forward to practicing with Poppy alone—especially the dips and lifts, which they had practically nailed down by the end of the lesson.
After an hour of working hard with Madison and Heather, J.J. felt danced out. He was on dance overload and ready to go home.
Elizabeth moved on to Poppy. “You should arch your back during the fleckerl.”
Poppy glanced up at J.J. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Elizabeth.”
Talking in low voices on a far corner of the studio, Madison and Heather cast furtive glances in Elizabeth’s direction. Concerned, he went over to them and asked in a low voice, “Is everything okay?”
“I can’t afford to keep Elizabeth on,” Madison said. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to hire her in the first place. We ran into each other at the mall. It was nice seeing an old friend. We met for lunch and I mentioned that I was going to open a dance studio. Next thing I knew, I couldn’t get rid of her.”
“Money that you spend on her wages is money that you could invest in the studio,” Heather said.
“You’re going to have to tell her the truth,” J.J. said. “I know it’s hard. I’ve had to let people go at the farm, but it’s all part of being a business owner.”
Madison frowned. “This is not fun.”
“Think of it as the grown-up part of dance.” Heather patted her on the shoulder.
“J.J., are you going to be at the meeting tonight?” Madison asked.
“I wasn’t planning to. Cameron has no intention of charging either of you. Derek has been cleared. I’ve got work to do at the old farm house.” Seeing their wide blue eyes boring at him, he sighed. “Do you want me to be there?”
“We could use the moral support,” Heather said while putting on her coat. “Mom is going to freak.”
“Your mother never did like me,” J.J. said. “How would my being there help?””
“But my mom always liked you,” Madison said.
“Has your mother met anyone she didn’t like?”
“I see your point.” With a laugh, Madison escorted the three of them toward the front door.
As they passed in front of the reception desk, Elizabeth looked up from her computer screen. A tight grin crossed her face. She slid the heart-shaped medallion back and forth on the gold chain around her neck.
Heather slowed down.
Looking up at her, Elizabeth released her fingers from the medallion to let it drop against her chest.
Heather stared at her.
J.J. opened the door. A frigid breeze rushed into the reception area and whipped around them while he held the door open. “Heather, are you coming?”
J.J.’s voice startled Heather out of her thoughts. Turning her back on Elizabeth, she hurried out onto the sidewalk.
“Are you all right, Heather?” J.J. asked while zipping up his coat.
Nodding her head, she stared straight ahead. “Is your dad going to be there tonight?”
“I assume so. It’s his house. Why?”
“I need to talk to him.” Heather trotted to her SUV.
“Did I miss something?” Poppy grasped J.J.’s arm. “She looks like she saw a ghost.”
With a shrug, J.J. took her hand and ushered her up the street to the truck. “We need to get back home. You know how testy Ollie and Charley get when we leave them alone too long.”
A few minutes later, they found themselves traveling behind Heather Davis’s purple SUV on Midland-Beaver Road, a four-lane stretch between Beaver and Shippingport, at which point the road split with two lanes crossing the Ohio River and the other branch traveling on to East Liverpool.
“It’s nice to see that Madison and Heather have become friends,” Poppy said.
“Nice but strange. You didn’t see how those two used to fight.”
The SUV in front of them swerved, almost weaving into the next lane. Slowing down, J.J. wondered if Heather was distracted by something—like a text on her cell phone.
“Elizabeth doesn’t seem to be too keen about their friendship,” Poppy said. “She’s jealous.”
“I can certainly see that.”
Heather swerved again—this time in the other direction. She corrected her course, but the vehicle continued to weave back and forth.
“What’s going on?” Poppy asked.
Tapping his brakes, J.J. checked his rearview mirror to change lanes and pull up alongside her. Possibly, he could see what was causing her erratic driving.
Suddenly, the rear driver’s side wheel spun off the SUV’s axel and flew back to hit the hood of J.J.’s truck.
Before J.J. could react, the airbags deployed. Unable to see where he was going, and aware that the SUV was directly in front of him, all J.J. could do was hit the brakes and spin the steering wheel.
The airbags deflated a split second before the truck was hit in the rear.
J.J. saw stars burst before his eyes when his forehead connected with the steering wheel.
They were then propelled backwards when the front of the truck collided with what they knew had to be Heather’s SUV. In the next beat, they were hit on the passenger side by a car that didn’t have time to avoid the truck pushed into its lane by the van that had collided with its rear.
Trapped in his seatbelt, J.J. felt like he was sinking into a tunnel as the horns and tires squealed around him. Poppy’s scream echoed in his ears. “Poppy?” J.J. reached for her hand. He felt her fingers wrap around his. “Are you okay?”
He heard nothing as he drifted into nothingness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Wake up, J.J.” Poppy’s voice drew him out of the depths of unconsciousness.
Beyond her strong voice, he could hear the murmurs of various people. His nostrils picked up the scent of antiseptic. With a shudder, he opened his eyes to see her smiling emerald orbs gazing down at him. Her freckled nose crinkled.
“You had me worried there for a second.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe you just felt like taking a nap.” When she pulled back, he saw that her right arm was in a sling.
“How bad is it?” he asked, referring to her arm.
“Only a slight concussion.” She brushed the fingertips from her good hand across his cheek down to his chin. “We’re at Beaver Valley Hospital.” He realized that he was on a gurney in an examination room. “You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness since the accident.”
The reminder of the accident caused J.J. to reach up to his forehead. He recalled hitting his head on the steering wheel. His fingertips felt the smooth tape holding a bandage in place.
“The doctor assures me it will be healed in time for the wedding.”
He reached out to her. “What happened to your arm? Is it broken?”
“My shoulder.” She adjusted the sling. “No heavy lifting for a month.”
“I could have lost you,” he whispered.
She stroked his face. “You’ll never lose me.” She kissed him softly on the lips. “When you truly love someone, they are with you always, even when they’re gone.”
&n
bsp; He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “We are forever.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “We’re both better off than Heather.”
The reminder of what had caused the accident prompted J.J. to try to sit up. She eased him back down. “Tell me she’s not …” He was unable to say the word.
“She’s in a drug-induced coma,” Poppy said. “Swelling of the brain. It could have been a lot worse. The airbags saved her life.”
“What made her wheel come flying off her car?” J.J. asked.
“We had a four-vehicle accident on Midland-Beaver Road,” Cameron told Tony while feeding a five-dollar bill into a vending machine for a soft drink. “Two of the drivers were treated and released at the scene. J.J. and Poppy were brought here by ambulance. They’re being treated and will be released tonight. Heather Davis’s injuries are more serious. She’s in a drug-induced coma. We won’t know more until tomorrow.”
The detective was puzzled about why he had been summoned to Beaver Valley Hospital to investigate a car accident. After all, they were homicide detectives.
Cameron bent over to retrieve her change and drink from the vending machine. “The accident was caused by a wheel flying off an SUV. That SUV was being driven by one of the daughters of our murder victim John Davis.”
Realization came to Tony’s eyes.
“But wait. There’s more.” She took a sip of the soda. “The towing people stated that when they lifted Davis’s vehicle onto the tow truck, a second wheel fell off. That got them curious. They checked and found that the two remaining wheel were both missing a lug nut and the lug nuts left on were loose.” She eyed him over the top of her drink. “This was no accident. Someone was trying to kill Heather Davis.” She tapped him on the chest. “That makes this our case.”
“Do you think the two are connected?” Tony asked while following her through a pair of double doors to the waiting area.
She narrowed her eyes and shot him a glance over her shoulder, which prompted him to stop.
“I guess that means you do.”
She led him into the waiting room where Kathleen Davis was slumped in a chair. Her usually sophisticated demeanor had been replaced with grief over her murdered husband and worry for the only daughter she had left.
Izzy was reading a children’s book to Luke on a sofa across the room.
“Where’s Josh?” Cameron asked as she saw him walking through the double doors with Madison and Sherry Whitaker. She opened her eyes wide and tossed her head in the direction of Kathleen Davis. “Do you think now—”
“It has to be done,” Joshua said as he showed the Whitaker women into the waiting room.
Madison paused in the doorway to compose herself. “I’ll tell them.”
Recognizing another former dance mom, Sherry hurried across the room. “Kathleen, Madison told me about Heather’s accident. We came as fast as we could.” She took the chair next to her and clasped her hands. “I hadn’t realized that the two girls have become friends.”
The touch of her hands drawing her from her grief, Kathleen looked from Sherry to Madison and back again. Her face contorted while she tried to figure out who they were. When she did, she said, “I didn’t realize they were friends either.” She focused on Madison. “Weren’t you the one who shredded Heather’s homecoming gown?”
“You do remember me. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
Kathleen slowly shook her head. “You aren’t Heather’s friend. You never were her friend.”
“I had the same reaction,” Sherry said. “But after Joshua Thornton called to tell us what had happened to Heather, Madison explained that they’d reconnected a few weeks ago. They patched up their differences and are BFFs now. Madison insisted that I come here with her to offer our support.” She smiled comfortingly at Kathleen.
“This is some sort of trick.” Kathleen pointed at Madison while slowly raising to her feet. “You must have done this to Heather. Somehow, you caused this accident. You probably killed John, too.”
“No, that’s not true.”
“Kathleen, I understand what you’re going through,” Sherry said.
“Has someone brutally murdered your husband?” Kathleen asked.
“My husband is missing, but I have this sick feeling that something awful has happened to him.”
“You have no idea what I’m going through! Your daughter is standing here before us looking healthy and well. She always was jealous of my daughters.”
“Jealous?” Sherry’s hands were on her hips. “Who’s the one with all of the dance trophies?”
Cameron fired off a glare at Joshua for allowing this to happen. Catching her silent message, he suggested that Izzy take Luke to the cafeteria.
Once Izzy had hurried Luke out of earshot, Cameron stepped into the middle of the brewing skirmish. “Wait a minute, ladies!” She held both arms out to push the two women as far apart as possible. “We’ve been doing a lot of investigating this past week and you two are going to want to sit down to hear what we’ve uncovered.”
Fear crossed Sherry’s and Kathleen’s faces. Hesitant, they took seats across from each other.
“Now, this is not easy to say,” Cameron said.
“Shawn’s dead.” Sherry hung her head.
Cameron paused.
“Shawn?” Kathleen repeated the name. “Your last name is Whitaker, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my name is Sherry. Shawn Whitaker was my husband.”
“Shawn Whitaker was my brother’s name.”
“My Shawn was your brother?” Sherry asked.
“No.” Madison stepped forward. “Mom, Dad was her husband.”
“No, my husband was John Davis.”
“Yes, Ms. Davis,” Cameron said, “your husband was John Davis. Sherry Whitaker’s husband’s name was Shawn Whitaker. We’ve discovered that John Davis was also Shawn Whitaker.”
Kathleen and Sherry sat up straight. With wide eyes, they stared at each other. In unison, they shook their heads.
“That’s not possible.” Kathleen looked up at Cameron. “This girl is pulling some sort of scam.”
“It’s true,” Cameron said in a soft voice. “Your husband was killed in an apartment he had been renting in Calcutta under the name of Bishop Moore for the last twelve years. We found evidence that he had been living under three identities. John Davis, which is his original true identity. Shawn Whitaker, the identity under which he married Sherry. Madison here is his daughter from that marriage.”
“That makes her Heather’s half-sister.” Joshua slipped into the seat next to Kathleen. “They found out through one of those ancestry DNA websites and have become good friends. That’s why Madison came here. She wants to be here for Heather.”
“But they used to fight like cats and dogs,” Kathleen said. “They both dated J.J.”
“That’s ancient history,” Madison said with a wave of her hand. “Heather and I love each other—as sisters. We call each other. We text. She’s working on my dance studio website. I taught her how to make dancing fun again.”
Breaking out of her stunned stare at the wall, Sherry stammered. “I had no idea … I don’t understand. How? Why?”
Madison sat next to her. “Dad said he loved both families equally and couldn’t leave either one.”
“You talked to him about this?” Sherry asked.
“Heather and I confronted him about it at his apartment last week,” Madison said.
Kathleen pointed a finger at Madison. “So you—”
“Both Madison and Heather have airtight alibis for the time of the murder,” Cameron interjected.
“I’m going to be sick!” Covering her mouth, Kathleen ran from the waiting room.
Cameron started to give chase but found Sherry’s hand on her arm.
“Allow me.” With a soft smile, Sherry
trotted down the hall after Kathleen.
“Should they be left alone?” Tony asked Cameron in a low voice. “What if they kill each other?”
“That’s why you might want to go with them.”
“To the ladies’ room?” Tony grasped his service weapon and looked around for help in the form of a volunteer to go for him. “But there are things in there.”
“You don’t have to go in. Just wait outside the door. If you hear gunshots, then you can go in.”
“Go in?”
“Keep your eyes closed so you don’t learn our secrets.”
His eyes wide with terror, Tony hurried after them.
“Kathleen! Are you in here?”
In the ladies’ room, Sherry bent over and peered under the stall doors until she located Kathleen Davis’s legs.
After having become physically ill with the news, Kathleen flushed the toilet and opened the door to find Sherry Whitaker standing before her.
Concerned filled the other woman’s face. “Are you okay?”
“No!” Kathleen brushed past her to go to the sink. “My cheating husband is dead.”
“I guess that’s a good thing,” Sherry said, “because if he was alive, we’d kill him and then we’d spend the rest of our lives in jail. I wonder if they would have allowed us to be cellmates.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, since we shared a husband, we might as well share a jail cell.”
“Once the jury found out what he did to us, then they’d refuse to convict.” Kathleen took a small bottle of liquid soap from her purse, squirt a generous amount into her hand, and rubbed them together. She studied Sherry’s reflection in the mirror. “I can’t believe you didn’t know he was married.”
“I can’t believe you were married for over thirty years without noticing that he spent half of his time with another family.” Sherry squinted at the Kathleen scrubbing the soap over every inch of her hands, wrists, and up her arms—not unlike a surgeon getting ready for an operation.
“How could he resist?” Kathleen stuck her hands under the hot running water. “I can just see him melting like butter with you seducing him away from our family with your come-hither bedroom eyes.”