Physical Evidence

by Debra Webb

  Dixon stepping out of Mitch’s office and speaking to Peg captured Alex’s frustrated attention. Alex watched as he took the file Peg retrieved for him and reentered Mitch’s office. Mitch and Talkington were hunched over a small conference table, reports, interviews and crime scene photos spread across the table-top. Alex had declined the invitation to sit in on their brainstorming session. She’d looked at the reports when Talkington arrived. Nothing in that mass of compiled evidence held the answer.

  The answer was locked inside her mind. Alex closed her eyes. And it just didn’t want to come out.

  The telephone extension on Dixon’s desk rang. Alex jumped at the sudden sound. Most calls came through Peg. The deputies rarely gave out their direct numbers. Maybe it was Ethan. She had given him the number. Alex rolled her neck to relieve the tense muscles and blew out a tight breath. “Okay, Alex, get a grip here.”

  She plucked up the receiver on the third ring. “Dixon’s desk.”

  “I need to talk to you, Alex.”

  Die, bitch.

  Alex jerked with the violent rush of memory. She pressed her fingertips to her temple to soothe the sudden, intense pounding there.

  “You have to listen to me, Alex. I know what happened.”

  “Roy?” She rubbed her forehead, trying to erase the new and increasingly fierce pain streaking across her brow.

  “I want to tell you everything, but I’m afraid…”

  Alex closed her eyes and dragged in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. The pain subsided to a more tolerable level. “What are you afraid of, Roy?” Her voice was almost steady now. She pressed her hand to her chest and focused on slowing her racing heart.

  “I can’t talk about it on the phone. It’s about my stepfather. You have to believe that I didn’t know what he and Miller had planned.”

  Alex frowned. “Where are you? Why don’t you come in to the office and we’ll talk, just the two of us.”

  “No. I can’t do that. I have to go—”

  “Don’t hang up,” Alex blurted, desperate to keep him talking. “Please, don’t hang up.” He sounded distraught. The image of Jasna’s lifeless body flashed before her eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do, Roy. I want to hear what you have to say. It’s very important to me.”

  “I can tell you everything,” he said quietly as if trying to prevent anyone from overhearing. “I was there. I know what Miller did.” His voice cracked on the last two words.

  “Okay.” Anticipation sent adrenaline surging through her veins. This was it. “Why won’t you come to the office?”

  “I can’t trust Mitch. He’s known all along and he didn’t do anything about it. He’s covering for Phillip, just like I was. God, I can’t believe I’ve let this happen.” A desperate keening sound punctuated his words.

  Alex stared at the receiver in her hand. Was he saying that Mitch was in on this? She couldn’t believe that. “Are you sure about Mitch’s involvement?” she prodded.

  “To Mitch, family is everything,” Roy said with clear disgust. “You know, blood is thicker than water.”

  The words echoed inside her head. Jasna had said that same phrase to Alex.

  “I can’t stay on this line. I have to go.”

  Alex blinked away the unclear memory. “No, Roy, wait. Tell me where you want to meet. I’ll come to you.”

  “You have to swear you won’t tell Mitch.”

  “I won’t say a word,” Alex assured him.

  “Meet me at the Down Under—in fifteen minutes. I’ll tell you everything. I swear, Alex, I didn’t know it would come to this.” He made a choking sound that could have been a sob. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll get it all worked out. Just stay cool.”

  Roy hung up. Alex slowly lowered the receiver back into its cradle. Roy was the key. She’d known that would be the case. She squeezed her eyes shut and banished the last, lingering remnants of the wicked headache that had lashed across her forehead only moments ago.

  Roy was ready to talk. Alex opened her eyes and surveyed the reception area beyond the office she occupied. All she needed now was a set of wheels.

  “I’M AS DISGUSTED as you are, Hayden, but the bottom line is that we don’t have anything,” Talkington concluded.

  “None of it seems to tie together,” Dixon agreed, indicating the mass of papers scattered between them on the conference table with a wide sweep of his hand.

  They were right, Mitch conceded. The only way it all tied together was if Phillip was involved.

  And Mitch just wasn’t ready to accept that scenario quite yet, but he was definitely ready to see that the testing got done.

  “If your P.I.’s right,” Talkington began, leaning back in his chair, twirling a pen between the fingers of his right hand, “then it all started with Marija. She was murdered for whatever reason. Her sister was dissatisfied with the police’s investigation so she hired a private agency.” Talkington tapped the pen on the desk for emphasis. “That set the game in motion.”

  “Alex comes down here nosing around,” Dixon offered, taking the ball and running with it. “She put out feelers all over town that she was looking into Phillip’s background, all the while covertly checking into the Bukovak girl’s disappearance. The killer got wind of it and tried to do her. Maybe Miller knew something and planned to share it with Alex, the killer followed and bam,” Dixon slammed his fist into his palm; Mitch flinched “he tried to off them both.”

  “But Alex survived,” Mitch countered. He noted that Dixon carefully avoided accusing Phillip. Mitch hated to admit it, but he was grateful.

  Talkington shook his head. “He was interrupted. Maybe by those kids who were camped nearby. Or maybe they showed up at that particular moment. He got spooked and ran, hoping he’d done enough damage to complete the job. When he realized she didn’t expire, he made another attempt.”

  “Or three,” Mitch added.

  “But what about the drugs?” Dixon tossed out.

  Mitch shrugged. “Could’ve been some kind of evidence Miller intended to bring in on another case. Could’ve been a bone to throw us off the scent left by the shooter.”

  “The plant sounds more logical,” Talkington voted.

  “This all sounds good in theory,” Mitch said, “but how would our shooter know Gill’s M.O.? The souvenir Gill took from his victims was never released to the public.” Mitch cocked his head in question. “Was it?”

  “No way.” Talkington shook his head resolutely. “The only way anyone could have known those details is if a cop privy to the info spilled it.”

  “So we’re saying our shooter is a cop now?” Dixon looked more than a little uneasy.

  “No,” Talkington denied. “We’re saying he knows a cop who can’t keep his mouth shut.”

  “Here’s what we’ve got,” Mitch summed up. “A shooter who knows a cop, who drives a black SUV or truck and would have reason to want to kill Marija Bukovak.”

  Dixon and Talkington remained silent, but their eyes spoke volumes. It all boiled down to Phillip Malloy. He drove a black pickup. He knew a cop or two and he had a definite connection to Marija. Not to mention he had a history of screwing around with young women.

  Mitch shook his head and pushed out of his chair. “It just doesn’t sit right with me.” Mitch rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t see Phillip raping and murdering a girl who trusted him, or trying to kill Alex…or shooting Saylor like some kind of assassin. Not to mention forcing Stella’s car off the highway.”

  “Maybe he hired someone to do the dirty work,” Dixon suggested quietly. Like Mitch, he looked distressed at his own words.

  Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe,” he agreed halfheartedly. “And maybe he’s innocent.” It troubled Mitch that he hadn’t been able to reach Roy. Mitch needed to see that truck.

  “The way I see it,” Talkington declared, “we can’t be sure who the killer is without DNA comparison. That’l
l take time. And if Malloy isn’t our man, we’ll be back at square one.”

  “Gee, that was enlightening,” Mitch said sarcastically. “Now tell us something we don’t already know.”

  Talkington scowled. “Our killer wants Alex dead because he’s afraid that anytime now she might remember who he is—”

  “Oh, no.” Mitch held up his hands stop sign fashion and shook his head in emphasis of his words. “No way are we doing what you’re about to suggest.”

  “To trap a killer you have to have bait.” Talkington tapped the crime scene photos of Marija and Jasna Bukovak’s dead bodies. “Are you going to let this guy go free? Alex will never be safe until he’s caught anyway. She’d be the first to agree.”

  Mitch stabbed a finger in his direction. “We are not using Alex for bait. I won’t allow it.” He might have hoped at one time that keeping her close might lure the killer, but Mitch had been right by her side to protect her. No way was he letting Talkington use her. Not now…Mitch wouldn’t risk it.

  “This case getting a little personal?” Talkington asked smugly. “I’ll talk to Alex myself if you don’t. I’m certain she’ll be game.”

  “Screw you, Talkington,” Mitch growled.

  “Do you want me to call her in?” Dixon ventured, looking from one to the other.

  “Yeah,” Mitch relented. “Call her in so I can tell her that Talkington wants to use her as bait for a killer.”

  “Anything to solve the crime,” Talkington pointed out.

  Mitch seethed. He wasn’t quite sure how he would do it, but somehow he would prevent this little exercise from going down. This was his county.

  Dixon scooted from his chair and hurried out of the office, no doubt happy to escape the tension.

  Mitch glared at Talkington. “You know, sometimes I don’t like you very much.”

  Talkington laughed. “There’s only one difference between you and me, Hayden. I don’t let my emotions get in the way of solving a case.”

  Dixon burst back into this office, his face as white as a sheet. “She’s gone, Sheriff. And Peg is fit to be tied—her car is missing.”

  ALEX SAT in Peg’s green sedan, waiting for Roy’s arrival. She glanced at her watch for the seventh time and wished like hell that he would come on. When Mitch noticed she was missing, he’d be hot on her trail. And he’d be royally steamed.

  She kept replaying Roy’s words in her head. They seemed so familiar somehow. Her head still ached, just a continuous dull throb, but was annoying all the same. She should have taken some aspirin, but she hadn’t taken the time. She didn’t want to risk missing Roy. If he’d gotten here before her and she wasn’t waiting, he might have taken off.

  She checked her reflection in the mirror and noticed that the bruise on her cheek had finally faded completely. The wound on her forehead was healing nicely. There hadn’t been much time to worry about her scrapes and bruises the past couple of days.

  The image of the man in the ski mask zoomed before her eyes. The shouting in the background echoed in her ears. Fingers closing over her throat… Die, bitch.

  The sound of a vehicle pulling up alongside her snapped Alex back to the present. Roy braked to a stop and climbed out of his truck. He waved uncertainly to her and waited for her to join him.

  “Okay,” Alex murmured to herself, “let’s do it.” She emerged from the car and rounded the trunk of Peg’s car, hoping like hell that she didn’t look as afraid as she felt. Another bout of déjà vu swamped her, as if she’d done this before.

  “I’m glad you came, Alex,” Roy said sincerely. “I just couldn’t keep this inside me any longer. I have to tell you what happened.” He waved his arms in a magnanimous gesture. “All of it.”

  “All right. Do you want to talk here or is there someplace else you’d rather go. Someplace quiet where we can sit down and sort this out.”

  Roy looked around nervously. “First there’s something I have to show you. It’s important.”

  Alex moved closer to him. He stood next to the open driver’s side door as if he feared he might need to jump back inside and take off.

  “See.” He gestured inside the cab.

  Wary, Alex eased closer still. She stopped directly in front of him and turned to look inside the cab at precisely the moment the color of the vehicle penetrated her consciousness.

  An explosion of color burst before her eyes. Pain detonated inside her head. And then her world went as black as Roy’s truck.

  EVERYBODY AT THE DEPARTMANT was out looking for Peg’s green sedan, including the custodian.

  Mitch had to find Alex before the killer did. Peg had seen Alex talking on the phone shortly before she disappeared. Mitch could only assume that she’d set up a meeting with someone. Just to be sure, he drove by his uncle’s office and made sure he was there. The move made Mitch feel like scum, but he wasn’t taking any chances where Alex was concerned.

  The radio in Mitch’s Jeep crackled to life. “Sheriff, we found it.”

  “10-4, Willis, what’s your 20?”

  “Down Under. We’ll stand by.”

  Mitch made a U-turn. Five minutes later he skidded to a stop next to Peg’s car.

  “Everything’s clean, Sheriff,” Willis said as Mitch approached him. “No sign of foul play.”

  Mitch slowly circled the vehicle. Willis was right. Everything looked as it should. No sign of a struggle. No blood. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

  “You want me to call Talkington and Dixon?” Willis offered.

  Dread pooled in Mitch’s gut. He was too late. Alex had already made the connection.

  “Yeah,” Mitch said finally. “And see if you can locate Roy. I need to see him ASAP.”

  “Is he back from Nashville already?”

  Mitch frowned. “What?”

  Willis looked flustered. “You know, you sent him to Nashville to pick up that report from Wells.”

  “I didn’t—” Mitch stopped dead in his tracks. Roy was a cop. Marija Bukovak had lived in the home of his parents. Roy had borrowed Philip’s truck. And he knew all about Waylon Gill’s case.

  Ice-cold fear closed around Mitch, swelled inside him. He swallowed back the metallic taste of it.

  “Willis, when did Roy tell you this?”

  Willis scratched his head. “I don’t know. Right after lunch maybe.” He shrugged. “A couple hours ago, I guess. Is something wrong, Sheriff?”

  “Put out an APB on Phillip’s truck. Roy’s driving it. I don’t want anybody to approach him. I just want to know where he is.”

  “You think Roy’s in some kind of trouble?”

  Mitch struggled to take a breath. “Yeah. I think he’s in big trouble.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pain pierced the haze holding Alex just the other side of consciousness. She heard herself groan and felt a trickle of relief. She wasn’t dead.

  Her brain issued the command, but it felt like a lifetime before her eyes obeyed and slowly drifted open. There was hardly any light. She blinked, then squinted to make out any identifying details of her surroundings. A dank, musty smell registered in her senses. Where was she? Dark, nondescript walls lined with shelves surrounded her. A garage? Boxes, unused jars and other miscellaneous items she couldn’t readily identify filled the shelves. A rustic staircase sagged against one wall. The floor beneath her felt cold and hard. A basement.

  Her head throbbed viciously. Another groan rumbled up from her throat. The need to reach up and touch the hot spot to see if she was bleeding was overwhelming but her hands were tied behind her back. A frown dragged her lips downward…why was she tied up this way?

  Heavy footfalls on the stairs echoed through the room. “Well, well, she’s awake.”

  Roy. Looking inside the cab of his truck and getting that blow to the head just as the color of his vehicle sank in slammed into her awareness now. Roy was the one who killed Stella and Lorraine.

  You didn’t say anything about killing her! Miller’s franti
c shouts zinged through Alex’s head. Miller had tried to stop him when Roy had brutally beaten Alex. Miller’s was the voice she’d heard in the background that night when the man in the ski mask had tried to kill her.

  Roy.

  Die, bitch.

  But had he been trying to protect his stepfather or covering up his own doing? Phillip was the one with the skeleton in the closet. Roy had tried to kill her….

  “It was you,” she said with sudden understanding. “You killed Miller.”

  “That’s right.” Roy stood over her now, glaring down at her. “If I hadn’t gotten interrupted that night, we wouldn’t be having this little party now.” He smiled smugly, clearly happy that it had taken so long for her to figure it out. “But, then again, I’m kind of glad it worked out that way. I’m planning to have myself a little fun before I stop your nosing around once and for all.”

  “Roy,” Alex said, trying to keep reason in her voice and the fear out of it. She tried to sit up straighter, but the way her hands were tied and the fact that her legs had gone to sleep from sitting in such an awkward position for however long she’d been unconscious made movement impossible. “Do you really want to go to prison for the rest of your life or maybe even get the death penalty just so your uncle can get away with what he’s done?” She looked into his eyes, beseeching him to see the futility of his actions.

  “The DNA testing is going to nail him whether I’m there to testify to what I know or not,” she went on. “You’re too smart to be doing his dirty work.” If she could make him think there was hope he might get away with what he’d already done if he stopped now, maybe he wouldn’t kill her.

  Roy laughed long and loud. “You don’t know do you?” He laughed again. “Or maybe you knew and you just forgot. I’m not covering up for my uncle.” He leaned toward her, waving the gun in his hand for emphasis. “I killed Marija.”

  Alex couldn’t believe her ears. Not once had anyone she’d spoken with connected Roy with Marija. Alex closed her eyes and allowed the memories now rushing into her head to come freely. There had been no indication whatsoever that Roy had even seen the girl outside the Malloy home. Every clue Alex had uncovered before losing her memory pointed toward Phillip. She knew that with complete certainty. She’d been so intent on proving Phillip had something to do with Marija’s disappearance that she hadn’t looked to anyone else.