by Robert Ellis
Lena’s cell phone began ringing. It was on the couch where her clothes had been tossed. Something in Vaughan’s eyes changed. He crossed the room stiff as a machine, then tilted his head and peered down at the phone.
“Take the call,” he shouted. “Take it.”
“Who is it?”
“Martin Orth, calling you at almost two in the morning.”
He pushed the Glock into her side just below her ribs.
“Take the fuckin’ call, Lena.”
Vaughan was losing it. And she could see that he still had a way out. If he killed her and managed to get rid of her body, he was free. Hight knew where she was and knew that she had recovered his daughter’s phone, but that’s all he knew. When he assumed she was with the man who murdered his daughter, it could easily be taken as nothing more than a wrong guess.
She picked up the phone. “Marty,” she said.
“Lena, I know it’s late—the middle of the night—but it’s important.”
Orth was upset and rushing. From the noise in the background, she thought he might be calling from the crime lab.
“What is it?” she said.
“The touch DNA. Lily Hight’s jeans.”
“What about them?”
Vaughan gave the gun a harder push and nicked one of her ribs. Lena flinched at the pain, but remained quiet. When Orth came back on, he sounded frantic.
“We made a run,” he said. “Nothing came up in the system, but the samples included all county employees. Lena, I don’t know how to say this any other way. We got the wrong guy. The killer wasn’t Bennett. It’s Vaughan.”
She could have laughed at the irony. The timing.
“Are you doing anything about it?” she said.
“I called Deputy Chief Ramsey before I called you. What’s wrong with your voice? You sound funny.”
“Thanks for the tip, Marty. I’ve gotta go now.”
Vaughan grabbed the phone and threw it on the floor. “What did he fucking want? What did he fucking say?”
“They made a run on the DNA they picked up on Lily’s jeans. It covered all county employees. They know it’s you. They’re on their way.”
He struck her—a hard blow to the face that knocked her down to her knees—but she didn’t stop.
“You fucked up, Vaughan. You covered everything except for the one piece of evidence that had your fucking name on it.”
He hit her again. He kicked her and jabbed the gun to her head. Something in the room changed. She looked at the windows by the front door and thought maybe someone had run through the moonlight.
Vaughan moved back to the center of the room, looked up at the ceiling, arched his back, and screamed like a madman. His arms shook and his entire body shuddered. He was panicking now, falling apart, shaky. He stared back at her and hissed. Then he grabbed his wallet and keys and ran down the foyer to the front door.
“You should wait for the police, Vaughan. You should stay inside.”
He turned back to her and shrieked. “Why?”
“Because I think someone’s out there.”
“Is that the best you can do?”
“I think someone’s outside,” she said quietly.
He laughed at her. Then he threw the locks, yanked open the door, and fled into the night.
The shots came quickly. There were five of them. One loud and made from close to the house. The next four from a slight distance. She ran to the open door and gazed outside. Tim Hight was standing over Vaughan’s dead body, pointing a gun at his head. She could hear Hight weeping as she rushed across the lawn. She could see him wiping his eyes as he stared at the corpse.
Lena pulled the gun out of his hand and tossed it onto the grass. Hight turned to her and buried his head in her chest. His body was trembling, the tears splashing off his cheeks like rain. She could hear sirens approaching in the distance. She could feel herself supporting Hight and shouldering his weight.
“Did I get him?” he whispered to her. “Did I get the guy who murdered Lily?”
Also by Robert Ellis
The Lost Witness
City of Fire
The Dead Room
Access to Power
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
MURDER SEASON. Copyright © 2011 by Robert Ellis. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ellis, Robert, 1954–
Murder season / Robert Ellis. — 1
p. cm.
1. Policewomen—California—Los Angeles—Fiction. 2. Men—Crimes against—Fiction. 3. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 4. Vigilantes—Fiction. 5. Los Angeles (Calif.)—Fiction. 6. Los Angeles (Calif.). Police Dept—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3605.L469M87 2011
813'.6—dc22 2011026899
e-ISBN 9781429995542
First Edition: December 2011