Abandoned

by Rhonda Pollero

  As Emma was about to leave, David and Sam met her in the foyer.

  “We know what the flowers mean!” Sam exclaimed.

  David angled his laptop so she could see the screen. “Look here,” he said. “Tulips, chrysanthemums, lilies, and camellias all meant death in Victorian England.”

  Immediately Emma thought of Renae Burke’s Victorian mansion. Was it possible that the Queen of Purdue was the one behind the flower deliveries? No, Emma couldn’t imagine that woman doing her own dirty work and besides, Amelia had been emphatic that two men had been involved in her kidnapping.

  On her trip to Renae’s she called Conner and told him about the meaning of the flowers.

  “Turn the car around,” he said curtly.

  “Don’t be silly,” Emma said. “I’ve interviewed and represented serial killers. I can handle a society maven.”

  “But she’s the only real link you’ve found besides Elgin.”

  “Which is why I called you. I wanted someone to know where I was, just in case.”

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Conner warned.

  “I’m not exactly looking forward to it,” Emma admitted. “Did you have any luck with the ballistics expert?”

  “He gaffed me off,” Conner said. “So I sent the stuff to the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s ballistics lab. I should get a response in about a week.”

  “A week? Seriously?”

  “A twenty-year-old solved case isn’t a high priority for them.”

  “What about a private expert?” Emma suggested. “I know a guy in New York who will probably do it overnight if we send him the information.” Emma ticked off the address by rote. “I’ll call him and give him a heads up.”

  “I’ll make the necessary copies and FedEx them ASAP. Call me when you leave Renae’s house.”

  “Why?” she asked with a smile. “Worried about me?”

  “Always.”

  “But you’re still pissed?”

  There was a brief pause. “No, I’m over it now.”

  “Really? I’m forgiven?”

  “Oh, you’re more than forgiven.”

  Emma felt her heartbeat quicken. “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

  With that, he disconnected, leaving Emma feeling better than she’d felt in days. Yes, she was curious about what he might say, but she was more relieved than anything. She understood that because of the infidelity in his marriage Conner wasn’t going to trust easily, but if he truly had forgiven her for keeping her identity a secret, then she was halfway home.

  “And exactly what is home?” she mused aloud as she drove along the two-lane road. The answer came to her in a flash. It was wherever Conner Kavanaugh was.

  Admitting that to herself was exciting and scary. She’d had lovers before but none she would have considered commitment material. There was something different about Conner. Something about the way he made her feel. And that something, she acknowledged with happy resignation, was love. There; she’d said it. At least she’d said it in her brain. Now how could she say it out loud to Conner?

  All thoughts of happily ever after went down the drain as she reached the massive iron gates that guarded the Burkes’ property. Emma buzzed the callbox and announced herself. She glanced at her watch. She was only ten minutes late. Not good, but not a crime either.

  She pulled into the horseshoe-shaped driveway and stopped near the front staircase. Instantly she noticed two things—first, there were flowerbeds everywhere and she recognized the at least one of the varieties left on her porch. Second, she noticed an attached six-car garage farther down the arched drive. She wondered if there might be a black Crown Victoria secreted in one of the stalls.

  Emma checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror, opened her purse and slipped her phone inside, and then brushed her fingertips over her gun. There was something calming about the feel of cold steel beneath her fingertips.

  She felt Renae Burke’s green gaze on her before she reached the door. Though the older woman wore a smile, it didn’t reach her eyes. “Why Emma, I’m so glad you made it. I was worried when I heard about your sister. How is the poor dear?”

  “She’s fine,” Emma said as she stepped inside.

  The house smelled of lemony baked goods with a slight undertone of cigar smoke. “Will the mayor be joining us?” she asked.

  Renae waved a dismissive hand as she led Emma through to the parlor. “Maddison is off fundraising in Tallahassee today.”

  “He’s running for the Senate?”

  “Has his heart set on national office,” Renae said with an exaggerated sigh. She had on a pair of white slacks paired with a simple beige cashmere sweater, and a gold necklace with a side broach of clustered emeralds and sapphires at her neckline. Matching emerald and sapphire earrings dangled from her earlobes. As usual, her hair was in an updo and her makeup was flawless.

  And as usual, she left a vapor trail of perfume that Emma could taste as she took the chair Renae offered at the exquisitely set table. Renae picked up a little silver bell and jingled it.

  Mary, the maid Jeanine had told Emma about, was dressed in a traditional black and white uniform, and arrived with a large tray. She transferred a platter and finger sandwich tower to the table along with two small pots and a selection of teas.

  Emma’s attention went to a watercolor hanging on the far wall. She remembered seeing it the last time she was at the house but this time she placed it instantly. It was the same image that was on the back of the time-share invitation that had drawn her father to Purdue twenty years earlier.

  Without concern for Renae or the retreating Mary, Emma stood and walked over to the painting. “This is lovely,” she said, then turned back to Renae.

  “It’s Pine Landing,” Renae said. “It’s a beautiful resort about seven miles from here.”

  “With Victorian architecture, too.”

  Renae didn’t miss a beat. She selected a loose-leaf tea and spooned it into a silver tea diffuser, then poured hot water into her cup. “As you can probably tell, I’ve always liked the aesthetic.”

  Emma rejoined her at the table. She had such a big knot in her stomach she didn’t think she could even take a sip of tea. But to keep Renae from thinking anything was amiss, she selected a tea and poured water into her cup. As Emma nervously dunked the diffuser, she tried to think of the best way to get Renae to talk about the assassination. All her rehearsals came to naught, because right at that second she decided flat-out was the way to go. Unfortunately she couldn’t think of anything else, so she just went for it.

  “You were present the night the president and the governor were killed, right?”

  Renae’s spine stiffened. “It isn’t a subject I like to discuss.”

  “That’s a problem,” Emma said. “Then tell me about the painting.”

  Renae paled. “It’s just a painting. Try one of these little lemon cakes, they’re deli—”

  “No, it’s a painting of a time-share villa the…killer was supposed to be visiting the weekend of the murder.”

  “Pure coincidence,” Renae insisted. “As we told the authorities twenty years ago, we sent out thousands of invitations from a mailing list we bought from a financial institution.”

  “We?”

  “My husband and I were ready to develop the property so we were pre-selling vacation units. Cake? Sandwich?” she asked, passing the three-tiered plate in Emma’s direction.

  Emma took something that had cucumber in it and placed it, untouched, on her plate. “So there was no connection between your time-shares and the murders?”

  “Why, of course not. Except for the fact that the assassin used the time-share invitation as part of his ruse. The rally was open to the public and well publicized, so he must have been planning the crime for a while. In fact, my husband was wounded in the attack. Can we please change the subject?”

  “Sorry,” Emma said, though not with
much empathy. Something didn’t feel right. Too many coincidences and she didn’t really believe in coincidences.

  Emma nibbled on a few sandwiches. Listened as Renae suggested places for her to visit and shop in the area. Basically, she was bored into a coma until Renae left to make a phone call.

  Emma went back to the picture and looked at it again, taking a seat in one of the upholstered chairs before it. It was a stunning rendition and she decided she should go out to the place and see it for herself. Maybe something there would help her understand what had happened all those years ago. The ballistics report would help, but she still had no idea why her father had opened fire, or whether the president was in fact the intended target.

  As she was trying to figure that out, Renae returned.

  She wasn’t alone. Just to her right, Kenny Simms was pointing a rather large gun in her direction.

  “Get up,” Kenny said.

  Emma stood slowly, slipping her purse over her shoulder as she rose. “What is this?”

  “Spare me,” Renae said without the pretext of her southern charm and ever-present smile. “I know who you are. Kenny will take care of you first and then tomorrow, we’ll dispatch your sister.”

  “Amelia doesn’t know anything,” Emma argued as Kenny roughly gripped her upper arm.

  “I know,” Kenny said. “I spent most of last night proving that. Your sister has a pretty high tolerance for pain.”

  Emma was temporarily blinded by fury. The thought that she was sharing space with Kenny Simms after what he’d done to Amelia was infuriating. She wanted to shoot him, then stand over him and shoot him a second time. She was seeing red along with the barrel of the gun.

  “I still don’t understand,” Emma said to Renae. “How did you get my father involved in this?”

  Renae shrugged. “He was just a convenient patsy.”

  “To kill a president?”

  Renae sighed. “No, to kill the governor.”

  “But wasn’t he your brother?”

  “Yes. But that didn’t stop him from being a thorn in my side. He was about to sign legislation that would have killed the Pine Landing project. Maddison and I had almost all of our cash tied into that project and my own brother was about to sign a law turning a big hunk of that property into protected wetlands.”

  “You killed three people over a land deal?” Emma asked softly. Her head was spinning. She’d believed her father was a killer for most of her life and now she was faced with an ugly truth. She’d accepted that fact without ever questioning the investigation. Daddy, I’m so sorry!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I’ll come back for her car when I’m done,” Simms said as he yanked Emma toward the door.

  She practically tripped trying to keep up with his longer strides but most of her efforts were focused on keeping her small purse tucked beneath her arm.

  “This way,” he said as he half-dragged her across the lawn.

  “Won’t Mary notice that you dragged me out of the house?”

  “Mary doesn’t question what goes on here.”

  “You should. You were a cop. You know this is wrong.”

  “I know this pays better than being a state trooper,” he replied.

  They entered a side door to the multi-car garage and there was the shiny black Crown Victoria. Kenny pulled a fob from his pocket, pressed a button and the trunk opened slowly. “Get in.”

  “In the trunk?” Emma said, trying anything to buy some time as she slipped her hand into her purse.

  “I can’t watch you and drive at the same time. Now, get in.”

  It wasn’t his menacing glare that made her comply; it was his large gun, with his beefy finger against the trigger. There wasn’t a lot of room because of tools and other items strewn about, but if she bent her legs, she easily fit inside the compartment.

  Fumbling around in the pitch dark of the confined space, she then snapped open her purse. The first thing she did was use the flashlight feature on her phone to scope out her situation. She spotted the red emergency lever and thought about yanking it and opening the trunk. But it didn’t feel like the car was moving that fast and if she popped the trunk and made a run for it, Kenny could easily shoot her before she got ten feet away.

  Emma paid attention as the car maneuvered. The sound of the gravel driveway beneath the tires gave way to a smooth ride after the car made a left. They were headed west of the Burke home. Unfortunately, she didn’t know the area well enough to know what else might be west of the Burke home.

  Quickly, she dialed Conner’s number. “I’ve been kidnapped by Kenny Simms,” she said in a quiet rush.

  “Where are you?”

  “In the trunk of his Crown Vic headed west.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, but I’m pretty sure that’s phase two of this operation. Wait, the car is slowing down.” Emma went silent and her attention was drawn to the left turn signal light, which she could see was flashing. She placed the phone on the floor for a second, just so she could remove one shoe.

  Using the heel of her shoe like a hammer, she was able to knock out the taillight, allowing the fading daylight to stream into the trunk. “I can’t see anything but passing cars,” she told Conner with disappointment.

  “I’m in the car now,” he said. “What do you see?”

  Kenny turned left and she felt the thump-thump of the tires against the highway. “I can’t see much. Pine trees and scrub palms. No houses but I can feel and hear the uneven joints in the road. I think he may be taking me back to that logging road where he held Amelia.”

  “Are you sure?” Conner asked with concern.

  “I’d say fifty-fifty,” she admitted. “But I have a plan.”

  “Don’t do anything to antagonize him,” Conner said. “Just try to keep him talking.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She set her phone to voice recording and slipped it back into her purse, then drew her gun.

  Even in the dim light she could see her hands shaking. Not good. Emma took several deep breaths and rolled so that she was half on her side, and her outstretched arms were partially hidden by the lip of the trunk latch.

  She could feel the wheels leave the paved road and bounce over the ruts of the logging road. Hopefully it was the same logging road where they’d found Amelia. At least that way, she knew Conner had a chance of finding her. But would he be in time?

  The resounding and immediate answer to that question was a big N-O. The car jerked to a stop and Emma braced herself and tried to steady her nerves. No small task when she heard the sound of the keys being pulled from the ignition, followed by the opening and closing of the driver’s door.

  From her self-made peephole, she saw Kenny as he rounded the car, and heard him cursing under his breath when he noticed the damaged taillight. She heard a small pop and the trunk lid slowly opened.

  As soon as she saw Kenny’s chest, she lifted her hands and fired. Twice.

  Scrambling to her feet, she hit her head on the trunk, but kept her weapon trained on Kenny. He had a spreading crimson stain on the front of his shirt. His gun was still in his right hand, the keys in the other.

  Ignoring the gun, Emma grabbed the keys and raced to the car door. She slipped behind the wheel and with her gun in her left hand, she attempted to insert the key. Unfortunately, her adrenaline was pumping and her hand was shaking so badly that she couldn’t master the simple task. Her ears were pounding from the sound of close-quarter gunfire, but she kept struggling to start the engine.

  Out of the corner of her eye she sensed movement. She looked up and was stunned to see Kenny standing next to the window, his gun raised.

  Reflexively Emma raised her own gun and simultaneously heard a shot. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to hit. Nothing. Opening her eyes and looking down, she couldn’t find a wound. Then suddenly the door was yanked open and she raised her gun again.

  “It’s me,” Conner said as he gripped the barrel of her tw
enty-two and pushed it aside. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head and started to cry. She didn’t know why. Emma never cried. Then again, she’d never shot anyone before, either.

  Conner gathered her in his arms and held her, stroking her hair. Sirens sounded in the distance. Emma gulped back her emotions and dabbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “C’mon,” she said.

  “Where? This is an officer-involved shooting. Protocol says—”

  “Screw protocol. Renae Burke set this up and I want to watch you put that bitch in handcuffs.”

  Conner radioed in while Emma retrieved her purse from the open trunk. She glanced once at Kenny’s prone body lying in the pine straw with a bullet between his eyes. “Nice shot,” she commented as she and Conner went to the SUV to wait for the authorities.

  Emma explained everything Renae had admitted. “My father wasn’t the killer.”

  Conner reached out and squeezed her hand. “That’s good, right?”

  “Unless you count all the years I thought the worst of him.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. And call Amelia to let her know what’s going on.”

  Amelia took the news quietly. She was probably feeling the same guilt Emma was. That couldn’t be helped.

  “Em?” Amelia began tentatively.

  “Yeah?”

  “I spoke to Mom’s nurse a little while ago. It doesn’t look good.”

  “Is she conscious?”

  “In and out.”

  “I’ll book two flights for tomorrow morning. We’ll go home as soon as they let you out of the hospital.”

  “I don’t know when that will be,” Amelia argued.

  “We’ll use a charter if we have to. You just rest and I’ll call you as soon as Renae is arrested.”

  “So who was the second man?” Amelia asked.

  “Are you sure you can recognize his voice?” Emma asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’ll have a tape of Maddison Burke for you tonight.”