by Brenda Novak
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Chloe bent close to look into his face.
He nodded because he couldn’t speak for the tightness in his throat, and she placed a soothing hand on his arm.
“You seem sad,” she whispered. “What is it?”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shed tears. He was pretty sure it was at Zac’s birth, when the miracle of watching his son being born had overwhelmed him. But he felt like sobbing now, felt like throwing himself into his daughter’s innocent arms and crying his eyes out.
“I’m fine,” he said. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’d destroyed everything...
18
KEITH LOVED SPARRING with Jade. All evening they ganged up to tease Nancy. Actually, he liked Martin, too. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t paid more attention to Nancy’s relatives before, because they were engaging and unique. Nancy didn’t have the stereotypical “step” family. She loved them and they loved her as much as if she was related by blood—maybe more. Keith could finally understand why Nancy would never leave the island. Why would anyone ever walk away from these kinds of relationships? Although they didn’t have a lot of money or worldly possessions, they were the happiest people he’d ever met.
He felt happier himself just being around them. He’d filled his life with work and belongings rather than people. Trust, especially emotional trust, didn’t come easily for him. But he’d reached the point where he could finally see what he was missing. “Hey, where are you going with my dessert?” he said. “I’ll have one more slice.”
Nancy had just taken the pie off the table so she could bring it to the counter, where her father and sister were doing the dishes by hand because they didn’t own a dishwasher. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “You’ve eaten enough pie for three people.”
“But is it polite to mention that?” he said. “What kind of hostess are you?”
“One who’s been counting calories for a long time.”
He chuckled at her “sour grapes” face. “So you’re jealous.”
“Of the fact that you can eat whatever you want and never gain an ounce? Yes. I’m absolutely green. Who wouldn’t be?”
Remembering Jade’s blow job comment, he gave her the once-over. He doubted Jade could teach her anything that might improve her technique. She’d always been a sensitive and passionate lover. But he was certainly willing to experiment. “You look good just the way you are.”
She glanced behind her, as if she couldn’t believe he’d say that in front of her family, and steered away from the innuendo in his voice. “One would think you didn’t have a full-time cook, Mr. Lazarow.”
“Pippa’s off this weekend,” he said as she cut him another slice.
“But if I know Pippa, your refrigerator is fully stocked.” She set his plate in front of him. “Heaven forbid you ever had to fend for yourself.”
“That’s probably true.” He licked meringue from his fork. “You’ll have to come over and help me empty it out so she’s not offended.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “The problems of the rich and good-looking. They’re insurmountable.”
“Not all of us can have the life you’ve lived here,” he said, gesturing around the kitchen.
She seemed to understand that it was an honest compliment, since she smiled at him instead of taking offense.
“I have some errands to run,” he said as she placed the pie under a domed cover. “Any chance you can go with me?”
“Errands?” she echoed. “On a Saturday night?”
He wanted to drive over to the other side of the island to see if he could learn any more about the person who’d called to alert the police about that intruder. He’d meant to go this morning, but there’d been that business with Landon’s nude photo. That had distracted him, for sure, but now he felt a renewed conviction to find that caller. It was the break-in that gave him hope Landon hadn’t killed Josephine, even if he’d been sleeping with her. Rocki had told him Landon was home with her Wednesday night, so he hadn’t returned.
Keith hesitated to explain all of that to Nancy, however—at least while her father and sister were in the room. “Yeah. I need to drop by Maisey’s.”
“Go.” Jade spoke up, addressing Nancy before Nancy could refuse. “Dad’s about to sit down and watch some TV while I finish the dishes. We’re fine.”
“What are you talking about—Dad’s about to sit down? I can help,” Martin protested.
Jade nudged his hands out of the sink. “Go take a load off, Dad.”
“I hate to leave you with all the cleanup,” Nancy told her.
“Why?” Jade tossed a dish towel over her shoulder. “You did all the cooking.”
“But you do the cooking and cleaning all week. Saturdays are my turn.”
“This Saturday isn’t. Go with Keith. You love Maisey.”
“It has been a while since I’ve seen her kids...” Nancy said.
Martin used the back of a chair to steady him as he came around the table. He looked as if he feared that Nancy was being drawn in by Keith again and they’d done nothing to stop it. But he didn’t argue. He embraced her when she went over to kiss him goodbye.
“Dinner was delicious, sweetie,” he said. “You’re too good to me.”
“It’s because I feel sorry for you being stuck with Jade all week,” she teased.
Jade flicked water at her, then glanced over to where her father was humming to himself as he shuffled into the living room. “Don’t forget what I told you about that special...um...technique with your tongue.”
She gave Keith a sly wink to remind him, too, but he wasn’t likely to forget. Since Jade had first made that joke, he’d thought about having Nancy’s mouth on him almost every time he looked at her.
* * *
“Isn’t Chief Underwood trying to track down the person who made that call the night after you got here?” Nancy asked from the passenger seat.
Keith adjusted the heater so it wouldn’t blow so strongly. “She is, but police work takes time. And she’s looking for a needle in a haystack, so...she could probably use some help.”
But would she welcome it? That was the question. Even a small force like Fairham’s, which consisted of only three officers besides Chief Underwood, didn’t usually appreciate the involvement of civilians. Civilians didn’t understand what to reveal, what not to reveal, the rules of gathering evidence, etc. But maybe Underwood was different. Nancy was still a little confused by her and Keith’s relationship. She was fairly certain they’d gone out on a date last night, and yet Keith had classified that dinner as “business.”
Despite her curiosity, Nancy wasn’t going to ask him to clarify. He had his freedom, the right to do anything he wanted. And so did she. She couldn’t justify being friends with him if she became possessive. “Okay, but...shouldn’t we have started a bit earlier?”
“Not necessarily. For a Saturday, it’s not too late. We should be able to hit every house before ten.”
“I doubt we’ll find anything.”
“Whoa, now you’re the pessimist?”
Her shoulder bumped against the door as the road curved. “The realist.” The sun had gone down while they were eating. She gestured at the darkness outside. “I just don’t want you to panic and assume it must be Landon if we don’t find anything. Look how dark it is. What are the chances that someone could’ve seen someone else making a call on a cell phone?”
“People have headlights.”
“But that call could’ve come from inside a house or car.”
“There’s always the chance that someone happened to see a man who was acting furtive or didn’t look as if he belonged—or even a car that seemed out of place. I’ve got to be thorough. My brother-in-law’s freedom could hi
nge on finding whoever called in that night. This is something that needs to be checked out, even if it’s just to eliminate the possibility.”
She agreed, but didn’t see why he’d brought her with him. She wasn’t sure why he’d joined her family for dinner, either. They’d already had lunch together and, as she’d told him at her stepfather’s place, he probably had a whole refrigerator stuffed with delectable meals. “What do we know so far about the night your mother died?”
“We know there was no evidence of forced entry.”
“Meaning your mother answered the door?”
“Possibly.”
“Perhaps she recognized her visitor, invited him in and they ended up having an argument...”
“Or the door wasn’t locked in the first place. It’s even possible that whoever killed her knew where she kept the spare key. Some crazed psychopath would likely kill in a more violent fashion and he wouldn’t bother staging the scene with drugs and alcohol, so I think we can safely rule that out.”
“You’re right, staging the scene would take time and thought,” she said. “But your mother lived alone, so he probably had time.”
“Then maybe we can’t rule anything out.”
“The autopsy’s tomorrow?” Keith had mentioned that at lunch...
“Yes. Why?”
“I was wondering about DNA evidence.”
“If there is DNA, I hope to God it’s not Landon’s.”
They wound their way on ever-narrower roads into the heavy vegetation that covered the far side of the island. Every now and then Nancy glimpsed a half-moon, grinning at her through the trees. But mostly it was just the twin beams of their headlights cutting through the darkness—until they reached their first stop. Then a dim yellow porch light acted like a homing beacon, guiding them to the front door.
The people who lived on this end of Fairham weren’t the more affluent islanders. But the child who answered their knock, a boy of about ten, looked well cared for and opened the door to a neat and clean living room.
Although he called his father as soon as she and Keith identified themselves, they didn’t learn anything new. Keith was right—they found most folks at home—but no one had any information.
By the time they approached a house made partially of plywood, with plastic covering the roof and a blanket over the main window, Nancy could tell that Keith was getting discouraged.
“This looks a little sketchy,” she murmured as they got out.
“Why don’t you stay in the car?” Keith suggested.
When she followed him to the door anyway, he waved her back, but she ignored that and knocked.
They heard the drone of a television, so someone was home. That became even more apparent when the blanket at the window moved. Nancy got the impression a tall figure was peering out at them, but it was hard to tell. Except for the flicker of that TV, it was just as dark inside the house as out.
And no one answered the door.
“Should we go?” she murmured.
“Not yet.” Keith rapped on the window and the blanket fell back into place. “Hey! Will you open up for a second? Give us a chance to talk to you? We just have a couple of questions. Then we’ll leave you alone.”
When there was no response, they assumed his persistence wasn’t going to pay off. They’d both started walking back to the car by the time the door opened.
They turned to see a bulky, thirtysomething male dressed in baggy sweat bottoms and a white T-shirt.
“Sorry to intrude on your evening,” Keith said.
The guy was almost as tall as Keith, which wasn’t that common. He had at least fifty pounds on him, too—all of it muscle. But it was his expression that unnerved Nancy. He wasn’t pleased by their visit and didn’t care if they knew it. “What do you want?” he growled.
Taking her hand, Keith tugged her slightly behind him. Although it was a subtle move, Nancy understood that he recognized the potential for danger and was trying to place himself in front of her. “My mother was killed last Saturday night—”
“I heard,” the man interrupted without the slightest show of sympathy.
Keith froze. “You know who I am?”
The guy could’ve said, “Who doesn’t?” Most people on the island, if they’d been here for any length of time, would recognize Keith. The Lazarow/Coldirons were notorious, especially Keith because of his good looks and bad behavior. But the guy said, “You don’t know who I am?”
Keith hesitated before shaking his head. “No. Sorry. Did we go to school together or something?”
“My dad works for your mother—well, for you now.”
“And your dad is—”
“Tyrone Coleman.”
The mention of Tyrone’s name siphoned off some of the tension that seemed to be flowing through Keith. “Of course! I haven’t been around in a while, didn’t know you were back on the island.”
He rubbed his hand over his shaved head. “Just moved back a few months ago.”
“Let’s see...you must be...Marcus?”
“Yeah.” Despite having Tyrone as a connection, this guy didn’t offer them so much as a smile. He wasn’t interested in becoming friends. “So what’s goin’ on? Why are you here? I had nothin’ to do with your mom’s death. That I can tell ya.”
Keith raised his hand, palm out, in the stop position. “I’m not here to accuse you. Someone made a call to the police from this side of the island on Wednesday—to notify them of a break-in. It was a male voice, but the caller wouldn’t give his name. I was hoping you might be able to help me figure out who it was.”
When he said, “That was me,” Nancy’s jaw dropped and she stepped closer, hoping to get a better look at Marcus’s face.
“You?” Keith echoed.
“I was driving home, past the turnoff to your place, when a woman flagged me down. Said she thought someone might be breaking into Coldiron House. Told me her phone was dead and asked me to call the cops.”
“What’d this woman look like?”
“I couldn’t tell ya. It was pitch-black and raining, and she was bundled up from head to toe in a raincoat. Had a scarf covering most of her face. I couldn’t even tell you the color of her hair. She was white, though.”
“Any idea of her age?”
“I’d say she was in her thirties. But I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention. I just wanted her to get out of the way and let me pass.”
“What was she driving?”
“There was no car that I could see. I’m guessing she parked up the cliff, toward the house.”
“You didn’t turn down that way to see what was going on? Didn’t go to the house yourself?”
“No. Once she moved off to the side, I went on my way. I figured she could be wrong. I wasn’t going to call. But then I thought of my dad and I knew he’d care what was going on at Coldiron House even if I didn’t.”
Nancy didn’t feel he’d needed to add that last part, but he was obviously an angry person. “So...why wouldn’t you give your name when you called in?”
He leaned to the right, peering at her in the darkness. “That’s none of your business, but I’ll answer, just to show you how honest I am. I don’t like authority. That’s how it is when you serve time. You don’t like talking to the cops. You get me?”
“You used an untraceable phone,” Keith pointed out.
“So?”
Keith came right back at him. “Why?”
He spread out his hands. “What can I say, man? That’s all I got. I don’t have any credit, and I sure as hell don’t have the piles of money you do. So until I pull my life together, I probably won’t have anything better.”
Keith ignored the reference to his wealth. “Did you pass any other vehicles on the road that night?”
>
“Not once I got out of Keys Crossing. Or I would’ve let them handle it.”
“So there were no other people lurking around the turnoff to Coldiron House?”
“Just that one woman.”
“Who you didn’t recognize. She wasn’t an islander.”
“I didn’t recognize her, but you can’t take that to mean she don’t live here. I just got out of the slammer. I was locked up for fourteen years, man. A lot’s changed since I left.”
With a sigh, Keith scratched his neck. “Chief Underwood will probably want to talk to you—to confirm what you just told us.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. See? I shouldn’t have called. It’s been less than a week since I did and already I’m gettin’ dragged into somethin’ that ain’t none of my business—and I didn’t even leave my name,” he said in disgust and shut the door.
They walked back to the Mercedes without speaking. Once they were inside and they’d pulled out of the rutted drive, Nancy broke the silence.
“Nice guy,” she said sarcastically.
“He’s not a happy person.”
“Poor Tyrone.”
Keith shot her a look. “People used to say that about my mom because of me.”
“Except it was your mother who was the difficult one. I can get along with most people, but even I had trouble with her.” She loosened her seat belt. “Anyway, do you believe him? Tyrone’s son?”
“Yeah, I do,” he replied. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. He does have a record. And if they put him away for that long, he must’ve done something pretty bad.”
“If he was the one who broke in the night my mother was murdered, he would’ve taken stuff.”
“He could’ve broken in for other reasons.”
“Like...”
“Revenge. Maybe he was angry with your mother. Maybe he tried to get a job at Coldiron House, and she wouldn’t hire him because of his record. Or he didn’t believe his father was being treated the way he should be.”
“I still say someone like Marcus would’ve helped himself. He needs too many things to walk away from everything in that house—and if you’re going to commit murder, why not get a computer?”