Cold Midnight

by Joyce Lamb

  Chase felt a nudge of sympathy for her, but just a nudge. “You resent Kylie for that?”

  Intense bitterness darkened her eyes to almost black. “Hell, yes. Who wouldn’t? I’ve lived in her shadow my entire life. I was never as pretty. Never as athletic. Never as popular.”

  “Did you resent her enough to have her knee taken out ten years ago?”

  “No, detective, I did not.”

  Her answer was so steady, so practiced, that Chase suspected she’d rehearsed it in front of a mirror. “Where were you when she was attacked?”

  Jane pressed her lips together and shook her head before nailing him with a glare. “What’s going on here? You can’t pin it on Quinn, so you’re going after me now?”

  “Humor me.”

  “I was at the beach with some girlfriends.”

  “You didn’t even have to think about it.”

  “I was wearing a brand-new fuchsia bikini, Banana Boat sunscreen and cherry-flavored lip gloss. You tend to remember such silly details when you find out your sister’s been attacked with a baseball bat.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. He’d used the same psychology when he’d questioned Quinn. But Jane was also a psychiatrist and would know that such details stuck in a person’s head after a traumatic event. “Do you remember where Quinn was?” he asked.

  “We rode to the ER together.”

  “How did he seem?”

  “Freaked out. Scared. Just like me and our parents. Except, unlike us, he reeked like cheap alcohol.”

  “So he was drunk.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Very drunk.”

  “Did he drive or did you?”

  “For God’s sake—”

  “Did. He. Drive?”

  “I drove. I had my permit.”

  “And you drove because he’d been drinking?”

  “Yes. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He didn’t bother to explain that a lawyer would drill her the same way during a trial. “Did you know Mark Hanson?”

  She faltered, obviously thrown. “Who?”

  “Mark Hanson. He went to Kendall Falls High at the same time you did.”

  “I don’t remember him.”

  “He was in Quinn’s class. Maybe he was a friend of Quinn’s?”

  “If he was, I don’t remember.”

  “Maybe he was a friend of yours?”

  “That I would remember.”

  “Maybe he was a boy who paid attention to you, maybe indicated he liked you?”

  “No boys liked me in high school, detective. They were too smitten by my sister. And, no, I didn’t try to kill or maim her because of it. Are we finished here? I’d like to check on her.”

  Chase nodded and made a go-on gesture toward Kylie’s room. As she stiffly pushed through the door, he wrapped his hand around the back of his neck. Jane might be impatient and bitchy, but he detected no hint that she’d lied to him just now. None of the guilt radiated off her like it did Quinn. Of course, she could just be a really good actress, but he didn’t think so.

  Once the guard returned to Kylie’s door, Chase walked down the hall a ways and checked his cell phone for the call he’d ignored earlier. Sylvia Jensen’s name appeared on the phone’s screen, but she hadn’t left a message. He thumbed her number to call her back.

  “Chase!”

  Turning and looking up, he was surprised to see Sylvia hurrying toward him, earrings bouncing, a manila folder clasped in one hand. “I’ve got something you need to see right away. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  At the nurse’s station, Chase asked a harried-looking redhead, “Is there an unoccupied room we can use for a few minutes?”

  She shook her head. “I wish. We’re stuffed to the brim. The staff lounge is down on the right, though. It’s usually empty around this time.”

  As they walked side-by-side to the break room, Chase could feel the excited tension coming off of Sylvia. She had something really good.

  The small lounge, basically a tiny kitchen with sterile, white appliances, barely had room for a small table with four chairs. As Chase closed the door, Sylvia dropped her folder on the table and flipped it open to several photos of Mark Hanson’s skeletal remains with the tarp peeled back. The ratty jeans and T-shirt were remarkably intact. One photo was of a black stocking cap.

  Chase reached for it with an intake of breath, and Sylvia nodded. “That was stuffed in his back pocket.”

  “Kylie said her attackers wore stocking masks like that.”

  “Look at his shirt,” she said.

  Chase’s heart double-timed. The letters XXL—just as Kylie described—clearly stood out. “Mark Hanson was definitely one of them,” he said through stiff lips. Son of a bitch was lucky he was already dead.

  “And I’ve got good news,” Sylvia said. She tapped a fingernail that hadn’t seen a manicure recently against the image of the shirt, which looked thick with dried blood. “We’ve got two types of blood. One type belongs to Hanson, and the other isn’t in the database. Incidentally, the second type of blood on Quinn McKay’s gym shirt? Also Hanson’s.” She didn’t wait for a response before she went on. “There’s also blood on Hanson’s braces and the tarp.”

  “On his braces?”

  “Yes. He was hit repeatedly. The assailant hit him so violently that he left behind some tissue.”

  Chase’s stomach flipped. “You mean a chunk of his hand?”

  Sylvia smiled slightly. “A chunk would be an exaggeration. Let’s just call it a large tissue sample.” That’s what Chase liked about her. She didn’t mess with scientific terms and jargon. “Bring me a blood sample from Quinn McKay,” she said, “and I can either put him at the scene or help you rule him out.”

  “What about comparing the tissue sample to Kylie’s blood like you did before to see if there’s a DNA match?”

  “The evidence would be irrefutable with a sample from Quinn. Besides, don’t you want to see how cooperative he is when you ask him for some blood?”

  47

  “CAN I GET YOU ANYTHING?” JANE ASKED. “WATER? Another pillow?”

  Kylie shook her head, trying to tell herself not to get irritated at her sister’s hovering. But Jane had been fussing with everything possible since she’d walked in ten minutes ago. The IV line, the bed coverings, the pillows. Kylie appreciated the efforts to make her more comfortable, but what she wanted most was . . . well, for Jane to go the hell away. Since that probably wasn’t going to happen, she would have settled for Jane sitting down and being still.

  “Hmm,” Jane mused, staring at the heart monitor on the other side of the bed. “That was interesting.”

  “What?”

  “When I asked if I could get you anything, your heart rate spiked.”

  Oh, hell. Here it comes. Her sister was going to psychoanalyze every twitch. “I must have jarred the thingie,” Kylie said, holding up the hand with the sensor clipped to her finger.

  “Nope, there it goes again.” Jane fixed her with a scrutinizing stare. “You’re stressing because I’m here.”

  “I’m stressing, period.”

  “Your pulse jumped when I walked in, and it’s all over the place now. What gives?”

  “I’m sure the third degree isn’t helping.”

  “How am I giving you the third degree? I asked if you want a pillow.”

  “What followed was the third degree.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Jane plopped onto the vinyl chair beside the bed. “Fine. I’ll just sit here.”

  Yes!

  “Unless you’d prefer I leave.”

  Kylie most definitely would have preferred she leave, but when she noticed the hurt that Jane failed to hide, she felt like an ungrateful bitch. She needed to appreciate her sister more and get over the hovering. That was just Jane. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  Jane smiled slightly. “Good, because there’s something we need to talk about.”

  Kylie tensed, and she co
uld tell by the way Jane’s gaze drifted to the heart monitor that the damn thing had given her away again.

  Jane gave her a retiring look. “I’m not going to strap you down and attach electrodes to your skull. I just want to talk.”

  Kylie tried to force her shoulders to relax. But she had trained herself to go on the defensive with Jane—or perhaps Jane had done the training. Either way, the routine was so ingrained it was like dropping into position to receive a serve from a power hitter. She knew that whatever came hurtling at her would be tough to return.

  “I’m sorry,” Kylie said. “I’m not myself.”

  Jane’s snort somehow managed to sound delicate. “Please. You’ve been this uptight for a decade.”

  Kylie massaged her temple. “You know what I mean.”

  “Chase suspects me, you know.”

  Kylie dropped her hand. “Suspects you?”

  “He just questioned me out in the hall,” Jane said.

  While Kylie didn’t like the fact that he’d questioned her sister, she trusted that he was doing what he thought necessary. “He’s doing his job.”

  “And it’s his job to harass everyone in our family? Doesn’t he know we’ve all been harassed enough? Who’s next? He’ll be all over Mom before you know it.” She stopped, gripping the arms of the chair. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not helping.”

  The admission caught Kylie by surprise, and she sensed a shift in her sister’s mood, as if she were doing some internal exercise to let the frustration go. After a long exhale, Jane said, “I had to leave a message for Mom about your . . . accident. She didn’t answer her cell.”

  “You told her I’m all right, I hope.”

  “Of course. I’m not insensitive.” Jane sighed. “I wish she’d already left for Rome so she didn’t have to deal with all this, but she insisted on canceling her trip.”

  Kylie didn’t respond. She would have done the same thing, but she didn’t plan to argue with her sister.

  Pushing up out of the chair, Jane started to pace beside the bed. “Mom’s beside herself about Quinn’s arrest.”

  “I know,” Kylie said.

  “I mean, we’re talking about Quinn. He adores you. He would never have hurt you like that.”

  “He didn’t adore me back then.”

  Jane stopped in midpace, her eyes widening with horror. “You don’t think—”

  “I’m just stating a fact. Neither of you liked me back then. Wouldn’t you say it’s pointless to pretend otherwise?”

  They stared each other down, and Kylie played her sister’s possible responses in her head. Let’s explore this further . Or, her favorite clichéd shrink reply: How do you feel about that? Like total crap, thank you.

  But Jane didn’t say anything for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then her gaze dropped away and she sat down, shoulders relaxing as though the sigh she released had been what had held them so stiff. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, and surprisingly sad. “That’s probably the healthiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  Kylie let her head fall back to the pillow. “Hallelujah. It’s a breakthrough.”

  Jane’s laugh didn’t sound at all amused. “And the sarcasm is already back.” She began to tap her fingers on the arm of the chair. “You’re right, you know. Quinn and I resented you. But we were kids, and we had the emotional range of kids.”

  “I know that. I’ve always known that.” And, damn it, she thought as she stared up at the ceiling, if she’d kept her mouth shut, Jane would have huffed out already, leaving her alone with the blessed silence.

  “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Jane asked.

  Kylie looked at her sister, expecting the Dr. Shrink facade. But Jane’s gaze wasn’t shrewd or assessing. It was open, curious, concerned.

  “Dad’s the one who ignored us,” Jane said.

  “I know that.”

  “Then why do you feel so guilty about it?”

  “I don’t—” She broke off at Jane’s slightly arched brow. Okay, yeah, she did feel guilty. And the guilt felt like a hard knot in her gut, as though a cancerous tumor grew there. The bigger it got, the more attention it demanded.

  “Dad caused the tension in our household, Kylie. He’s the one who made you the center of the universe. Not you.”

  “After I left, did he . . . did you . . .”

  “Connect? No. The damage had been done. Neither Quinn nor I thought he gave a fig about either of us, so why bother? I mean, he tried, but it was too little too late at that point.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Still not your fault.”

  “I can still be sorry, though. You deserved better.”

  Jane gave her a tight smile. “Sometimes I think Quinn and I got the better end of the deal. No pressure to perform. No pressure to win. No pressure to please anyone. I don’t know how you did it.”

  “I loved it. Every flipping minute of it. The ride was . . . incredible.”

  “You still miss it.”

  Kylie nodded with a sad smile. “Every day.”

  “Do you think the tennis center will fix that?”

  “I don’t necessarily think it’s something that needs to be fixed. The tennis center will be something new that I’m passionate about, a way to channel my love of tennis. I think I’m going to love it more, actually, because it’ll be about kids and other people instead of just me.”

  “And Chase Manning? Is he a passion?”

  Kylie smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

  “As much as his cop attitude annoys me, I can see he’s good for you. Really good.”

  “Yeah?”

  Nodding, Jane put her hand on Kylie’s forearm and lightly squeezed. “I have to tell you something about Wade.”

  “Oh?” Kylie arched a brow, surprised by the shift in topic.

  Jane’s cheeks pinkened. “He and I . . . well, we . . . uh . . .”

  Kylie cocked her head, way ahead of her sister and amused at the way she so uncharacteristically fumbled for words. “Went to the mall?”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

  “Shared a corn dog? Started a rock band?”

  Jane sat back and shook her head, feigning disgust. “I’m trying to be serious.”

  Kylie laughed. “He’s a good man. I’m happy for you, Janie.”

  “Don’t be. It’s already over.”

  “What? You’re kidding.”

  “He . . . well, he’s not that into me after all. He’s still stuck on you.”

  “Oh.” Damn, damn and double damn. It was their younger years all over again.

  Jane shrugged and pushed hair back off her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I deserve a man who’s devoted to me and only me. And I can thank Wade for making me realize that there’s more to life than work. I’ll always think of him as my wake-up call, even though he hung up on me.” Then, her self-deprecation fading, she sat forward and clasped her hands before her. “Have you got a headache? Your eyes are squinty.”

  Kylie started to say the usual: I’m fine. But the headache had been building for the past half hour. “The pain is starting to drill through my right eye.”

  “Did they give you something for it?”

  “Tylenol.”

  Jane rose, smoothing the wrinkles out of her slacks. “Tylenol’s not going to do much.”

  “I noticed.”

  “If you want, I can go see if there’s something stronger they can give you.”

  Kylie smiled. If you want. Jane was actually asking permission to help her out instead of barreling ahead. “Could you do something else, too?”

  “Of course.”

  “Maybe find me something to wear out of here? My clothes are . . .” Covered with a dead man’s blood. She swallowed and forced herself to focus. “My clothes are ruined.”

  Jane nodded. “Be right back.”

  48

  SAM, A MANILA FOLDER UNDER ONE ARM, MET Chase in the hallway outside Kylie
’s room. “How’s she doing?”

  “Shaken up but looks like she’s okay.” Chase indicated Sam’s folder. “What’ve you got?”

  “ID on the attacker. Name’s Benny Kirkland. Got a rap sheet as long as a full-grown gator. Drug offenses, assault, breaking and entering, petty theft, loan sharking.”

  “Please tell me there’s a last-known address.”

  “Sorry. There’s a brand-new McDonald’s on that corner.”

  “Fuck.” Chase ran a hand through his hair.

  “You look like shit, man.”

  “Thanks,” Chase drawled, irritated. “That’s helpful.”

  “When’s the last time you ate?”

  “Food won’t help solve this motherfucking case.”

  “I realize that, but we could grab something in the cafeteria while I fill you in on some stuff.”

  “I don’t want to leave Kylie.”

  “There’s a guard at her door.”

  Chase cast a glare at the guard, who straightened as if a drill sergeant had just fixed eyes on him, and then at Sam, who looked unmoved by his sour mood. “Fine,” Chase muttered.

  Sam fell in step beside him. “So what’s next? Safetywise, I mean.”

  “I’m going to hire some security and rent a vacation house in Naples,” Chase said as he pressed the “down” button at the bank of elevators. “Something that can’t be associated with the police department.”

  “You think that’s necessary? I mean, the guy stalking her is dead.”

  “Doesn’t mean the bastard wasn’t working with someone.”

  “Good point.” Sam tapped the manila folder against his palm. “Do you need any help? I could hire security or even set up the rental, if you want. Maybe put it under my wife’s maiden name? Get the rental folks to prepare it?”

  Chase blew out a sigh. He’d been such an ass earlier, and now Sam was being a good friend. “That’d be fantastic. My hands are . . .”

  “Full,” Sam said with a sympathetic smile. “Very full.”

  Chase chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

  They didn’t speak on the elevator ride down to the cafeteria level, and then they waited for the other occupants to exit ahead of them before stepping into the hallway and the scent of hospital food. Chase’s stomach growled. Okay, maybe this was a good idea after all.