Jan Coffey Suspense Box Set: Three Complete Novel Box Set: Trust Me Once, Twice Burned, Fourth Victim

by Jan Coffey

  Behind her back, she heard the dull sound of the car striking his body and then the screeching of brakes. She turned in time to see a large gray-suited body land on the road, roll over once, and then lie still. The gun, still in his hand, lay on the pavement half hidden by the trench coat over his arm.

  Everything stood still for a moment.

  “Oh, my God!” came a cry from the opposite sidewalk.

  And then Sarah was running.

  Chapter 23

  Thick and smoky brown, the layers of oblivion lay heavy on her eyes. Slowly, painfully, she forced her way up through the layers. Sometimes she thought she would never break through them. Sometimes she saw no purpose in it anyway. But on she went, clawing and pushing.

  Her throat was dry and scratched and incredibly sore. Despite whatever it was that she felt pressing tightly against her ears, the loud metallic buzz and the rhythmic pounding of machinery continuously filled her head. Something was stuck in her nose and a heavy weight on her chest wouldn’t let Tracy Warner take a breath at her own pace.

  She couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t move her mouth. She tried to move her fingers, but she didn’t know where they were.

  The blankets of brown smoke again began to pile on her, and she felt herself sinking again.

  Before she drifted off, she remembered seeing Andrew walking into their kitchen. The gunman was holding his weapon to her head. She remembered seeing her husband’s expression. In spite of all that was happening, in spite of all that was about to happen, his eyes had never moved from the sight of his two dogs.

  ~~~~

  When Owen saw Sarah running up the street, he knew something was wrong. He immediately started the car and pulled it into the intersection. She had no sooner climbed in before Owen was on his way.

  The sunglasses were thrown to the floor. She immediately had her head buried on her knees. He could hear her irregular gasps for breath. It was difficult to keep his eyes on the road, but Owen turned up a side street as the sound of sirens erupted behind them.

  “What happened?”

  “Did anybody see me get into the car?” she asked, her head still bent down.

  “No.”

  “Please, make sure nobody is following us. Please!”

  He glanced in the driver’s mirrors. “No one. What happened?”

  The sound of sirens could be heard coming from all directions. Rather than heading back onto Ocean Drive, Owen made a detour out toward the beaches.

  She lifted her head. Her face was raw, and her fingers were ice-cold as Owen reached over and placed his hand on top of hers.

  “A man, a gunman, came up behind me outside of the church. He knew who I was. He wanted me to go with him. But when we were crossing the road, this car…a dark blue car came at us. Somehow I got away and…the man was hit.” Sarah hid her face in her hands. “There is no getting away. Not anymore. You said…you can ask your lawyer to arrange for something, for me to hand myself over to the right authorities. We’ve got to do it. I can’t take this anymore. If they recognized me like this, they…they could be waiting for us at your apartment.”

  He glanced again in the side mirror.

  “Did you see the man’s face? The gunman?”

  “No. I couldn’t. But I don’t think I knew him. He was really large like a football player, and his voice…wait!” Her face snapped in his direction. “It was the cop who stopped me on my way back from the airport. I’m sure of it. He was the one. My God…everybody is connected. We could be so close.”

  She took hold of his hand, gripping it tightly. “I’ll call Steele. I’ll have him let me in the office tomorrow morning. Could we somehow have someone meet us there or pick us up after?”

  “I’ll try,” he said reassuringly. “But what happened after the car hit the gunman?”

  “I don’t know. I ran away.”

  “Did you see the driver? Do you remember anything about the car?”

  She shook her head. “Blue. Dark blue. That’s all I remember. But he was aiming at us. I saw him speed up.”

  The car wound along the country lanes, and soon they were back to the more easterly of the two main roads heading north on the island. She could see sailboats on the blue waters of the Sakonnet River, beyond the sloping fields.

  Owen reached for his cell phone and dialed a number. Speaking to someone named Susan on the other end, a woman Sarah assumed must be one of his assistants, he gave her a number of directions. Before hanging up, he asked some questions about a house near Little Compton, a quaint village on the far side of the Sakonnet. When he was finished, he turned to her.

  “Can you make do with what you have with you until tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Yes,” she replied, watching him dial another number.

  She was glad to know that at least one of them could stay cool in the face of all this chaos. His confidence helped restore in her some of the courage that, like blood from an unstaunched wound, had been oozing out of her for days now.

  “There’s a message from Jake Gantley,” he told her, tossing the cell phone onto the console. “He must have heard about his cousin’s hit. He is willing to talk if I get there this afternoon.”

  “I think you should go,” Sarah whispered. “I’ll come with you.”

  “If these people have guessed a connection between us, there is no point in checking into any hotels tonight. We’d be less safe there than at my apartment. That’s why I asked Susan to arrange for us to stay at her in-law’s house south of Little Compton. Nobody can connect us with the place. Susan says they’re away sailing around Nantucket this week.”

  “Will we be able to get into the cottage?”

  “She gave me the security code to their garage. Says there’s always a key under a flowerpot by the back door. We’ll get in.” He gave her a quick glance. “Do you want to come with me to the ACI, or would you prefer that I take you to the house first?”

  “With you,” she answered instantly. “Things are moving too fast, Owen. Once we get there, I’ll sit behind the wheel, make sure no one sees me…”

  “Good.” Her hand was fluttering nervously in her lap, and he caught it in his own. “Because I really don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

  She smiled. “Do you mind if I use your cell phone?”

  ~~~~

  The noise and the commotion in the street were a marked contrast to the serenity that had reigned inside the church.

  Dan Archer strode along the cobblestone sidewalk and watched the activity with a frown on his face. The street had been blocked off, which struck him as a good thing, since it seemed like every police car, ambulance, and a fire-rescue truck on the island had already arrived at the scene. The TV crew was loving it, and even a few ‘mourners’ from the church had followed them out onto the street to catch the action.

  With Evan Steele on his heels, Archer pushed through the crowd around the blue sedan still sitting in the middle of the street. One of the uniformed officers trying to push back the gawkers immediately hailed the captain.

  “Glad you’re here, sir.”

  “What happened? Did somebody get hit with a car?”

  The uniform nodded. “Strange one. The EMT’s are still working on the guy who was hit, but it’s a waste of time. Jack and Stan arrived on the scene first. They said he was already a goner.”

  Archer looked over at the blue sedan. In the black-and-white, two officers were talking to a man they’d put in the back seat. No doubt, the driver of the vehicle. “What the hell was he doing?”

  “This is where it gets really weird, sir.” The uniform nodded toward the body lying on the street and the group of people working on him. “The victim had a 9mm on him. I don’t mean on him. The guy had it in his hand—and the safety was off.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like he was ready to shoot someone. And that’s exactly what the guy in the car says. Before we put him in the squad car, I heard him say he was coming down the street, and all
of the sudden he sees this guy, the victim, pulling out a gun. With all the people around, he gets nervous or something. Instead of hitting the brakes, his foot goes on the gas pedal, and boom—the guy with the gun goes into orbit. There is a lot of damage to the front of the car. I wonder if insurance covers that?”

  “Any witnesses?” Archer asked.

  “Tons. And so far, everyone saw the same thing. Ed talked to this old lady—” he pointed to another police car. “—who is over there in my car. She thought the guy with the gun was walking behind a young woman. In fact, her story is that she thinks he was forcing this woman to go somewhere…that is, before the blue car changed the odds a little.”

  The patrolman looked up the street. “She thinks the woman came out of that church door behind you, and the gunman showed up behind her. Now, Stan has the statements and all that…”

  “Okay.” Archer pushed past the uniform, going to where the body of the gunman was lying.

  Evan Steele began to follow the captain, but the ringing of his cell phone made him stop and reach for it.

  “Evan.” The voice was as familiar to him as his own. “Please don’t say or do anything to bring any attention to yourself or this call. Please, Evan!”

  “Who is this?” He stepped away from the patrolman, pressing the phone closer to his ear.

  “This is Sarah…Sarah Rand. I need you to listen to what I have to say.”

  ~~~~

  Owen gave her a reassuring look, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on the call. Sarah could hear the sounds of sirens coming through the phone.

  “Can I talk to you? Is this a good time?”

  “Go on.” Evan Steele’s voice was clear and businesslike, and she knew he was moving away from the source of the background noise.

  She gave Owen a nod. “I don’t know what the heck is going on, but I came back from Ireland to find myself supposedly murdered.”

  “That’s right. Go on.”

  “I don’t want to talk too much now, but there are people out there who know I’m alive and are trying to kill me. That’s why I haven’t talked to the police or come forward yet. Are you in front of the church?”

  “Near it.”

  “The guy who was hit by the car was one of them.”

  His voice dropped low. “You were here?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed her temple. “Listen, I know you’re probably wondering how I could let the judge remain in prison while I’m walking around free. Well, I’m going to the authorities tomorrow. Everything will be sorted out by then. But in the meantime, I need your help. I need to get…well, something that will blow open this situation. It will reveal what these killing are about. Can you help me?”

  “What do you need?”

  “I have to get into the downtown offices tomorrow morning. I have a feeling that something was mistakenly taken out of Avery’s safe-deposit box somehow. I’ve come to believe it’s a letter or an envelope. Whatever is happening has to do with that letter, or envelope, or whatever it is that was misplaced. Would you let me in?”

  “But you don’t know what it is?”

  “No. But I have a strong suspicion that once I get into the files, I will be able to put my hands on it.” She tried to put as much enthusiasm as she could into her words. “This will solve everything, Evan. Help me get in.”

  There was another lengthy pause. The sound of voices and traffic in the distance.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Somewhere safe, but don’t worry about that. I can get to the building. I still have my key to the outside door. Could you meet me…say, on the stairs?”

  “Wait. I have to check something.”

  Sarah could tell that he hadn’t bothered to cover the mouthpiece, as she heard him talking to Scott Rosen, who must have approached him. After a minute, he came back on the line.

  “Make it ten,” he said quietly. “The judge’s lawyer will be stopping by at nine to drop some files off. I’ll need time to get rid of him, but then the office is yours.”

  “Thanks, Evan,” she said, giving a thumbs-up to Owen. “We’ll clear this whole mess up.”

  “We’ll all be happy to see that. Please be careful.” A pause at the other end. “And I want you to know that hearing from you is just too good to be true.”

  ~~~~

  Archer had to hold the phone away from his head to save an eardrum and looked at his wife across the kitchen table. To say that David Calvin was upset was like saying there was a dollar or two floating around Newport.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been up to, Dan, but if you think for a minute I’m going to let this blow up in our faces like another Von Bulow fiasco…”

  “I can explain everything, Chief.”

  “You bet your skinny ass you’ll explain.” Calvin shouted. “Who the hell do you think you are not disclosing those reports to the D.A.’s office? Don’t you know Rosen will sue our fucking asses from here to West Jabroo? Does the term false imprisonment mean anything to you? Jesus F. Christ…the newspapers will hang us!”

  Archer could almost hear Calvin tearing the hair out of his head.

  “A crime was committed, Chief. The blood samples in Judge Arnold’s boat matched the samples taken from Rand’s apartment. We had probable cause for bringing him in.”

  “But you fucking knew that none of it was Rand’s blood.”

  “We only got that report last week.”

  “And the fingerprints at the house?”

  “Last week, too. Everything we know, everything that led me to believe she was still alive, is less than five days old.”

  “It takes less than five days to go to the fucking moon, for chrissakes! Why in God’s name have you been sitting on these reports? I’m telling you right now, Archer, I’ll yank your badge and mount your ugly head on my wall if you don’t have a—”

  “Because there was a leak, Chief.” Silence.

  “What?”

  “We have a canary in the department. For what we’re doing, I needed to buy some time.”

  “Keep going.”

  Archer quickly explained what he knew of the case and his suspicions and finally the involvement in the case by another law enforcement agency—the same agency that had contacted David Calvin half an hour earlier, notifying him in strictest confidence of the operation planned for tomorrow.

  Calvin’s voice had grown sulky by the time Archer was finished. “And why the hell couldn’t you tell me any of this on Friday? Do you know how stupid I looked when I got the call just now? The whole fucking lot of them knew what was going on in my department, and I’m just sitting here with my thumb up my ass. My own fucking people.”

  “Not people, sir,” Archer asserted. “Just me. McHugh had only seen one of the reports, and he thought I was already sharing it with you. I am the only one in the department guilty of withholding information, sir.”

  The tired detective pulled the phone again away from his ear as the Chief gave him another blast of obscenities. When Calvin finally ran out of breath, Archer answered the rest of his superior’s questions.

  “When those vultures start picking at the bones,” Chief Calvin told him. It’s going to be your carcass out there. When the media finally gets wind of this, it’s going to be you standing out there. And I’ll be at the far end of the dais, Archer. Do you understand me?”

  “Aha.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When Ike Bosler decides to skin somebody alive, I’m handing you over, Dan. Do you get that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sound of the phone slamming down on the other end was a clear hint that the conversation was over. He glanced over at his wife, who was just putting his cold dinner into the microwave.

  Archer mimicked his boss’s voice. “And when the department is getting glowing praise for solving the murder of the century…I’ll be sure to give you full credit, Dan.”

  Chapter 24

  “I’m tel
ling you straight. It was Hal Van Horn who took out the contract on Sarah’s Rand’s life.”

  Even hearing it again, Owen still had difficulty comprehending Jake Gantley’s words.

  He hadn’t believed everything that had been said in that memorial service today. Rutherford was making most of that stuff up, and Owen knew it. Still, he’d felt there had to be some truth in the senator’s words. After all, there were a lot of people there who were pretty open about their grief. Before the service he’d heard someone say there’d been no memorial service held for Sarah after her murder. So in a way, he’d decided, today had been a chance for Newport to say goodbye to both of them—to both Sarah and Hal.

  But now this!

  “Hal was the man,” Jake repeated yet again.

  “Are you sure about that?” Owen had to ask. “I mean, you didn’t deal directly with him. Could it be that your cousin made a mistake?”

  “No mistake. It was him,” the inmate asserted, his face darkening. “Now, you know that I won’t admit any of this if you go running to the cops. But why the hell should you? Van Horn is a stiff.”

  Jake Gantley’s face was hard when he threw a sidelong glance at the guard standing at the far end of the visitor’s Room.

  “I can even point you in the right direction where you can get some proof for your girlfriend, if she needs it.”

  “Give it to me.”

  “Okay. To come up with part of the payment, Hal wanted to do a legit draw on his trust fund. So Frankie takes him to meet with a jeweler friend we know in Warwick. Hal walks away with a five-dollar glass diamond handsomely displayed in a thirty-dollar setting. He was supposedly giving this ring as an engagement ring to his girlfriend. The ring comes with papers saying it’s worth fifty grand. Hal pays the fifty grand out of his trust, and Frankie walks away with the money and his instructions for the hit. Very simple.”

  “What were his exact instructions?”

  “The same as what I told you before. Step one—I’m to dust her and bag the body for disposal.”