by Mary Burton
Audrey moved beside her. ‘What’s your favorite memory of her?’
Lindsay cleared her throat. ‘There are a lot. She was at every one of my swim meets cheering me on. She baked the best chocolate cakes for my birthday. And she gardened for hours. When I was ten she won a blue ribbon for her tomatoes at some fair.’
Audrey touched Lindsay’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry you lost her. I know she’d be very proud of you.’
Stunned, Lindsay’s hands hung stiffly by her side. ‘Thanks.’
Audrey squeezed Lindsay’s arm. ‘I’d love to see a picture of her.’
‘I have a box at home.’
‘Sometime you’ll show it to me?’
‘Sure.’ It was a promise Lindsay doubted she’d ever keep.
Talking about her mother stirred a deep restlessness inside her. Work usually kept the old issue at bay, but without it she felt backed into a corner.
She needed space. She needed time alone. ‘Audrey, can I borrow your car? I’d like to go visit my mother’s grave. It’s only about five miles from here.’
Audrey planted a hand on her hip. ‘I will if you stay in Hanover and promise not to go home until Zack gives the all clear.’
The mother was as shrewd as the son. ‘Deal.’
‘Promise?’
‘I swear.’
‘All right.’
Ten minutes later, Lindsay was headed north into Hanover County. After several miles she turned off of Route 360 and headed down a smaller road that cut through rolling cornfields. A few more twists and turns of the road and she arrived at the quiet cemetery where her mother was buried.
She passed through the twin brick pillars at the entrance; waved to the groundskeeper, who smiled back at her; and drove to her mother’s grave. Located in a treeless grassy part of the park, the grave site was set apart from the others. She parked Audrey’s car on the access road and walked through the wet grass to the grave site.
She’d come empty-handed. No flowers, no greens to fill the urn that was usually set upside down and empty. Guilt washed over her. She’d not done such a good job of tending her mother’s grave in the last year.
Thick, hot air and afternoon sun made her sweat, but she savored the gentle sound of the leaves being rustled by the breeze. She’d forgotten how quiet the country could be.
When she reached her mother’s spot, she was surprised to discover that the brass urn was turned right-side up and filled with freshly cut white roses.
Lindsay knelt by the bronze plate, unable to take her eyes off the roses. Gingerly, she touched a silky petal. ‘Who put the roses here?’
She glanced around at the headstones, still decorated with Independence Day reds, whites, and blues.
There was no one around.
She frowned. ‘Roses were your favorite.’
It touched her heart that someone had remembered her mother.
She picked up a stray leaf and tossed it aside. ‘I saw Zack. He looked good and had clear eyes and a steady hand. It’s as if he never drank.’ She shook her head. ‘All the crap that guy put me through and he still makes me weak in the knees.’
Until this week, she’d thought her feelings for Zack were dead and buried. But after seeing him again, she realized he was still under her skin.
‘I have no idea what I’m going to do about him.’
Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine her mother’s bright smile and the advice that would follow. But in the silence, there were no answers.
She dusted the dirt from her palms. Sweat damped her shirt and plastered her bangs to her head.
The crunch of gravel had her turning. A tall, lean man stood ten feet from her. The sun behind his back shadowed his face. ‘Afternoon.’
Rising, she shadowed her eyes with her hand. She recognized the cemetery caretaker. They’d never spoken before but she’d seen him out here before. ‘Hey, how’s it going?’
The caretaker smiled. He had rawboned features, tanned skin, and rough hands that looked used to manual labor. ‘Going well, thanks.’ He glanced at the headstone. ‘Who are you here to visit today?’
‘My mom.’
‘I’ve never seen you here before.’
The simple comment stirred guilt. ‘Yeah, I’ve been busy. I haven’t been such a good daughter. But I was here at Easter. I think I saw you then.’
He nodded. ‘Sorry, don’t remember.’
‘I was leaving and you were coming.’
He glanced at the headstone. ‘You couldn’t have been more than a kid when she died.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I bet you were a fine daughter when she was alive.’
‘I always felt like I should have done more.’
‘We all do the best we can at any given time.’
Emotion tightened her throat. ‘Sure is a hot day, isn’t it?’
He stared at her for a long moment and then pulled the bill of his hat forward. ‘Supposed to top a hundred, I hear.’
‘I can believe it. Hey, do you know who put these flowers in this urn?’
He frowned. ‘No, don’t believe I do. Are they a problem?’
She squinted into the sun. ‘No. No. I just thought it might be some mistake. Mom didn’t have many relatives except me.’
‘Well, the ladies at the church down the road put flowers on graves from time to time. Especially around a holiday.’
‘That’s kind. Is there anyone at the church I can thank?’
‘Oh, they’re not looking for thanks. Just happy to do it.’ He touched the bill of his hat. ‘Well, I’ve leaves to rake and flowers to plant. You have a good day. I’ve got to get back to work.’
‘Thanks.’
He turned and walked back to his pickup truck. Lindsay captured another petal between her fingertips. Soft. Delicate. As she pulled her hand away, she saw a white slip of paper. She removed it from the tangle of stems and unfolded it. Written in bold Times Roman print was the statement, You are stronger than her.
The Guardian. For a moment she felt dizzy as she stared at the words. She glanced around the cemetery. The caretaker was gone.
Her hands trembled as she laid the note on the grass. He’d been here. He’d left flowers at her mother’s grave. She dug her cell out of her purse and dialed Zack’s number.
Zack answered on the second ring. ‘Hello.’
‘Zack, it’s Lindsay. He was here. The Guardian was here.’ She couldn’t hide the fear in her voice.
‘Where are you?’ His voice was razor sharp.
‘I’m at my mother’s grave.’ She gave him the directions.
He swore. ‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Get in your car and lock the doors.’
Lindsay hugged her arms around her chest. She didn’t want to be afraid. She didn’t want to be intimidated. But she was. She went to Audrey’s car, got in, and locked the doors. Despite the heat of the day, she felt cold.
Less than five minutes later two Hanover deputies appeared. They inspected the flowers, careful not to touch the note or the urn. They searched for the caretaker but couldn’t find him. All three waited until Zack and Warwick arrived fifteen minutes later, lights flashing. Lindsay got out of her car as Zack got out of his. He strode toward her, closing the gap in seconds. He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you all right?’
She wanted him to hold her. ‘Yes.’
‘Where’s the note?’ The question came from Warwick.
She didn’t pull away from Zack’s touch. ‘I left it by the grave.’
Warwick snapped on rubber gloves. ‘What did it say?’
‘ “You are stronger than her.” I think he’s talking about my mother.’ When Warwick only stared, she added, ‘She forgave my father over and over again. She was too afraid or too in love to ever stay away from him too long.’
Warwick’s gaze darted between Lindsay and Zack. ‘Is he referring to your relationship with Zack?’
Zack stood stock straight, his jaw tight. ‘I think so.’
&nbs
p; Lindsay pushed her hand through her hair. ‘It’s no secret that I haven’t signed the divorce papers. And if he was watching me this morning he knew we visited.’
‘Visited,’ Warwick said. The word had a volume of meaning.
‘Was anyone else out here?’ Zack said.
‘Just the caretaker.’
‘Where is he now?’ Zack asked, glancing around.
‘I don’t know. He walked away before I found the note.’
‘How do you know he’s the caretaker?’ By the brick front gate, Zack spotted a set of surveillance cameras. He pulled out his notebook and made a notation.
Lindsay thought Zack was being overly paranoid. ‘I’ve seen him here before.’
‘When did you first notice him?’
‘Easter. He was headed toward this direction with a rake as I was pulling out of the cemetery. I caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror.’
‘Have you two spoken before?’
‘Not before today.’
Zack’s expression was grim. ‘Did he see you at Easter?’
‘No.’
His jaw tightened as he surveyed the deserted grounds. ‘You shouldn’t have been out here alone.’
‘I never figured that the Guardian would know about this place.’
‘I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Harold was killed on Monday, which was the anniversary of your mother’s death, and Saunders was killed on your birthday.’
‘The Guardian is from my past?’
‘I think so.’
‘Well, it can’t be the caretaker. I’ve never seen him before.’
He tried to smile but failed. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.’
‘Sure.’ Her knees felt weak. She watched as Warwick and Zack strode toward the headstone. They knelt by the grave, studied the flowers and the note.
Another deputy’s car arrived as Warwick pulled a pen from his pocket and gingerly lifted the flap of the note. He read it. His frown deepened. He spoke to Zack but she couldn’t hear what was said. They both glanced toward the front gate and the cameras.
Zack rose and approached her. ‘Is that Mom’s car?’
‘She let me borrow it.’
His annoyance seemed to be growing. ‘I’m taking you back to my parents’ house. And as soon as I can get a sketch artist scheduled you’ll talk to her.’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t see his face. The sun was to his back.’
‘Can’t hurt to try.’
Unconvinced, she got into Audrey’s car and, with Zack following, drove the five miles back to the Kiers’.
When she parked the car, Zack was waiting. He placed his hand in the small of her back. ‘Do you remember the first time we met?’
Confused, she tried to follow his train of thought. ‘It was at the triathlon in Charlottesville. The awards ceremony.’
‘I saw you before that. I was on my second loop of the bike portion of the race when I came around a corner. You were about a hundred yards ahead of me. On the side of the road there was a kid, not more than fifteen. He’d dropped his bike and was holding his stomach. Five racers in front of you had just passed the kid. You stopped.’
She’d never noticed Zack. ‘He had stomach cramps.’
‘I rode ahead to the aid station and sent back a medic.’
‘What does this have to do with us and now?’
‘I fell in love with you that day, L. I knew you were the one for me. The problem is I forgot that along the way. I blew it. But I’m going to fix this between us.’
‘You can’t fix what I don’t want fixed.’
He didn’t move toward her. ‘It took me months to screw things up between us. It’ll take at least that long to fix it, but I will.’ He moved toward the front door. So arrogant.
She stood her ground. ‘Let it go, Zack. Let us go.’
He opened the front door. ‘No.’
He strode inside.
Numb, she followed and found him lecturing his mother about lending out her car. Audrey got the message loud and clear. Lindsay was to stay put.
Zack kissed his mother. ‘I’ll be back later tonight.’
‘Don’t strand me here,’ Lindsay said.
‘You’re safe with my folks.’
Eleanor came around the corner with the games Operation and Monopoly in hand. ‘Lindsay, don’t be worried. Nicole’s awake and ready to play a game. This is going to be fun family time.’
There was no escaping the Kiers.
Richard Braxton sat in the back of his Gulf Stream plane. The pilot he’d hired was waiting for clearance from the San Francisco tower.
He picked up the morning edition of the San Francisco Chronicler and reread the article on page A3. He smiled. According to the article, the fire had destroyed most of the evidence and the lone victim’s identity had yet to be confirmed.
He licked his bottom lip, remembering the way the woman had whimpered as he’d sliced the flesh on her face. The killing had been thrilling, more exciting than anything he’d ever done. Already he wanted to kill again.
Beyond the pure entertainment value, though, torturing the woman had not gotten him what he’d wanted. She had been a stubborn bitch and had refused to tell him anything about Christina.
However, Carmichael’s cell phone had told him quite a bit. Her ‘address book’ hadn’t panned out, nor had ‘recent calls.’ But under ‘missed calls,’ there had been a call from a number in Richmond, Virginia.
Richard had been unable to resist and had called the number as a dying Claire had watched. There had been no answer. He’d then called Vincent and had given him the number. Twenty minutes later, Vincent had a name. The number, along with another number, belonged to Lindsay O’Neil. Richard had called her, half expecting to hear Christina’s voice. When he hadn’t recognized the voice, he’d hung up.
Three hours later, Vincent had called him with a great deal of information about Lindsay O’Neil, including the fact that she’d gone to USC with Christina and was now the suspect in two local murders. Vincent believed Christina was staying with Lindsay.
Richard tapped his finger on the morning paper. Soon he’d be in Richmond. Soon he’d find Lindsay O’Neil and his wife. Soon both women would curse the day they’d crossed him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wednesday, July 9, 8:15 P.M.
Marcus Greenland came out of the convenience store with a six-pack of beer and a bag of chips tucked under his arm. He had seen the evening news. That reporter had talked about that bitch O’Neil – the one who had hid his wife and kids from him. It figured the cunt had some kind of screwed-up past that made her hate men. Bitch.
But he’d be damned if he’d end up one of her victims. She’d not get her hooks into him.
‘Hey, are you looking to make some money?’ The raspy voice had Greenland whirling around. An old white guy stood directly behind him. The stranger had come up behind him without making a sound.
Shit. There was a time when no one snuck up on Marcus Greenland. His heart hammering, he said, ‘What the hell do you want?’
The guy flashed a lopsided grin that was almost apologetic. ‘I’m looking for a strong man who can do some heavy lifting. I’ve got a piano to move.’
Greenland glared at the old man. He had stooped shoulders, gray hair, and horn-rimmed glasses. The son of a bitch didn’t look like he could lift a bag of sugar. ‘It’s after eight o’clock at night. Who the hell moves a piano late at night?’
The old man shrugged and smiled sheepishly as if he was embarrassed. ‘Hey, it’s not me. It’s my wife. She wants the damn thing moved before a party she’s having this weekend. Personally, I think it looks fine where it is, but she wants it moved. Just between you and me, my wife can be a pain in the ass when she doesn’t get what she wants, so I’m not arguing with her.’
‘Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.’ Greenland laughed at his own joke.
The stranger hesitated before he laughed. He reached
in his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. ‘It won’t take more than an hour of your time.’
Greenland relaxed when he saw the bill. He sure as hell could use the money. ‘Sure, why not?’
Behind the horn-rimmed glasses, blue eyes glistened. ‘Great. My van is over here.’
Greenland snagged a beer from the six-pack and popped it open. He took a long drink, savoring the cool liquid on his throat. It would take at least the six-pack to get even a mild buzz. ‘You’ll bring me back to my car?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll have you back in less than an hour.’
Greenland followed the man to a simple white van. The vehicle looked nicked up and well used. ‘I figured you for a Volvo or a minivan kind of guy.’
The man pulled keys from his pocket. ‘This is a rental. The trunk of my Audi is big but not big enough for a piano.’
Greenland was impressed. He liked nice cars. ‘An Audi. A-6?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good car. It hugs the corners real well.’ He sipped his beer. ‘I used to sell cars.’
‘That so? What kind?’
They’d been used cars. ‘Lexuses mostly.’
‘Nice.’
The stranger slid behind the wheel as Greenland climbed in the passenger side. With a hundred bucks, he could buy his boys that new video game and maybe a nice bottle of bourbon.
Thinking about the boys made him sad. The last time he’d seen the kids, he’d hit Jamal, because the kid wouldn’t stop talking. The boy had fallen to the ground hard. Damien had cried and cowered. He had tried to console Damien, but the child had only wailed. That had pissed Greenland off. He’d smacked the kid until he’d shut up.
Now, guilt gnawed at him. As their father, he wanted the boys to respect him, but he also wanted them to love him. That video game would make it up to them.
The stranger fired the ignition. Greenland settled back in his seat. ‘Want a beer?’
‘No thanks. The wife doesn’t like it when I drink.’
No matter how rich you were a wife could bring you down. ‘Is she a real ballbuster?’
The stranger’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he smiled. ‘You could say that.’ He pulled out onto the main road and quickly merged onto the interstate. They headed west toward farmland bathed in the setting sun’s amber light.