He led Claudia to a corner table. “H-he was there that night. I didn’t remember that.”
“Yes. He got there toward the end.”
Her hands shook. He took hold of them. Holding tightly. She looked into his eyes, speaking slowly as though remembering for the first time. “Your dad and Beej were seeing each other.” He could see the understanding dawning in her eyes. “She was having a baby … his baby.”
“Yes. That’s one of the things we’ve been focusing on in the investigation, finding the baby’s dad.”
“But you knew. Why didn’t you tell Vic? He’s been spinning his wheels on this investigation.”
“I wasn’t sure. The pieces are just coming together for me too.”
Georgie arrived with two martinis. She slid one to Claudia and sat across from her. “Okay, dense me, I didn’t realize something was wrong. What’s going on?”
Her frown seemed sincere. Casio nodded toward the spot where they’d run into Gabe. “My dad.”
“What about him?”
Claudia sipped her drink and stared into Georgie’s face. “He was having an affair with BJ.”
The expression on Georgie’s face went from laughter to a frown in a beat. “Wait. You’re serious? Of course she was having an affair. We knew that.” She made an imaginary circle with her index finger. “The three of us were there together. We saw him come onto the bus …”
Claudia squinted. “He grabbed her away from me and he was crying.”
“Yes,” Georgie said. Then she sucked in a breath. “Are you telling me you’ve had this blocked out for ten years?”
A shrug lifted Claude’s shoulders. “I don’t know. I must have. All I remembered was the blood. A couple of days ago, I remembered my dad in there with me, and then the Remingtons. But until I practically ran into Detective Hightower just now I didn’t remember him at all.” She turned to Casio. “Did he do it?”
Casio shook his head, but Georgie once again spoke up. “He couldn’t have.”
Claudia sipped her drink again. “What do you mean?”
Georgie broke in. “He’s bigger, stockier than the guy who killed her.”
“You’ve got a good memory,” Casio said.
Georgie shrugged. “I notice things. And … I have a good memory.”
Claudia’s gaze turned glassy as she stared into what must have been the awakening memories. Tears glistened in her eyes.
The speakers blasted out a country love song, and Casio stood. “Come here, Claude. Dance with me.”
She frowned and shook her head.
“I’ll do it,” Georgie offered.
“Next song, Georgie.” Casio kept his gaze on Claudia. “Come on, Claude. For old times’ sake.”
Gathering in a surrendered breath, she nodded. “One dance.”
The dance floor was mostly empty as Claudia slipped into his arms. “Just like all those old dances we went to in high school.”
She smiled. “Except we’re not making out in your car later, so forget that right now.”
“Darn it.” Casio grinned. “Crossing that off the list of things to do later.”
Claudia moved her hands over his shoulders and clasped them behind his neck. “You’re awfully tense, Casio. Everything okay?”
He shook his head. “Harper. She won’t answer my calls.”
“Harper?”
“My girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”
Claudia pulled back and faced him. “What?” She said, then looked away again. “I didn’t realize you had recently broken up with someone.”
“I know, but we are sort of reconciling.” He moved slowly with the music, remembering Claudia’s curves, wishing she were Harper. “I’m going to counseling with someone she knows.”
He peered at her more closely. She seemed distracted.
“So … do you think you’ll be going back to Vic?”
“I hope so. Do you think he’ll find out who killed BJ?”
Casio frowned. “We’re trying to find out who took that bracelet.”
“Which bracelet?”
“The love knot one she always wore.”
She drew a sharp breath.
“What?”
“Casio, I hate to tell you this, but if your investigation is hinging on that bracelet, you’re at a dead end.”
His gut tightened. “What do you mean?”
“I have it. The clasp broke when we were getting on the bus to come home after Pizza Hut. BJ asked me to stick it in my pocket. I kept it.”
Her words hit him like a punch. “You better let Vic know.”
Georgie tapped her on the shoulder. “My turn.”
Claudia smiled. “He’s all yours.”
Georgie must have been drinking several martinis because she stumbled a little as she took Claudia’s place. Casio hated drunken women. “Oh, hey, Claude. I meant to tell you. Remember that woman who came into the ER the other night, thinking she was miscarrying?”
Claudia’s face drained of color and she shook her head.
Georgie frowned. “What? You’re the one asking about her at lunch the next day. Remember how I said she didn’t have a miscarriage?”
“We can talk about it later.” She laughed. “Casio isn’t in the mood to hear girl stories.”
Georgie shrugged. “Okay.” Georgie wrapped her arms around him and they swayed to the music.
Something about the way Claudia acted when he mentioned Harper.
“Tell me about the woman in the ER, Georgie.”
Harper
Harper felt the warmth of a body standing over her as she slowly became conscious. Hospital beds and rooms in general were not the place for proper rest, but with the nurses coming in every couple of hours to take vitals, it went from difficult to impossible.
She waited for the blood pressure cuff to squeeze her arm and the nurse to slide the thermostat into her ear for a quick read. But it didn’t happen. She opened her eyes, and as her vision slowly cleared, a hand covered her mouth.
Casio.
“Can I trust you not to scream?”
She nodded and he removed his hand.
Casio leaned over her, his face so close she felt his breath as he spoke. “Good morning, sunshine.”
Every nerve in her body stood at alert. She knew that tone. No matter what words were spoken in it, she knew she was in danger. “What are you doing here?”
She reached for the nurse caller and found only empty space where it had been all day.
“Looking for this?” Casio asked holding it up, disconnected from the bed. “I didn’t think we needed the interruption.”
Harper’s heart sped up and pounded in her ears. Her head grew dizzy. “What did you want to talk about? I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get back with you yesterday. Obviously, I was busy almost dying.”
The smile he gave her was not a reward for her witty comment. Rather, he grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard until she let out a yelp. “You think this is funny?” He leaned over the rail again, loosening his grip marginally.
“No, of course not.”
“Shut up,” he commanded, his lips curled into a snarl.
He stood, dropped her wrist, and began pacing the floor. She knew the move. He paced and allowed his mind to work, processing his twisted view of whatever she had done to wrong him. The pacing was a prelude to the punishment. Fear rose to her throat and she glanced toward the door, for the first time sorry that her dad had insisted that the hospital, as compensation for their negligence, upgrade her to a private room at no extra fee. Grateful he wouldn’t sue, the hospital had been eager to comply.
She was so tired of being afraid. If she made it out of this alive, she would leave Texas, get as far away from Casio as she possibly could—Seattle, maybe. As much as it would break her heart to leave her parents, she had to find a place where she wasn’t terrified every second of every day.
Her eyes followed his movements back and forth in the small area in front of her bed. H
e raked his fingers through his black hair. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Harper,” he said. “I can’t even grieve because you didn’t tell me about my kid.”
“I’m sorry, Casio. You had every right to know I was pregnant.” Forgive my lie, Lord.
“Don’t say that,” he snarled. “Don’t act like you regret keeping it from me.”
Unsure how to soothe him, distract him, she kept silent, holding her breath and hoping silence wouldn’t make things worse. She could never be sure of the response he wanted.
“So what happened?” he asked. “You did too many aerobics? Took some kind of pill to induce an abortion? Why? Why did you kill my baby?”
Shock burst through her throat and out of her mouth. “No. Casio. That’s not what happened.”
Tears streamed down his handsome, tanned face. The face she had fallen in love with instantly. “Don’t lie to me! You never wanted my baby. You got rid of it. Admit it!”
“I had a miscarriage.” If they were a normal couple, a loving, mutually respectful couple, they would be holding each other, weeping together, consoling one another, and he would be assuring her that maybe they could adopt a baby someday, after they healed from the pain of the hysterectomy. But they weren’t. And Harper saw now that Casio was too damaged to be the man she needed. She would never be able to forgive him for invading her moments of grief with accusation. “Casio, look at me. It wasn’t an abortion. I lost the baby during the night.”
“No. You didn’t.” The look in his eyes no longer held any affection for her. Pure disdain darkened his brown eyes to nearly black, and Harper began to shake. “You never wanted the baby because he was mine. Did you? Admit it!”
“Casio, that’s not true. I was trying to find a way to tell you. I just didn’t know how. You said you didn’t want kids.”
He stopped and looked at her for a long moment, studying her, trying to gauge her honesty. Harper hoped she was keeping her eyes open enough, her mouth soft enough. He needed to believe her. She needed him to.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached behind him, pulled out his gun.
A gasp escaped. “Casio,” she breathed. “What are you doing?”
“I have to know the truth,” he said. “Were you ever really coming back to me?”
Oh, dear Lord. Help me.
“Answer me!” he raised his voice.
The door opened, and a nurse walked in. She saw the gun. “Oh my God.”
Casio didn’t hesitate. He lifted the gun and fired. In horror, Harper watched as the twenty-five-year-old mother of two dropped to the ground.
Without a second of hesitation, he pivoted back around to Harper. “Answer me. Were you coming back to me?”
Harper knew she wasn’t making it out of this room alive. The gun was already pointed at her heart. She looked him in the eyes and determined that the last words from her lips would not be a lie. “I love you. But no, I would never have brought my baby into your home.”
The gun fired. Pain seared her chest and she lost the ability to breathe. She knew this was the last moment of her life. Another shot fired, but Harper Abbott felt no more pain.
After all the months of living in terror, suddenly she felt utter calm. There was no fear. She closed her eyes and breathed her last breath.
Nineteen
There is no fear in this death. Though it is soon to overtake me, I finally know that nothing in this world, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus my Lord.
Funny how it took death to remove my fear of death. I come naked, alone, and completely without excuse, plunging into grace I don’t deserve.
I want so much to grab Claudia’s hand and say, “My blood is nothing. It’s His blood that has power to save.” I’m sensing the fleetingness of earth. All the cares that seemed monstrous just hours ago have vanished as I observe the cross. I’m filled with the awareness that every second since the beginning, when God spoke, “Let there be …” has led up to this one breath, the last one for me.
The beginning of eternity.
I long to be released from this flesh and yet something holds me.
I hear mother singing, Claudia crying—softly now.
The train is winding down. Outside the bus, people begin to cheer. The caboose must be in sight.
“Oh, thank God,” my mother breathes.
“Hang on, Beej,” Claudia whispers. “They’re almost here.”
“Who?” I ask, but of course she doesn’t hear.
All I can hear is the sound of singing. Cheering, a different sort of cheering than that of the people milling around outside the bus. It’s like the sound at a marathon. There’s a finish line in sight. My race is run.
And I suddenly realize, heaven is cheering me on, bidding me come.
I feel my mother’s soft, warm lips on my forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can go.”
“No!” Claudia’s voice echoes, tunnel-like.
I’m floating above my body.
“Georgie!” she screams. “Do something.”
I look down. Claudia is frantic. Mother silently weeps.
But nothing is holding me this time.
I am filled with such unspeakable joy as I rise.
I know I will soon see His face.
MONDAY
Victor
The call came at 9 a.m. The news of the shootings numbed Vic. Even though he’d faced a great deal of inhumanity in his line of work, he’d never been closely involved with the victims before. His heavy heart barely allowed for the drive to work.
Harper’s murder the night before, followed by Casio’s suicide. A young nurse caught in the crossfire. Vic should have taken the day off. He let the intercom button flash and buzz, in no mood to speak with anyone who didn’t know him personally enough to call on his cell. But as Isobel stepped into his office, he knew something was about to break.
“You’re going to want to take that call,” she said, nodding toward the phone. “It’s the lab.”
Vic’s heart nearly stopped as he picked up the line. “ADA Campbell.”
“Yeah, this is Sherwood at the lab. Slattery asked us to expedite some samples for you.”
“What do you have?”
“Of the four swabs you sent over, only one matches any of the DNA found at the crime scene.”
Vic’s mind went back over the last couple of weeks. He’d sent principal Newman’s, Blake Simpson, Jesse Simpson, and their dad’s. If the killer was stupid enough to leave behind evidence, why wasn’t he caught earlier?
“Whose?” he asked, finding himself barely able to breathe.
“The DNA matches a hair we found at the scene. Three, actually. One on the bus driver—the perp must’ve leaned over him for some reason—one randomly on the floor of the bus, and one on Miss Remington.”
Impatience built within Vic. Did he really need to know all that? He just needed a name. “And the winner is?”
“Jesse Simpson.”
Vic sat back, unable to respond for a couple of seconds. His mind replayed the interview.
“Mr. Campbell?” the voice on the other end of the line sounded hesitant. “You still there?”
“Yes. Thanks, Sherwood. Fax me over that report, will you?”
He picked up his phone to call Casio … then remembered.
Within an hour, the warrant was issued and four cop cars drove up to Jesse’s Garage. Vic, along with two officers, walked into the place. Blake met them at the door. “What’s going on?”
“We’re here for Jesse. His DNA placed him at the crime scene for BJ Remington’s murder. Is he here?”
Blake’s face blanched. “As God is my witness, Mr. Campbell, he’s been gone for two days. Just checked out and never said a word. Dad’s been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering his phone or anything.”
Vic’s stomach dropped. “We’ll have to search the place anyway.”
Blake nodded. �
��I understand.” He frowned. “The thing is, it doesn’t make sense. We just got a new contract to service all the sanitation trucks. It was a huge contract, and we went out and celebrated Friday night, then come Saturday, he was gone and we haven’t seen him since.”
The search of the garage was futile. Wherever Jesse was hiding, this wasn’t it. They’d put out an APB and hope Jesse turned up.
As he drove away, Vic’s cell phone rang. His heart picked up a beat as caller ID identified Claudia as the caller. “Hi,” he said.
“Hey,” her breathy voice sent a wave of calm through him. “I heard the sirens. What’s going on?”
“The lab matched some hair to Jesse Simpson’s DNA swab.”
“Jesse?” Claudia remained silent for a few seconds as he had, digesting the information. “I wonder why he would have wanted to hurt BJ.”
“Obsession? Maybe he cared a little more about her than he admitted.”
“Beej never mentioned him except that she was helping him with some test.”
“That’s what he told us too. We never really thought he’d turn out to be the killer.”
“Did you arrest him?”
“No. He took off two days ago. His family doesn’t know where he is.”
“You believe them?”
A fair question. “Yes.”
“Are you going to the funeral day after tomorrow?”
“Which one?” The thought of the senseless murder-suicide weighed down his heart.
“Casio’s dad isn’t doing a regular service, and he can’t have a cop funeral considering the circumstances.” She sighed.
“How did you find out?”
“My dad went to see Gabe. In a ministerial capacity. Gabe’s just going to cremate him without a service. Which is probably what the town needs while it’s healing over Harper anyway.”
“So Harper’s funeral is Wednesday?”
“Yes. My dad is preaching the funeral and there will be a dinner afterward in the hall.”
“I’ll be there, but I might be late.”
“Will you meet me in the church sanctuary after the service? Say one o’clock?”
Vic’s heart picked up. Please God, let this be her first step toward coming home. “I’ll be there.”
The Crossing Page 21