“Holly, my girl. What’s going on?” He turned to face me, a wide smile stretching across his face. Though he was only nineteen, he looked like he was my age. He was well over six feet tall and as skinny as a pole.
“Same old, same old. How about you?”
“Staying busy. Got a job at the supermarket. I know the pay isn’t great, but it’s something.”
“Good going, John. I think that’s great.”
An idea suddenly occurred to me. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but it was worth a shot. “John, I have a question for you.”
“Anything for you, Ms. Holly.”
“You ever heard of a drug called Cena?”
His smile slipped. “Yeah, everyone around here has. Why? You’re not thinking about trying it, are you?”
“You know me better than that. I just want to know what you’ve heard about it.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. People I know who’ve used it say it’s good. Gives you a nice high.”
“Where do you get it?”
He looked around as if the conversation was making him uncomfortable. That was a good thing; I didn’t want him being comfortable talking about where to get drugs. Especially at church.
“I know some people.”
I had a vision of me going undercover and buying some, but I quickly put the idea out of my mind. That would just be a bad, bad idea. I had to be realistic here.
“Why you asking about this, Ms. Holly?”
“You’ve heard about those people who died?” I asked him.
“Of course.”
“I think it has to do with Cena.”
He didn’t look surprised, which seemed to confirm the theory. “Yeah, everyone’s pretty shaken up about that.”
“Any idea who’s behind the production of it?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I hear he wears a mask. Whoever he is, he doesn’t want to be discovered.”
Would he kill to make sure that didn’t happen?
CHAPTER 21
The next morning, as I was getting dressed for work while listening to Peggy Lee sing “It’s a Good Day,” someone knocked at my door. I had a Pavlovian reaction lately every time I heard someone on my doorstep. I tensed all over and prepared for the worst.
When I saw Chase standing there, I tried to mentally brace myself for what was to come. Really, living like this wasn’t living at all. Fear sucked the joy out of life.
Much like chemo greatly diminished the body, fear ruined the spirit.
I’d created my own end to the quality of my final days, and I had no one to blame except me.
New item on my bucket list: figure out the best way to decorate my jail cell.
Item two: figure out a way to make the jail uniform look cute. Would they let me add a scarf? Could I bring my favorite Peggy Lee CD?
“Chase, what are you doing here?”
“Hey, Hollywood.”
I readjusted my headband. “Not quite Hollywood.”
His smile slipped. “Can I come inside?”
I opened the door wider. “By all means, yes. Come in.”
I saw the apology in his eyes as soon as he stepped toward me, and my gut churned.
That’s when I noticed the movement behind him. My stomach dropped.
T.J. walked up the sidewalk.
“Take everything he says with a grain of salt, okay?” Chase whispered.
I nodded, anxiety gripping me. I forced a smile as T.J. approached. “Good morning,” I called cheerfully.
He scowled. “Something like that.”
The lump in my throat grew larger as I shut the door and ushered them toward the breakfast nook. “Can I get either of you a cinnamon roll? I made them myself, all the way down to the icing. I even made the dough—”
“We’re good,” T.J. muttered.
I nodded, determined not to have my feathers ruffled. “Coffee?”
“I’d love some coffee,” Chase said.
My hands trembled as I poured him a cup. They sat on opposite ends of the table. I set Chase’s cup in front of him and then lowered myself between them, nervously smoothing my dress. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“I wish we were here with good news, Holly,” Chase started.
“Look, let’s just cut to the”—T.J. glanced at his partner—“chase, pardon the expression. Your fingerprints were found on the bucket at one of our crime scenes, Holly.”
“Were they?” I knew somehow this would lead back to me.
Chase nodded. “We expected we might find it at this house, since you were the social worker. But we were surprised to find it on the bucket.”
“Any idea how that happened?” T.J. asked.
“I, uh . . . It’s strange. I—” My face heated.
“It’s okay, Holly. No one is accusing you of anything,” Chase said. His voice sounded even and compassionate. “We’re just trying to put the pieces together.”
I just needed to confess everything, own up to my part in this. I had to face the music. “Listen, I—”
“Holly, the chief wants us to pull you into this investigation,” Chase said. “As a consultant. I guess his wife thinks you hung the moon and have amazing insight on people. Your time as a CPS investigator impressed her so much that she can’t stop talking about you to Chief Weatherly.”
I blinked, certain I hadn’t heard correctly. “What?”
T.J. scowled. “It’s true. He thinks you may be able to pinpoint the connections better than we can, especially given your history and relationships in this area.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure what I can do.”
“The chief has talked to Helen, and she’s agreed that you’re free to do whatever you can to help us,” Chase continued.
“I think it’s a terrible idea, just for the record,” T.J. said.
I twitched my head. “Do you?”
Chase’s phone buzzed, and he excused himself for a moment.
I watched him walk away and then turned back to T.J., who glared at me.
“Why were your fingerprints on that bucket?” he demanded. “I know you’ve got Chase wrapped around your little finger, but I’m not falling for your innocent act so easily.”
I raised my chin, pushing down the panic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Chase is not wrapped around my—”
“I’m talking about your involvement in this case, Holly. Your fingerprints didn’t show up by chance.”
“Then how did they show up?” I questioned, some of the fight—however foolish—returning to me. I needed to buy myself some time, even though everything in me wanted to confess. If I did own up to my part in this, it wouldn’t be to T.J.
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“You’re the detective.” Dear Lord, please forgive me!
He stared at me, his gaze icy cold. I held my gaze in some kind of silent standoff.
The moment shattered when Chase walked back into the room. He clipped his cell phone back to his belt. “So, what do you say, Holly? Will you lend your expertise?”
I nodded, pulling my eyes away from T.J. My heart still beat out of control. “Of course. Whatever I can do to bring this guy to justice.” Except owning up to my part. My guilt pressed harder.
“Justice is what this is all about,” T.J. muttered. “I want to nail this guy—or girl—too.”
Was that a hint that he thought I could be guilty? Or was my own remorse just rearing its head, making me assume things that may not be true? I had no idea.
“Let me report into work this morning and see what I can delegate,” I said.
Chase nodded. “We’ll be in touch. We’re questioning some people today.”
As soon as they left, I leaned against the wall. My forehead was covered in sweat and my heart was racing.
T.J. was onto me. Would he find the evidence he needed to arrest me?
You didn’t do anything, Holly. You weren’t the one who killed those men. Y
ou just happened to illegally be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
My rationale did little to comfort me.
***
I’d talked to Doris and told her what was going on. I knew she hated the fact that Helen liked me. She also said something about my hours being loosey-goosey lately and to consider this a warning.
She was just my supervisor and she couldn’t exactly fire me, not with Helen in my corner. What she could do was make my life miserable.
As I drove to meet Chase, my mind raced.
Maybe this was some kind of trap. Lure me in with visions of helping, then nail me for the crime. Play with me until I accidentally admitted something. Make me think I was doing a favor, all while trying to frame me.
I had to appear as cool as a cucumber, I reminded myself. One hint of guilt and T.J. would smell blood. This was going to be harder than I thought.
I forced a smile as I walked into the police station. Chase met me there, put a hand on my elbow, and led me down the hallway to another part of the building. We stopped at what appeared to be an interrogation room.
Uh-oh.
I’d seen this on TV. I knew how it would turn out.
T.J. waited there with his usual scowl. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top button undone. Pictures and files were laid out on the table.
“Holly, so glad you could make it.” T.J.’s voice sounded less than thrilled, and he didn’t try to disguise it.
Chase seemed unfazed as he crossed to the other side of the table. “We’re hoping you might be able to see a connection that we missed.”
I stared at the photos on the table and blanched.
Three lives that had ended too soon.
“I know it’s hard to look at, Holly,” Chase murmured.
I shook my head, pulling my gaze away. “It is. It’s just . . . it’s sad.”
“You knew both of the families. Is there anything you can tell us about them?” T.J. asked.
“As I suppose you know, I work with families in the foster care system. I do home studies, make sure the kids are adjusting well, make sure they haven’t left one bad situation and gone into another.”
Chase nodded. “Your boss loves you. Said you go above and beyond.”
“Both of these families, however, were ones that I worked with before coming to Caring Hands. I worked with them as a CPS investigator. Katrina Dawson was reported by the school system because her kids were often dirty and didn’t do their homework, and the youngest boy broke his arm. I did an investigation and worked with Katrina. I put her in a counseling program. She went through a parenting class. We helped her to find a new job. She turned things around.”
“Sounds warm and fuzzy,” T.J. muttered.
I ignored him. “Of course, the boy who was killed didn’t live there. He was only staying temporarily. I never met him.”
“What about the second family?”
“Similar situation. It was a family between a rock and a hard place. They just needed some resources. I was following up with them when I left my position.”
“Why did you leave your old job, Ms. Paladin?” T.J. asked.
“There’s a high rate of burnout with CPS workers. The job is very hard, very demanding, very emotionally exhausting. Helen offered me a position, and it sounded like a good change of pace.” Plus, the doctor had said I needed to reduce my stress.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Chase gave T.J. a pointed glance.
I raised my chin. “Perhaps you have hard feelings toward me because your best friend is running against my brother.”
He bristled. “I leave my personal biases out of things, and I resent your implications.”
I held my gaze with his. “That makes two of us.”
“Let’s get back to business here,” Chase interceded. “Did you see any connections between the two families that you’ve worked with? Besides you?”
“Too often with poverty there are other common issues. In this case, drugs and gangs. However, I have no proof that either of those boys was involved with either of those.”
“The day we first ran into each other,” Chase started.
“The day I was shot at?” I clarified.
Chase nodded. “That’s the one. I was called to escort you. Can you tell me why?”
I nodded. “Frank Jenkins’s children were taken away from him. He was a mean drunk, and those kids didn’t need to be there. In most cases, I do everything I can to keep the kids with their parents. But not in this case. Mr. Jenkins turned all of his anger toward me, blaming me for what happened.”
“Was alcohol the only problem Mr. Jenkins had?”
I licked my lips. “I followed up with his former employers when I did my investigation. There were traces of Cena found in his urine. I knew he’d solicited some people in the neighborhood for the drug, as well.”
“Anything else?” T.J. asked.
“I can say that I’ve heard from more than one person that Cena usually amplifies certain traits in people. The only trait I can see it amplifying in Mr. Jenkins is anger.”
“I’m going to ask you this one more time,” T.J said. “Is there anything you want to tell us?”
My throat felt dry and tight.
CHAPTER 22
I glanced over at T.J. Did he see the guilt written in my gaze, looming just beneath the surface?
“Do you have any idea how cleaning supplies with your fingerprints ended up at our first crime scene?” he asked.
I didn’t say anything.
“Certainly you don’t clean for your clients as well, do you?” T.J. asked sarcastically.
I shook my head. “I can’t say it’s my job requirement.”
He plopped a picture down in front of me. “You ever seen these before?”
I stared at the picture and contemplated my answer. What if I was hampering their investigation? The last thing I wanted was for the killer to get away because of me. I had to somehow skirt around the truth. “As a matter of fact, I have.”
I saw Chase’s eyes widen.
I licked my lips before continuing. “I bought a bucket, mop, and scrub brush last week.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” T.J. demanded.
“I had no idea they’d turn up at a murder scene,” I replied. “I have this thing with random acts of kindness. I like to help people whenever I can, and that’s why I bought them. I surprised my brother by cleaning his house.”
Chase leaned toward me. “Do you still have these cleaning supplies?”
I shook my head. “No, someone took them.”
Please, forgive me, I silently prayed. I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t. But there was so much on the line.
“Took them from where?” T.J. stood beside me, towering over me.
An intimidation practice? I wondered.
“My garage.”
T.J. narrowed his eyes. “When were they taken?”
“Just this week.”
“You didn’t report it?”
“Report missing cleaning items from my garage?” I shook my head. “No, I did not.”
“You had to have heard that cleaning supplies were found at the scenes,” T.J. continued.
“And I was supposed to assume they were my cleaning supplies?”
“I’m surprised the thought didn’t cross your mind.”
“Enough!” Chase’s voice ended the argument. “Holly, if you hear anything else while you’re out talking to your clients—both current and former—would you let us know?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“We’re still searching for Frank Jenkins, as well. We want to bring him in for questioning. He’s gone off the grid.”
“I’d sleep better at night knowing he’s behind bars.” I looked up at T.J. “If there’s nothing else, I’ve got a big caseload right now. Lots of work to do.”
He scowled again. “We’ll be in touch.”
Chase stood just as I did. �
�I’ll walk you down,” he offered.
I didn’t refuse. We were silent until we stepped outside.
“Good job standing up to T.J. in there,” Chase told me. “Not many people will.”
A few months ago I probably wouldn’t have. But now, in many ways, I just didn’t care. “He’s a jerk.”
“I can’t argue with that. He thinks his former partner walked on water. No one else will ever measure up, apparently. He’s got a huge chip on his shoulder.”
“God bless you for working with him every day, then.”
Chase paused by my car. “Thanks again for coming in, Holly.”
I nodded and gripped my purse. “No problem. I’ve got to finish work and then head to the youth center for a while.”
“I’ll see you around later, then,” he said.
I nodded, something within me drawing me toward the man, making me not want to leave.
Which was purely ridiculous.
“Okeydokey. Bye, Chase,” I forced myself to say.
Then I climbed in my car.
I nearly slapped my forehead when I realized I’d just said “okeydokey.”
Based on the goofy smile on Chase’s face, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
***
I was trying to wrap up a conversation with my mom during my lunch break when Helen popped her head into my office.
“Holly, can I talk to you a minute?”
“Of course.” I gripped the phone. “Mom, I need to run.”
“Two things real quick, honey. First of all, that lady called again, the one who never leaves a message. I think this is the third call from her. Do you know what’s going on?”
The nurse from the oncologist’s office, most likely. I bristled. “I’ll see if I can figure it out, Mom.”
“Second, don’t forget to water my plants when I’m out of town.”
She was going to some real estate conference in Chicago. “Of course.”
“You’re always such a big help to me, Holly. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
My heart panged. My poor mom. First she’d lost her husband, and soon she’d be losing her youngest child. I knew those were some of the hardest things a person could go through, and I wished I could spare her.
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