“That’s her car,” Benton said, pointing to the Lexus.
“Whose car?”
“Nevaeh Wilson’s sister. That’s why Kiki came here. Didn’t she let you know?” Benton drew a heaving breath. “She found a video from the night the car burned up that showed that Lexus driving away. When she ran it, it came back to the sister. Kiki started checking the motels and found one out by the interstate where the sister’s been staying since Monday. Nevaeh never mentioned her sister being in the area, so she came to ask her about it.”
Ty had been wrong. Kiki hadn’t made the threats against Nev. She’d really been working to solve the cases. He would feel like crap about that later, but right now he needed to find out where the three women were and how much danger Nev and Kiki were in. “Okay, Benton, I’m going in the front door. You make your way around to the back on the right side. Check the windows over there, make sure the bedrooms are empty.”
Ty climbed the steps, closed the squeaky screen door lightly and crossed the porch. The front door stood open a few inches, giving him a narrow view through the living room and into the kitchen. No sign of anyone. His Glock comfortable in his grip, he slid through the doorway. The house was still. It felt empty.
No, not empty. Soft panting came from the back. He made his way into the kitchen, over to the rear wall, and then slid along it until he could sneak a look into the laundry room. There was the source of the panting: Frank, sitting near Kiki’s body. Her right arm was stretched out, her cell phone still in her loose grasp. Her radio had flown across the room when she’d fallen, out of reach. Her face was turned away, her shirt and jeans blood-soaked, but there was still a faint rise and fall to her chest.
“Oh, God.” Benton appeared in the open back door and then disappeared just as quickly, lunging off to the side to empty his stomach. Ty gave him privacy while putting out the officer-down call and requesting paramedics.
“That you, Gadney?” Kiki whispered without moving.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Grabbing a stack of old towels from a shelf, he knelt beside her, located the entrance wound—no exit wound—and pressed them against it. “Ambulance is on the way. Did the sister do this?”
“Yeah. Took Nev with her. Must’ve gone...river. Plans to kill her.”
“Benton, come in here. Hold pressure here.” Ty waited until the other officer maneuvered around him in the small space and took the makeshift bandage, and then he jumped the steps to the ground. “Frank, come on, let’s go find Nev.”
The dog obeyed, leaving massive paw prints on the stoop in Kiki’s blood. To the sound of wailing sirens growing nearer—probably every officer in the department, plus whatever county deputies were available—they ran across the yard to the river trail.
* * *
The river loomed ahead, visible in patches as the trail twisted and turned. Lord, pardon the swearing, but Nev had had enough of this damned river. She might never again look at natural bodies of water without revulsion.
A mutter from her left made her amend that statement: she might never again look at natural bodies of water, period. Marieka intended to kill her at the river.
There was a big difference between intending to do something and actually doing it, YaYa used to tell them. All the grand plans in the world didn’t mean a thing if you couldn’t make them reality. Marieka had a plan, but so did Nev, and hers was simpler: not to die today.
Part of that plan was to delay. Maybe Kiki had been able to call for help, or one of the neighbors had reported the gunshot. Surely the dispatcher had known where she was going and would send someone after her when she didn’t check in. Maybe Frank would wander down the street and Mr. Obadiah would call Ty to ask why the dog was running loose. Heavens, maybe Glory would scare the snot out of Marieka and show her the downside of messing with a mama spirit’s baby girl.
“You said Ma—your mother planned this,” she said, her voice as quivery as her insides.
“Not this, you idiot.” Marieka swiped her forehead on her sleeve. Despite her longer legs, stronger muscles and better conditioning, she was sweating profusely. Her shirt was damp in more places than it was dry, and every last bit of makeup had melted from her face. Maybe taking a life was proving more stressful than she’d expected. “Mama planned for me to have the money practically from the beginning. That was how she paid for that car I got when I graduated high school. All my clothes, my senior trip, college... Getting rid of you was worth a lot of money to your folks.”
There had been no expensive clothes or a car for Nev until she could afford them herself. No college on her folks’ dime, either. For high school graduation, she’d gotten a hundred dollars and a pearl necklace that had belonged to Daddy’s grandmother.
Daddy, at least, had loved her.
Nev swatted a mosquito from her arm. “When did she decide to switch our identities?”
“Right after Daddy brought you home, but she had to wait a few years for it to work. We had to be old enough that people wouldn’t notice. Had to move into a new house, a new neighborhood, start going to a new church, new doctors. She even kept us away from the family for a long time. She couldn’t risk anyone remembering that Charlotte was the younger, light-skinned one and Nevaeh was the older, darker one.”
Nev could so easily imagine it. Daddy trying to help but taking steps too drastic. Lima longing for another child of her own but stuck with a stranger’s baby, finding it impossible to bond with Nev, realizing that something good could come from the disaster: the money that came with the new baby could be used to fund a better life for her own baby. YaYa and Daddy going along with Lima’s plan in a misguided attempt to keep peace in the family, loving Nev extra because Lima didn’t love her at all.
Ahead the path widened and curved into the riverside path. The tree was visible the moment they stepped onto the main trail, majestic and haunting even from a distance. An image flashed through Nev’s mind of Glory, lying beside it in the rain, birthing her last baby as she passed from this life to the next. Dear Lord, birthing Nev.
She slowed her steps, lagging several feet behind before her sister noticed. Marieka dragged her wet sleeve across her face and then sneered. “If you’d actually exercise instead of stuffing your face all the time, you could keep up. And those shoes! When will you learn that wearing those heels all the time doesn’t change the fact that you’re short and fat?”
Nev’s intake of breath wasn’t due to exertion, but it was ragged just the same. “Why do this, Marieka? All you had to do was wait until February, and the money would be yours. I never would have known. You could have done whatever you wanted, gone wherever you wanted. You never had to see me again.”
“That’s what I intended, but you had to come to Copper Lake, pretending you were on vacation.” She spread her arms wide, indicating the woods, the river and the small signs of the town visible from there. “But you weren’t on vacation. I knew it. YaYa knew it. Mama suspected it. She never knew your folks’ names, but she did know the checks came from Copper Lake National Bank. We knew you were up to something, and I had to stop it. I’ve worked too long, too hard, to let you interfere when I’m this close to the payout.”
Nev had always figured she would die of old age, surrounded by family, grateful for her long, happy life and ready to go home to God. If she’d ever considered any alternatives, being murdered by her sister on the banks of the Gullah River for a trust fund she hadn’t known existed wouldn’t even have made the list. It was wildly improbable.
But possible, if she didn’t do something.
Marieka stopped at the tree. Was her choice of locations deliberate, coincidental, or had she been led there by Glory?
Because Nev could feel her mother around her, tiny bits of her essence in the air, the tree trunk, the earth, the river. It helped calm her pounding heart, gave her hope, made her stronger, braver. She laid her
hand against the warm, silvered wood and faced her would-be killer.
“It won’t work, Marieka. If you kill me, you’ll never see a dime of that money.”
Marieka was dismissive, as she’d always been of Nev. “Of course it will work. The trust fund belongs to Charlotte Marie Wilson, and legally that’s me. I’ve got the birth certificate, the driver’s license, the passport. All of Charlotte’s medical records, school records, financial records, are mine. Ask anyone in the world, and they’ll tell you I’m her.”
Nev’s curls, damp from the oppressive humidity, brushed her cheeks as she shook her head. “I met my sister—my real sister. We both gave a DNA sample yesterday to confirm it.”
For once it was Marieka who looked as if she were a few steps behind. “What sister?” Then... “Who gives a damn about sisters? The trust fund belongs to Charlotte Marie. It belongs to me.”
It was foolish, but sympathy welled inside Nev for her adopted sister. For years she’d been told she was the special one, the important one. For years she’d anticipated gaining control of a large sum of money, the thing she valued most. She’d probably come to believe it was hers; she’d earned it. Spoiled, self-centered Marieka never coped well with losing something she wanted.
That knowledge didn’t stop Nev from going on. “The trust fund belongs to the daughter of Glory Duquesne and Cyrus Calloway, which means it belongs to Anamaria Duquesne’s half sister. The DNA will prove that she and I have the same mother. If I’m dead, she’ll make certain you have to give DNA also before you can get the money. It doesn’t matter how many years you and Mama have waited for this or how you think you’ve earned it. When it’s proven that you’re not related to the Duquesnes or the Calloways, you’ll never get a thing.”
“No. No, no, you’re lying. The agreement said nothing about a DNA test. It just says I have to claim the money when I turn twenty-eight. Just the fact that I know it exists proves it belongs to me.” Marieka paced a few yards away, spun and came back. There wasn’t a dry spot on her shirt now, and sweat ran down her face. “You’re just trying to save yourself. Of course you’re lying.” With a trembling hand, she gestured toward the river. “Move.”
Still touching the tree for balance—for connection to Glory—Nev glanced upriver and then down. Fishing was the most popular use for this section of the Gullah. Old men, young boys and everyone in between passed long, sunny hours here, casting lines from its banks or decrepit docks or drifting lazily in small boats.
There wasn’t a fishing pole in sight as far as she could see.
“No.” She had been born in this spot. She might be fated to die here, too, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for Marieka. “You want to shoot me, you do it here.”
“And have to roll your body into the water? I’m strong but not that strong.” Marieka waved with the gun again. “Down the bank. Into the water.”
Shadow fell over them, the day darkening. Nev looked up as heavy black clouds scudded across the sky, driven by wind and accompanied by grumbling thunder. Lightning streaked in the distance and then again much closer. This tree, this river and storms—the combination seemed normal to her now.
She clung to the tree, resolutely shaking her head. “I’m not doing it.”
The rising wind blew Marieka’s hair from her face as she moved directly in front of Nev again. “I’ll get my hands dirty if I have to.”
“Oh, ReeRee...” The childhood nickname surprised her as much as it did her sister. It was all Nev had ever called her when they were kids, but a long time and a lot of resentment had passed since then.
Raindrops splashed in the river before extending up the bank, soaking through Nev’s clothes, cooling her skin. They couldn’t ease the dull ache around her heart, though, the longing for the sister who might not have adored her but certainly hadn’t hated her.
“Your hands are already dirty, ReeRee. You shot a police officer. Please God, she’s not dead, but she knew who you were. That means her supervisor and her fellow detectives know, too. Your plan has failed. You can’t get the money. You can’t go on with life as usual. They’ll track you down and send you to prison. If you kill me, too...”
Six feet away, Marieka tilted her face to the rain, her eyes closed for a moment. Her expression was exquisite: disappointment, sorrow, regret and then finally a sweet smile. She was always beautiful, but when she smiled, she was stunningly so. “Remember what Grandma Wilson used to say? ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’” She pointed the gun and coaxed, “Close your eyes, Nevy. It’ll be easier.”
Nev’s heart stuttered to a stop. Wind rushed through her hair, whipping her skirt around her legs, gusting hard enough to make her stumble to her knees. She held tighter to the tree, her eyes closed, her lungs burning for a breath she couldn’t force in, and she prayed: for herself, for Ty and YaYa, for Anamaria and Lima and even Marieka.
Thunder vibrated the ground beneath her, and lightning flashed so brightly that the image remained burned on her closed eyelids. The crack that accompanied it was loud enough to make her flinch, to clap her free hand to her ear, to free a small whimper of fear and love and loss.
In the space of a breath, the wind died to a gentle sough, the rain softened to little more than a mist, and Nev realized the whimper wasn’t coming from her. She was scared spitless, but she was unharmed, though the keening a few yards away raised goose bumps all over her body. Her eyes fluttered open in time to catch a glimpse of Marieka, lying on the ground, wailing and rocking side to side, before Ty wrapped his arms around her and hauled her to her feet.
“Are you okay?”
She touched his back, his chest, and then she cupped her hands to his face. He was solid, real, and he filled her with a sense of security, happiness, awe and sheer joy. She’d never known she could feel so much so intensely. Tenderly pressing her fingertips to his cheeks, she whispered, “I’m fine. Kiki?”
“She’s gonna live.”
“Thank God. Marieka?”
His mouth flattened grimly. “I don’t know. She’s losing a lot of blood.”
Hiding her face against his chest, Nev shuddered. She didn’t like Marieka. Finding out they weren’t really sisters would have made it easy to say goodbye to her and Lima and miss only what they could have had rather than what they did have.
In spite of that, Nev had loved her. She would mourn her.
Pulling free, she took a shaky step up the slope. His arm around her waist, Ty helped her to the top, where police officers secured the scene while paramedics worked on Marieka. Hesitantly, Nev went to her, kneeling as near as she could without interfering with the medics. “You’re gonna be okay, Marieka,” she said, although a terrifying amount of blood had pumped from the wound in her upper chest to soak her shirt and drip onto the wet ground.
Marieka focused on her, her eyes filled with pain and shadows that disappeared as soon as recognition came. “Damn you, Nevy.” Her voice was guttural, her breathing raspy. “All you had to do was die.”
Lord, forgive her. Forgive us all.
Nev stood, again with help from Ty, and together they walked away.
* * *
To no one’s surprise, Kiki was no more user-friendly with nurses than she was with criminals. After twenty-four hours, the hospital staff was anticipating her discharge more than she was. If Ryder Benton wasn’t so good at smoothing over the rough spots, Ty was pretty sure they would have mutinied even sooner.
He stood in the doorway watching her pluck restlessly at loose threads on the blanket. Gratitude that he hadn’t shared his suspicions about her with anyone besides Nev surged through him. She had confronted an armed woman in an attempt to keep Nev safe, and he would be forever grateful for that.
She directed a scowl his way. “You planning to come in, Gadney, or stand there all day?” As he started toward her, she grumbled, “I hope you
didn’t bring flowers. There’s already enough here for a dozen funerals.”
“Would I bring you flowers?” He held up both hands to show they were empty. “Though I do have a bottle of the best scotch money can buy waiting for you in my bottom desk drawer.”
“I hope you locked it. We work with a bunch of thieves.”
Ty chuckled as he pushed aside a table to reach the chair. “Don’t I know it. I never take food to the office anymore because they always ate it before I could get to it. The drawer’s locked, and the lieutenant has the only other key.”
“I suppose I can trust him.” She adjusted the bed, wincing as the head rose, and then she settled more comfortably. “I heard Charlotte Wilson died this morning.”
“Yeah.” Thank God he hadn’t been the one to shoot her. He would have, in a heartbeat, and Nev wouldn’t have blamed him, but Chief Decker was their top marksman. He’d taken the responsibility. The burden.
Ty and Nev had been at the hospital all night, staying in the staff lounge downstairs after Lima had banished her from the family waiting room. YaYa had traded off, trying to comfort her daughter and make up to her granddaughter. There was nothing to be sorry for, Nev had insisted. You’re my grandmother, and nothing will change that.
“I figure Nev’s going to be staying,” Kiki said.
They hadn’t talked about that yet. She’d had enough trauma dealing with the past. They could wait for a little calm before looking into the future. But he’d known practically from the start that their future was together. “If she doesn’t, I’ll be leaving, too.”
Kiki’s hand wave was dismissive. “She’ll stay. She’ll fit in here perfectly. I bet Pop—Mr. Obadiah adores her. Frank, too. She’ll have all the babies you want, hang out with your family, go to church... Me...I’m thinking it might be time to move on.”
Ty couldn’t say he was surprised. Kiki wasn’t from Copper Lake; she didn’t have family in the state; she wasn’t the sort to sink her roots too deeply. “I’d hate to see you go.” He meant it, too.
Copper Lake Encounter Page 23