The recitation of Frankie’s Miranda rights faded as he thought back to the day he’d first met Kurt. It was the first day of second grade and Kurt’s first day at Daniel Boone Elementary School after moving from the city. Kurt was being picked on in the lunch room by the school’s bullies, and Frankie had stepped in and throttled the two little monsters. Kurt was so appreciative, he’d offered Frankie everything in his lunch box. Frankie spent the next ten years or so defending Kurt at every turn. Now, here they were, on opposite sides of the law, and Kurt was arresting him for murder. He knew it wasn’t just about Collin, though. It was about Julian McAllister too. Frankie was finally going to pay for his sins, and it was his blood brother who was making him face the music.
A loud bang echoed through the barn, and at first, Frankie thought it was a car backfiring. But when he felt Kurt’s body collapse on his back, he knew. One of his bodyguards, or Bruno, had shot Kurt to keep him from arresting Frankie. Damn it, this was not how he wanted it to go down. He took a deep breath and rolled onto his side. When Kurt flopped over onto his back, Frankie scrambled to his hands and knees and looked down at him. A dark red rose was blooming on Kurt’s white shirt, right near his heart.
“No,” Frankie whispered. “Kurt, buddy. Can you hear me?” Frankie grabbed Kurt by the collar and shook him violently. “Kurt, man. Wake up.” No response. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.” Though Frankie knew Bruno, or the boys, or whoever shot Kurt, was just trying to protect him, he couldn’t understand why they would do something so drastic without direct orders from him.
Frankie turned to ask them what they had been thinking, but when he did, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. A sudden coldness penetrated him to the core. He could not believe what he was seeing. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him. Frankie squinted and tried to focus. When he realized what he was seeing was no mirage, his stomach clenched, and his breath caught in his throat.
Standing near the entrance with a gun held out in front of her was his granddaughter, Mollie.
Chapter 31
Lonnie
He finally forced himself to step away from Kurt’s tombstone. Everyone else has already left the gravesite, but Lonnie couldn’t bear to walk away without at least spending a few more minutes talking to his partner. There was so much he wished he’d said to Kurt while he was alive. He wished he’d told him how much he admired him. How he’d been excited the moment he’d heard who his first partner would be. That he’d never met a harder working detective than Kurt Jamison. Instead, he’d spent the past several years giving Kurt a hard time and making fun of his age.
Lonnie walked across the brown and yellow grass with his overcoat pulled tightly around himself and his hands in his pockets. When he arrived at his cruiser, he slid into the front seat, slammed the door, and turned on the engine and the heat. He leaned his head back against the headrest and exhaled deeply. There was nothing Lonnie hated more than funerals, but in his line of work, they were practically unavoidable. He had known three officers to lose their lives in the line of duty since he started at the academy, but none of them had been shot and killed by a psychopath.
When the call had come over the wire about the shooting at the barn, Lonnie had been sitting at his desk in the precinct, trying like hell to figure out where Kurt had gone to in such a hurry. He was beyond frustrated with him for not bringing him along. Had Lonnie had a clue what Kurt was doing, he would have insisted on riding along. Perhaps then things wouldn’t have gone down the way they had, and Kurt would still be alive.
Since he was the last person to leave, aside from the gravediggers, he was able to quickly exit the cemetery and pull onto the main road. Traffic was heavy in downtown Lexington, as it always was around five o’clock on a weekday. It seemed wrong to Lonnie for life to be continuing as if nothing had happened. It felt like the world should stop, if only for a brief moment, and mourn the loss of a great cop. But that didn’t happen, and when he slunk into the building and toward his office, he kept his head down to avoid seeing all the empathetic stares and sorrowful glances from his colleagues. When the lieutenant tried to stop him and offer his condolences once again, Lonnie just held his hand up and kept walking.
When he made it into the small office he’d shared with Kurt, it somehow seemed bigger and emptier without him there. One glance over at Kurt’s desk was enough for tears to sting his eyes for the third time that day. Lonnie had promised Kurt’s sister he’d pack up his belongings for her, so he would somehow have to muddle through it for her sake.
He grabbed a box full of copy paper, dumped it out, and set it on top of Kurt’s desk. Lonnie smiled when he saw how disorderly Kurt’s area was. Kurt was one hell of a detective, but he was horrible at organization. Slowly, he picked up a framed photograph of Kurt’s sister and nephews and placed it in the box. Next, he placed his favorite coffee mug, the white one with blue letters that read BEST UNCLE EVER, and placed it beside the frame. One by one, he picked up all of Kurt’s personal belongings. Within five minutes, he was done. Kurt never brought many personal things to the office. He’d said he wanted to keep his two lives completely separate.
Lonnie dropped down into Kurt’s chair and chuckled softly when he recalled an argument they’d had over why Kurt’s chair was so much better than Lonnie’s. Kurt had explained that he’d had to buy it himself because the department wouldn’t spring for a chair that would better support his bad back. That didn’t stop Lonnie from ragging on Kurt for being a spoiled old man.
Something caught his attention as he looked around one last time, making sure he had everything. He bent over and picked up a book that had apparently fallen face down and was open in the middle. Where on earth had this come from? It was made of red leather and had long, thin red straps attached to the front and back. He laid it on Kurt’s desk and flipped it over onto its back. Lonnie could tell by the warning etched into the first page in large letters that the journal belonged to Mollie Cartwright.
Where did this come from?
The journal was open to a page near the middle. Lonnie looked down and read the pretty cursive script.
Dear Journal,
I’m having a particularly bad day today. It’s been three years since Dalton died…
Lonnie vaguely recalled Mollie’s best friend mentioning that her boyfriend had committed suicide near the end of their senior year. The poor girl had had it rough.
…and I still can’t believe no one knows the truth. I mean, how stupid are people? Do they really think he killed himself? The kid was an honor student, the starting quarterback, and had a full-ride scholarship lined up to UK. Nobody with that much going for them ever takes their own life. But I guess if you think about it, he was kind of stupid. He believed that I really did love him. And he believed I would never hurt him. I wouldn’t have…if he hadn’t cheated on me with that slut Rebecca. That’s why I had to shoot him in the head.
Lonnie’s eyes went wide as saucers. Had he really just read what he thought he’d read? It was like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute her journal had been nothing but typical ramblings of a teenage girl. The next minute, she’s confessing to murdering her boyfriend.
I wasn’t sure everyone would believe my story about Dalton committing suicide, but I guess I got lucky. But with today being the anniversary of his death, I have to pretend to be sad and mope around like I’m totally depressed. Mom even offered to buy me a puppy to make me feel better. She said maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely, and it might even distract me from thinking about Dalton so much. Does she not realize how much I hate animals? You’d think she would have gotten the clue when I killed every single pet she ever got me. But she just assumed they ran away or got sick or something. She can be so dense sometimes.
Lonnie rubbed his brow then covered his open mouth with his hand. His stomach clenched as he forced himself to read on.
Take Pops, for example. She knows he’s different and that he hides things from her, but she chooses to st
ick her head in the sand like an ostrich. I, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised when the kids at school told me the truth about Pops. He’s supposedly the biggest crime lord in Kentucky, which is pretty cool when you think about it. He’s, like, the John Gotti of the Bluegrass. I don’t think he kills people, but I don’t know. Maybe he does. He does spend a lot of time at Granny’s horse farm. I’ve followed him there before, and he’s there a lot when I’m visiting her. Maybe he’s hiding bodies out there! It’s where he goes when he doesn’t want to be found, I know that much. If I ever need to hide a body, I know where to go!
So, this was how Kurt had found Frankie. He’d read Mollie’s journal, and besides realizing she was a sociopath who’d murdered her boyfriend, he’d read about the horse farm in his ex-wife’s name. Lonnie silently cursed himself for not even thinking about properties that weren’t legally in his name when he was searching. If he’d found the farm himself, they’d have gone together, and maybe Kurt would still be alive.
I’d better get to work. My shift starts in half an hour. I have to pretend I’m some normal girl, but it gets exhausting sometimes. I wish I could show someone about the real me. Let them see me for who I really am. Then I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. I wouldn’t have to wear the mask of a perfect girl with a perfect family and a perfect life. I could just be me.
Bile rose in the back of Lonnie’s throat when it all came together like pieces of a complicated puzzle finally falling into place. Now everything that had been strange to him started to make sense. Lonnie had trouble believing Frankie had been the one to shoot Kurt, even though he confessed immediately. Lonnie knew about the history between the two men, and the thought of Frankie killing his former best friend and childhood playmate didn’t sit right with him. But he’d had no choice but to arrest Franklin Cartwright for the murder of Detective Kurt Jamison. Not to mention Collin McAllister.
Now Frankie would spend the rest of his life in prison in order to cover for his granddaughter.
Lonnie could almost visualize what had gone down at the horse farm as if he’d been an eyewitness to the whole charade. Kurt had realized he needed to check the horse farm, thanks to what he’d read in Mollie’s twisted journal entry. When he’d arrived, he’d likely found Frankie right after he’d killed Collin McAllister, whose body was found tied to a table, with a stab wound to his right shoulder. The two men probably struggled, as there had been unexplained scuff marks in the dirt and hay, and Mollie had retrieved the gun and shot Kurt before he could arrest Frankie.
She was trying to protect her grandfather, but now Frankie would spend the rest of his life protecting the granddaughter he may or may not have known was a sociopath. It explained why Frankie had called the police about the shooting and then confessed so quickly and freely when they arrived at the farm.
Lonnie shut the journal and stood from Kurt’s desk. He debated briefly over what to do with the journal. As it was technically evidence, he should turn it over to his lieutenant and have it officially admitted. If he did that, Mollie Cartwright would be arrested not only for Kurt’s murder but for the murder of her former boyfriend. It was what she deserved. She should pay for taking at least two lives that Lonnie knew about.
But then a thought came to Lonnie’s mind. Frankie actually wanted to take the fall for his granddaughter. And once upon a time, Frankie and Kurt had been like brothers. Lonnie knew if Kurt were still alive, he’d have tried to protect Frankie, but if that failed, he would have at least honored Frankie’s final wish and let him take the fall.
His mind made up, Lonnie taped up the box of Kurt’s belongings and carried it out to his cruiser. After placing the cardboard box in the back seat, he walked over to the large green dumpsters behind the precinct and tossed the journal over the top. As he walked back to his cruiser, he told himself he’d done the right thing. Maybe not the legal thing, but he’d honored his partner and his partner’s friendship with Frankie. It may not have been the right ending to a forty-year-old nightmare, but it was the ending Kurt would have wanted.
THE END
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First and foremost, to God be the glory! ALL things really are possible through Him.
As this book was written, in part, from the perspectives of two men, I want to start by acknowledging my Dad, Tom Broaddus. He shows me on a daily basis that there are good men out there. He is a shining example of what a husband, father, and grandfather should be. I will never, ever be able to repay him for all the love and support he has shown me from day one.
My mother, Alicia Broaddus…such a strong, beautiful, Godly woman and the best friend/mother/grandmother anyone could ask for. She has always been my rock and my guiding light. I would be lost at sea without her. I wouldn’t know what to do without our daily conversations. What an amazing example she sets for my girls.
Speaking of…
Sayre Grace is not only my firstborn, but she’s one of the most truly gifted and talented people I’ve ever known. She was blessed with creative and artistic abilities that are second to none, and I am so impressed by her and her dedication to her craft, her job, her schooling, and everything she believes in. She is a woman of principals and she puts everyone else’s needs before her own. A truly selfless soul.
Madeline Faith will always be my baby. Even as I watch her grow into a beautiful young woman, I still see the chubby-cheeked little cherub I used to rock and sing to sleep every night. She is fierce, she is determined, she is independent, and she is strong. I laugh so hard when I’m around her, and my heart bursts with pride as I watch her chase her dreams and follow her heart. She is one of the two best things that ever happened to me.
Lauren Metelski is my little sister. Though we live too far apart and don’t get to see each other as often as we want, I am so proud of the woman, wife, and mother she has become. She is an amazingly talented nurse and writer, and I know one day soon she will see the fruits of her labors ripen. I love her kids (Fiona, Eleanora, and Liev) as if they were my own.
Specifically, I’d love to thank my wonderful assistant, Lacie Redding, who has gone above and beyond the call of duty for me. I’m so thankful to have found her. Also, to my favorite editor in the whole wide world, Lori Whitwam, who has also been a true friend for a while now. And finally, to my designer, Ashley Byland of Redbird Designs…thank you for creating amazing logos, promos, teasers, and other images for me on such short notice.
To everyone else who supports me and who are too numerous to name (my friends, my fans, my beta readers, my extended family members), I thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for constantly rooting for me and listening to me blather on about my writing and my books. It means more to me than you will ever know.
About the Author
Award-Winning Author of the Flesh & Blood Trilogy and Confessions of an Old Lady.
Christina Kaye was raised in suburban Central Kentucky in a family full of right-brainers. With a photographer/artist for a grandfather and an author/illustrator for a mother, she was bound to turn out on the creative side of the spectrum. She honed her writing skills in school, winning awards for her essays and short stories. Christina tried her hand at about every sport imaginable, which only went to prove that her efforts were better spent in other creative outlets such as art, singing, and writing. But it was writing that really stuck with her and she spent the next several years trying her hand at writing fiction novels, just for the fun of it.
She took a break for a while and focused on putting herself through paralegal school while raising
two amazing Irish twin girls. She quickly learned that being a certified paralegal was the best career choice she could have made. On top of all of the cool cases she has worked on over the years, she was able to write original legal documents autonomously. When a national magazine for attorneys approached her in 2013 to write a short story for them about the life of a paralegal, she jumped on the chance. When the article was published and garnered her some amazing feedback, she realized how much she missed writing for leisure. She sat down and wrote her very first full-length fiction novel that year and hasn’t stopped writing since.
In 2017, her novel, Like Father, Like Daughter was named Suspense Finalist for the Indie Excellence Awards. She teaches creative writing courses at the Carnegie Center in Lexington, Kentucky.
She loves reading (all genres except romance, erotica, and sci-fi), folk music, caramel macchiatos, puppies, thunderstorms, antique jewelry, dragonflies, the color purple (not the movie), and enjoys a large sweet tea every single day.
Christina Kaye lives in Lexington, Kentucky with her two teenage daughters, an extremely intelligent Aussie, and a very fat cat.
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/Christina-Morgan-797922966917022/
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