by Todd Morgan
“Well, uh…”
“To do the right thing with Sarah? To keep her safe.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then trust me now. The police need time. They have to go through channels, make plans, change plans, get approval. I know. I’ve been there. It’s why I quit.”
“I thought you got fired for throwing your boss through a window.”
“Semantics,” I said out of habit, fighting to focus. “Maybe I can talk her down. Maybe I can’t. But I definitely can’t wait on the police.”
Hannah said simply, “Okay.”
I popped the glove compartment. “You have a gun in here?”
“At the shop.”
I love Alabama women.
“What else do you need?”
“Your minivan.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
When Stella and I had first started talking seriously about having kids, I had teased her relentlessly about her need for a minivan. Stella was much more MILF than future soccer mom and wouldn’t go for it, so when the time came for a new vehicle, I bought the Jeep. Four wheel drive, you could haul a family through the swamp (if the need should ever arise) as well as to school without the minivan stigma.
Of course, that Jeep was still parked at home or out with Erin—wherever she might be. Hannah’s minivan handled the streets with no problem, but struggled up the rutted track. I could probably have pushed it farther, if not for the fact that Hannah would have killed me if I brought it back full of holes. I got out and began the long walk.
The sun was still exceedingly bright. My balance was off. The nausea came and went. My head hurt incredibly bad. I felt as if I had been hit by a steel pipe.
In a perfect world, I would have set up long before the meet—as in hours before. Take the high ground, set an ambush, plan escape routes. Only in a perfect world, people didn’t kidnap four year old little girls. So I had gone to the other extreme, showing fifteen minutes late. I doubted Madison had been here the entire time, too big a risk someone else might show up and ask difficult questions. I figured Madison would arrive at the appropriate hour, maybe a few minutes late, and I let her claim the high ground, make her plans. I also hoped the time would work on her nerves, make her grateful when I did show. More than fifteen minutes and she might become resentful, angry.
“You’re late.” She came off the hood of her sports car, in her leather jacket and knee high boots.
“I came as fast as I could.” I resumed walking toward her, the gaping hole of the quarry behind her. The trees were completely bare, desolate, without leaves until spring.
Madison held up a hand. “Stop right there.”
I stopped.
“Open your jacket.”
I unzipped it, held it out and did a slow circle so she could see I wasn’t packing.
“Where’s your gun?”
“Cops have it.” The truth, though Hannah’s snub-nosed .38 was in my pocket.
“Don’t you have a backup?”
“Police have that one, too.”
I started walking again and again she raised her hand. “That’s close enough.”
Not for a snub-nosed .38.
“Is that your blood on your shirt?”
“No.”
“Steven’s?”
“Most of it.”
“You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good,” I said, “Grade three concussion.”
For a moment, her face filled with compassion. A nurse’s reaction. “You should be in the hospital.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “Where’s my daughter?”
The moment had passed. Madison smiled. “Close.”
I struggled to keep my voice calm. “Where?”
“Not yet.” Hands on her hips, she said, “Tell me what happened.”
“I found Clarence and Fletcher going through my office, looking for the journal you told them about. I shot them.”
“I always liked Derik.”
“So did I.”
“You’ve never gone into that shitty little office that early before.”
“No,” I agreed, “not in a while.”
“What about Steven and Reggie?”
“They showed up too late. I was fighting Reggie when Steven sneaked up on me and hit me with a pipe.”
“He’ll do that.”
“Not anymore.”
Madison made a face I had a hard time deciphering. Mild surprise, not shock, regret without sadness. Something a sociopath would do.
“You killed Amber.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“She was your sister.”
“There’s your answer.” Madison crossed her arms. “It was time for her to go.”
“So you could have Steven. The only man she wouldn’t share with you.”
Madison laughed. “I was tired of being the little sister, the hellion who was always in trouble while Miss Perfect had the world handed to her.”
“You were jealous.”
“Jealous?” She shook her head. “Never. I was tired of her. Amber never shared Steven. I took him when I wanted him. She couldn’t stop me—even if she wanted to. That was enough. I didn’t want him.”
“Then why?”
“Why not?” she said again.
“Did you help Steven kill Stella?”
“No, I never heard of Stella.” She took a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, shook out one, fired it up. “I guess I did. Four years ago, Steven came to me, asking if I could get him enough drugs from the hospital to knock somebody out. When I did, I told him to be careful, too much would kill and Steven goes, ‘And?’ So yeah, I guess I helped him.”
“And when he decided to kill Amber,” I said, wanting to keep her talking as well as to get to the truth, “he came back to you.”
“No. It was my idea.” Madison took a deep drag, tilted her head and blew a grey plume to the blue sky. “The restaurant was in trouble—big trouble. Steven got drunk, came to me for comfort and…something else. I reminded him of the insurance money.” She shrugged. “We were off and running.”
“When I started digging, he sent you to me to find out how the investigation was going.”
“You are so stupid, you know that? Are you sure you’re a detective? No wonder you’re two steps from the unemployment line.” She shook her head. “Amber told me all about you two. How she felt so alive when she was with you. I fucked you because you were the last guy she fucked. Because I could.”
“Listen, Madison, you need help. I can—“
Anger flared in that once beautiful face. “Don’t even try that. There is nothing wrong with me.”
“You murdered your only sister, for what? To show you were somehow better than her?”
She spun suddenly on her heel, yanking open the passenger door. “You want to see your precious daughter?” She pulled Sarah out of the car by her hair. It was all I could do not to rush her. She put one arm under Sarah’s jaw, with the other she held a pistol to her head.
Sarah was barely conscious, rubbing her eyes the way she did when she was on the verge of sleep and fighting it. “You drugged her.”
“Yes.”
“What did you give her?”
“Does it really matter? Dead is dead.”
I held up my hand, stumbled, almost fell. “Wait! Wait!”
Madison cocked her head. “Why?”
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded. “Because I killed your lover? Because I figured it out?”
“Please.” She backed to the edge of the crater, pulling Sarah along with her. “I never cared for him.”
“Then why?”
Madison made a face, sadness creeping into her eyes. “All my life, I’ve been the second banana. I thought we might have something, you and I. I thought I could be the one for you. I knew you had been with my sister, but it was obvious you didn’t care for her, not the way the others had. Then, that night a
t your house, when you carried this…thing home in your arms, I could see it in your face. She would always be number one to you. All I wanted was somebody to look at me the way you looked at her. To be the most important to someone.”
She cocked the pistol, watching me. Nero arose silently behind her, his climbing harness still attached, from where he had been hanging for the better part of an hour. His hand closed around the pistol and she pulled the trigger, the hammer slamming into the webbing of his thumb. With his free hand, Nero reached around her face and twisted it around until she was facing him, her body remaining rigid, the neck snapping and crunching. Nero turned and dropped her into the abyss.
Sarah blinked. I ran to her, only falling once. She rubbed her eyes. “Daddy?”
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close. “Daddy is here, baby. I’ve got you.”
“I don’t like that woman.”
“Neither do I.”
Chapter Sixty
Sarah was on my left, between my father and I, my brother and his family next to dad. Erin and my sister and her husband sat beside Gus. Hannah Strange was on my right. Sarah remembered nothing beyond the mysterious aunt checking her out of preschool. Of that, I was eternally grateful. She had spent the night in the hospital for observation after having her stomach pumped. An awful experience for all involved, yet so much better than the unthinkable alternative.
Felicia and Orrin sat in the row behind us. So far, she had been unsuccessful in her attempt to cash in on the insurance policy. Not that the insurance company was willing to hand the money over to me. But Eric Hendricks was on the case and assured me it was only a matter of time. He loved battling insurance companies. We’ll see.
Jeremiah was sitting in county lockup. He had been picked up after an anonymous tip and eight kilos of cocaine had been found in his car. Jeremiah had not gone easily, screaming and raising hell about a plant, claiming (probably honestly) that he had been set up. He never drove a vehicle containing dope. Word on the street was that the Fulton County Crew of Atlanta wanted to have a serious conversation with him about eight kilos of theirs that had been jacked by an unknown man.
Nero had left for the Afghanistan/Pakistan border the previous day on a six month contract.
Steven Noble had killed Stella Camp and Adrian Shipley because he was jealous.
Steven Noble had also killed his wife with the help of his half-brothers and Derik Fletcher.
Madison Hogan had died in a terrible accident.
In a startling moment of compassion, Randall Rogers agreed that no good could come from the entire truth getting out. The fact that Madison killed her sister could only destroy their parents. If anybody questioned the accident, Randy and I both discreetly mentioned she was distraught over the death of Amber and the matter was quickly dropped. Nobody wanted an accident turned into a suicide. I believed that anyone who knew Madison well had to suspect she was mentally unstable.
Melvin and Cynthia Jenks were in the main collection of mourners. They were holding hands.
I knew Randall was less than certain Melvin was telling the complete truth when he claimed to have heard Steven admit to killing Stella. But he was in no hurry to go after a bank president on the witness stand.
Melvin was having a hard time with the fact that he had taken a human life. And I was glad about that. I was confident he would put it behind him. Eventually. Most of it. I owed Melvin for much more than saving my life. Not only had he paid off my back mortgage, he had paid the next two months as well. That was breathing room I desperately needed. When I tried to thank him and offered to pay him back, Melvin waved me off. I had saved his marriage and to him, that was priceless. With the prospect of collecting on the insurance, I could give the private detecting a little more time before getting a real job. Another we’ll see.
Luther Drake sat one row behind Melvin and Cynthia. I had not spoken to him since the day I had cracked his ribs. Nor did I plan to.
Stella Camp lay in the mahogany coffin.
The family was to the side, separated from the main body by a velvet curtain. Reverend Ignatius stood at the podium, talking about a woman he had never met, had never known. A woman apparently no one had known.
None of us is all good or all bad. The natural tendency to label others as such does us all a disservice. Stella had been an adulterer and a liar, and I laid most of the blame for that on her mother, her environment. Stella was an insecure person and I had to take some of the blame for that. She had blocked me off and I had not fought for her the way she cried out for me to do. She had left me the clue long ago to find her killer and I had ignored it, leaving the address for Steven in our checking account. I had plenty of blame to carry. She might not have been an ideal mother, but she might have grown into one. Stella gave her life to save her daughter’s. What more could you ask?
Her journal was in the casket and would go to the grave with her.
About the author
Todd Morgan is an airline pilot who lives in northeast Alabama with his wife, Tammy, and two children. He welcomes your comments, complaints, or suggestions at [email protected]. He thanks you for your time spent reading his debut novel.
Special thanks to Lesli Bass, artiste extraordinaire, for the cover.