by Carolyn Hart
Beyond that door…Annie tried to remember the layout of the station. Billy had finally moved into the chief’s office, since Pete Garrett wasn’t coming back. That was the biggest office of three on the north side of the building. One office was shared by the patrol officers. Across the hall were an interrogation room, a conference hall, and a break room with adjoining restrooms.
Annie pushed away from the back door, walked swiftly up the corridor. She raised her hand to the interior door’s keypad, then hesitated. If she opened the door to the main hallway, she might be immediately discovered. She was under no illusions. Billy Cameron might be her friend, but friendship stopped at the front door of the station. He would demand to know how she’d gained access to the station. She had no intention of telling him. Emma was not without resources, including Joe Ray Lucas, a local high school computer wizard who kept Emma’s computers up and running. Emma said Joe Ray could crack any system. Annie intended to stay mum about Emma. She’d simply claim the doors were open. Who could prove differently? Annie whirled, hurried back to the exit. She punched the keypad, opened the door, covered her finger with the hem of her blouse and depressed the lock. One door open. She turned, raced to the door to the main hall. Quickly she punched the pad and eased the door open. Once again, finger covered, she depressed the lock. If they found her, if Billy asked, she’d say, I knocked and when no one came, I opened the door. Locked? Why, it opened right up….
Annie held the interior door ajar, pressed her ear against the crack.
“…what the hell’s going on?” Max’s voice was rough and angry and underneath Annie heard a thread of fear. “Who’s dead? Why am I being held? Your new cop wouldn’t tell me anything, wouldn’t let me call Annie. Billy, I’ve got to talk to Annie. She’ll be scared as hell. I’ve got to tell her this is some kind of mistake.”
Billy was brusque. “You’re claiming you don’t know the woman who was killed last night? Or how she died?”
“Last night?” There was a wondering tone in Max’s voice.
“The victim was last seen with you Monday night at Dooley’s Mine.” Billy sounded irritated. “Her body was found this afternoon. You’ve been missing since Monday night and—”
Max interrupted. “What day is it?”
“Tuesday. Tuesday night.”
“Oh my God. Tuesday…” Max’s voice was hollow, stricken. “You’ve got to call Annie, let her know where I am.”
Annie pushed against the door until she could see a slice of the hallway. Billy and Max stood only a few feet away. Past them, watching with a frown, was the new policewoman.
“He was walking up Goose Creek Road. In the dark.” Her tone was accusatory. “The dogs found him and—”
“I’ll talk to him, Hyla. Check with Mavis. See what you can do in front with that mob.”
Max took a step closer to Billy. “You’ve got to call Annie—”
Billy held up his hand. “I expect she knows. Everybody’s been looking for you and Emma Clyde’s organized everything. I just had a call from her, so I’m sure Annie knows, but I’ll have Mavis call her. Max, I need to warn you. Everything you say may be…”
Annie listened to the Miranda warning, saw the look of dogged determination on Billy’s face.
Max stared at his old friend. Shock and disbelief flattened the muscles of his worn face. “Billy, I don’t know what’s happened. Tell me.”
Billy shook his head. “We’ll get to that. Emma called to say that Handler Jones, that criminal lawyer from Chastain, is on the way. We’ll wait until he gets here and then—”
There was a flurry of sound from the front of the hallway. Mayor Cosgrove’s high-pitched voice was shrill with excitement. “Chief, the media is waiting. We’ll make a joint appearance to announce the arrest.” The mayor’s portly figure came into view. He was nattily dressed in a gray pinstripe suit, blue shirt, and red tie. Annie knew this wasn’t the mayor’s customary attire on a Tuesday night in August. Usually he could be seen strolling the boardwalk in a flamboyant Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and espadrilles, greeting residents and tourists with smiles.
Billy stood like a rock in the hallway, his big face drawn in a frown. “There’s been no arrest.”
“No arrest?” The mayor’s pale green eyes bulged. “What do you mean? I told the media we’d have an announcement pronto. They’re out there waiting, Fox, CNN, NBC, CBS, MSNBC, ABC, TBS. The nation’s watching. This will put Broward’s Rock on the tourist map. We’ll outdraw Kiawah and Pawleys Island. Everybody will see that this town stands for something. We don’t care how rich a man is—if he’s a murderer, we grab him.” Cosgrove’s glare at Max was equal parts venom, triumph, and pleasure.
Annie had never liked Mayor Cosgrove. When last year’s town budget was drawn up, he’d tried to cut the share allocated to the Haven from the local community chest funds. Max volunteered at the Haven, the recreation center for low-income kids. Max had challenged the mayor at a vociferous meeting of the town council and won the day to the cheers of the audience. The mayor had yielded with apparent good humor—“I am here to serve my constituents”—but his green eyes had glittered with fury.
“We’ve picked up a suspect.” Billy’s tone was dogged. “That’s as far as it goes. He’s got a right to a lawyer. When the lawyer gets here, we’ll have a formal interrogation. When I’ve gathered that information, I’ll decide whether there is sufficient evidence to make an arrest.”
The mayor’s face turned blotchy. “I told the media we’d have an announcement. You be out there in five minutes and you better have a statement ready.” He turned and stalked toward the front of the station.
When the door slammed, Billy turned to Max. He pulled a key from his pocket. “I’ll take off those handcuffs.”
A clink and rattle and the cuffs were loose in Billy’s hand.
Max rubbed at one wrist. “So I’m not under arrest?”
“No.” Billy was gruff. “I learned how to investigate from a good chief. I do it the way Frank did.”
Frank Saulter had been the chief of police when Annie first came to Broward’s Rock. She wished Frank were here now, but Billy would do his best to follow his old chief’s example.
“We’ll have a formal interrogation as soon as your lawyer arrives. If you can explain what happened…” Billy broke off, his face weary and sad. “Until then, you’ll have to wait. I have to put you in a cell. If I had enough staff, I’d let you wait in the interrogation room, but everybody’s busy and I’m shorthanded.” Billy gestured toward the end of the hall.
Max lifted a shaky hand to his face. He swayed.
“Hey, Max.” Billy frowned. “You okay?”
“My head hurts like hell. I was sick when I woke up. I threw up. I’m thirsty. God, I’m thirsty.” Max’s face squeezed in thought. “I can remember that I was hot and sweaty and wanted a beer and then I don’t remember anything.”
Billy’s look was thoughtful. “How about food? When did you last eat?”
“Food?” Max sounded vague. “I had lunch with Annie.”
“Monday?” The question was swift.
“Monday.” Max rubbed at his face. “Yeah, it was Monday and you say…” His voice trailed off.
“We’ll get you some food and water. As soon as I get you settled in the cell, I’ll bring you a bottle of water and a Pepsi from the break room.” Billy jerked his head toward the end of the hall. “Come on.”
Annie eased the door shut, sprang the lock. She looked frantically up and down the corridor between the cells. No place to hide. She raced to the exit door, pushed it open, swept her hand down to release the lock, closed the door behind her. She walked down the steps as if this were a customary departure. Not too fast. Not too slow. She forced herself to stay on the crushed-shell path until she was at the edge of the lighted area, then took three swift steps into darkness and the shelter of a live oak.
She tried to gauge the time it would take for Billy to lock Max in a cell, go to the break r
oom for water and a soda, and return. She had to wait long enough, but not too long. Billy would likely send Lou on foot to Parotti’s for food. That would be quicker than getting a cruiser through the crush of traffic outside the station. Annie had to get inside after Billy departed and before Lou arrived.
She waited seven minutes. She stared at the luminous dial of her watch. Never had time passed this slowly. Finally, knowing this was her one chance, afraid to try, afraid not to, she moved out from the shadows of the live oak, once again walked briskly toward the back door. As she punched the code into the keypad, eased open the door, she strained to hear within, blocking out the distant rumble of the crowd.
No sound. Nothing. Not a voice. Not a footstep. Annie pushed the door open, slipped inside. Once again she depressed the lock before pulling the door shut behind her. Her first glance was toward the interior door. It was closed.
Max sat on the bunk, head back, Pepsi can tilted high. He drank in a long gurgle as if desperate for liquid. The hand holding the can quivered.
Annie dashed up the corridor. “Max.” Her voice was low and anguished, loving and frantic.
He jerked toward the bars, stared in disbelief, then scrambled to his feet, the soda can tumbling from his hand. “Annie.” His drawn, beard-stubbled face lighted with joy.
They came together at the bars, reached out to each other. Annie felt his lips against her cheek. “…don’t know what happened…don’t remember…woke up and it was dark…thought it was yesterday…”
Annie smoothed back a tangle of lank hair from his forehead. “I was so afraid. Oh, Max”—tears ran down her cheeks—“I was so afraid. I thought you were dead.” Her voice broke.
“Hey, I’m all right.” He held her arm, his hand warm and reassuring and precious against her skin.
But he wasn’t. He was in terrible trouble. The pressure of passing time, minute after minute clicking past, pushed against her. She wanted to kiss him, caress him, welcome him back to life and love, and there was no time. She bent nearer, felt the hard, unyielding pressure of steel against her shoulder. She talked fast. “I have to leave before they come with food. Do you remember—”
“Wait.” His voice was urgent. “Annie, tell me what’s happened. Those reporters yelled at me, asking me if I killed her. Who do they think I killed?”
She told him about Dooley’s Mine and Vanessa Taylor and how it looked like he was on a date and had too much to drink.
Bewildered, he shook his head, then grimaced at the pain. “No. No way. I was trying to help her find her brother. And her name wasn’t Vanessa. Her name…” He looked helpless and frightened. “Oh, God, I don’t remember.”
Annie held tight to his hand. “She must have given you a fake name. But she was Vanessa Taylor and she lived here on the island. She drove your car away with you in the passenger seat. That’s the last time she was seen alive. They found the car this afternoon at a fishing cabin. She was dead in the cabin and the tire tool in the trunk had blood on it. And you were gone.”
“Oh my God.” He breathed the words, his eyes dark with shock. His hands fell slack at his side. “Blood—” If possible, his wan face went even paler. “My shirt had blood on it. I woke up in some cabin. I don’t even know where it was. I was sick. I went in the bathroom and washed my face and I smelled blood—”
She heard the frisson of horror in his voice.
“—and my shirt felt sticky.” He licked his lips. “I don’t remember much at all. I was mad. I know that. Something she did, the girl who hired me. But that wasn’t her name.” His voice was shaky. “I don’t remember her damn name. What did this Vanessa Taylor look like?”
Annie described dark hair and sultry eyes and vivid red lips.
Max was nodding. “Yeah. That sounds like her. She came to the office. She wanted me to look for her brother. I don’t know what she did that made me mad.” Fear roughened his voice. “I don’t know how blood got on me. They think she was killed with my tire tool?”
“Stop it.” She pressed her fingers against his cheek, turned his face toward her. She saw uncertainty and unreasoning fear in his gaze. “You never hurt anyone. Never. We’ll find out what happened. There must have been something in your drink. Max, you must have been drugged.”
The rigidity eased from his body. He took a deep breath. “Drugged.” He clawed at his bristly face. His body sagged in relief. “That’s why I got sick. That’s why I don’t remember.” He blinked, worrying it in his mind. “You said I was at that tavern with her? Why?”
Annie wished Billy could see Max’s blank stare. He not only didn’t know Vanessa Taylor, he didn’t remember being at Dooley’s Mine. She knew his lack of response to Vanessa’s name meant that she had been a stranger to him. But only she knew Max’s every expression, gradations of humor or interest or knowledge or disgust or happiness. Max’s face at this moment was proof of his innocence, but it wasn’t proof the world would accept.
He frowned. “Was anybody with us?”
Annie remembered Billy’s grim report. “No. Just the two of you.”
Max jammed a hand through his hair. “Then she must have doped me. Why would she do that? I was helping her. We were going to look for her brother.”
“I found a real estate circular under your desk pad. Did it have something to do with her brother? It’s an old, broken-down house.” The kind of house where bad things could happen. She looked at him hopefully. Maybe the house would help Max remember.
“Real estate…” A look of inexpressible sadness touched his face. “Oh yeah. The Franklin house. No. That doesn’t have anything to do with her. Whoever she was.” He shook his head. “The Franklin house doesn’t matter now. Oh God, I don’t understand why I was at Dooley’s Mine. I don’t remember going there but it must have had something to do with her brother. If,” he spelled it out, his voice puzzled, “it was just the two of us, she drugged me. Why?”
Annie knew his reasoning was sound and yet it made no sense. It was Vanessa who had died. What had prompted her to decoy Max to the tavern then drug him so that he appeared to be drunk? Certainly she wouldn’t have connived her own death.
Annie felt sick and terrified. No one would believe that Vanessa had drugged Max. And there was the further horror of blood on Max’s shirt. Each new fact was worse than the one before. She hadn’t believed anything could be more incriminating than the tire tool, but a bloodied shirt…By now the dogs would have led the way to the cabin where Max had been. The police would have found the shirt. Max was caught in a devilish trap. She’d hoped he would be able to explain, tell them what had happened to him on Monday night. Now she knew better. Max couldn’t help.
And the minutes clicked by. She looked at her watch, tried to figure how much time had passed. Billy would have called in an order. Ben Parotti would hurry to get it ready. Lou was likely even now walking back to the station, sack in hand.
“We’ll find out.” She hoped Max didn’t hear the hollow sound of her voice. How could they get past the dreadful facts, discover meaning and reason behind the circumstances that made it look as though Max was a philandering husband and a murderer? She fought anguish as she looked at him. “You’re here. You’re safe. We’ll find out what happened. The lawyer will be here soon. Tell him to call me as soon as you’ve spoken to him. Tell him to report everything to us. Emma and I and everyone who’s helping, we’ll find out what happened. Here’s what we know now….”
When she finished, he rubbed knuckles against a grimy cheek.
“So somebody got in the office using my keys and deleted the file. I was helping her look for her brother—”
“We’ll sort that out later.” Annie knew it was time to go.
“Later—” He looked around the cell, took a deep breath. “This is a hell of thing. I don’t see any way out.”
“Somebody planned this.” She felt a quiver of horror at the thought.
They embraced, the bars hard between them, shared one last kiss.
; Billy Cameron stepped through the front door of the station into the glare of the television lights. He had no difficulty looking solemn. He felt like a man walking out toward a twenty-foot wave, knowing that at the slightest misstep he would be crushed. If he’d been a betting man looking on from the outside, he’d have said the suspect was guilty, ten to one. Billy was on the inside and the suspect was a friend he’d known for years. If the mayor hadn’t shown up, lusting for Max’s arrest like a shark scenting blood, Billy would have limited his statement to the fact that the investigation was continuing and a news conference would be held the next morning at ten. Now the mayor stood at his elbow, jiggling with impatience, and Billy had to face reporters as hungry for news as starved dogs.
Billy clutched a sheet of paper in his hand. He looked out at the throng of reporters and behind them a close-packed crowd. “The investigation into the murder of Miss Vanessa Taylor is continuing. Miss Taylor’s body was found at four-eighteen this afternoon in a rental cabin on River Otter Road. The victim had been dead for approximately twenty to twenty-four hours. Cause of death was blunt trauma, including a crushed brain stem. Miss Taylor was last seen alive on Monday evening at Dooley’s Mine, a local restaurant, in the company of Mr. Maxwell Darling. Mr. Darling is presently cooperating with the police in their investigation.” He heard the mayor draw in an exasperated breath. Billy continued in a brisk monotone. “In line with the policy of the Broward’s Rock Police Department as established by the town council, witnesses are afforded an opportunity to confer with counsel before interrogation. As the investigation is ongoing, no further information can be released at this time. Mayor Cosgrove is giving his personal attention—” Billy looked toward the mayor.
Cosgrove gave a dignified nod, his face avuncular for the cameras, but his swift stare at Billy was cold and hard.
“—to the investigation. The mayor has pledged that every resource of the community will be devoted to solving this crime. Thank you for your attention.”