Body of Evidence

by Stella Cameron

  An engine hummed. The Lexus. Rather than follow through the passageway, Finn ran to throw open the front door in time to see Emma’s vehicle steadily climb the steep driveway and turn right. She’d decided to head to the Balou house. At least she wasn’t going where her husband might be. Finn couldn’t have stood that. He still didn’t like her being up there alone.

  He turned, leaned against the side of the house to watch Emma’s taillights head away. Soon she would be swallowed by trees on either side of the road.

  With a hand over his face, he struggled to figure out what it meant. Had she wanted to use him to get back at Orville, then lost her nerve? In his mind, Finn saw the top of her blond hair while she took him in her mouth. He felt her touch all over him. Emma hadn’t been using him, no more than he’d used her. But what they’d had wasn’t nearly enough. He would go mad if she wouldn’t let them finish what they’d started.

  A hand descended on his shoulder.

  A great, hot blast pummeled Finn’s temples from within. He held his breath. Then, like a blind animal, he grasped whoever was behind him by the wrist and swung him around his own body. He bellowed, filled the air with his rage, and felt the shift when his tall assailant lost his footing. The man stumbled, arms flailing but still grabbing for any part of Finn he could find. The face went by in a blur, but Finn landed a punch he heard when it connected with bone.

  Light-headedness agitated him. Sweat ran from every pore. The man struggled to get up, and Finn hit him, again and again, knocked him facedown, fell on him. Finn trapped both his attacker’s hands and pulled his arms behind his back, pulled them upward until he screamed.

  With both fists, Finn beat the man, landed I can’t stop. Don’t stop. Never stop. body blows that hammered out gasps and sobs. A white burlap curtain floated around them. The curtain should be brown, ragged. Finn saw flashes behind his eyes and yelled, “No!” No, he didn’t need his commanding officer. He could do his own killing….

  He squeezed his burning eyes shut, opened them and focused. His victim swayed on his hands and knees and made snuffling sounds. Blood ran from his nose.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ here?” Finn said. “Get up. Get up.” The man tried but fell, staggered onto one leg and fell again.

  “Who told you to sneak up on me like that?” Finn hauled the other guy to his feet, and it took both hands and a lot of muscle to hold him up. “You could be dead for that. If you want to keep on breathing, say something, asshole.”

  “Denise—”A burst of coughing and spitting cut the man off.

  Finn shook him and dragged him to the door. He reached inside and turned on a light—and looked down at Rusty Barnes’s bruised, bleeding face.

  18

  “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Barnes?” Finn barely stopped himself from giving the man a kick in the gut. “Get the fuck inside and pull your goddamn self together.”

  Shit, what had he done?

  Clinging to the doorjamb, Rusty clawed his way to his feet. Finn got a good look at the man’s face and rolled his eyes. No one would believe it if Rusty explained how he stood on the wrong side of a broom head and got whopped in the kisser by the handle.

  Why did I do it? I never lashed out like that before.

  Leaning on Finn, who held him around the waist, Rusty staggered into the house, and Finn kicked the door shut.

  “Bloody hell,” Rusty said. “I was going to say I wouldn’t want to meet you on a dark night, but I just did. I’ll have you for murder.” Blood drizzled from his nose and split lip.

  “I haven’t killed you,” Finn pointed out, steering for the kitchen.

  “Bloody well have,” Rusty mumbled. “On my way out. I can feel myself going.”

  Finn wouldn’t have taken Rusty Barnes for a man with a sense of humor. He was probably delirious.

  That was when Rusty’s legs crumpled and Finn barely managed to keep him from collapsing to the floor. He half dragged, half carried him to the kitchen and dumped him on a chair.

  “Came to tell you something,” Rusty said, slurring each word. He put bloodstained hands on the table and rested his forehead on top. “Damned if I will now. I don’t need a friend like you. What the fuck’s your problem, anyway?” With his dark red hair looking as if he’d done it in a blender, he raised his head, turned his face from side to side trying to focus on Finn.

  Sometimes you came clean because the alternative would land you in more of a mess. “PTSS. Haven’t had much trouble lately, but it must have been the way you touched me.” And the way he’d relived hell once already tonight. The stupid sonof-a-gun had landed his solid hand right on the spot where Finn’s scars converged.

  “Post-traumatic stress syndrome,” Rusty muttered, opening his eyes wide and blinking—as if it would help his vision. “If I had to go fight, I’d go, but I’m buggered if I’d volunteer. Turns you into weird sods who attack innocent people in the dark. I suppose I should be glad you didn’t have some damn great gun ready. Isn’t that what you were, a shooter?”

  “Yes,” he said, but thought better than to produce the pistol from the back of his jeans. “Now shut up and let me clean this mess.”

  “I’m going to sue your ass,” Rusty said. One eye had almost swollen shut.

  “I’ll sue your ass first,” Finn said. “Trespass. Attack.”

  “Attack?” Rusty’s voice broke.

  “Your word against mine.”

  Rusty laughed and moaned as his split lip opened wider. “Look at you and look at me. Who are they going to believe?”

  “Me. I’m the one with the special training.”

  It could have been anyone who came up behind him. Aaron…or Emma. He shuddered and went for clean wash cloths and dressings. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that he would have to get medical attention for Rusty.

  He got a clean basin, filled it with hot water and dipped in a cloth. “They don’t call me Nurse Finn for nothin’.” Each time he removed blood from Rusty’s face he was treated to a bellow, until the man gave a sick grin and cut it down to loud sounds of breath sucked through teeth. At least he didn’t seem to be missing any of those.

  “It’s not as bad as it looked,” Finn said.

  “Damned well is.”

  This was the first conversation of any length that Finn recalled having with Rusty. He would probably be less truculent if he didn’t have a broken nose.

  “Aw, shit,” Finn said with feeling. “Look, I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve got a lot on my mind, so I’m uptight. I had something nasty happen to me once when someone came up behind me the way you did….” He sounded half-baked. “I’m sorry it happened. It wasn’t personal.”

  “Good. What would I look like if it had been?”

  The guy was wry, funny in a way. He surprised Finn, who couldn’t help smiling.

  “It might not matter what you looked like anymore. Not to you.”

  Rusty tried to glare, but the effort clearly hurt.

  “How did you get up here?” Finn said.

  “Harley.”

  Finn gave him a suspicious look. “I didn’t hear any Harley.”

  Rusty averted his eyes. “Prob’ly because of the other engine.”

  “Probably,” Finn said without a pause. He had made a mess of Rusty’s face, but it was true that with the blood removed, it didn’t look quite so bad.

  “Dangerous territory there, my friend,” Rusty told him. “The mayor’s lady.”

  “Thought you didn’t need friends like me?” He didn’t need the local news making something out of Emma being at his house late at night—neither did Emma. This was a small place, and they adhered to traditional ideas.

  With one eye, Rusty regarded him steadily. “It’s your business. And hers. And as far as I’m concerned, it stays that way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I figured there was something with you two when you showed at Denise’s to look around.” Pain showed in that eye, and it
wasn’t because of the cuts on the man’s face. “I don’t suppose the two of you picked anything up while you were there?”

  When he figured he hadn’t misheard, Finn said, “Picked something up from Denise’s house, you mean?” Now they were getting to the real reason for Rusty’s visit, he decided.

  Rusty got to his feet, waving the wet cloth aside, and walked stiffly around the kitchen. “If you didn’t, I think someone did.”

  “You were there before us.”

  “Not long enough to do what had been done to her place. I wouldn’t, anyway.” He looked down. “She never did anything to deserve that.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t. Whoever killed her is a pig, but we’re goin’ to find him.”

  “Denise was on to something.”

  Finn kept his face impassive and started a pot of coffee brewing.

  “She was just back from a trip. I’m sure it had something to do with a case she was working on here, but she played a close hand, and I let her. I think she found out something that excited her.”

  “Is that a fact?” Practice had made Finn good at not showing emotion. “What makes you think that?”

  Rusty raised a hand. “The way she was. Secretive. Her feet hardly on the floor. She said she had a scoop. Denise didn’t talk like that if she wasn’t sure of herself.”

  Finn couldn’t imagine there were many scoops to be had around Pointe Judah, but he didn’t say so. “Where did she go? Did she tell you?”

  “Uh-uh. I think you’ve broken some of my ribs.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Cold bastard, aren’t you?”

  Finn considered. “Pretty much.” Except where the people he cared about were concerned. He still kicked around his reaction to Rusty coming up behind him. Next chance he got, he would get to his laptop, take a look at Google and see if he could find more useful references to his condition—if there were any he hadn’t already seen. “D’you think you broke anythin’, apart from a rib, maybe?”

  “You mean did you break anything else? No. Hey, I should have called out or something, but you were preoccupied watching your visitor leave.”

  “I thought you said that wasn’t your business anymore?”

  “It isn’t. But I think that’s why you didn’t hear me get here.”

  Made sense. Finn went back to cleaning up Rusty’s face. He greased a gash over one eyebrow and the lacerated lip. Only time would heal the rest, but there shouldn’t be any need for stitches.

  Finn put the bowl in the sink so he could clean it out later. He found a bottle of painkillers and slapped it down on the table beside Rusty, who didn’t waste time before helping himself.

  With mugs of coffee poured, Finn sat with Rusty, who looked, conservatively, like hell. “Now, how about you tell me why you came up here to creep around?”

  “Goddamn it, I didn’t—”

  “No, of course not. Just felt that way to me.”

  “I wish Denise was here,” Rusty said, very quietly. “For more reasons than I can tell you.”

  Finn didn’t know what to say. He drank from his mug.

  “She was something. Could have gone anywhere, but she liked it here.”

  “Close to you?” It was a risk if Denise hadn’t returned any of Rusty’s affection, but Finn took that risk. He needed Rusty as an ally.

  Rusty sat back in his chair. He put his mug to his lips but said, “Ouch,” when the heat met his skin. “I wanted to believe that. She was independent. I swear to you, I can’t think of a reason why she was murdered. Unless she really was on to something with that case she wouldn’t talk about.”

  Something about the oblique way Rusty referred to Denise’s work clued Finn in that he was supposed to ask questions about it. “But you don’t know what the case was?”

  Rusty stared silently at Finn.

  “You do know?”

  “Very little.” He broke contact with Finn’s eyes. “Sometimes Denise got so charged up—usually if she’d made some progress—she threw me a bone.” He smiled with one side of his mouth. “She loved to tease.”

  Finn knew when he was looking at a man in love. Rusty Barnes was still in love with Denise Steen. The idea made him feel empty.

  “She’d opened up an old case,” Rusty said. “Well, I guess you’d say she was interested in an old case and thought she could break it.”

  And Rusty felt he had to talk to Finn about it? He wasn’t sure that made him comfortable. “What kind of bones did she throw you?” Finn breathed a little shallower.

  Rusty shrugged.

  Cat and mouse didn’t turn Finn on. “How old is the case?”

  “A year.” Rusty smacked back the answer, and now he looked directly at Finn again.

  Finn tapped his mug with a fingernail and waited.

  “That’s when your father died.”

  “Yes.” He feared something might break the moment and stop Rusty from finishing.

  “It’s dangerous. Real dangerous. Things like that don’t happen if the stakes aren’t high.”

  “I’ll bite,” Finn said. “What things?”

  “Are you satisfied with what they’ve told you about your father’s death?”

  “No.”

  “Denise wasn’t, either.”

  “Why did she care?”

  Rusty shook his head. “Chief Duhon was one of those respectful men.”

  “I knew him well.”

  “Of course you did. Sorry. He and your mother liked Denise. Maybe because she was good to Eileen. She had her do some work around the paper for her.” Rusty colored. “She never let on to your folks, but I guess Eileen needed money.”

  “She did, and I wish she’d told Dad or me,” Finn said. “It’s hard to get her to take anything. I’d like to have thanked Denise.”

  “She wouldn’t believe Chief Duhon killed himself.” Finn’s head ached, but he’d never been more wide-awake. “She was right.”

  “You don’t know that, and neither did she.”

  “I do know it. Which is something I don’t feel like going into.”

  Rusty shifted in his chair and winced. “Do you intend to try doing something about it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, you don’t know me well enough to trust me. I’d like to help. I think something went down here that’s going to open up this town like a can of rotten sardines.”

  Finn wanted to wade in, believe the guy, ask him what he knew, but he knew better. “If you’ve got something you think I ought to know, I hope you’ll tell me.”

  “You’re going to have a hell of a time finding anything out about your dad,” Rusty said. His nose began to bleed again, and he found a handkerchief to hold over the bridge. He changed his mind about that idea fast and dabbed at the blood instead. “I’m only here because of Denise. You understand that?”

  Finn nodded.

  “I don’t have much, but you’ve got to say you won’t tell anyone else.”

  “I won’t,” Finn said.

  “Denise said most of the records aren’t there.”

  “Shee-it.” Finn let a fist fall to the table. “How did she know that?”

  “She looked for them. What she found wasn’t complete. Pages had been removed. That’s what she thought, anyway.”

  “What was there?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Billy Meche has the file?”

  “I don’t know,” Rusty said. “I kind of thought you might.”

  “Me?”

  “If Denise had it at her place, it was gone after she died.”

  Finn pushed out his lips in a noiseless whistle. “I thought you didn’t have anything to do with the mess her place was in? You said you didn’t have time to look around.”

  “Like I said at the time, it was trashed when I got there. And I didn’t have long before I heard you coming. Question on my mind is whether you’d been there before.”

  Finn studied him thoughtfully. “You think I’d te
ll you if I had?”

  Rusty shook his head and winced.

  “I wasn’t there before you heard Emma and me arrive. But somebody was.”

  “Yeah, and if Denise had anything useful stashed—about your father’s case—it walked.” Rusty paused, thinking, rubbing a hand up and down his jaw. “I don’t have proof, but I had the feeling she’d gotten her hands on some evidence. She said maybe she’d show me something to prove she was right. I kept playing devil’s advocate. Figured that was my job.”

  “And then she died before she had a chance to prove anything to you.”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Rusty said.

  Finn gritted his teeth. “Sorry. How did she get the file—or did Billy let her look?”

  “Could be. Denise said Billy was a good guy, too. Maybe not as smart as Tom, though. Finn, your dad was in uniform when he died, but they never found his badge.”

  Finn studied his fist on the table. He raised his eyes. “You’re sure?”

  “Denise was. Said it was noted.”

  “So that’s in the file?”

  Rusty frowned. “Someone she talked to had noted it, I mean. I can’t tell you what’s in the file.”

  His father wouldn’t have been on duty without his badge. He carried it, on duty or off. Finn gave a short laugh. “It’s probably with his stuff in the attic.”

  “It won’t be,” Rusty said. “Denise knew it wasn’t in the car or anywhere around the night your dad died.”

  “I’ll look for it.”

  “I don’t blame you. What if you’re right and Tom Duhon was murdered? A killer could want the badge as a memento.”

  Finn had already thought of that. “Yeah. I’d better ask Billy to let me see the file.”

  “Does he have to show you?”

  “He’ll show me…if it’s there.”

  Sharp rapping came from the front door. Finn jumped and saw Rusty do the same thing.

  Emma could have come back.

  But it was Billy Meche on the step, looking uncomfortable. Young Officer Clemens stood behind him. “Evenin’,” Billy said. “How’re you doin’?”