Deadly Deception

by Marissa Garner

  He studied her. Oddly, she wasn’t crying. Maybe she’d used up all her tears in the past few days. Instead of hysterical, she seemed crushed, pulverized by the disastrous events battering her family. Remarkable that she was even hanging on and continuing to function at all.

  Sean sighed. Silence cloaked the people at the table like one of those lead-lined covers used in X-ray departments. The weight pressed on everyone’s shoulders, but especially Jess’s.

  Time ticked by. Two additional vehicles arrived, but no one got up to confirm who it was. Drinks were forgotten. Everyone seemed dazed and lost in thought. Over an hour passed unnoticed.

  Eventually, the back door opened, startling all of them. Four pairs of eyes stared at the deputy.

  He cleared his throat. “Detective Burke, would you come with me, please?”

  “I…I want to s-see—” Jess said, leveraging herself up.

  Sean gently pushed her back onto the chair. He leaned over and cupped her cheek. “No, you don’t. Believe me. Let me do this for you…for all of you.”

  Her dark chocolate eyes searched his. She released a long, weary sigh. “Okay.”

  Nate stood. “I should go.”

  Without looking up from the table, Chad shook his head. “Nah, son. She wouldn’t want you to see her like this.”

  For a moment, Nate appeared ready to argue, but then his male protectiveness deflated, and he sat down leadenly. Sean gave them a brief nod before following the deputy outside.

  A stench worse than manure now hung in the air. Not a breeze stirred, letting the late September heat radiate off the concrete patio. Buster lay in the shade next to the house, his head resting on his paws, his eyes soulful. Even the dog seemed to sense the gravity of the situation.

  The walk to the manure pile felt like a funeral march. And in a way, it was.

  When he reached the far side, everyone stood at a respectful distance from the large hole. He refrained from looking down, praying he wouldn’t see what he knew he would.

  Detective Cramer stepped forward and motioned toward the spot. “Is this Molly Freeman?”

  Chapter 23

  Sean closed his eyes for a moment before he turned and lowered his gaze. His stomach clenched because her nasty grave had done ugly things to what had been a pretty woman. But despite her unprotected burial, he could still recognize the face of Molly Freeman. Thank God Jess and her uncle and brother weren’t seeing this.

  He drew a shallow breath through his mouth. “Yeah, it’s her.” He gulped. “Cause of death?”

  “We think blunt force trauma to the head. There’s blood matted in her hair, but we won’t know for sure until the medical examiner is done with her,” Cramer said.

  Sean squatted beside the hole and angled his head. “What’s that? It’s not the same color as her clothes.” Leaning forward, he pointed. “See that speck of blue in the dirt beneath her?”

  “Huh?” Cramer crouched next to him and peered closer. “Hard to see. Let’s take a look.”

  The two men moved out of the way before a CSI tech stepped in and carefully rolled the body to the side so another could dig out what was underneath. He scooped the item onto the shovel and swiveled around so Sean and Cramer could inspect it.

  Neither touched it, but both nodded.

  It was a torn and bloodstained man’s shirt.

  Sean smiled grimly. We gotcha, asshole.

  * * *

  When Sean walked back into the kitchen, Jessie knew. He didn’t have to say a word. The awful news was etched on his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, kneeling beside her, taking her hands in his.

  A sob escaped while curses spilled from her brother and uncle. How could she have expected a different outcome? For God’s sake, Hal had confessed. And the shoe alone had confirmed her worst fears, but somehow her heart had clung to a thread of hope. Now even the thread had unraveled.

  Her mother was dead. And her stepfather had killed her.

  Letting tears run down her cheeks because stopping them was impossible, she managed to ask, “Can they tell…?”

  “Yeah, did the asshole leave any evidence?” Uncle Chad finished her question.

  “A bloody shirt. I’m sure they’ll be able to forensically identify it as Hal’s.”

  The tears came faster.

  “How?” Nate asked.

  “Head injury.”

  “D-did she suffer?” Jessie whispered.

  Sean pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Probably not.”

  Whether it was the truth or he was simply sparing her the gory details, she latched on to the reassurance.

  “Does this mean they won’t search the darkroom?” Nate posed the question she couldn’t articulate.

  “They didn’t show me a murder weapon, so they probably haven’t found it. If it’s not in there with…her, they’ll keep searching.”

  “Shit,” Uncle Chad muttered.

  The finality of the gruesome discovery seemed to suck the life from the group. No more questions were asked. Jessie sniffled and sobbed softly, breaking the men’s stoic silence. Grief surrounded her, almost suffocating her. She’d lost her mother forever. How was she going to tell Callie that her grandma was never coming back?

  Twenty minutes later, the back door swung open, and a grim-faced Detective Cramer entered. No one greeted him.

  “First, let me say I’m sorry for your loss. We appreciate your cooperation, but I still have some loose ends,” he said.

  No one invited him to sit down.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve upgraded Hal Freeman from person of interest to suspect. Our search, in coordination with other law enforcement agencies, will intensify. That said, there are missing pieces to the puzzle.”

  Jessie struggled to keep breathing. Sean squeezed her hands gently.

  “It appears Mrs. Freeman walked home after her car died. As I understand from Ms. Hargrove’s statement, she believes Mr. Freeman was home, babysitting her daughter, who normally takes an afternoon nap.” The detective paused, probably for effect. “Opportunity. Further excavation has just uncovered a large metal floor lamp, most likely a photographer’s light. There appears to be blood and hair on the heavy base.” Another dramatic pause. “Means. What’s missing is motive. Why would Mr. Freeman kill his wife?” Cramer scanned each face deliberately. “Any ideas?”

  The kitchen clock ticked off the seconds loudly.

  After a full minute of strained silence, Uncle Chad said, “I think the fucker got caught…” He let the unfinished idea hang.

  “Caught doing what?” Cramer studied him. “Having an affair?”

  Uncle Chad raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d got himself in a pickle.”

  “And Mrs. Freeman caught him in the act by coming home unexpectedly,” the detective said.

  “I can see that happening,” Nate agreed.

  Cramer narrowed his eyes at Chad and Nate and then Jessie and Sean. “So why isn’t there blood in any of the bedrooms?”

  * * *

  “C’mon, Detective,” Sean said, barely keeping his tone civil. Jess’s trembling worried him that she was on the verge of losing it. “Obviously, Hal didn’t kill her in the bedroom.”

  Jess went as stiff as a board next to him.

  “If you have a theory, Detective Burke, I’d love to hear it,” Cramer said.

  Damn, he had to be careful. Lying to a cop in an investigation could get him fired or arrested, to say nothing of the ethical problem. Chad and Nate had just done a surprisingly good job of staying vague. But did it really matter what immoral activity Molly had interrupted? Hal had killed her because he’d been discovered. Being caught had been Hal’s motivation.

  Jess had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want the child pornography revealed. Justice would be served by having Hal punished for Molly’s murder. That’s what he would be on trial for, not for what he got caught doing. Did it really matter which pat
h Cramer took to reach the correct conclusion? Did it hurt to encourage the theory he created?

  “Okay, let’s build on your theory, Detective Cramer. Assume Hal was in bed with another woman, and Molly walked in on them. Would he kill her in front of a witness? Don’t think so. Maybe he talked his shocked wife into going outside, away from the house, near the barn or the garage. Maybe that’s where he stored his photography lamp. No one could see him kill her there. Then he went back inside, told the woman to leave while she could, and shooed her out the front door, claiming his irate wife was waiting in the kitchen. After she was gone, he buried Molly.”

  Cramer stroked his chin. “The woman would’ve seen Mrs. Freeman’s abandoned car.”

  “So what? She was in a panic because they got caught. If she even recognized the Buick, all she’d think was that’s why she and Hal hadn’t heard Molly come home.”

  “Why hasn’t this mystery woman come forward? It’s been all over the media that we’re looking for Molly Freeman.”

  “Get real. She’s scared,” Sean said, warming to the theory.

  “Of him?”

  “Maybe. Or of being accused as an accomplice. Or he could’ve contacted her after he split, and they’ve joined up.”

  Cramer nodded slowly. “Makes some sense.”

  Sean shrugged. “It’s your theory. Arrange it any way you like.”

  The detective straightened. “Ms. Hargrove, we’re going to take the linens from all three beds to analyze for bodily fluids.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Jess?”

  She shook her head as if to clear it. “Take whatever you need.”

  “We also found blood on the tractor, but I don’t think we’ll have to impound it. The CSI techs—”

  The door opened behind him.

  “Detective,” a deputy said. He glanced at the people around the kitchen table and then back at his boss. He lowered his voice. “They’re ready to take…her away. You want to speak to them first?”

  “Yeah. Be right there.”

  “Yes, sir.” The deputy held out a set of keys. “We’re done with these. Thanks.”

  Nate raised his hand, and the man tossed them to him. Jess’s brother blew out a sigh of relief, which Sean figured reflected what everyone at the table felt.

  “Mr. Freeman, Mr. Brown, we’re going to be here a while longer, but you’re free to go.”

  The detective and the deputy turned to leave.

  “Any sign of Hal’s truck?” Chad asked.

  Cramer glanced over his shoulder. “Not yet. But we’ll find it. And we’ll find him.”

  * * *

  “I should pick up Callie,” Jessie said once they’d left. “Karla’s had her for most of the day.” Besides, having her daughter with her would ground her, give her a reason to keep going.

  “Are you up to answering Callie’s questions about what’s going on outside?” Sean asked.

  She swiveled her head slowly as she surveyed the kitchen. “I’m not bringing her back here. I’m not sure I can ever stay here again.”

  “You do what you have to, baby girl,” Uncle Chad said, patting her shoulder. “Nate and I will hang around here to lock up after all of them guys leave.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re too upset to drive,” Sean said. “We’ll take your car, and I’ll get my truck later.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Karla to let her know we’re coming.” She rummaged through her purse for her keys as they walked out the back door. Standing together in the shade by the house, she dialed her BFF’s cell phone and listened to it ring until voice mail picked up. When Karla was working, she often couldn’t take calls immediately. After leaving a brief message, Jessie scrolled down until she found the salon’s phone number. “Hi. This is Jessie Hargrove. Would you please tell Karla that I’m coming to get Callie?”

  “Hey, Jessie. Sorry, but Karla’s not here. She took Callie out for lunch…uh…a few hours ago,” the receptionist said.

  “How long ago?”

  “Almost three hours, I think. One of her customers waited and left. Her next appointment has already been waiting thirty-five minutes. I’ve tried Karla’s cell but just get her voice mail.”

  “Me too.” A prickle of unease raced down Jessie’s spine. “Well, thanks. I’ll call her apartment and give her a little nudge for her customer.”

  When she disconnected and started scrolling again, Sean leaned over. “Something wrong?”

  “I don’t think so. Callie probably just got Karla distracted over lunch, and she lost track of time.” God, she hoped that was true.

  Sean stilled and frowned. “Where’d they go to eat?”

  “I don’t know. Karla’s apartment, maybe.”

  “Damn. She was supposed to stay in public places.” His frown deepened. “C’mon. You can call on the way.”

  As they headed for the Camry, he made a quick detour to his truck, popping in the passenger side for just a moment and taking something from the glovebox. Seconds later, he jumped into her car, and they took off, the tires spraying gravel behind them.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” he said, stomping harder on the gas. “Where does Karla live these days?”

  After giving him directions, she dialed Karla’s landline with trembling fingers. With each ring, the vise around her heart tightened. She disconnected and redialed.

  When she started to call a third time, Sean reached over and clasped her hand. “Stop, Jess. We’re almost there. Get Luke on the phone.”

  Her hands shook so badly she could barely punch the right buttons. “Luke, we—”

  “Put him on speaker.”

  She did.

  “Where are you, man?” Sean asked.

  “At the station.”

  “You’re on duty already?”

  “No. After I got back from wasting my time searching for the dickhead in San Ysidro, I figured this was the best place to monitor things,” Luke said.

  “So you’ve heard?”

  “Yeah. Sucks. So sorry, Jessie.”

  “Yeah, sucks big-time. But that’s not why we’re calling,” Sean said.

  “What’s up?”

  “You know Karla was watching Callie today, but we can’t find them. Meet us at her apartment ASAP.”

  “Shit. Drake?” Luke asked.

  “Could be.” Two minutes later, Sean spun the Camry into a parking space at Karla’s apartment complex. “Where’s her place?”

  “Over there. It’s 11B,” Jessie said, pointing with one hand and unbuckling with the other. “Thank God she’s here. That’s her blue Honda Civic in the next row.”

  “Stay in the car. If you don’t hear from me in ten minutes, call 911.”

  She shot out of the car. “No way. I’m coming with you.”

  His hands grasped her shoulders before she could close the car door. “I don’t know what we’re going to find. If Drake’s in there, seeing you could make it worse.”

  “And if Callie’s in there and doesn’t see her mom, she’s going to be even more scared. Callie’s fear trumps Drake’s reaction. We’re wasting precious time arguing. I’m coming.”

  She wrenched out of his grasp and marched toward Building B. The primal protectiveness of a mother swelled inside. She didn’t care how Drake reacted. She was getting her daughter back.

  * * *

  “Stay out of sight,” Sean whispered when they reached the apartment.

  Slinking below the two windows in the façade, he inspected them but couldn’t see inside because the blinds were tightly closed. A silent turn of the doorknob yielded no results. While yanking his wallet from his back pocket, he inspected the lock and doorjamb for signs of tampering. “Pray the dead bolt isn’t locked,” he muttered as he slid a credit card between the door and frame. He turned the knob again, and the door opened. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave her an exasperated scowl. “Will you at least stay here?”

  She shook her head. “My baby needs me.” />
  “Stay back until I give the all clear, then,” he hissed.

  She huffed but took a step back.

  Sean eased the door open a crack. Paused. Peered inside. Listened. Nothing.

  Lifting the back of his shirt, he pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans. He heard Jess gasp behind him. Too bad. Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

  Leading with his weapon, he pushed the door slightly to get his arms and head through. No sounds. No movement. No evidence of occupants.

  Using his hip, he nudged the door so he could slip inside. He scanned the space twice before advancing into the room. Cocking his head, he listened. Nothing. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Karla and Callie had just fallen asleep after lunch. But would they both have slept through the ringing of the cell and landline? No. Besides, his gut told him something definitely wasn’t right.

  A hand touched his back. Damn, would the woman not listen? He sure as hell hadn’t given the all clear.

  Turning his head to the side, he placed his index finger to his lips. Jess nodded.

  Soundlessly, he glided across the carpeted living room, through the dining area, to the kitchen doorway. Peeking around the corner, he scrutinized the empty room.

  He placed each step carefully on the tile as he cut through the kitchen to the hallway. Jess’s steps were as quiet as his. Good girl.

  The two doors on the left side of the hallway stood ajar. He poked his head into the first and found the small bathroom vacant. As he stepped toward the second door, a barely audible scraping sound came from behind the closed door on the opposite side of the hall.

  He tensed. His instincts ratcheted up to red alert. Without turning to look at her, he motioned Jess to go back to the living room. When he heard no movement, he glanced over his shoulder. She stood straight as a board, shaking her head. Stubborn woman.

  He didn’t have time to deal with her obstinacy now. The noise in what was probably the master bedroom had paused for a second and then restarted. Someone was in there.

  He crossed the hallway in one silent stride. Back braced against the wall, gun in front of him, he inched along the wall to the door. Pausing a moment, he glanced into a small, unoccupied bedroom opposite him.