“I knew she was dead. I couldn’t even hear her whimper. Nothing. I was terrified, and I stayed hidden in my closet until long after he finally left, humming some stupid little tune that he’d made up when we were younger.”
Marlee turned onto a gravel road lined with pin oak trees that had moss dripping from their branches. Cynthia hadn’t said a word, but she was listening, Marlee could tell by the way she sat, like stone, in the passenger’s seat. She was hearing evidence about the mistake that she’d made with her life, and Marlee was certain that she would understand what was to come.
Marlee took a deep breath. “When I was sure he wasn’t coming back upstairs I snuck into Dana’s room. I went to her and tried to wake her up. But deep inside, I knew she wouldn’t answer me. I knew she was dead. And so did he.”
“I don’t know what he did. I know he got something to eat and sat in front of the television for a while. After that, maybe he went to my mother’s bed. I don’t know. But later that night, he came back and took Dana away. And the next morning, when I asked where she was, they told me she ran away. Mom said she left a note that said she was pregnant and was going to marry the baby’s father.”
Marlee shook as she remembered the lie her mother had told and the indifference her father had shown. Her anger at them still burned as strong as it had when they were alive.
“He lied! And he said horrible, terrible things about Dana. I knew then that I was next. So I started planning. He wasn’t going to do to me what he had done to Dana. I would kill him first.”
“It only took a few days before he came to me the first time. And I dealt with it for a while. But eventually I built up the nerve to take the control he had over me away. One night when he came home drunk and came to my bed I had a knife under my pillow. When he climbed on top of me, I slid the knife out and stuck it in his back. I stabbed him twice before he managed to hit me once. Nothing in my life has physically hurt like that. I thought my head was going to explode.
“But I kept stabbing at him. When he finally fell still on top of me, I was screaming at him. Screaming about all of the times he’d hurt Dana and made me watch. Screaming because I wasn’t going to let him kill me, too.” Marlee took a deep breath, reliving the power she’d felt that night when she realized her father was dead.
“When he went still, I realized what I’d done. I wanted to tell Mom. To let her know that it was over for all of us. I guess I still wanted to believe that she didn’t know, and that she wouldn’t have let him hurt us like that if she had known.”
“But as I started out of the room, she was coming in. We ran into each other, and I fell backwards. I landed hard on the floor just as she saw him, lying in his own blood on my sheets. Then she started screaming at me, and hitting me. ‘You stupid, stupid girl,’ she said over and over again. ‘You killed him. Now who’s going to pay the bills?’”
Marlee glanced at Cynthia. The woman sat statue-still, her gaze focused in her lap where her hands were balled into a tight knot. Maybe it was finally sinking in. It didn’t matter if it was. It was too late.
“That’s when I knew what I had to do. I had to kill her, too. She knew all along. And all she cared was that he was paying the bills and that he wasn’t mistreating her.”
Marlee turned the car onto a long gravel road. “I killed her. I killed her because she let that happen to us. And when I was done, I took a shower, packed a bag and walked away. I became Dana and took our mother’s maiden name in case the police were looking for me. Dana McNally. Now, I make sure people like them don’t hurt people like me.”
Dana parked the car in front of a dark, ramshackle farmhouse. “And now you know. Now you know how wrong you are.”
Cynthia sat in the dark for a long time before she spoke. When she did, her voice cracked. “Who are you?”
“You really are stupid. You already know. I’m Dana McNally.”
“But who were you?” Cynthia’s voice was quiet and she was pressed hard against the passenger’s side door.
“Marlee Campbell. That’s my Christian name. But I’ll never use that name again as long as I live.”
“Where are we? What are we doing?” Cynthia’s voice wavered. Marlee could hear tears building, mingling with the fear etched across Cynthia’s face.
“We’re at the house where my sister died.” Marlee slammed her fist into the side of Cynthia’s head. “And you’re going to pay for your bad decision,” she said, although Cynthia was unconscious. “You’re going to pay before Amy has to.
TWENTY-FOUR
September mornings on the Mississippi Gulf Coast are pleasant. The temperatures are cool, the humidity is low. Even though Kate was still sore from the accident, she could appreciate the nice weather. She sat in her favorite rocking chair on the back porch, coffee cup in hand, listening to the sounds of the morning.
School busses chugged down the street somewhere in the neighborhood, their distinctive rumble echoing down the street and between the trees that served as privacy fencing. Children laughed. Birds chattered back and forth above her head, and squirrels dashed this way and that, playing together or guarding their territories.
Any other day, Kate might have felt that all was right with the world. Today it was anything but.
The conversation with Lisa the night before had taken an unexpected turn. Lisa had shared with Kate the circumstances around the deaths of Jack’s wife and daughter. Kate hadn’t even known he’d had a wife and daughter. She was still coming to terms with the fact that Jack had never told her.
Her heart went out to him. She knew how difficult it was to lose someone that you loved. And for Jack to not only lose his daughter in a car accident, but then to also lose his wife to a drug overdose? You might as well put me in the ground right beside them. She’d nearly lost her mind with grief when Ryan got killed. She couldn’t fathom being able to deal with losing two people that you loved under such circumstances.
Kate sipped at her coffee. Her compassion for Jack didn’t lessen the pain at realizing he didn’t trust her enough to tell her. Nor did it do anything to ease the frustration of yesterday’s argument.
She was still certain Dana was involved in this case as more than just a counselor that just happened to be treating both of the victims. At the very least she probably knew something that she wasn’t sharing. Kate wouldn’t even be surprised if Dana knew who the killer was.
Even with all of her fancy psychology training, Dana could be fooled. Kate knew that a killer, especially one as careful as the one they were dealing with, could spin anything to their advantage. It wouldn’t be that difficult for him to hide his dark secrets from Dana, especially if he was someone she cared about.
Kate sighed and pushed herself out of the rocking chair. Time to get busy. She wanted to look into Dana’s background to see if there was anything that might link her to one of the killers. And she didn’t want to have to deal with Jack while she did it.
She’d already called the precinct to let them know she wouldn’t be in today. She was in too much pain to be useful, but she also didn’t want to deal with Jack. She did want to get answers to some of the questions that were pinging around in her head right now.
Her first stop was at the coffee pot to warm the tepid brew she’d been sipping for the last hour. Then she settled on the couch, twisting and rearranging until she finally found a position that was slightly more comfortable than all the others before she pulled her laptop to her.
Forty-five minutes later, Kate slammed the lid of her laptop closed. She’d hadn’t found a single new fact about Dana’s past. And she hadn’t found anything to suggest that Dana might be involved in these murders. Her only obvious link to anyone in the case was to the victims.
She pushed awkwardly off the couch and paced around the room. There was something more. Kate couldn’t find anything, but her gut told her that Dana was the key to cracking this case. But how? What was Dana’s connection?
Kate might not be able to find a
nything, but if there was something to be found, she knew who could find it.
It was time to go visit with her friend, Connor Antosz, to see what she could find. She gathered her notes and drove across town.
From the outside, the warehouse, which sat just off the waterfront in downtown Gulfport, looked to be abandoned. Connor bought the building when she was looking for a place to put her shop, and now spent most of her time there. She’d even added on a small sleeping area and a kitchenette for those nights she didn’t want to leave her work and go uptown to her apartment, which were most nights.
Kate walked through the deserted lower level, to the stairs at the far end. Dust floated lazily through the small beams of sunshine that were the only lighting for the lower floor. As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, the low hum of electronics buzzed in the air around her.
The door at the top of the stairs was metal, and solid. She pushed the button next to it but could not tell if it made a sound on the other side. A few moments later, a small woman pulled open the door.
Connor wore jeans and a faded blouse. Her long hair was pulled into a thick braid that fell to her butt, but her green eyes were focused and alert. “Kate. I’m so happy to see you!” She engulfed Kate in a tight hug that set sharp pains bouncing through her body. So much strength in such a small woman.
“Ouch.” Kate twisted away from Connor.
Connor stepped back and looked closely at Kate.
Kate knew she was a sight. The deep bruises on her face were fading to a sick yellow-green.
“What happened to you?”
“My Mustang met the business end of a big truck.” Kate didn’t offer any further details.
She followed Connor into a well-lit maze of computers and computer equipment. The humming she heard before was louder now, and electronic beeps gave it a rhythmical feel.
“So what brings you to my domain?” Conner’s fingers flew over a keyboard that sat beneath six computer monitors, all flashing different types of data on them.
Kate eased gently into an overstuffed chair that looked like it belonged in the 70s. It was situated next to Connor’s work area, and Kate could imagine Connor sitting there late at night when she tired of the stool she spent most of her time perched on.
“I need your help.” Kate fished the notes from her purse and handed them to Connor. “I need you to help me find some background information on this woman, Dana McNally.”
“For an investigation?” Connor didn’t look up from the notes.
She had done some background searches for Kate in the past, though more when Kate and Ryan had worked together. It was a stroke of luck that the spunky hacker had moved to Biloxi shortly before Kate did.
The casinos offered her a lot of money to handle their computer and network security. More money than most of the business clients that Connor had before the move. She still handled some of those old clients, but most of her time was spent hacking into the casinos’ networks and then teaching them how to keep someone else from doing it. Connor had the skill to be a dangerous hacker. She chose to use her understanding of computers for legal and legitimate activities, but if she wanted to, Connor could cause chaos around the world.
Kate deliberately avoided answering Connor’s question and after a while, Connor looked up from the notes.
“Uh oh.” Kate was always amused that Connor sounded like a stoner even though she had never touched anything more addictive than Shock Triple Mocha, which she bought by the case and always seemed to be drinking. Her voice had earned her the handle L1ttleSt0ner in the hacking world. It was a well-respected handle, and most hackers knew if they came up against her they would lose.
“Uh oh, what?” She was going to have to explain.
“I’ve seen that puppy-caught peeing on the floor look before. What’s going on?”
“It is a case.” Kate sucked in a great gulp of air as she decided how much detail Connor really needed to know. She decided to tell her everything. “Dana McNally is a crisis counselor. She’s working with Jack because of his niece, but she’s not a suspect. There’s just something about her that I don’t like. Something is off, and I can’t put my finger on it.”
“And she’s having a relationship with Jack?” How could one hacker who rarely interacted with the public be so perceptive?
“She is.”
“And he doesn’t agree with your gut feeling? Or is this about jealousy?”
“He doesn’t agree. I’m not jealous.” Was she?
“Are you sure you want to do this Kate? If you’re wrong, it’s going to be bad. If you’re right, it will be even worse.”
“I know.” Seagulls flew past a high window on their way to scavenge a meal, she was sure. “I don’t have a choice, Connor. If she’s involved, I need to know.”
“Alrighty.” Connor turned back to her computer screens. “This is going to take some time. I’ll call you when I find something.”
*~*~*
“Stellar.” Jack blotted the coffee he’d just spilled down the front of his shirt. His gaze bounced back and forth from the spot on his shirt to the traffic light. By the time it turned green, he’d managed to get most of the coffee blotted out. It would dry quickly, but it would leave a stain.
Not that it would matter. He was on his way to talk to Patricia Simms’s boyfriend. The guy probably wouldn’t notice if he showed up dressed as a farm-hand, carrying a banjo. It was Jack’s experience that people like Ronald Parker didn’t pay attention to detail. They were too wrapped up in their own drama.
Parker’s last known address was an apartment building off Pass Road near the Edgewater Mall. Jack knew the apartments. Lots of busts happened in that complex.
Jack pulled into a spot in front of the complex office made up of rundown buildings. Gutters were dingy with mildew and overflowing leaves. The grounds had minimal landscaping with scraggly trees and large bare patches where grass should have been. Even the cars in the parking lot were all sad and run-down.
The complex office was nothing more than a mostly glass room. The heat from the morning sun beat through the glass and Jack felt as if he were walking into a sauna. The lanky man sitting behind the desk seemed as sad as all of his surroundings.
Jack introduced himself when the man finally looked up from the book that he was reading.
“So, what do you want?” The clerk held a finger on the spot where he’d stopped reading.
“I need to know where apartment forty-three B is. The tenant’s name is Ronald Parker.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s around the corner. Building four. Apartment three B. It’s on the second floor.” The man dropped his gaze back to his book and leaned back in his chair.
“I’m going to need you to come with me.” Jack projected police authority in his words.
“Why?” The sad man didn’t even look up from the page he was reading. Boredom painted his single word a shade of gray.
Jack steeled himself for the fight he knew was coming. “You may have to let me in.”
Eyes scanning back and forth. “Not happening without a warrant.” How could he carry on a conversation and continue to read?
Jack gritted his teeth. He crossed to stand beside the desk in two strides then planted his hand across the pages of the book. That got the sad man’s attention. For the first time since Jack walked into the office, he didn’t look bored.
No, now he looked angry. Good. That meant he was finally paying attention.
“Look. I can get a warrant, but that’s going to make this much more difficult. And we might have to block off the entire complex until we get what we need. No one comes in, no one goes out. Oh, and can you imagine what we’d find if we had a dozen or so cops crawling around this place? What kind of impact might that have on your business?”
The sad man’s anger melted away. In its place, Jack saw resignation draw the older man’s features down toward his chest.
Jack followed the manager to the apartment. He wasn’t s
urprised by what he found there. The place was in shambles. And more than half empty. When Patricia left, she took the things she would need to start a very basic new life, and left Ronald with everything else. Jack supposed the mess was the result of rage. Likely caused when he came home and found that Patricia had left him.
The manager stood at the door, watching, as Jack picked through the clothes that were strewn over the floor throughout the house, and he poked in drawers. But he found nothing that pointed to Parker as the murder suspect. In the bedroom he rifled through the closet opening boxes and pushing things around.
In the back of the closet, he found a metal file box bolted with a padlock.
“Have you got any bolt cutters?” Jack asked the apartment manager.
The man shuffled away muttering about pushy cops, but he returned much quicker than Jack would have expected or thought possible.
He handed the large bolt cutters to Jack and stepped out of the way as Jack hauled the metal box out of the closet and then clipped the lock open.
Jack laid the cutters on the floor then flipped the lid back. He whistled at the mini-arsenal he found there. A Glock nine millimeter, a Ruger 45, a Colt 38, and a small 22 auto were piled into the velvet-lined box. Each weapon was wrapped in oil cloth probably to keep them from scratching against each other.
So Parker was a gun person. Why would he use a knife?
Parker could have silenced a gun enough not to draw any attention. And guns are the ultimate in power. Control. From what he knew about Parker so far, the man needed control. Both in his life and over his women. Jack laid each of the guns back in the box.
“I want to talk to some of the neighbors.” Jack hefted the box and started out of the house. He was done here. This place had nothing else to tell him.
After safely locking the guns in the trunk, Jack watched the apartment manager drag slowly back to his quiet little office. Then he spent a couple of hours knocking on doors and talking to some of the neighbors. He learned that Parker had a night job at a convenience store nearby. But nothing else of interest about Parker or his wife came up. Hoping he might learn something useful, Jack decided to check out the store.
Biloxi Sunrise (The Biloxi Series Book 1) Page 14