Killer Romances

by Dana Delamar, Talullah Grace, Sandy Loyd, Kristine Mason, Dale Mayer, Nina Pierce Chantel Rhondeau, K. T. Roberts, H. D. Thomson, Susan Vaughan

  “That’s quite a claim.” Jack leaned forward, his curious expression revealing none of her outrage.

  “Ain’t no claim. It’s a goddamned fact, an’ I got proof.”

  “Then it’s no wonder you’re upset.” Jack whistled. “If it were my daughter, I’d be upset too.”

  “Upset, nothing,” Lucy said under her breath, stilling an urge to snort. Reecie obviously rebelled due to mental pain. Lucy had had mental pain too. Due to circumstances. But unlike Reecie’s, hers had never been intolerable, until after she’d become a ward of the state.

  Lucy’s dad may have been a drunk, but he’d loved her. He couldn’t help that his disease dictated he love alcohol more. Lucy hadn’t been physically or sexually abused once she’d escaped her foster home, a stupid misnomer since it wasn’t a home nor had it fostered anything but fear and hopelessness. Even with that experience, she’d never felt a need to anesthetize herself or sell her body to eat. A good thing, since prostitution wouldn’t have kept her alive for very long considering her plain looks.

  No, Lucy had preferred relying on her brains for survival. Conning people or stealing from them had become a way of life and she didn’t like admitting, she’d been damn good at both. Yet there was one lesson she’d learned early on. If faced with choosing life over death, most people chose life. Lucy was no different. Hunger and pain forced extremes. No matter what a person had to do, he or she would do it if survival were part of the equation.

  Mrs. Holloway’s voice drew Lucy out of her musings. She’d missed the gist of the conversation, but caught Jack’s, “I’d still think you’d want to find out what happened to Reecie. Can you give us any more information regarding her…” Lucy glanced his way as he cleared his throat and added, “You know, friends? Her activities? Bank account?”

  “Gave the police all that.” Mrs. Holloway’s scornful grunt filled the air, followed once again by more hacking. “But since you seem like you really care about finding the truth ’bout what happened to her, and yer friend’s missing, I got somethin’ that might help. Somethin’ you might find interesting. I sure did.” She stood and left the room, returning a moment later carrying what looked to be a leather-bound date book. “Knock yerself out.”

  Jack was off the disgusting couch in seconds, reaching to take the book. He thumbed through it. “Are you sure you want to part with this? The police might be interested in what’s in here.”

  Her raspy cough interrupted. “Look at this place.” Once the coughing fit ended, her bony hand made a sweeping motion, only this time her eyes held something else besides cynicism, something Lucy hadn’t expected. Pain. “You think those cops give a shit about some loser kid OD’ing after seeing where she came from? Hell, I can call her trash because she was my daughter and I expected more from her. Mor’n anything it’s just hurt talkin’. But they didn’t even know her and assumed the worst.” She snorted. “Probably think the world is better off now that she’s dead.” She reached for her pack of cigarettes. “Like I said, according to them she shot herself up, ’cept my girl didn’t do drugs. Which means someone else shot her up for some other reason. They sure as hell aren’t rushin’ out to make their job harder and find out who killed her.”

  Unfortunately the woman had a point, Lucy thought. She’d dealt with the same types—those in authority who couldn’t or wouldn’t believe any scenario other than their own, especially if it differed from a have-not’s version.

  “Thanks,” Jack said. “We really appreciate this. If we figure anything out, you’ll be the first to know.” At Mrs. Holloway’s nod and sincere thanks, he looked pointedly at Lucy. “Are you ready to go?”

  Nodding, she stood and suddenly remembered Lindsay. “Mrs. Holloway, did Reecie ever mention a Lindsay?” She glanced at the woman. “I don’t have a last name.”

  The woman shook her head. “Not that I recall.”

  At the door, Jack turned back to Mrs. Holloway, smiling as warmly as ever. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Lucy followed him out the door and down the trailer’s rickety porch steps. Hot air hit her skin but she didn’t mind. She inhaled a long breath to cleanse her lungs of stale smoke that still clung to her hair and clothing like mold clings to wet tile. Only washing them would get rid of the stench. She couldn’t wait to shower.

  Chapter 9

  “Well, that was interesting.” Jack held the door to his BMW open and waited until Lucy scooted inside.

  “Yeah, very,” she said, before he slammed it shut and ran around to the driver’s side.

  “It’s amazing people like her even have children in the first place.” Jack stuck the key in the ignition and reached for his seat belt.

  Lucy snapped her seat belt into place and followed Jack’s gaze, fastened on Mrs. Holloway through the passenger window, as he started the car. “Lots of people should never have children.” The woman stood at the door of the trailer watching him back up, with the cigarette still perched between her lips.

  Lucy sighed, her focus shifting to the leather-bound book in her hand. “I’ve sworn off motherhood because I doubt I have what it takes.” Not with her intimacy issues, she thought scanning the pages, trying to make some sort of sense of what was written. “But it never ceases to amaze me the people who take it on with absolutely no idea of the havoc they wreak on their kids.”

  “You don’t want kids?”

  “No.” She’d make a lousy parent. “Kids have a hard enough row to hoe in the world with all the mean kids, drugs, and sex they have to wade through in life without someone like me screwing them up more.”

  “You’re so sure you’d screw a kid up?”

  Closing the datebook, she laughed. “Confess.” Her brows lifted and Lucy couldn’t stop more amusement from slipping out in her gaze or her voice. “If we were having this conversation yesterday, you’d be thinking it too.”

  Shaking his head, Jack chuckled. “Ah, Lucy.” There it was, that smile she was beginning to love. Too damned much. “You’re awfully cynical.” At the edge of the gravel road, he stopped to check traffic on Long Run Road. Then he looked at her, eyeing her intently. “You’ve always been cynical and I’ve often wondered if that’s a natural state of mind or if your earlier experiences before I came on the scene warped you.”

  The genuineness of his expression tugged on Lucy’s equilibrium, tossing her off balance. “Probably a little bit of both, I’d imagine.” It was the only answer she dared reveal, but there was more to her cynicism that cut deep into what made her tick. She doubted he’d understand her position when he’d grown up with all the advantages. One of the haves.

  Lucy had become a have-not when Gram died. Overnight. With no one to root for her. Although, to give him credit, the man sitting beside her had tried to set her straight. But the system was too screwed up for mere amateurs like him to navigate.

  “It’s hard to explain,” she said, as Jack turned in the direction they’d come from earlier. Lucy hadn’t been able to trust anyone back then, certainly not someone so close to the judge, who’d sent her to live with the Murphys in the first place.

  “Try.”

  “I really rather not dredge it up again, if you don’t mind.” Lucy had always been a survivor. She’d decided early on, no one was going to use her. Ever. This resolve caused run-ins with the law and then ultimately with Jack, that had actually been more of a detriment to her overall happiness. “Just thank your lucky stars you’ve never had to endure one of the county’s foster homes.”

  “Why? There are some good ones out there and they do a damn good job of raising kids.”

  “There are,” she agreed. According to Cassie, some were warm, loving, and nurturing homes, but too many weren’t and Lucy had had the distinct displeasure of experiencing the worst.

  Juvie had been a safe step up from her first foster home, but it was still a prison for kids. Lucy had done nothing to earn a prison sentence but try to survive. The idea of being locked up like an animal still made her cringe.
“You’re better off not knowing the true fate that awaits homeless kids who’re sent to foster homes. The problem’s spiraling out of control due to overwhelming needs and low budgets, and ten years later, nothing has changed.” Lucy seldom dwelled on the abuse she’d endured in her foster parents’ home during her first six months in the system. She’d finally just run away and kept running after her pleas to those in charge about what went on hit deaf ears. No one had believed her back then, including Jack, so why would he believe her now?

  “I don’t want to shatter your illusions with my bad memories, so let’s just drop the subject.” She hated thinking about it. In fact, tried to pretend it happened to someone else.

  He shook his head. “I have no illusions.”

  “Of course you do.” Lucy bit back the urge to laugh. “You’re working for Cardello. That right there speaks volumes about how delusional you still are.” After all, Cardello had sent quite a few kids into the clutches of Pete Murphy, or others like him. He’d also sent her to juvie.

  Jack tensed. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, but he held his tongue. He must have realized there wasn’t much he could say that would change her mind about the man he was in bed with.

  Ditching Jack could wait a few more minutes, Lucy decided, pointing to a street up ahead. “Turn left there.” By now, they were on the main road heading into Oakmont. “And drive until I tell you when to turn. It’s time to let you in on some of the ugly truths most do-gooders know nothing about—what happens to the kids who fall through the cracks of the county’s juvenile justice system.” Or leapt as she had, but she didn’t say that out loud.

  Curiosity shone in Jack’s eyes when he looked at her after slowing for the turn. “Now I’m intrigued. Where are we going?”

  “To show you how the have-nots live.” When she didn’t expand on her words, he threw her another inquisitive stare. She laughed. “You know. Society’s throwaways and those who drop out for other reasons.”

  “Is that how you see yourself? One of society’s throwaways?”

  “Hell, no. I’m a survivor,” she said. “All I know is I’m not looking for happily-ever-after.” She waved the possibility away. Survivors didn’t need happily-ever-after. Survivors took care of themselves.

  “Why’d you run away? I’ve never understood.”

  “The system’s messed up, Jack,” she blurted out honestly, tired of pretending otherwise. “And because there are people like you wearing rose-colored glasses while looking at it, it’ll never get fixed.”

  “Then enlighten me. Shatter the lenses.” Lucy doubted anything she said could do that, as he added in his pompous way that had always annoyed her, “The system’s not foolproof, but it’s a damn good one that works most of the time. I know people tried to help you and you chose to run away. I can understand reluctance at accepting your fate, but you need to admit you were an angry kid, lashing back at any and all efforts to help.”

  Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t hold back her disbelieving snort. “How do I explain this without killing your ‘the world is a good place and most people are good’ attitude?” She’d learned the hard way that no one, especially those who were responsible for placing kids in such horrific environments in the first place, wanted to hear the negatives of a system that seldom worked. Except for Cassie. She’d totally understood the problems and had single-handedly done more to solve them than the “damn good system” had.

  “Spoken like a true cynic.” Jack glanced her way. “Give me something concrete so I at least understand your mindset.”

  Lucy sighed, wishing she’d kept silent on the subject, still unwilling to dredge up ugly memories. But Jack’s determined expression probably meant he wouldn’t drop the subject until she offered something. He’d always been tenacious, like a dog with a bone, trying to figure out why she was so messed up and taking it personally that he’d failed her.

  Apparently he still felt that way. Maybe if they’d met each other earlier during her stint as a ward of the state, they might have a different outcome. But by the time he and his Mary Poppins view of the world entered her life, Lucy couldn’t trust anyone who was part of a system she no longer had faith in. “Just wait until I show you where we’re going,” was all she said.

  Once he saw what she’d lived through, he would have to grasp the truth. She’d had solid reasons for running away and remaining on the streets. In her mind, it had been the lesser of two evils.

  “What? You’re not going to make me understand? How can I help if I don’t understand?”

  “I never asked for your help. Then or now.” She smiled brightly and tried to forget he’d used those exact words all those years ago. “But you should be happy to note, I have learned to accept help when I have no alternative.”

  “God,” he groaned, wiping his face with a hand. “Nothing has changed in all this time, has it?”

  “Guess not.” She went back to Reecie’s datebook didn’t add another word, except to tell him when to turn.

  After a few more verbal orders, the house soon came into view, only it looked less dilapidated than the one in her memory. “Stop here. I’m pretty sure no one’s living there.” Except for homeless people, she amended silently. Cassie had obviously done a few repairs.

  Jack followed Lucy’s instructions. “Now what?” he asked, shifting into park.

  “I used to stay there on occasion,” she admitted, nodding at the house. “A distant relative in another state inherited the house, but refused to take ownership or pay any upkeep or taxes. So it continued to deteriorate until Cassie bought the property anonymously a few years ago, after checking tax records and paying the seventeen years’ worth of back taxes.” Shrugging, Lucy smiled. “According to Cassie, no one wanted to take over the property because the cost of work needed to fix it up far exceeded any potential resale gain after paying the taxes owed.”

  When Lucy broke off, Jack looked at her with raised eyebrows, clearly expecting her to expand on her words, which she gladly did. “The house appears deserted, a misconception Cassie wanted to maintain. The locals still believe the same distant relative who’d originally inherited still owns it, which means it’s a perfect refuge for those with nowhere else to go.”

  Lucy’s smile died. “Even as a rundown death trap, this house was a godsend to homeless people, even more so now, I’ll bet.” It was for me, she added silently. “Most prefer being free and out on the streets. But sometimes they need shelter, especially during the coldest part of the winter or the hottest days in the summer. This particular house is far enough away from the outskirts of town, yet within walking distance using a few shortcuts, so that the neighbors don’t notice the comings and goings of street people.” Back then, Lucy had staked out her area and no one messed with her. If anyone did, or if the cops showed up, she also had an escape route mapped out.

  Her cell phone interrupted what she was about to say. Recognizing the ring, she sighed. Mike had lousy timing. “It’s my partner.”

  Jack grunted. “You mean Lover Boy Mike?”

  “Yes. And I should probably pick up.” Throwing out a throaty laugh, she tossed her hair out of the way and grabbed her phone, too afraid not to take his call because she needed his services later, once she ditched Jack. Which meant she had to play his game and head Mike off at the mental pass, so to speak. “He rarely calls on weekends, but we’re working on a case together and considering his actions this morning, this might be important.” She hit the On button and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, Mike. What’s up?”

  “Are you with him?”

  He would have to ask. “No.” Feeling the heat of her lie slide up her cheeks, Lucy glanced at Jack and covered the mouthpiece, saying as she reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.” She cleared her throat and brushed more hair behind her ear. Then keeping the hand in place to hide her face, she quickly hustled out of the car, turned her back, and stalked away from the vehicle. Lowering her voice, she said into the phone,
“Why are you so concerned about Jack’s whereabouts?”

  Mike’s snort shot through the line. “I don’t give a shit about Jack. I’m more concerned about you.” He broke off. After a long pause, Lucy was about to repeat her original question when his voice started up again. “And because I’m so concerned, I want to give you a heads-up.” By this point, having traveled far enough from the car to keep Jack from overhearing her conversation, she began pacing. “I called in a favor with a friend.”

  She stopped short. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, Luce, and I hit pay dirt. Found Cassie’s car. Wondered if you wanted to take a drive with me and check it out.”

  Elation pumped through her blood as her heart pounded inside her chest. “You found it? Any sign of Cassie?” Lucy kept her voice steady.

  “Don’t know. I didn’t get that far. Just got an address.”

  Her enthusiasm waned a bit. An address was better than nothing. She glanced back at Jack, who was watching her. When he noticed her interest, he lifted his arm and tapped his watch. Lucy nodded and said into the phone, “I owe you.”

  Mike laughed. “I like the sound of that, but I figured I’m just repaying some of what I owe you, since you’ve helped me out of so many jams. Plus, I’ve got to get back on your good side after I was such a jerk earlier.”

  Lucy ignored his teasing. “Where?” It would take a hell of a lot more than a favor like this to ever let him back on her good side. She positioned the phone between her ear and shoulder and dug inside her purse for a pen and her notebook. “Give me the address.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not letting you go out there alone. I want to be there when you find Cassie, just so I can say I told you so.”

  Rats. Not what Lucy expected. And knowing him, he’d play his puppy-dog card until she agreed. She sighed in resignation, needing his skills for tailing the mean girls and his computer skills to help her find Lindsay. “Okay. I’m about twenty minutes from home, so give me forty-five minutes and I’ll be ready.”