Avenged

by Janice Cantore

  “Hmm.” Carly sat back to digest this. “Someone else’s fault, not because of his choices.”

  “Right,” Erika said. “We don’t know how or why this woman got here and became Ginny Masters, but it’s too big a coincidence for it not to be the same woman.”

  “Alex can find out,” Andi said. “But she’s been in California for at least a year because she worked at the Times before she came here.”

  “There are probably more opportunities for reporters here than in Arizona,” Carly said. “It doesn’t surprise me that she’d come here to work for a paper like the Times. I just want to know what got her fixated on me.”

  “Dean probably has a lot to do with that,” Ned said. “Before I kicked him out of the bakery and then found the bomb, he brought her to the shop twice. She seemed to idolize him, advocate for him.” He shook his head. “I think I told you before that he was a master manipulator. He was surely taking advantage of her.”

  Carly frowned, cutting her bear claw into bite-size chunks but not putting any of it in her mouth. “Some pieces are starting to fall together. If they’ve had a long-term relationship and she considers herself an advocate for him, maybe that’s why she’s picking on me. She was blogging nasty stuff about me for a couple of weeks.” She paused, remembering the dates on Masters’s blog posts. “But it started before I ran into Dean, so there’s more than advocacy going on. Something is missing. I don’t understand why they both wanted to give me a bad time.”

  Ned leaned back in his chair. “Dean always hated cops. Don’t take that personally. From what I heard, he complained about being misunderstood by police his whole life, and that woman just took his side. We saw the blog. We didn’t believe any of it. In fact, we don’t believe what she’s saying now. She tried to drag us into a wrongful-death suit, and we told her to pound sand.”

  “Don’t worry,” Erika said, leaning forward. “We came to tell you that we believe in you. And we want to help.”

  “You’ve helped just by being here.”

  “We’d like to do more,” Ned said. “I’ve been talking to Mickey and the ATF agents. They told me about the missing plastic explosive. I was an EOD technician before this.” He held up his stump. “I know how dangerous that stuff is. And it wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that my brother had it squirreled away somewhere.”

  “That’s great, Ned.” Carly put down her fork and held out her hands. “But I’m not involved in the investigation. I can’t be. But I bet if you can help them figure out who this mysterious Michael Carter is, that would be a big help.”

  “You mentioned him before.” He looked at Erika, who shook her head. “The name is not familiar.”

  “I’ll find out from Nick if he’s been identified.”

  Ned sighed. “I need to help. I hate feeling useless. And since the cause of a lot of trouble seems to be my brother, I feel obligated.” A weariness in his face made him seem older than his years.

  •••

  Nick got home from work in time for dinner before church. Andrea planned to stay for dinner, but as they were finishing up the preparations, Alex called to tell her he’d gotten home. She left in a hurry to help him get settled in with his father. In the time before dinner was ready, Carly filled Nick in on what Ned and Erika had told her about Ginny Masters.

  “That’s interesting,” he said. “I looked at the visitor logs. There was a Virginia Masterson listed several times. The prison noted she was press, so I didn’t think anything more about it. You don’t think she’s involved in the killings and the gun theft, do you?”

  “No.” Carly blew out a breath. “But she could be a useful idiot, doing things for Barton and the two mysterious partners, thinking everything is on the up-and-up . . .”

  “When it’s not?”

  “Yeah. You and I have both seen women like that, infatuated with someone to the point that even when you show them evidence the person is involved in illegal activity, they don’t believe it.” Carly had seen that a lot during her short time in juvenile. Some parents never wanted to believe their little darling was a crook.

  Nick nodded. “Maybe we need to investigate the investigative reporter.”

  “And I think it’s something Harris should know.”

  “Agreed.” The timer for dinner rang, and Nick looked from Carly to the oven. “Right now I’m starved.”

  Carly smiled and gave him a kiss before removing the meat loaf from the oven.

  “The second funeral is tomorrow,” Nick said after he’d blessed the meal.

  “Diondre’s?” Carly took a bite and swallowed. “Hate to say it, but I’d forgotten he still needed to be laid to rest.”

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind.” He smiled, making oohing and aahing noises. “Great dinner.”

  “You have to remember to thank Andrea. She went to the market for me and put some stuff in there that I never would have thought of. How are things on the street?”

  He shrugged. “Quiet, actually. Londy has been a huge help. They had to raise money to bury D. That’s what took so long. Every chance he’s gotten, he’s been out talking to kids, soothing tempers. Even after he got shot at.” He cocked his head. “He’s a great negotiator.”

  “Has Mary Ellen been with him?”

  “As a matter of fact, she has. Why do you ask?”

  “I think she’s sweet on him.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Mary Ellen and Londy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Didn’t see that coming,” he said with wonder in his voice.

  27

  CARLY FEARED the radio shock jocks would be covering the church grounds. She’d read that they were planning on doing a rally—a “Justice for Dean” rally or some such nonsense. But it turned out her fears were baseless. The crowd at church was simply made up of familiar fellow worshipers, many of whom stepped up to give her a hug and a show of support.

  She got the surprise of her life when she saw Sergeant Barrett walking across the parking lot.

  “Nick.” She jabbed him with an elbow and pointed.

  Nick smiled and moved to greet the man. “Hey, Hal, good to see you here, man.”

  Barrett looked surprised and then relieved. “Nick, Carly. I admit I feel a little out of place.”

  “No need.” Nick shook his hand. “Want to come sit with us?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  The three of them entered the church together. Carly’s mother was already inside, and she gave Carly a tight hug. Nick introduced Kay to Barrett and they all took their seats. Carly wanted to ask Barrett if he knew any more about the shooting investigation. But because the service was about to start, she did her best to push all the turmoil from the past few days out of her mind and concentrate on the message. She felt more at rest than she had since being released from the hospital. It was fortifying sitting between Nick and her mother, surrounded by love and listening to Pastor Rawlings.

  She’d hoped to see Alex, but Andrea had said he was exhausted, so Carly guessed he opted to stay home and get his dad settled.

  Jonah was going through the book of Psalms on Wednesday nights. Carly had forgotten that since work had kept her away from the midweek study recently. It amazed and moved her that he reached Psalm 62 about midway through the message. That was the psalm she’d studied that morning in her devotional.

  “‘My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. O my people, trust in him at all times. Pour out your heart to him, for God is our refuge.’”

  Carly read the words of the seventh and eighth verses over again and closed her eyes. She felt a great peace. God was her refuge. No one could reach through his protection; not even Ginny Masters could knock her down. If I could just remember.

  Barrett left immediately after the service. Carly couldn’t gauge if he’d been moved or not. He had listened and followed along in the Bible. After the message, she wanted to find Jonah and tell him how the message had touched her.
She didn’t have to look for him, though; he sought her out, and right behind him was a trim, dark-haired woman Carly didn’t know.

  Jonah shook Nick’s hand and gave Carly a hug. “How are you doing?” he asked, his face crinkled with concern.

  “I’m good. Psalm 62 says it all.” She went on to tell him what a coincidence it was that she’d read the psalm earlier that morning.

  He laughed. “I don’t believe in coincidences. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” He then gestured to the woman who’d followed him over. “Carly, Nick, I’d like you to meet Pam Sailor.”

  After they’d said their hellos, Jonah turned to Carly. “This is the woman I told you about. I was hoping you could speak to her.”

  Carly looked at Nick. “I have to find Londy and talk to him about the funeral tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll meet you in Heavenly Grounds.”

  He left and Carly turned to Pam. “Want to get some coffee or tea?”

  She shook her head. “No thanks. But maybe we can find a place to sit.”

  The church had finished construction on a beautiful fellowship hall last year. It had a kitchen, a large area for tables and gatherings, a coffee shop and espresso bar named Heavenly Grounds, and a bookstore. Carly and Pam walked together to the coffee shop. If this had been a Sunday, the place would have been packed, but crowds were always smaller at midweek. They found a table right away.

  “I want to thank you for talking to me, Officer Anderson.”

  “It’s Carly, and it’s no problem. I hope I can help.”

  Pam lowered her head and studied her hands. “I’m sure you know that my husband committed suicide last week.” She looked up and Carly nodded. “Well, at first I thought it was all a mistake, that my husband wouldn’t kill himself.” She paused. “I was probably like the woman who’s been cheated on—you know, in denial that my husband would ever cheat.”

  She turned away for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice dripped with biting sarcasm. “‘My husband would never kill himself; he had so much to live for. . . .’ Yeah, right. He had a lot of secrets to keep hidden. All the secrets are out in the open now that he’s gone.”

  “I’m sorry. Was he having an affair?”

  She shook her head violently. “If that’s all it was, I could live with it. No, Keith wasn’t having an affair. We’d been in business for fifteen years, started the catering outfit out of our own kitchen. And we built a big, strong business. At least I thought we had.” She sighed deeply and rubbed her brow with two fingers. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m rambling.”

  “No, take your time. I can’t imagine having to deal with what you’re dealing with right now.”

  Pam hesitated before continuing. “You see, Keith had a passion for gambling that I knew nothing about. He was in debt—no, we were in debt to the tune of about a quarter of a million dollars. I didn’t know that. I also didn’t know that Keith had taken a loan out on the business. I was stupid enough to leave all the money matters to him. I’m the cook and planner.” She stopped for a moment, then went on.

  “He signed on a partner in order to have the money to keep the business rolling through the bridge dedication ceremony. Here I’ve been working myself to the bone to prepare for the biggest catering job we ever landed and . . .” Her voice broke.

  Carly reached out, but Pam waved her away. “No, I need to finish. Argh, you think you’re numb and that you’ve cried all the tears you can cry, and then they suddenly grab you by the throat.” She composed herself and blew her nose.

  Carly knew exactly how Pam felt. She waited patiently.

  “Keith not only took a partner; he sold the business right out from under us. It seems the moneyman who bailed him out accepted the business as collateral. When Keith died, the business reverted to this man. I have nothing. I can stay and be an employee, but the business is no longer mine.”

  Carly’s chest felt tight. Her problems faded away in comparison to the pain of the woman in front of her. “I’m so sorry. And you’re sure it’s legal? I mean, have you had a lawyer look at it?”

  “It’s legal. My lawyer says it is.”

  “How can I help?”

  “This man—the man with the funds—his name is Michael Carter. All I want—”

  “Michael Carter?” Carly stared at Pam Sailor.

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “No, but I’ve heard the name a lot lately. What do you know about him?”

  “Nothing. All I want to do is talk to him, but he won’t return my calls. I fired my lawyer because not only do I not have the money to keep him on, but he helped Keith with the paperwork behind my back. Look, I know there’s probably nothing you can do, but I just want to find out if we can work something out so I can get the business back. Sailor’s Catering was my life. Is there any way you can ask him to talk to me?”

  Carly looked into pain-filled eyes. It wasn’t the oddest request she’d ever gotten. There were people in the world who thought the police could solve any problem. And when they were desperate, the lines between criminal problems and civil problems blurred. This was definitely a civil problem, not a police problem. But she couldn’t tell Pam Sailor that right now. Neither could she tell her that this elusive man by the name of Michael Carter was someone a lot of people wanted to talk to.

  What she did say was, “All I can do is ask him to talk to you. I can’t force him.”

  Relief flooded Pam’s face. “Thank you.” She opened her purse and slid a business card across the table. “This is the only number I have for him. I’ve left several voice mails, but he never calls me back. A man calling himself Carter’s assistant has spoken to me, firming up the plans we have for the bridge dedication, but that’s it.”

  “The bridge dedication?”

  “Yes, the assistant says that Mr. Carter is anxious to be certain everything is perfect for that event.”

  Carly looked at the card. It was a cheap white card with black printing on it, just Michael Carter and a phone number. Odd, inexpensive choice for a supposed moneyman.

  As Nick walked up, Carly promised Pam she’d call the number in the morning. Pam asked Carly to let her know what she learned and thanked her again.

  “What was that about?” Nick sat, and they watched Pam leave the fellowship hall.

  Carly held up the card.

  “What?” Nick took it and studied it. “She knows him?”

  “No, but he bought her business.” She told Nick about Sailor’s Catering and the suicide of Keith Sailor.

  He frowned and rubbed his chin with his hand. “What is going on?”

  28

  CARLY WANTED TO TALK TO NICK, but he was at work. He’d relayed what Pam Sailor had explained about Michael Carter to the ATF agents since they had the resources to track the man down.

  When he’d gone to see Barton in prison, Carter had signed the visiting log with an Arizona driver’s license. A little digging into the catering business purchase uncovered the same address as his ID. The phone number on the business card belonged to an untraceable burner phone. There was no California identification for the man.

  Nick also promised to dig deeper into the shooting investigation at work that day.

  As self-pity began to envelop her, Carly knew she had to do something to stop it. Nick always said that when the negative began to pile up, concentrate on the positive. She stood to pace and do just that.

  The worst of her soreness had faded, and she wanted to be at work—or at the very least out defending her reputation, not stuck in the house.

  When the phone rang and she saw a work extension, she nearly let it go to voice mail. But she needed a distraction, any distraction. It was Captain Jacobs calling to see how she was doing.

  “I still can’t remember.”

  “Relax, Trouble. I’m sure it will come back. I wanted to see how you were doing and to ask you a favor.”

  “I . . . umm, I’m fine. Considering everything going on right now, I’m okay. What ca
n I do for you?”

  “Come in and talk to the department psychologist. She may help with your memory issue. I’m not going to order you. But I’d like you to do it. Charlotte Linder is light-years ahead of Floyd Guest. I’m certain she’ll help you.”

  Carly hesitated before agreeing to see Linder that afternoon. In the end she trusted Jake and understood what he was saying about Guest. The old department psychologist had been a partner in the corruption that resulted in the previous mayor’s murder. He’d tried to kidnap Carly from the hospital. Linder wouldn’t have to do much to be an improvement.

  After speaking with Jacobs, Carly debated calling Trejo but wasn’t certain about the situation with his father. The phone rang before she’d decided. An unfamiliar work extension this time.

  “Officer Edwards?” It was internal affairs.

  “Um . . . hello.”

  “I’m calling to see if you can come into the office for an interview today at 1 p.m.”

  “Is this about the shooting?” Carly frowned. There’d been no shooting board.

  “No. This is about a citizen’s complaint. It’s simply a routine interview.”

  Carly sighed and began fiddling with a pen, tapping it on the table in front of her, remembering that the POA president had told her to hold off on interviews until she was cleared of the head injury. But this was in-house, not the feds. And I have nothing to hide, she thought with a stamp of her foot.

  “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  Ending the call, she knew she needed to get out of the house. Carly pocketed her cell phone, grabbed the dog’s leash, and headed for Dog Beach with Maddie. Reporters or no, she couldn’t hang out in the house for two and a half hours until it was time to leave for IA. She’d climb the walls. What she really wanted to do was jump into her swimsuit and swim without stopping for a few thousand meters before surfacing to face the world. But Nick had expressly requested that she not swim by herself until the doctor cleared her. As much as she wanted to argue with him, she had to admit it wasn’t an unreasonable request. So she’d just play fetch with Maddie for a bit.