As they entered the city limits, Molly slowed to thirty-five and spoke for the first time since leaving the courthouse steps. “I want to be the one that decides when I come clean about Evan Branch’s death. It should not have an effect on Joey’s defense, but if at any time it does, I will step forward. Until then, only you, Blackman, and I know the truth.”
Randy’s teeth finally unclenched. “Okay, and might I suggest that you retain me as your attorney, so I cannot be forced to reveal any of our conversations about the incident.”
“Good idea. I’ll sign something when we get back to the house. Now, what we need to do is go through the evidence and crime scene reports. I need everything scanned into the computer. I want to take out all references to Joey, so I can send it to Rainey. She never wants to know anything about a suspect until after she has reviewed the crime scene evidence. I wish she could come down here, but with new triplets, I think she has her hands full.”
Rainey and her soon to be wife, Katie Myers, were planning a wedding in early summer when their triplets, born Christmas Day, were a bit older. Rainey was dealing with some major life changes at the moment, all while trying to avoid being hunted by lunatics. She was stretched thin, but Molly was going to need her on this case. Maybe they could do most of it through video conferencing. Whatever the method, a criminal profiler with Rainey’s experience was just what Molly needed to make sense of the four cases. If the same killer did all of the murders, Rainey Bell would know.
“What about your mother’s case?” Randy asked.
Molly knew these cases were related somehow. “Yes, scan that file, too.” She thought for a second, and added, “We need to look into the death of my half-brother’s mother, also. Maybe Brad knew her. I think Robbie said her name was Amber Stovall, before she married Evan.”
“Do you think the other three women’s murders are related?”
Molly pulled onto the street where Brad lived. “No, and Brad doesn’t believe it either. I think the police were under pressure to make an arrest and picked the first suspect that came along. Rainey will know if the FBI is involved in any serial investigation. I suspect we are dealing with a lot of egos here, egos that didn’t want to ask for help.”
“How many people know about this gold legend?”
Molly parked the car and looked at Randy, whose color had now returned. “It’s a legend. I guess a lot of people know about it.”
She started to get out, but Randy stopped her, placing a hand on her arm. “So, anybody could be after the gold, not just Branch.”
“I think it’s Branch. Joe was leaning that way too. He believed Cheryl stumbled on someone in his house. It was broken into twice before. Someone thought Joe knew or had something key to finding the gold. The Branch family is tied to this legend. Other people may want to find the gold, but who else would be so driven?”
“What about your brother? ‘Stick,’ did you say?” Randy could barely stifle a snicker.
“Half-brother, and I don’t think the little twig has much going on upstairs. He’s not smart enough to send untraceable emails and besides he was eight when my mother was murdered. If he’s involved, he’s just his uncle’s flunky.”
“Okay, so let me see,” Randy began, “Our theory is, Joey is taking the fall for a murder committed by a man looking for legendary gold, who staged the crime scene to look like a serial murder, and who also happened to murder your mother twenty-one years ago, and possibly another woman before that.” He paused to let that sink in. “I am so glad you asked me in on this one. I want a front row seat to this jury summation.”
Molly opened her door. “The goal here is not to let it go that far. If we can prove that Cheryl’s death was not part of the serial murders, then three-quarters of the prosecution’s case goes away. That is going to make whoever did kill Cheryl very nervous. The investigators will have to go back and reexamine the murder. Even though they do not have to prove it, no prosecutor is going to court without some theory of motive. Maybe it will force the real murderer’s hand.”
“Do you think you can convince the prosecution to give up the serial angle that easily?” Randy asked as he stepped out of the car.
Molly closed her door and looked over the top of the car at Randy. “I don’t have to convince them, but if I’m right, I know someone they will listen to, and she knows people they have to listen to. If they don’t, I’ll call them as witnesses for the defense. No jury is going to ignore Rainey Bell and the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
Randy laughed. “Thank God for ‘Criminal Minds’.”
Molly stepped around the front of her car, surveying the others parked behind the bed and breakfast. Randy had moved the monster truck to the far end of the graveled parking area. The van Molly saw Tammy leave in this morning was parked nearest to the house. Brad’s cruiser was next, with Brad’s pick-up truck beside it, which had not moved in the time Molly had been there. The remaining car was what caught Molly’s attention. It was a cobalt blue, Mustang GT500, Cobra edition and somebody loved that car. It was polished to a high sheen, down to the shiny black sidewalls of its tires. Randy walked around to the back of the Mustang.
He winked at Molly. “Thinking about taking the car or the owner for a spin?”
“How do you know who the owner is?”
Randy pointed at the back of the car. “Come here.”
Molly walked to the rear of the Mustang and looked where Randy was pointing. Her lips curled into a smile when she read the license plate, “ANLIZME.”
“That was Brad’s idea of a joke when he volunteered to handle my plate renewal.”
Molly looked up to see Leslie approaching.
Leslie continued talking, as she came closer. “Six weeks after he renewed my plates, I came out of the office to find him grinning and these attached to my car. Now, I’m stuck with them for a year.”
“We were admiring your GT,” Molly said, still grinning.
Leslie was no longer in the business suit and silk blouse. Instead, she wore jeans, a white tank top, and a white cotton over-shirt. Her boots were real western ropers. She was not wearing glasses anymore. Her brunette hair was tucked behind her ears. The sun glinted off cheeks, naturally tanned from an active outdoor life. Leslie looked very much the wholesome country girl. This was the third personality Molly encountered, the concerned friend, the passionate psychologist, and now this. Molly wondered what other characters Leslie Walker might reveal.
Leslie smiled and indicated Molly’s car with a nod of her head. “And I was admiring yours. I’ll race you for pink slips.”
Molly laughed. “If you have more than zero to sixty in three-point-six under that hood, I’ll give you my car.”
“Zero to sixty in four-point-one, but,” Leslie winked, “didn’t I tell you? You will be driving backwards, blindfolded.”
“Okay, you gear-heads. Just listening to you is burning up my carbon points.”
Leslie pointed at Randy’s truck. “And I suppose Al Gore would be okay with that monstrosity I’m told you drove down here.”
“That’s just part of his attempt to blend in to his surroundings. He drives a little hybrid at home.” Molly paused and grinned at Leslie. “Girl car.”
Randy, not to be outdone, said, “Green is the new pink, girls,” and then sauntered into the house.
Leslie walked in front of Molly’s car. “How fast have you driven her?”
“I topped her out at two-hundred on the salt flats,” Molly said, moving to stand beside Leslie. “It was worth the trip out there.”
“I would love to drive this on a road course,” Leslie said, with enthusiasm. “Have you done that yet?”
“I’m trying to get a run at Watkins Glen, but for now it’s just been ovals.” Molly heard herself say, before she really thought it through, “If you know somewhere we can open her up, I’ll let you take it for a spin.”
Molly would not let Dale Earnhardt, Jr. drive her car and here she was offering it to what amounte
d to a stranger. A pretty stranger, but still, Molly had no knowledge of Leslie’s driving skills and the LFA was more car than most people could handle. It was too late to take it back. Leslie was already beaming with delight.
“Oh, I know just the place. My dad and I go out to an old airstrip and run his muscle cars. He restores one, keeps it while he rebuilds another, and then sells it to finance his next project. It’s his passion.”
“Doesn’t he keep any of them?” Molly asked.
“He has a sixty-four-and-a-half Mustang convertible and a sixty-seven Camaro he will never part with, but the rest is just to keep him busy. He’s retired Air Force and it keeps him out of my mother’s hair.”
“Those are two very rare vehicles. I’d like to see them.”
Molly could not believe she said that. She just invited herself to Leslie’s parents’ home. She was thinking she should probably ask Leslie for a date first. A date? Why was she even considering asking this woman out? Molly’s plate was rather full and she certainly did not have time for a woman in her life right now. Leslie, on the other hand, seemed comfortable with the request.
“He enjoys showing them off and I’m sure he’d love to get a look at this.” Leslie was eyeing Molly’s car as if it was ice cream on a hot day. She moved to the driver’s side window and peeked inside. “When I said you were a high-priced lawyer, I had no idea you were in this league. Good Lord, how many lawsuits do you have to win to afford something like this?”
Molly answered, “Just the right one.” She moved closer to Leslie and hit the remote to unlock the car. “Go ahead, get in.”
Leslie giggled like a schoolgirl and yanked the door open. She sat down on the red leather, racing seat and gripped the steering wheel. “Oh my, God. I’d lose my license if I had this car.”
“I already did.” Molly grinned.
She knew her dimple was showing and she could not help it. Leslie’s childlike excitement in the car made her almost irresistible, almost. Molly steered her mind away from where it was headed with a quick reminder of her precarious position. Her life may be in danger and she was about to come out to the world as a killer. It might have been an act of bravery in some eyes, but many people would think differently of her, knowing she was capable of that kind of violence. Molly could not risk endangering another life, nor could she expose someone else to what was sure to be a scandal. No, Molly was putting her love life on hold until this was over. Besides, straight girls were so bothersome, even the ones that would check her out covertly. Resolute in her decision, she handed Leslie the remote.
She said, “Just lock it up when you’re done,” and started toward the house.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll drive off?” Leslie asked.
Molly stopped and, despite her best efforts, could not wipe the grin from her face, when she said, “You won’t get far. One phone call and she’ll just coast to the side of the road with you locked in it. You just sit tight until the police arrive.”
Leslie winked, something Molly was beginning to notice she did often and looked very sexy doing. “It might be worth being handcuffed to joy ride for a bit.”
Molly’s mind flashed on handcuffs and a naked Leslie. The image came out of nowhere and she felt a blush rising to the surface of her cheeks.
She quickly said, “Well, I better go in and start to work. Enjoy.” She turned and walked toward the house, mumbling under her breath, “Jesus, you need to get laid.”
#
Molly went upstairs to change clothes. She ignored Randy’s inquisitive look when she came in from outside. Before he could ask her anything, Molly reminded him they needed to hook up the network for their computers. She pushed by him and made it safely to her room, without further comment. Molly did not want to think about the hot brunette sitting in her car. Distracting herself from the building sensation between her legs, she speed dialed Rainey Bell while contemplating a cold shower.
The phone rang three times before Rainey answered, at least two crying babies in the background.
“Hey, Molly. Can I call you back? I have my hands full and Katie went to the store.”
Molly could picture the confident former FBI agent completely frazzled and alone. She snickered a bit and said, “Yes, just call me back when you can. I need your help.”
A baby cried loudly.
Molly heard Rainey say, “Hang on, she’ll be back in a minute.” It took a second to realize Rainey was not talking to her. Then the exasperated new mother said, “I don’t do the breast thing, that’s your mother, chill out.” Rainey turned her attention back to Molly. “The damn breast pump broke and this one doesn’t like formula. Spits it at me every time I put the bottle in her mouth.”
Molly had to laugh. Of all the women she knew, Rainey Bell was the least likely candidate to be a mother. She applauded her friend’s willingness to give it a hundred percent, but the hardnosed cop was having a tough time adjusting. When Molly saw her recently, Rainey looked sleep deprived and shell shocked.
Molly tried to insert some levity. “She’s a breast girl, like her other mother.”
Rainey laughed. “Yeah, those green eyes aren’t the only things we share. We both enjoy Katie’s assets.” She paused and then said, “Oh God, I can’t believe I said that. I must be completely brain dead from lack of sleep.”
“You’re funnier without sleep,” a chuckling Molly responded. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll let you go. Just call me when you can. It’s important.”
“Are you okay, Molly?” Rainey asked, her tone serious.
“I’m good. I just, well, look, I’ll tell you all about it when you call. Give Katie my best.”
“I’ll call back in about an hour,” Rainey answered. “Katie should be here by then. Just tell me, are you in danger?”
Molly thought Rainey really was paranoid or had an uncanny sense of impending peril. “I’m staying in a cop’s house. I don’t think I could be much safer.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Rainey said. “I’ll call as soon as Katie gets back.”
A baby started to scream bloody murder, and was joined by two additional distinct cries. The chorus was loud on the phone and had to be deafening in the room there with them.
Molly rushed to hang up. “Go take care of your kids. I’m fine. I’ll wait for your call.”
Rainey was already reoccupied with her minions and uttered a quick, “Okay, bye.”
Molly put the phone down and shook her head. “See,” she said to her reflection in the dresser mirror, “there goes a perfectly good FBI agent up to her elbows in diapers, all for the love of a woman. Women make you do crazy things and you don’t need that right now.” Molly walked away from the mirror, ignoring the little voice that said, “Yeah, but you wish you were that happy.”
#
Randy had packed a few tee shirts and Molly’s favorite worn out Duke Law sweatshirt. He saw it enough to know she wore it often when she was not dressed for work. Molly put on jeans, her tennis shoes, and layered the sweatshirt over a plain white tee, before joining the others downstairs. Randy and Brad were moving the big video monitor to a table in the front parlor, adjacent to the dining room. A large decorative archway joined the two rooms. The furniture had been pushed against the walls and a long table had been moved to the center of the room.
Brad looked up from his task and said, “I was going to refinish this. It was out in the shed. Thought it might work for a conference table. The chairs won’t match, but there’s enough for six people.”
“It’s perfect, Brad. Thank you,” Molly replied.
Randy, who was now in jeans and a long sleeved, hot-pink polo shirt, turned to face her. “Thank me, too. This thing weighs a ton.”
Molly smiled at him. “I see you’ve given up blending in.”
Randy looked at Brad, the archetype macho butch cop, and said, “Brad here explained that this is a gay friendly house, and I should just be myself, but he agrees that flannel is better for street wear.
”
Brad cleared his throat. This was the cop talking. “While we haven’t had any serious hate crimes here, it’s still wise to be cautious. It takes a long time for change to stick in a place like this.”
Molly turned to listen when Leslie’s voice sounded behind her. “What do you expect from a town that’s still hanging on to unspoken racism and would gladly restart the Civil War if they could? I’ve never hidden who I am, but I understand why people are reluctant to live an openly gay lifestyle here. You’d be surprised at how many there are, if they all came out at once.”
Molly only heard, “I’ve never hidden who I am.” She was processing that when Tammy entered and removed her confusion.
“I, for one, am glad you’re a lesbian,” she said to Leslie. “I don’t have to worry about you throwing yourself at Brad like some of the women in this town.”
Leslie laughed easily, laying her head back and encircling Tammy’s waist with an arm. It was obvious now that this was the lesbian best friend Tammy referred to earlier. Laugh lines formed at the corners of Leslie’s eyes and Molly found that attractive. In fact, she was finding almost everything Leslie said and did alluring. She probably should have taken that cold shower. Molly decided she needed to be distracted from her growing fascination with the good-looking psychologist.
“Well, let’s get to work, shall we?” Molly said, moving to retrieve her briefcase from the dining room table, where she left it earlier.
“I’ll fix some snacks and is everyone good with sweet tea?” Tammy asked, already heading for the kitchen.
“I’ll help you,” Leslie said, and then checked with Molly. “Unless you need me for something right now.”
Molly dug in her briefcase, purposely not looking at Leslie again. “No, I don’t think I’m ready for you, yet.”
The double entendre almost made Molly laugh at herself. She did hear Randy snort behind her and said a silent prayer that he would restrain himself. He did and Leslie followed Tammy to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder to Molly, “Well, you just let me know when you are.”
Molly: House on Fire Page 13