Guilt Game

by L. J. Sellers

  Rox eased out her Glock, a tremor in her arm. She wasn’t ready for this!

  “How does that feel, Jenny?” the assailant mocked. “To have Dave taken from you?” The voice was Margo’s, but it sounded low and muffled through the ski mask.

  Jenny looked at Margo with terror in her eyes. “I’m so sorry! But that was twenty years ago! Just take the cash and go. Leave us alone.”

  Twenty years ago?

  Margo laughed, a weird, raspy sound. “Oh, I will. But you’re all going to die first, and I’m going to watch you suffer.”

  No! She couldn’t let that happen. Cop mode kicked in, and Rox stepped out from the wall and spun into the opening. “Put the gun down!”

  The assailant turned and lifted her handgun. Rox started to call out Margo’s name, as her training had taught her, but she held back. Maybe Margo would just run out of the house with the loot and drive away. Please!

  Instead, Margo turned to the girl on the floor and pointed her gun. Emma was sitting up now, her eyes wide with fear.

  Damn! “Put the gun down!” Rox shouted. “I will shoot!” She pulled her other hand up to steady the Glock.

  Margo glanced her way, then took a step toward Emma and laughed.

  Jenny screamed.

  Rox pulled the trigger, the sound deafening. The masked woman staggered back and fell against the countertop, smacking her head. She slumped onto the floor, bleeding from her shoulder. The gun landed in her lap with her hand still around it, but the intruder wasn’t moving. Rox grabbed the weapon and slid it across the dining room floor. She didn’t want it in her pocket and couldn’t hold both weapons. She kneeled down and reached for the mask. Black with a red band around the neck. What? The assailant at the truck stop had worn the same mask. Rox yanked it off, and Margo stared blankly at her. Was she the serial killer? Rox remembered the rest of the scene at the truck stop. The attacker had been several inches taller than Margo, and the car had been small, boxy, and bluish—unlike the minivan Margo drove. Wait, Rox had seen a vehicle like that somewhere recently. The work camp . . . Ronnie’s car! Dear god, were the mother and daughter both crazy?

  While Emma cried and Jenny tried to hold back her husband’s blood, Rox pulled out her cell phone and called 911.

  CHAPTER 33

  Tuesday, April 25, 5:00 p.m.

  Rox stepped into the room and braced for seeing Marty in a hospital bed. All those years as a cop, and this was the first time he’d ended up here. But he was sitting up in a chair by the bed and looked pretty normal except for the loose pale-print gown.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “Irritable. They won’t let me eat, and I hate watching TV that isn’t recorded.”

  He sounded so good. Not weak or impaired at all. Her worry melted away. “When are you getting out of here?”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, come hell or high water. So you might as well bring my pants.”

  Rox laughed. “Will do.” She pulled up a chair beside him.

  “Do you have an update for me? Like what the hell was going on with that crazy Margo?”

  “Not yet. I’m having dinner with Kyle soon and should know more after that.” She’d visited Marty briefly last evening after spending hours at the police department being questioned. But he’d been so out of it, he probably didn’t remember what she’d told him about the incident at the Carsons’. Incident! Three people had been shot yesterday afternoon, and she’d fired the third bullet. Margo had died of the trauma to her head, but Dave Carson was alive and down the hall. She would visit him briefly too. But not yet. “So what’s the deal with your heart?” she asked.

  Marty let out a small sigh. “It’s a defective valve they can’t fix. It could give out tomorrow or not for another couple of years.”

  She refused to accept that. “Medical breakthroughs happen all the time. Let’s keep looking for new doctors and new surgeries to try.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then laughed. “I’m glad you’re still stubborn. I am too. I won’t give up without a fight.”

  “You’d better not.”

  “And I’m still taking care of business. Your problem with Cubano is over. He’s not likely to ever threaten you again.” He looked pleased with himself.

  “What did you do?”

  “Let’s just say I arranged for his arrest.” He gave a little wink. “And he will be convicted.”

  Rox didn’t want to know the details. “Thanks.” She tried to think of what else to talk about. She still wasn’t good at chitchat, even with Marty. “So, tell me about your girlfriend.”

  “There’s not much to say. Her name is Grace, and I met her swing dancing like you guessed.”

  “You getting busy with her yet?”

  He blushed. “None of your business.”

  Rox laughed. “I thought so. Hey, I should go see my client, then meet Kyle for dinner.” She stood to leave.

  “Call me with the case details even if it’s late. I can’t sleep in here anyway.”

  “Will do.”

  Rox headed down the hall, looking for the number Jenny Carson had given her. She found it at the end, a big private room—no surprise. The door was open though, so she called out, “Hello,” and walked in. Jenny sat in a chair by the hospital bed, and Emma lay on the visitor lounger near the window. She jumped up when she saw Rox.

  Silently the girl rushed over and squeezed her in a big hug. Surprised, Rox placed her hands on Emma’s back. She’d never been much of a hugger, except with boyfriends.

  “Thank you! I know they paid you to help me, but still, you saved my life twice!”

  “You’re welcome.” Rox wanted to give Emma words of encouragement but decided to let the specialists handle it.

  Jenny came over and hugged her briefly too. “You’ll always be special to this family. If you ever need anything, please, let us know.”

  “I appreciate that.” All she really needed now was to get paid. “Let me take a photo of you and Emma for the bank.” She snapped a picture with her phone, realizing all these precautions were pointless now that her clients had seen her face. “I wish your family the best.” Rox, feeling uncomfortable with all the emotion, glanced at Mr. Carson, who was sleeping. “Is he doing all right?”

  “Yes. He’ll make a full recovery.”

  “Good news.” Rox smiled and turned to leave.

  Mrs. Carson called out, “Wait, please.” Rox turned back, confused, and Jenny handed her a satchel. “This is to double your bonus. You earned it. And if your partner has medical expenses not covered by insurance, we’ll take care of them.”

  “Thank you!” Rox wanted to ask about Margo’s twenty-year grudge over a stolen boyfriend but didn’t. The Carsons had been through enough. “I have to go.” She turned to Emma. “Take care of yourself.”

  Emma nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Rox hurried out.

  Kyle was ten minutes late for their dinner date, but Rox was so eager to get an update on the Sister Love charity she didn’t even comment when he sat down. She gave him a minute to settle in and order a beer before she peppered him with questions. “Did you search the work camp? Did you arrest Deacon Blackstone?”

  “Yes, and we charged him with assault and some other minor bullshit, but if he makes bail, we can’t hold him.” Kyle patted her hand, then pulled back. “Don’t worry, we’re still investigating and talking to other cult members. Also, fraud detectives are looking closely at the charity’s financials.”

  Rox laughed. “I know this is petty, but I called the IRS and asked them to audit the charity’s books.”

  Kyle laughed too. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

  The waiter arrived, and they ordered dinner before Rox started in again. “What about Ronnie Preston? Did you check out my theory that she might be the I-5 Killer?”

  “We have her in custody too.” Kyle leaned in and lowered his voice. “The tread marks on her Toyota match the evidence from the first victim, and we found
three locks of different hair in a jewelry-box-type thing in her bedroom. We suspect it’s trophy hair from the murders, but we won’t have the DNA results for weeks.” Kyle shook his head. “What a hornet’s nest of crazies!”

  No kidding! “Ronnie sounds like a real psychopath!” An image of Margo wielding a gun flashed in Rox’s brain. “Her mother probably is too.” Margo’s death had bothered her at the time, but now Rox felt mostly numb about it. The crazy woman had been about to kill three innocent people over a stolen boyfriend two decades earlier. Well, that plus twenty-five thousand in cash and jewels.

  Kyle had more to report. “They found bottles of OxyContin in Margo’s luggage. They all had other people’s names. It looks like she was stealing pain pills from patients at the hospital.”

  “An opioid addiction might partially explain why she snapped, but I wonder what other crimes she’s committed over the years and gotten away with.”

  Kyle leaned in again. “She may have killed Bethany. The tire marks at that scene were different from the others, and so was the pressure on the victim’s neck. But we don’t have forensic results from Margo’s car yet. The techs are still processing her personal items.”

  Something he’d said a moment earlier clicked. “That would explain why you found only three locks of hair in Ronnie’s collection, instead of four.”

  “That’s what we’re thinking.” Kyle gave a sheepish grin. “The neighborhood boy you located? He admitted seeing Margo drive by soon after Bethany left his house. Margo probably picked up the girl and strangled her on her way to work. The body’s dump site was just off her route by a few miles.”

  “The task force has been busy!”

  “The sergeant pulled everyone off other leads to focus on the freaks at the Sister Love complex. It’s been a treasure trove. Unfortunately Ronnie hasn’t told us anything, but we’ll keep questioning her until she does.”

  Rox mulled over the mother-daughter murders. “Margo probably killed Bethany for the royalty money, then went after the Carsons for their money. But I wonder what the hell motivated Ronnie. I mean, other than the desire to kill.”

  “Jealousy of younger, prettier girls? No daddy love? We may never know.”

  “I wonder how she met them and targeted them.”

  Kyle sipped his beer before responding. “Now that we have her in custody, we’ve looked at Ronnie’s cell phone and mapped her mobility. She frequented neighborhoods with shelters for runaway teens.”

  “A family of predators!”

  Their food came, and over dinner, they talked about the Sister Love group and how young women fell prey to such scams. But after a while, Rox had to change the subject. Jolene was never far from her mind.

  “Did the Carsons pay your bonus fee?” Kyle asked.

  “They doubled it.” It still made her grin.

  It was his turn to ask questions. “Are they getting their daughter some counseling? We need her to testify.”

  “They have a deprogramming specialist staying at the house. Emma will get the best care money can buy.” The other Sister Love members might end up on the streets, but Rox had called several women’s support groups and asked them to help. It was all she could do. Emotion filling her heart, Rox reached over to hold Kyle’s hand for a moment.

  He gently pulled away. “Rox, we have to talk about something.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What is it?”

  “Your treatments. They’ve changed you. And I’m not sure it’s working for me.”

  She’d known this was coming. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m not sure about the treatments either, but I think I owe it to myself to continue and see where I end up. They’ve already made me a better investigator.”

  “Because you’re more deceptive?”

  That hurt. “Not fair. It’s just a job thing. You do it too.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “You’re more affectionate too.”

  “So?”

  “But that’s not us. We’ve had an unspoken agreement.”

  Rox was quiet. She hadn’t been completely sure after the second session that she would actually continue the treatments, but she was now. She hoped they might even help her get over her own guilt about Jolene. She’d been trapped by it, similar to the way the Sister Love girls had been. She needed to move on.

  “I like the new me, and I plan to keep my appointment tomorrow. I want to be better at this extraction business, because there are more people who need my help.” She thought about Marty, and how great he’d been to her all her life. She felt like she’d cheated him by not being fully emotionally engaged, even though it wasn’t her fault. “I want to be the kind of person who notices what other people are thinking and feeling.” She gave Kyle a sad smile. “The effect probably won’t last. Should I look you up when it wears off?”

  He smiled back, looking equally sad. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  She thought of one more thing. “I also want to wear something besides blue.” She pushed aside her napkin and stood up. “But it will never be pink.”

  On her way out of the restaurant, her burner phone rang, and she answered it. “Karina Jones. How can I help you?”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2016 Peggy Johnson

  L.J. Sellers writes the bestselling Detective Jackson mystery/thriller series—a five-time winner of the Readers’ Favorite Awards. She also pens the high-octane Agent Dallas series and provocative stand-alone thrillers. Her twenty novels have been praised by reviewers, and she’s one of the highest-rated crime-fiction authors on Amazon.

  L.J. resides in Eugene, Oregon, where many of her novels are set, and she’s an award-winning journalist who earned the Grand Neal Award for editorial excellence in business publications. When not plotting murders, she enjoys stand-up comedy, cycling, and zip-lining. She’s also been known to jump out of airplanes.