by Rita Herron
She was strong and resilient, but she had deserved to have adults who loved her and took care of her, not ones who mistreated her and made her feel ashamed.
Answering her questions about the attack on her brother wasn’t simple, either. It was very possible that Hank was assaulted because they were trying to free him.
There were protestors both for and against his execution. The story had been splattered across the news for the past two weeks. And if one of the other kids who’d lived with Mulligan had killed him, that person wouldn’t want Hank exonerated and the finger pointed at him or her.
“But Hank’s been through so much,” she said. “I hate to think about him being in solitary confinement.”
“It’s for his protection,” Jaxon said. “Now, there’s another foster child who lived with the Mulligans that we need to question.”
Avery sighed against him and lifted her head. Her eyes were luminous with pain and something else indefinable. Maybe surprise that she’d allowed herself to lean on him.
She inhaled sharply, visibly pulling herself together. “Who is it?”
Jaxon released her, instantly missing the feel of her in his arms. “Lois Thacker, the girl you remembered. She’s a cop.”
Avery’s eyes flickered with a spark of hope. “Let’s go.”
Jaxon started the engine and swung the vehicle back onto the road. Avery turned to look out the window while he drove toward Laredo.
* * *
AVERY CLOSED HER eyes during the ride and fell asleep, her mind heavy with fear for Hank and the pressing time restraints of getting him released.
But her nightmares returned to another night at the Mulligans....
It was dark inside, the rain pinging off the tin roof. Joleen was passed out on the couch, and Wade had just come in. He saw there was no food on the table and bellowed, then threw the cast-iron skillet across the room. It hit the wall with a bang, then dropped to the floor with a thunderous sound.
“Come on, Avery.” Hank grabbed her hand and they ran outside. Rain soaked them, but they didn’t stop running until they reached the old shed. Hank slid open the door and ushered her inside.
“We’ll hide behind that cabinet.” They crawled behind the cabinet, pulling an old blanket over them to hide in case Wade came looking.
A few minutes later, the door screeched open. Then Wade yelled their names. A cigarette lighter flicked, the glow of it bursting into the shed.
She buried her head against her brother, and he covered her with himself as they waited in the dark....
Avery jerked awake as the car stopped, trembling as she recalled what had happened next. In a fit of rage, Wade had thrown tools and junk across the shed.
But he hadn’t found them.
They’d spent the night there that evening, cowering and hiding and cold.
Hank had saved her.
She had to save him now.
When she looked up, Jaxon was watching her. “Bad dream?”
Embarrassed, she looked down at her hands. At the scar that was always there, reminding her of where she’d come from. Not that she needed it.
Her scars ran deep.
“Memories.”
His dark gaze settled over her, and he reached out and covered her hand with his. She started to pull away, but he touched the scar with one finger, and she watched him trace it.
“We’ll get the truth, Avery. I promise.”
She wanted to curl her hand in his as she had done with Hank’s when she was small. Wanted to bury herself against him and hold on to him forever.
But she had to stand on her own.
* * *
JAXON AND AVERY stopped at the receptionist desk, where he introduced himself and Avery and asked to speak to Lois Thacker. He’d already looked her up and learned she was a beat cop and covered a section of town known for hookers, addicts and the homeless.
“She and her partner, Bain Whitefeather, are on patrol now.”
“Can you call her and ask her to meet us?” Jaxon said.
The woman nodded, made the call, then hung up. “She said to meet her at the Cactus Coffee Shop.”
“Thanks.” He and Avery walked back outside to his SUV, and he plugged the name of the coffee shop into his GPS. Fifteen minutes later, they parked in front of the small corner café with the big cactus in front. A patrol car sat next to the sign, a Native American cop inside on the radio.
When they entered, he spotted a female in uniform already seated with coffee in a booth. She was probably in her mid-thirties, with dirty blond hair, a sharp angled face and short wide hands. She was slightly overweight, wore no makeup and her curly hair was cropped short.
“Do you want something?” he asked Avery.
“Just plain coffee.”
He ordered them each a cup, and then they walked over to Lois. He flashed his badge and identified himself.
Avery extended her hand. “I’m Avery Tierney. Thank you for meeting us, Lois.”
The cop’s gray eyes flickered with recognition. “You’re Hank Tierney’s sister?”
Avery nodded, her body tense. “His execution is coming up, and I’m trying to stop it.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” Lois rubbed her hand over the baton at her waist. “I thought he did it. In fact, I was tempted to send him a thank-you note. Can’t believe they convicted him in the first place.”
“I agree,” Avery said.
Jaxon adjusted his Stetson. “We now have reason to believe he didn’t murder Mulligan, that his confession was false.”
Lois pursed her thick lips. “False? Only time that happens is when a suspect is coerced or covering for someone else.” Her gaze latched on to Avery. “That it? He covered for you?”
“Yes, because he thought I stabbed Wade Mulligan, but I didn’t.”
“We think that someone else came into the house that night and killed Mulligan,” Jaxon explained. “So we’re talking to everyone associated with the Mulligan family.”
“The old lady hated him,” Lois admitted. “But she was scared to death of him, too. I can’t imagine her having the guts to stab him.” She shrugged. “Although from what I’ve seen on the streets, you never know about people. She could have had it planned and sneaked in and offed him.”
“How long did you live with the Mulligans?” Jaxon asked.
Lois scowled and then took a swig of her coffee. “About a year. I was thirteen at the time.”
Jaxon’s pulse spiked. “Thirteen. Were any other kids there when you lived in the house?”
Anger tightened the lines on Lois’s face. “Yeah. A little girl named Dotty.”
“What happened when you were at the house?” Jaxon asked.
Lois clenched the coffee cup so tightly coffee spilled over. “Joleen drank a lot, passed out almost every night.”
Avery cleared her throat. “And Wade?”
Lois looked up at Avery, pain mingling with rage. “He used to come in my room. Used me. Hit me. Did whatever he wanted while Joleen lay passed out in the other room.”
“Did you ever tell anyone?” he asked.
She rubbed a hand down her coffee cup. “Not at first. I tried to fight him off, but I was a scrawny thing back then. Didn’t do any good.”
“So he continued?” Avery said.
Lois nodded. “But one night when he was done with me, I heard him going into Dotty’s room.” Her voice warbled. “She was seven. The tiniest little thing you ever saw. Scared of the dark and dogs and everything else in the world.”
Silence stretched between them, the reality needling Jaxon. “What happened that night?”
“I grabbed the baseball bat, ran in there and hit the bastard with it. Knocked him upside the head till he got off Dotty.”
; Pain wrenched Avery’s face, making Jaxon want to hold her again. But they had to finish this interview.
“Next day the old man sent me away. But I was scared for Dotty and told the social worker what happened.”
Avery gasped softly “You told on him?”
Lois nodded, her eyes grave with dark memories. “Heard they took Dotty to another house. I thought they might lock the old man up, but they didn’t.” She tapped her badge. “That’s when I decided to become a cop. Try to clean garbage off the streets.”
“Do you know what happened to Dotty?” Jaxon asked.
Lois propped her head on one hand for a moment, then gave a clipped nod. “Used my connections here at the department about a year ago and found out that she died in an alley. Pimp beat her to death.”
Avery gasped. “That’s horrible.”
“What’s bad is that I tried to help Dotty by telling, and it didn’t do a damn bit of good. Two months after I was taken away, I heard they were putting kids back with the Mulligans.”
“Who was the social worker?” Jaxon asked.
“Some lady named Erma Brant.”
“She never should have placed other kids there,” Avery whispered.
Jaxon nodded agreement as he studied Lois. She’d been abused by the old man, caught him abusing another younger girl, then been removed from the home. She must have been furious when she learned more children were being put in that situation.
Had she been angry enough to sneak back to the Mulligans’ and kill Wade, then escape without anyone knowing she was there?
Chapter Eleven
Jaxon studied Lois. She was tough, strong, had been a fighter. And she was smart.
Smart enough to have planned revenge on Mulligan?
“Lois, where were you the night Mulligan was murdered?”
Lois’s sharp gaze flew to Jaxon, her jaw twitching. “Damn. You think I killed the old man?”
Jaxon shrugged. “If Hank didn’t, it stands to reason that one of the other kids who’d been abused by him did.”
Lois ran a finger along the rim of her cup. “I suppose I can see why you’d think that.” She scribbled down a number and a name. “The night he died, I was at a group home. The house parent’s name was Henrietta.”
“Does she still live there?” Jaxon asked.
“Yeah, I had to see a juvy there about a month ago. Place hasn’t changed a bit. Old and run-down, but Henrietta was decent. If it wasn’t for her, I might have wound up on the streets.”
Avery shifted in her chair. “Can you think of anyone else who would have wanted Wade dead? Another kid who was placed there?”
“Hell, probably all of them.”
True, Jaxon thought. “Anyone specific?”
The cop finished her coffee and crumpled the cup in her hands. “There was one other boy and his sister who lived with the Mulligans before me. I heard Mulligan used to beat the boy, and later, that his sister got pregnant.”
Suspicions mounted in Jaxon’s mind. “What happened?”
“Mulligan forced the girl to get an abortion. I think she wound up having a breakdown or something.”
“Did Erma Brant place them there, as well?”
Lois nodded. “If you ask me, that woman should have had to serve time herself.”
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Avery and Jaxon located BJ Wilson at a rehab facility on the east side of town. The way the rustic building was set back on farmland and surrounded by trees made it look like a wilderness retreat.
A barn looked as if it held horses, and another area appeared to be used for farming. Part of the therapy for the residents?
From Jaxon’s phone call, he’d learned BJ was a heroin addict and had been caught stealing from his employer.
He’d spent two years in prison, but upon release, he immediately hit the streets for drugs. According to his probation officer, he’d managed to get BJ in rehab instead of sending him back to prison, but he wasn’t hopeful the guy would last.
“I feel sorry for him,” Avery said as they entered the rehab clinic. “No doubt his past put him here.”
“Choices put him here,” Jaxon said in a brusque tone. “A lot of people experience trauma in their lives. Not everyone turns to drugs or violence to deal with it.”
“But he never had a chance.”
Jaxon shrugged. “You went through hell, but you didn’t turn to drugs or violence.”
Avery’s heart swelled at the admiration in his tone. Then again, he was giving her too much credit. She might not be an addict or a criminal, but she was scarred.
She’d never had a relationship with a man in her life. Never gotten close to anyone.
A receptionist greeted them and showed them to the director’s office. On both sides of the hall were rooms that resembled classrooms, and a medical office sat on the corner of the corridor. Another door led to an outside garden area, complete with a recreational area that included seating, card tables, an area for arts and crafts activities and a path that looked as if it led to the creek.
The director, Cam Sanders, was a middle-aged woman with wavy red hair and a kind smile but sad eyes.
Jaxon introduced himself and Avery and explained that he needed to talk to BJ.
“How is he doing?” Avery asked.
“He’s been here three weeks and finally settling in. But I’m not sure he’ll make it out on the streets by himself. He needs supervision and structure and doesn’t seem to be able to manage that on his own.”
She steepled her hands on the desk. “What is it you want to talk to him about?”
Avery glanced at Jaxon, and he indicated for her to take the lead.
“My brother is Hank Tierney.” She paused, giving Ms. Sanders time to process her statement. Recognition quickly dawned.
“I see. What do you and your brother have to do with BJ?”
“We lived in the same foster home, not at the same time, but BJ knew the man my brother was accused of killing.”
“Other than dredging up painful memories, what do you think you’ll accomplish by talking to BJ?”
Jaxon shifted. “We’re building a case to show that Wade Mulligan was abusive to the children under his care.”
The director buttoned her suit coat. “But Hank Tierney confessed, and proving Mulligan was abusive only confirms his motive.”
“Yes, but it also opens the door to others with motive, which could be enough to cast reasonable doubt on Hank,” Jaxon pointed out.
Irritation flashed in the woman’s eyes. “So you came here to ask BJ if he killed Mulligan?”
Avery’s stomach clenched. “No. We just want to know what happened with him and his sister.”
Ms. Sanders stood. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The counselor working with him said his traumatic past contributed to his addiction problems.”
“My brother’s life depends on us learning the truth,” Avery argued.
Jaxon crossed his arms. “Isn’t facing the truth imperative for a patient’s recovery?”
Ms. Sanders worried her bottom lip with her teeth, fidgeting as if she were debating the issue. “Let me speak to BJ’s counselor. If he agrees, I’ll let you talk to him.”
“Thank you,” Avery and Jaxon both murmured at once.
The woman’s heels clicked as she crossed the room and left. Jaxon paced to the window and looked out. The skies looked gloomy and gray, winter taking its toll as wind swirled dead grass and tumbleweed across the parking lot.
A second later, the director returned. “All right. Dr. Kemp says you can speak with BJ, but only in his presence.”
They followed the woman down a hall past several private rooms to a sunroom off the back that overlooked the creek.
&n
bsp; A thin man in his late thirties wearing jeans and a flannel shirt sat in a straight chair at a small table set up with checkers. He looked antsy and nervous and kept tapping one of the checkers against the board.
Another man, more distinguished looking, graying at his temples, sat across from him. Obviously the therapist. He angled himself toward them as they approached.
Ms. Sanders introduced them, and Dr. Kemp gestured for them to join him and BJ around the checkers table. The doctor addressed BJ. “BJ, Jaxon Ward is a Texas Ranger, and Avery’s brother, Hank, is in prison for murdering Wade Mulligan.”
BJ rocked himself back and forth, his eyes twitching as if he had a nervous tic.
“You... Hank killed him. That’s good,” BJ said.
Avery sucked in a deep breath. “Wade Mulligan deserved to die, didn’t he, BJ?”
BJ clawed at his arms. “Yeah, he was a monster.”
“Did he hurt you and your sister?” Jaxon asked.
BJ clawed harder, drawing Avery’s gaze to his track marks. “Yeah, he was mean. He used to beat me. And what he did to Imogene... I should have killed him.”
Avery’s heart pounded, but Dr. Kemp gave her a warning look.
“Did she tell anyone what he did?” Jaxon asked.
Emotions clouded BJ’s face, his eyes twitching again. “No, she was ashamed. But she cried all the time and then she got pregnant.”
“I’m so sorry for what he did,” Avery said. “I know how she felt, how you felt, because Wade Mulligan did the same thing to me and my brother.”
“He got you pregnant?” BJ asked.
Avery quickly shook her head. “No, but he came into my room at night. I used to cry all the time, too. And I was glad when he died.”
“Me, too.” BJ stood and bounced from one foot to the other. “I wanted to kill him. I should have. Especially after he made Imogene get rid of the baby.” His voice cracked. “That destroyed her. She didn’t want to be pregnant, but she hated what he made her do. And then she got so depressed she cut her wrists with a kitchen knife.”