by Jen J. Danna
“She may also feel she has absolutely nothing to lose anymore,” Matt pointed out. “Remember, this is a woman who’s killed for revenge before. If she knew she was talking to the person who’d killed her son, I don’t think she’d hesitate to kill again. And we know she’s armed.”
“Which is something Connor doesn’t know. So … HRT. That’s the key. What does that mean to Connor specifically?”
“That’s one’s obvious,” Riley interjected.
Leigh turned to him. He’d been so quiet and she’d been so focused on Matt and their discussion that she’d forgotten Riley was there. “Do you want to share it with the class?”
“Sure. HRT is High Rock Tower. It’s where he said he was the night of the murder.”
Realization poured over her like a bucket of icy water and she slapped an open palm against her thigh in frustration. “Of course. He’d direct her to somewhere familiar to him to finish this off. He knows we’re going to figure out it’s him. He’s got nothing to lose.” She met Matt’s gaze. “People with nothing to lose are extremely dangerous.”
“That’s a combat lesson I learned years ago. Leigh, the note said ten o’clock.” His gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. “We’re not going to get there in time.”
Digging into her pocket, Leigh yanked out her notepad and scribbled down Evelyn’s name, address, and the make of her car. She ripped off the sheet of paper and thrust it at Riley. “Find out the plate number for this vehicle and put a BOLO on it.” She gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Good work. Thanks.”
They left the office at a sprint.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: DÉGORGEMENT
* * *
Dégorgement: the traditional method of removing dead yeast (lees) from champagne by popping the crown cap and letting the carbonation push the plug out from the neck of the bottle. Before the process was invented circa 1815 by Madame Clicquot Ponsardin, traditional champagne was cloudy.
Wednesday, 10:27 a.m.
High Rock Tower
Lynn, Massachusetts
“Hang on.”
Glancing sideways at the hard set of Leigh’s jaw, Matt reached for the grab bar above the passenger door just as they careened around the corner onto Circuit Avenue. Leigh hit the gas, gunning it uphill, charming clapboard houses streaking by in a blur of blue, yellow, and beige. Another sharp curve and then the closed loop at the end of the avenue came into view. Beyond, High Rock Tower stood atop the rocky rise, a dark shape backlit by the brilliant, cloudless late autumn sky. As they quickly closed the distance, Matt could make out the architectural details of the tower. Built of reddish granite, its corners and trim lined with gray stone, it stood on a cliff, towering more than two hundred feet above sea level. Arched windows with granite railings circled the second floor, with smaller arches on the third, leading up to the crenellated observation deck. Topping the tower was the silver dome of the observatory.
“Look.” Leigh took one white-knuckled hand from the wheel to point at the cars parked at the far end of the curve. “The silver four-door sedan. That could be Evelyn’s.” She groped in her pocket for her phone.
“Definitely. The other could be Connor’s. The observatory’s probably not open this early, so no one else is here. Pull in behind them. We’ll have to go on foot from there.”
Leigh pulled to a stop behind the cars, unbuckling her seat-belt even as she called it in, giving their location and requesting backup while grabbing a spare pair of cuffs from the glove box. Then they were both out and sprinting along the sidewalk, hurdling over the short wood rail fence at the edge to race along the grassy hill leading up to the tower. Glancing upwards, Matt caught a glimpse of movement through one of the upper arched windows before he had to pull his attention away as they leapt onto the walkway.
They took the long rise of steps two at a time, only slowing near the top as they approached the unlatched double doors at the entrance. They stopped under the patinaed copper plate above the doors commemorating the September 1905 dedication of the tower. One firm pull and the door swung silently outward.
Matt grabbed her arm before she could move through. “Careful,” he whispered. “I thought I saw movement on the third floor. Someone’s inside.”
Leigh nodded, pulling her gun from the cross-draw holster on her left hip. “Stay behind me.”
They crept into the quiet darkness of the tower. Inside, the unadorned granite walls enclosed a massive brick column filling the center of the space. Leigh indicated the open door and together they stole into the brick cylinder, where a metal staircase wound clockwise up the tower. Normally illuminated by lights installed high on the inside wall, the shaft was mostly dark, lit only by natural light filtering down faintly from above. Leigh started up the staircase, moving silently from tread to tread, ignoring the metal handrail and keeping hold of her weapon, while reaching out to trail the fingers of her left hand over the rough brick as they ascended. When they reached a small open window to the tower, they stopped briefly, but only silence greeted them before they continued up into the damp chill of the stairway.
They came to an open door partway up. Across from the doorway, arched windows and a granite balustrade opened out over downtown Lynn and beyond to the Atlantic Ocean, the wind whistling unimpeded through the tower.
Matt suddenly froze, closing his eyes. Was that a voice? It was hard to tell over the moan of the wind, but, if it had been real, it was gone now. He opened his eyes to find Leigh staring at him curiously. He simply tapped his left ear and she nodded in understanding.
They continued upwards another half turn before Leigh abruptly stopped. This time there was no mistaking the voices, no matter how faint.
“How dare you lay hands on me?”
Their eyes met. Evelyn.
They doubled their pace, choosing speed over silence. Past the door that opened out to the third floor of the tower and further up toward the upper deck, the sound of voices growing louder.
Matt grasped Leigh’s arm, stopping her just inside the open door at the top of the stairs. A small revolver lay on the ground just inside the door frame. Evelyn’s gun, almost certainly. Connor must have forced her to drop it and now had the upper hand.
Outside, the gusting wind scuttled small dried leaves around the deck of the tower, piling them into the corner of the stone wall opposite the doorway. But over the whistling of the breeze, raised voices were clear.
“You killed my great-grandmother. Shot her in cold blood. Waited while she died.” Connor’s voice, fury driving his words.
“She was collateral damage. Samuel Kain needed to pay for what he did.”
“What he did? He avenged his mother!”
Her head still cocked toward the conversation, Leigh quickly picked up the revolver. She flipped the cylinder open, eyed the six bullets inside and closed it again before sliding the gun into the pocket of her jacket.
“An alcoholic who drank herself into the grave? That was her choice.” Disdain was thick in Evelyn’s tone.
“Your father poisoned her and probably other customers with bad booze. For money. It was always about money.” Disgust crept into Connor’s tone. “He lined his pockets with their money and when they died, he didn’t care. You’re still living on that money, which makes you as guilty as he was.”
Leigh motioned to Matt, indicating that he should go to the right, while she took the left. They went through the door together, splitting to circle the central tower housing the observatory and its telescope. Hugging the brick wall and leading with her gun hand, Leigh quickly disappeared from view. Matt assessed the open steel staircase that faced him. Curving around the center brick column, it led up to another door, one Matt assumed led directly to the telescope. Running up the first four steps, he vaulted over the railing, landing lightly at the edge of the crenellated wall that surrounded the tower. Downtown Boston spread out in the distance, and Matt automatically noted the familiar landmarks, from the Prudential Tower in the west to the Customs Hous
e Tower and beyond in the east.
Quickly pressing himself against the tower wall under the staircase, he inched forward. The argument continued uninterrupted and he knew that Leigh was balancing her desire to learn as much as possible with her need to end the killing.
Another few feet forward, Matt caught a glimpse of Connor and Evelyn, his pulse skipping as he realized Connor’s plan. Connor had the older woman pressed up against the granite wall at one of the low crenel openings, her body bent back over the edge of the wall. A pistol was thrust under her chin, forcing her head back even further.
One good push and she would tumble over the wall and fall onto the jagged rocks below. An “accident” with no trace back to him. The circle finally closed.
Suddenly Connor bellowed, “Great-Grandpa! Are you watching? I’m doing this for you!”
Matt’s gaze snapped to the buildings spread out before them down the hill, quickly finding a low brick building several blocks away. Everything abruptly clicked into place. Unconcerned with concealing his own identity, Connor had chosen this place for his final kill, within sight of the old man’s room at Saint Joseph’s Nursing Home. One final act of love for a beloved mentor before he died.
Was Samuel lying in his bed and watching even now?
“That old man lost his mind years ago,” Evelyn hissed. “He probably doesn’t even know you exist.”
She gasped as the gun jammed harder, digging into the soft flesh under her chin. “Don’t say that,” Connor gritted. “He’s a better person than you ever were. And now he’ll watch you die.”
“Connor, stop.” Leigh’s voice carried both authority and calm as she stepped forward into Matt’s view, gun pointed unwaveringly at Connor’s torso. His gun jerked in surprise at the sight of her, but otherwise he gave no reaction. “Let me handle this. I know she killed Anna. Let me take her in. She’ll spend the rest of her life in jail. Murdering her isn’t the way.”
“It’s her way,” Connor said, his gaze fixed on Leigh. “Revenge is her way. This would be justice.” He started to back away, dragging Evelyn along the wall, ignoring her cry of pain as skin scraped across granite.
Matt pulled back further into the shadows, knowing he was in full view now and not wanting to make Connor feel cornered—cornered animals could be unpredictable. Leigh’s gaze darted toward him, a quick flick unnoticed by Connor.
“But it’s over so quickly this way.” Leigh inched forward slowly, maintaining the distance between them. “My way puts in her prison for the rest of her life. I can do it too; we have definitive proof.”
Connor’s gun wavered, dropping slightly “What proof?”
“We have her DNA from a cigarette in Anna’s kitchen ashtray and her fingerprints were found at the scene. Connor, let us handle this.”
Good job—distract him with the promise of retribution, but don’t mention his own part in Holt’s death.
“We know she killed Anna to get to Samuel,” Leigh continued. “We don’t know why, but that hardly matters at this point because we know she’s guilty. It’ll be such an open and shut case that any jury will convict her.” Leigh’s careless tone made it appear that she considered the motive inconsequential, but Matt knew she was actually fishing for information.
“It was justice,” Evelyn spat, struggling against Connor’s hold. “Any jury would understand that. Samuel Kain was a nobody who tried to rise above his station by killing my father. A congressman. A Ward. But when no body was discovered, there was no crime to investigate.”
“So you took matters into your own hands.” Leigh spoke to Evelyn, but her gaze stayed fixed on Connor. “Connor, let her go. Let me do my job. Your satisfaction, your great-grandfather’s satisfaction can come from knowing that she’ll spend the rest of her life in jail. No servants, no gourmet meals. No personal assistant. A life of having nothing after having it all. Think of how she’ll suffer. It’s over. She’s done.”
Connor faltered in that moment, relaxing his grip on Evelyn, his face a study in conflict and confusion as brain and heart battled over the greater justice.
Matt saw the effect of Leigh’s words on Evelyn, realized they were backfiring in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She was trying to bring Connor closer emotionally; instead she was driving Evelyn to desperation. Evelyn, who had no gun to defend herself, would consider that there was only one way out at this point.
“Stop!” He bolted forward, already seeing desperation settle into resignation and acceptance on Evelyn’s lined face. She wouldn’t live out the rest of her days disgraced and penniless. It simply wasn’t the Ward way.
Evelyn took advantage of Connor’s indecision, shoving him hard. He stumbled backward, fumbling the gun in his already loosened hold. He tried to tighten his grip with both hands as Leigh leapt for him.
Matt ignored Connor, leaving him to Leigh, knowing that between the two suspects, she’d consider Connor the imminent threat because he had a weapon. She didn’t even consider the danger Evelyn posed, but he did—the danger to herself.
Evelyn was already scrambling up onto one of the crenels, only a mere four feet off the ground. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes went wide as Matt darted around Connor and Leigh, heading straight for her.
She closed her eyes and launched herself out into the swirling wind, spreading her arms wide as if asking her father to accept her sacrifice.
“Not so fast!” Matt hurled himself against the wall, impacting with enough force that pain stabbed through his ribs. Chest pressed flat to the top surface of the battlement, he reached out, catching Evelyn’s leg milliseconds after she pushed off, his hands scrabbling desperately to gain a hold over slick stockings. He clamped down hard, automatically digging the toes of his boots and his knees into the wall for leverage as she slipped ever further through his grasp. The vicious wind whipped at her body, tugging her through his fingers.
He was losing her.
With a grunt of effort, he held on desperately as his grip finally caught just above her ankle. With a cry, Evelyn’s body jerked out of free fall, slamming painfully into the granite wall, the shoe of her free foot spinning away to clatter onto the deadly jagged rocks of the cliff face.
With a groan, Matt started to pull her up. She wasn’t that heavy, but laid out flat over the wall, his elbows extended into thin air, he had no leverage. His muscles started to shake with the effort. One inch. Two. Three. You can do this.
Then she started to fight him, twisting from side to side so that it was all Matt could do to maintain his hold, forget about lifting her to safety. A thought briefly flashed through his mind—if you want to die so badly, I could oblige you. But medics saved lives, no matter what. They went to the wall to save them, even if it meant literally.
“Leigh.” Her name hissed through gritted teeth, barely loud enough to be heard over the scream of the wind.
A metal click sounded behind him, followed by scuffling, but he couldn’t turn around to look without risking his already tentative grip. He tried her name again, louder this time.
Then she was beside him, taking in the situation in a glance, fitting her smaller body into the crenel, reaching out and catching the flailing stockinged foot. Immediately, the strain on his shoulders eased.
“Let’s bring her up slowly,” Leigh said. “Slow and steady.”
Evelyn struggled against them, but little by little, they dragged her back onto the deck, ignoring her cries of pain. Being dragged over a rough granite wall would still be less painful than falling nearly ninety feet onto the rocks below.
Finally pulling her over the parapet, they dumped her unceremoniously onto the stone floor. Leigh pushed her onto her stomach, securing her arms behind her before rolling her face up.
Leaning against the wall, panting from exertion, Matt studied Connor, who sat against the far wall, his arms secured behind him and his head resting on his upraised knees. A quick scan found Connor’s gun in the corner of the stone wall where Leigh must have kicked it before subduing h
im.
Leigh leaned on the wall beside him. “Good catch. Lightning-fast reflexes. I didn’t see that coming.”
“You were too focused on Connor.” He stopped to breathe in, breathe out. “I was watching her. When you were dangling the carrot of her horrible existence in front of him, she was realizing the same thing and decided she wouldn’t live with that. I could see it in her eyes. So when you went for him, I went for her. Almost missed her too, but got lucky in the end.” He eyed her torn and bloody stockings. “It was close though. Thanks for the hand. When she started to struggle, I thought it was game over.”
“Happy to be of service. Helps me too, actually. Much less paperwork now.”
He grinned at her. Cop humor.
“And now I can reward you by taking the night off to say thanks properly.”
His grin widened wickedly.
In the distance, sirens wailed, quickly drawing closer. Leigh leaned over the balustrade and peered down before turning to smile back at Matt.
The cavalry had arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: SABRAGE
* * *
Sabrage: a ceremonial method of opening a champagne bottle by striking the neck with a saber.
Friday, 3:56 p.m.
Shirley, Massachusetts
“So, Samuel shared the whole story with Connor, not with the intent of sending him out for retribution, but because I think he wanted someone else in the family to know why his wife was killed. His lucid moments were growing fewer and farther between, and he knew he didn’t have much time. Sharing the story also gave him someone else to help carry the immense weight of his own guilt,” Leigh explained. “He was close to Connor, so he was the obvious choice. I don’t think he intended the killings to continue.”
“If he had, he likely would have continued himself,” Matt said. “He must have known as soon as he found the cuff links that Evelyn had to be responsible for Anna’s death since she was the only Ward left. He had years to go after her or her family if he wanted to. He didn’t, so either he didn’t want to attract attention to himself, or maybe he felt that to continue would only put his family in more danger and losing his wife was enough.”