The Girl Who Cried Murder

by Paula Graves

  “Not possible.” She turned in his arms to look at him. “You come back to me all in one piece. Understand? This is nonnegotiable.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She caught his face between her palms, enjoying the light rasp of his beard stubble against her skin. “Taking your self-defense course was the best decision I ever made in my whole crazy life.”

  He smiled at her. “I knew the minute you walked into my class that first morning you would be nothing but trouble.” He kissed her nose. “And you are. But I have a real soft spot for trouble.”

  The sound of a clearing throat nearby made him groan, and Charlie pulled out of his arms and turned to face Meredith. She’d donned a pair of Charlie’s jeans and a bright green T-shirt that was one of her favorites. Her red hair peeked out from beneath a blue University of Kentucky baseball cap. “Think I’ll pass as Charlie?”

  “Close enough,” Mike said. “You ready to go?”

  “Yeah.”

  Mike turned back to Charlie. “Watch TV. Or read. Just try not to worry. We know what we’re doing.” He gave her a quick kiss and nodded for Meredith to follow him as he headed for the door to the garage.

  Watch TV, Charlie thought. Read a book. Try not to worry.

  As if she’d be able to do any of those things.

  * * *

  THE FIRST PART of the plan went through without a hitch. Meredith used Charlie’s credit card to pay for the repairs, and Bill Hardy, forewarned, put the transaction through without question. He handed over the keys to Charlie’s Toyota and waved them off.

  Back in the Ford by himself, Mike called in his position. In the Toyota, Meredith did the same.

  “Feeney’s on the move,” Trask said on his end. He and Heller were positioned inside Charlie’s house, hidden in case Feeney decided to stage some sort of ambush.

  “How do we know?” Mike asked.

  “I put one of my deputies on his tail.”

  “You might have mentioned that before,” Mike muttered. “What if he spots the tail?”

  “He won’t.” Trask sounded confident.

  Mike was coming up on the intersection of Mill Road and Old Mercerville Highway. As good a place to have a breakdown as any.

  Ahead, the Toyota crossed the intersection. But Mike pulled over to the side of the road and parked on the shoulder, turning on his emergency flashers. He waited for a couple of cars to pass, then got out of the truck and walked around to the hood.

  He lifted the hood and pulled up the rod to hold it in place. “I’m stopped at Mill Road and Old Mercerville Highway,” he murmured into the small mike that protruded from the earpiece. To anyone looking, it would seem as if he was on the phone using a Bluetooth headset.

  “Feeney is driving a silver Honda Accord. He looks to be headed directly your way.”

  While pretending to be checking the water in the radiator, Mike kept one eye on the light traffic passing by him. Sure enough, one of the next cars to pass was a silver Honda. He could barely make out a male driver, who seemed to be the only person in the vehicle.

  “I have a visual. Subject is heading down Mill Road. Should be nearing Sycamore Road in two minutes.”

  “I’m about three minutes ahead,” Meredith said. “I’m about to turn into the driveway at Charlie’s place.”

  “Showtime,” Trask said. “You know what to do, Strong.”

  Mike fiddled with the radiator for a few seconds more, until he was sure Feeney’s Honda was well out of sight. He double-checked with a glance over his shoulder, then closed the truck’s hood and returned to the driver’s seat. He turned off the hazard lights, started the truck and pulled back onto the road.

  * * *

  CHARLIE CHECKED THE clock over the fireplace mantel for about the twentieth time in the past half hour. By now, Meredith would be at the house. Trask and Heller would have arrived there a few minutes earlier, setting up for the ambush.

  All she had to do was wait and it would all be over.

  The trill of her cell phone made her jump. She picked it up off the coffee table and checked the display.

  A familiar number jumped out at her. Her heart started to thud faster in her chest.

  “Hello?”

  “Charlotte. It’s been a long time.” Diana Bearden’s voice hadn’t changed in ten years. Still soft and warm. Tinged with a hint of wary friendliness.

  “Mrs. Bearden. I...wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry about the distance over these years. I just— It’s been hard to be reminded of Alice’s death.”

  “It’s been hard for me, too.” Charlie blinked back the tears suddenly burning her eyes. “I thought about trying to contact you and Mr. Bearden about a thousand times. I did call Mr. Bearden’s office a few weeks back. And today.” She paused, remembering the reason for her latest call.

  “Craig’s out of town. He’s in Louisville for a meet and greet. I was going to go, but...” Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, Charlie thought she’d hung up.

  “Mrs. Bearden?”

  There were tears in her voice when she spoke again. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. It’s just so near the time...you know. And hearing your voice again after so long brings up so many memories.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tears pricked Charlie’s eyes.

  “I don’t suppose you have a few minutes to meet with me today, do you?” Diana asked. “Maybe you could come by the house?”

  “I—I don’t have my car.”

  “Then maybe I could come to you?”

  “No. That’s not good, either.” She thought about Mike and the others, probably neck-deep in danger as they spoke. He’d told her to stay put. Her safety was on the line.

  “I just— I’m feeling so alone right now. Craig doesn’t understand. He’s poured all his grief into his campaign. It’s like he thinks he can make everything right by winning and changing laws that might have saved Alice all those years ago. But it won’t bring her back.” Diana was crying helplessly now. “Nothing will ever bring her back. And I just— I need to talk to someone who understands. I think you understand, don’t you, Charlotte?”

  Charlie bit back a sob. “Okay. You can come here.” She gave Diana the address. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Thank you,” Diana said quietly. “You just may be saving my life. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She hung up the phone.

  Charlie put her phone back on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, gripping her hands tightly together. Now that she’d agreed to see Diana, she was already second-guessing her decision. Mike would probably be furious at her for agreeing to have Diana Bearden come here. And maybe it had been a stupid decision.

  But how could she say no to Alice’s mother after all this time?

  She checked her phone, in case Mike had left a message while she was talking to Diana. But her voice mail was empty.

  The clock over the mantel showed only seven minutes had passed since the last time she checked.

  What was happening at her house now?

  * * *

  “FEENEY’S PARKED HIS CAR. The GPS signal hasn’t moved for two minutes.” Trask’s voice sounded tinny through the earpiece.

  “Do you have a location?” Mike asked.

  “Somewhere between here and Mill Road. What’s your position?”

  “I’ve just pulled onto Sycamore. I’ll keep an eye out for the Honda.”

  He spotted the vehicle about two blocks farther down Sycamore Road, parked at the curb about a half mile from Charlie’s house.

  “Found it,” he said into the mike. “Half mile up Sycamore. Unoccupied. Feeney must be on foot.”

  He pulled the truck up behind the Honda and got out, reaching down to unsheathe his boot knife as he walked. He looked into
the car’s interior to be sure Feeney wasn’t hiding, then he shoved the blade of the knife into the front and back tires on the street-facing side of the Honda.

  “Vehicle’s incapacitated,” he said into the mike. “Got a visual on Feeney yet?”

  “Nothing yet.” It was Heller who answered. “Be careful. Don’t want him to spot you.”

  “Got it covered.” Mike cut through a side yard and headed into the thick woods that stood behind the homes on this part of Sycamore Road. Once hidden within the trees, he pulled the pot of camouflage paint from his backpack and covered his face to match the camo jacket and pants he wore.

  The afternoon had waned quickly since Charlie had made the call, twilight already drifting over the afternoon on gathering dark clouds, bringing with them the threat of rain. It also provided better cover for Mike as he tried to make up the time he’d already lost, but it also made him a little wary about Charlie stuck at his house alone with darkness falling.

  “We have a visual.” Trask’s voice buzzed in his ear as he crept through the trees behind the house next door to Charlie’s. He paused in place, peering through the thicket in hopes of catching sight of Randall Feeney.

  There. He was dressed in dark colors, moving through the woods about forty yards east of Mike’s position.

  “Showtime,” he whispered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The wind picked up, swirling dead leaves around Mike’s feet as he crept closer to where Randall Feeney crouched near the edge of the woods directly behind Charlie’s house. For one heart-stopping moment, Feeney turned his head toward Mike, who froze in place, holding his breath.

  Then, as rain started to fall in fat drops from the gunmetal sky, Feeney dashed through the backyard and up to the side of the house. He looked around him, checking for any sign that he was being watched, then he pulled open a small window built into the house’s foundation.

  It was a tiny space, but Feeney was a slim man. He squeezed through the opening and slipped inside.

  Mike muttered a curse. He should have checked the house for just that sort of point of entry. He’d made sure that all the windows on the upper floor were locked, but he hadn’t even thought about there being a cellar in the small house. He should have asked Charlie.

  He should have done a lot of things differently.

  “Feeney’s entered through a cellar window. I didn’t even think to check if it was locked. He’ll probably be coming up through an interior door.” Mike followed Feeney’s path to the window and crouched to one side, listening through the opening for any sounds the man might be making.

  Taking a chance, he peered through the narrow window into the cellar. The small, musty space was utterly dark, the gloom alleviated only by the faint gray light from the window and the narrow beam of a small flashlight several yards inside the space.

  Feeney was crouching near the back of the cellar, next to what looked like a furnace unit. His body blocked whatever it was he was doing, but based on where he was crouching, he seemed to be near the pipes.

  What was he doing?

  Suddenly, Feeney stood and started to turn back to the window.

  Mike pulled back quickly, heart racing, and flattened himself against the wall.

  Something came flying out of the window and hit the ground, sliding across the wet grass. It looked like a coil of green twine.

  But it wasn’t. And suddenly, Mike knew exactly what Randall Feeney had been doing in the cellar.

  He scrambled toward the green coil, growling into the headset’s mouthpiece, “He’s cut the gas line in the furnace room beneath the house. He’s going to try to blow it up. Get the hell out now!”

  Several things happened at once. Feeney’s head and shoulders appeared in the window as he started to haul himself out. Mike grabbed the green coil of cannon fuse and pulled out his knife, slicing the leading piece of fuse trailing from the window. He flung the coil toward the tree line with one hand and leveled the knife toward Feeney, who had stopped half in and half out of the house.

  “Very careful, Mr. Feeney,” he warned as the man stared back at him with wide, scared eyes. “You’ve just armed a very nasty bomb, and I wouldn’t want to see you blown up with it.”

  Heller came around the side of the house, half-crouched, ready to spring. “Trask just turned off the master gas switch. If nobody does anything stupid, we can end this thing with everybody still alive.”

  Trask appeared then, Meredith Chandler right behind him. He eased over to the basement window and nodded for Heller to join him. The two men pulled Feeney out of the window and jerked him to his feet.

  “I want a lawyer,” Feeney said.

  “That can be arranged,” Trask said, pushing Feeney toward the wall of the house. “Spread your legs and put your hands against the wall.”

  Feeney complied.

  “Anything in your pockets I need to know about? Needles, weapons?”

  “A lighter in my front pocket. A phone in the back.”

  Trask pulled the lighter and the phone from Feeney’s pockets and handed them to Mike to hold while he patted his prisoner down.

  The phone vibrated suddenly against Mike’s palm. He looked at the display and saw a message from someone called D. The girl isn’t there. I’ll take it from here.

  His heart plummeting, he crossed to Feeney and shoved the phone in front of his face. “Who is D?”

  Feeney just looked at him, a faint smile curving his lips.

  Mike showed Trask the message. “We knew he probably had an accomplice, whoever was driving the car that hit Alice.”

  Mike sent a text back. Where are you now?

  There was no response.

  “Damn it, Feeney, who is D?”

  Feeney continued smiling.

  * * *

  THE PERIMETER ALARM sounded in the hallway just as Charlie was finishing a quick application of lipstick. It was silly, she knew, to worry about how she looked after all these years, but maybe that was why it seemed so important to her. It was her first face-to-face meeting with Alice’s mother in almost ten years. She wanted to show a little respect for the occasion.

  She was halfway to the door when she remembered the camera app on her phone. Pulling it up, she checked the camera feed.

  Diana Bearden stood in front of the door, her image slightly distorted by the camera lens. Charlie knew from her press photos that she hadn’t aged much in the past ten years, but she was struck anew by how much Diana looked like her daughter might have looked if she had grown into middle age.

  Giving her hair a quick finger combing, she shoved her phone in the pocket of her jeans and unlocked the door.

  For a moment, Diana just stared back at her through the screen door, her blue eyes sharp and probing, as if she were trying to read past Charlie’s exterior to see what existed at the core of her soul. It was a disconcerting sensation, forcing Charlie to paste on a smile and open the screen door. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said as she stepped back to let Diana inside.

  After locking the door behind them, she turned around to look at Alice’s mother, mentally rehearsing what she wanted to say. I’m sorry came to mind, along with I miss Alice like crazy.

  She was so caught up in what she thought she should say that it took a couple of seconds to register what she was seeing in front of her.

  Diana held a pistol in one perfectly manicured hand, the barrel pointed straight at Charlie’s heart.

  “You just couldn’t let it go, could you?” Diana said.

  Her heart sinking, Charlie slowly shook her head. “No. I couldn’t.”

  * * *

  A VIBRATION AGAINST his hip drew Mike’s attention briefly away from Randall Feeney’s smiling face. It was his phone, sending him a notice that the perimeter alarm at his house had
been breached.

  “Someone’s breached the perimeter at my house,” he told Heller, already moving toward the front of the house. He pulled up the camera app and checked the feed, stumbling to a halt in surprise as he recognized the tawny-haired woman in a dark blue suit who stood at his door.

  What was Diana Bearden doing at his house?

  He punched in Charlie’s cell phone number. The call went directly to voice mail.

  Heller had caught up, grabbing Mike by the shoulder. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Diana Bearden is at my house. Charlie just let her in.” The tail end of the motion-activated camera shot showed Charlie letting Diana inside. The door closed, and a few seconds later, the shot went dormant.

  “Diana,” Heller said, his voice dropping in pitch.

  D, Mike thought, his heart suddenly stuttering. He turned to look at Heller. “It was Diana Bearden. She was Feeney’s accomplice.”

  “And now she’s at your house with Charlie.”

  Mike started running before Heller finished his sentence.

  * * *

  “I DON’T REMEMBER EVERYTHING, you know.” Charlie tried to control the tremors running through her as she stared down the barrel of Diana’s pistol. It couldn’t be very large, she realized—it fit rather snugly in Diana’s small hand. But the big black hole at the end of the barrel still appeared to be enormous, and it never wavered from the center of her chest.

  Center mass, she thought. Wasn’t that what shooting instructors called it? The center of the body, where most of the body’s vital organs lay. One or two shots there, and nobody would be walking away.

  “You remember enough,” Diana said. “That’s why you called my husband again today, isn’t it?”

  “Feeney told you?”

  “He tells me everything.” Diana twitched the barrel of the pistol toward the center of the living room. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  The question caught Charlie off guard. “You want to go to the bathroom? Now?”

  Diana laughed. “No, I want you to go there. Now.”

  Charlie walked slowly down the hallway toward the bathroom door on the right. As they passed the open door of the office, she spotted His Highness sitting in the doorway, his blue eyes glaring hate at Diana Bearden. He bared his teeth and hissed.