Burning Proof

by Janice Cantore

  Abby couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “I imagine that’s exactly what I was the day we met.”

  “I needed it. Everyone but you treated me like I was breakable. It took almost losing my sister to realize that the last thing I wanted to be was fragile. And I also saw that by staying stuck where I was, I was letting him win. He still had me in the trunk of his car.”

  Abby could tell by her face that she was being honest, that she’d finally won a resounding victory over what had happened all those years ago. Abby knew what a good feeling it was to be in that place.

  “I’m so glad to hear it. And how is Callie?”

  “She’s okay. He didn’t do anything to her—I mean, he choked her and tied her up, and that was bad, but he didn’t do anything else. I’ll make sure she stays okay. And she can’t believe how that guy totally fooled everyone in town. How is he doing?”

  “Last I heard—thanks to you—he’ll live to stand trial. He lost a lot of blood, but he’ll live.”

  “I heard him, you know, heard him yelling. Even with the gun firing, I understood what he was saying. I heard him screaming that he was the top of the food chain.”

  “You did? I couldn’t understand a word. So you knew then that he was your bad guy.”

  Molly nodded. “Yeah, and I’ll confess that while I was holding my sweatshirt against his wounds, pressing to stop the bleeding, I wanted him to live so that he would know what it’s like in a trunk. I think being locked in a jail cell will be just like that.”

  “He’ll receive justice for what he did, even more than for what he did to you. He killed at least two people, maybe more.” Abby paused, wondering if Molly was ready for the rest of the news that the police search of Barone’s house had brought. She decided that the girl was okay all the way around. “By the way, the police found a lot of interesting things in Barone’s house. One item was a shoe box that contained three IDs and some jewelry. This is preliminary, but it appears as if the stuff belongs to three girls who went missing around the same time you were attacked.” Abby watched Molly process this new information.

  “You mean there were girls who didn’t get away?”

  “It looks that way, though it will be difficult to prove in court. Officers are working hard to prove what they can.”

  Molly bit her bottom lip and looked down for a minute. When she looked up again, she said, “So the families of the missing girls will have a little bit of closure?”

  Abby nodded. “As much as is possible if Barone doesn’t want to talk.”

  “I hope I have the chance to help some of them, if I can.”

  “That’s a wonderful thought. You might be a big help.”

  Molly smiled. “Thank you for everything, especially Callie.” She wrapped Abby in a hug.

  “Seeing you on a firm foundation is thanks enough.”

  Abby left Tehachapi with a light heart. Helping Molly was satisfying on many levels, and she hoped to be able to help others like her. Molly’s smile and new, confident demeanor resonated with her for a long time. While Abby loved catching killers, putting people in jail so they couldn’t victimize anyone else, she realized that seeing life pour back into a tortured soul was as, if not more, satisfying. After all, she thought, I know what it’s like to emerge from a tunnel of darkness to find my footing on the other side. Helping people like me, like Molly, feels like a journey worth taking, a vision worth having.

  We’re survivors.

  Luke and Woody had left town already, about half an hour before she did. The dog rescue people had found Woody a female Lab, half-starved, wandering in the desert, probably dumped by some idiot, Woody said. He had to wait for her to pass a medical exam and then be spayed, but he was looking forward to driving back out in a couple of weeks or so to pick her up.

  Abby’s phone rang, and she saw it was Ethan, again. He’d called yesterday, but she’d not been able to answer or return the call. She picked the phone up but realized that she didn’t want to talk to Ethan at the moment. Feeling guilty, she nonetheless put the phone down and let the call go to voice mail.

  I’ll call him after I get to Long Beach, when I know more about the buried body they discovered. I’d rather have the whole story to tell him. . . . Yes, that’s best, she told herself as she let her thoughts return to the find in Long Beach.

  Abby planned to meet Luke and Woody at the house on Granada where the remains with her father’s ID had been unearthed. Because of the contents of the letter Luke had gotten from Lucy Harper’s daughter, Abby was 99.9 percent certain they were her father’s remains.

  “What does it say?” Luke had asked.

  “It’s from my dad.” Abby took a deep breath; the letter had shaken her but had not knocked her off-balance. “He gave it to Lucy with instructions that she take it to the police if anything happened to him. It’s dated two days after the fire.”

  “She didn’t do as he asked.”

  Abby shook her head. “I guess not. She was probably frightened. She had kids and no particular loyalty to my father.” She looked into Luke’s eyes, then to Woody. Both of her friends were obviously concerned. “I’m okay. He confirms a bit of what Sanders said. Gavin was the shooter. He killed my mom and my dad killed Piper Shea. My dad agonized over running off and leaving your uncle and me. What he hoped to do was prove he’d acted in self-defense and be reunited with me. And he says he was certain she would have ordered Gavin to kill me on the spot if he hadn’t fled.”

  “She?”

  “Yep. Alyssa Rollins was there giving all the orders.”

  Abby had considered that Alyssa was involved, but assumed her involvement included her husband, Lowell Rollins. But her father made it clear that he didn’t believe Lowell was involved at all, that it was only Alyssa who was behind the threats that eventually led to the shooting. The day after the fire Buck had tried to reach Lowell but failed. His next thought was to appeal to Kelsey Cox. He was going to turn himself in, but he didn’t know where Abby was and he wanted to be certain what he did would not jeopardize her.

  That’s why, after he left the letter with Lucy Harper, he went to the house on Granada—Kelsey Cox’s house, the place that ended up being his tomb.

  Abby was on her way there. She wanted to see her father’s temporary grave and pray about what move to make next.

  The letter would never be considered proof enough to even approach Alyssa Rollins, much less formally accuse her, but maybe it would be good enough to pressure Kelsey into revealing what she knew.

  At least that was what Abby hoped.

  CHAPTER

  -67-

  LUKE CALLED FAYE as he and Woody were leaving Tehachapi. He’d been so busy the day before, he’d not been able to call but knew that Molly’s mother had already relayed the good news.

  “Oh, Luke! I’ve been on cloud nine since I heard from Julia. You and Woody are knights in shining armor.”

  “We just followed the lead.” He smiled, glad she couldn’t see him blush and happy at the joy in her voice.

  “No, you did so much more. I confess, even though I knew you both were competent, I had my doubts. I really thought this case was too cold and too tough. Thank God you proved me wrong. I’m on my way to Tehachapi as soon as I post my blog update. Can I buy you lunch?”

  “Uh, that would have been nice, but we’re heading back to Long Beach today. Something has come up there about another cold case.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the body they found in that backyard?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact it does. Are you clairvoyant?”

  “I saw that on the news.”

  Luke explained to her what had been found.

  “Oh, my goodness! Poor Detective Hart. This must be hard for her.”

  “Hard?” Luke frowned. “I think this will answer a lot of questions.”

  “Maybe it will, but coming face-to-face with your father’s murder would not be easy. I still would like to take you to dinner—you and Woody. Please, let me
do that. Okay?”

  Luke cleared his throat. “I’ll talk to Woody and get back to you. Fair?”

  “Fair. Thank you both, again.”

  Luke disconnected and realized he liked the idea of seeing Faye again, even as he worried about how hard reliving her father’s murder would be for Abby.

  Bill was waiting in front of the house on Granada with Luke and Woody when Abby arrived.

  “Luke filled me in on the letter,” her partner said. “I sure wish it was a smoking gun.”

  “Me too,” Abby said. “Can I go back and take a look?”

  “Sure. Even though evidence collection is finished, the homeowners agreed to let us keep everything secure until after you came by.” Bill led them to the backyard, through a gate, and under police tape.

  It was a big yard for Belmont Shore. Abby could see why the owners wanted to put in a pool. Most of the yard had been pressed concrete. A beautiful design had once been there from what Abby could see of what was left. A huge part had been broken up and removed, and in the center was a large hole where the dirt had been scooped out, uncovering her father’s remains.

  Abby’s chest felt tight. She’d thought she was ready for this, ready to stay cop blank and strong. But it was emotional as the full import hit her hard. Her father died here. She wiped her eyes and felt Luke at her shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak at the moment. The words from Dad’s letter replayed in her mind. Three times her dad had expressed concern for his daughter. All he wanted was to be certain that his daughter was safe. How was it he ended up wrapped in plastic and buried under inches of concrete?

  The guys let her have a minute of quiet before Bill spoke. “Twenty-seven years ago this house belonged to—”

  “Kelsey Cox,” Abby finished for him.

  “I remember her talking about putting a pool in.”

  Everyone looked at Woody.

  “She was going to put a pool in?” Luke asked.

  “It’s a vague memory. She and Gavin were engaged. They lived together—I guess here; I was never close with them. We were at a graduation party and she was crowing about having a pool and spa to spend her honeymoon in.”

  “So it was before the Triple Seven burned?” Bill asked.

  Woody grimaced. “Must have been, but my memory is foggy. She obviously changed her mind about it.”

  “Probably because she needed a place to hide my father’s body,” Abby said and the guys all looked at her. Her legs were back; she was solid again and working on figuring out how to confront Kelsey Cox.

  “I’m done here, Bill.” She turned to leave.

  “What are you planning?” Luke asked as he and Woody fell into step with her.

  “Not sure. Maybe the direct approach: just walking up and asking the woman.”

  They walked out to the front of the house, and Abby noted an SUV driving by. It was familiar but didn’t register right away. Then she locked eyes with the driver. Time slowed and the realization hit like a kick to the gut. The vehicle accelerated away.

  That was Kelsey’s SUV, and she was the woman behind the wheel with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face.

  “That’s her!” Abby sprinted around to the driver’s side.

  “Who?” Luke asked.

  “Cox. I’m going to confront her right now.” Abby was in the car starting the engine before anyone could stop her. She didn’t even hear what they were yelling as she peeled away from the curb.

  CHAPTER

  -68-

  ABBY POUNDED ON THE ACCELERATOR as soon as the engine caught. She saw Kelsey’s taillights three blocks away as they disappeared to the right at the corner. She was heading north. Abby bet she was going home. The woman had a town house in North Long Beach. Abby knew that because from time to time she had read in the LBPD daily log of officers being dispatched there to pick up paperwork when Cox was a deputy chief.

  Squealing tires and narrowly avoiding a collision with an unsuspecting motorist, Abby made the same right the fleeing woman had and saw nothing. She was forced to cool her heels at a red light. Tapping the steering wheel while she tried to calm down and think clearly, Abby prayed she was right and it was the townhome Cox was headed to.

  She floored it when the light changed and drove for the Bixby Knolls area of North Long Beach. When she turned onto the main street that ran along the town house complex, she slowed until she saw Cox’s car parked illegally at a fire hydrant red curb.

  Abby yanked the wheel and parked in front of Kelsey’s vehicle, half on the sidewalk. As she lurched from her car, her phone began to ring. Guessing that it was Luke or Woody probably trying to calm her, she ignored it and, taking only her gun, sprinted for Kelsey’s home.

  In the middle of the complex, all the units looked alike. Abby paused to get her bearings, trying to remember the number. She wandered, the minutes ticking, frustration growing. Then she recognized the address and charged toward it.

  The door was unlocked, and she shoved it open. Stopping at the threshold, she tried to calm her breathing and racing heart.

  “Kelsey?” she called out and listened. She heard a rustling of papers and smelled smoke. Had she set her own place on fire?

  Gun up in a two-handed grip, Abby peered inside. “There’s no way out. Just come clean. I know you weren’t the ringleader in all of this.”

  Tiptoeing forward, Abby entered a small, tiled entryway. Straight ahead was the living room; to the left a kitchen and to the right a staircase. The smell of smoke was in the air, and Abby felt a nudge of urgency, but which way?

  The floor creaked upstairs, and Abby made her decision and quickened her gait, gun extended in front of her as she climbed the stairway. The smell of smoke was stronger here, and she heard the whirr of a bathroom fan. The sound of rustling paper was louder.

  At the top of the stairs to the right was the master bedroom, and Abby slowly moved that way. A tendril of smoke curled from the top of a doorway inside the bedroom and ran along the ceiling.

  Abby inched into the bathroom and brought her gun on target. Kelsey Cox was feeding pieces of paper into the bathtub, where a fire greedily devoured them. The bathroom fan was on, but it was not successfully removing all of the smoke.

  “Stop!”

  “Or what? You’ll shoot?” Cox pointed a gun of her own but kept dropping paper in the fire. “I don’t think so. I should have started this so much sooner. I just don’t trust a shredder to do the job.”

  Rage welled up in Abby as she realized she was once again going to be denied proof of the truth. Her finger tightened on the trigger, knowing the shot would be justified.

  But killing Cox would solve nothing. Her anger cooled.

  Gritting her teeth, she lifted her finger from the trigger and placed it along the frame but kept the gun on target. “You killed my father?”

  Cox laughed and sounded a little hysterical. “Yeah, I did. He threatened to expose Gavin as the Triple Seven killer. Wouldn’t you kill to protect the man you loved?” More papers fell onto the fire.

  “Why not just take him to jail? He killed Shea. He wouldn’t have been a credible witness against Gavin.”

  “I did what was necessary at the time. I made the hard choice. I’m good at that, always have been.”

  For a second her attention was distracted as the fire flared, and Abby stepped toward her.

  “Not so fast!” The gun swung around. Kelsey dumped the rest of the papers from the counter into the tub.

  The fire sputtered and then flared again, and the flames shot up. Cox coughed, and Abby herself felt the sting in her eyes and the burn in her throat. Then the plastic shower curtain caught, and pungent black smoke filled the air.

  The fire kindled the beginning of fear inside Abby, and the sudden screech of the smoke alarm in the bedroom almost made her squeeze the trigger.

  She backed out of the bathroom, coughing, a headache starting because of the smoke.

  Kelsey f
ollowed, wiping one eye and keeping her gun trained on Abby.

  What was her endgame? Abby wondered and almost asked.

  But Kelsey started talking. “I had no problem with your parents; neither did Gavin. We were planning on having our wedding reception at the Triple Seven.”

  She swung her gun up and smashed the smoke alarm, mercifully ending the screech while the smoke got blacker and thicker. Abby had no chance to react. Cox quickly had the gun pointed at her again.

  It doesn’t matter, Abby thought. She could already hear sirens in the distance. She retreated from the bedroom, wanting relief from the smoke. “Gavin killed my mom. I know Alyssa ordered it.”

  That surprised Cox, knocked her back a step.

  “How’d you know it was Alyssa? She drove Gavin and Piper to the restaurant that day, and she was the reason it all went bad. They were just supposed to scare your folks into quitting the buyout talk. But your mom was intractable. She threatened Alyssa with throwing a wrench into Lowell’s career. Gavin told me that she claimed to know something that would end any political dream Alyssa and Lowell had. And that was what got her killed. You don’t threaten Alyssa.”

  More smoke, and another alarm went off in a different part of the condo.

  “My dad left a letter. He said it was all Alyssa. He could have stopped her then. Why did you kill him?” Abby repeated the question; suddenly the answer was so important. She was at the top of the stairs now, wanting to take Kelsey into custody, get the gun out of her hand, but how?

  “Your dad showed up at my house on Granada a couple days after the fire. He’d been told to disappear permanently, but as usual, he didn’t listen. Gavin was still limping around with his leg injury. Buck wanted to take him to the station and get the whole story out, tell the investigators what really happened. He hoped that he could prove self-defense in the killing of Piper Shea, and get you back. But he knew Gavin would have to be arrested for your mother’s death. That was the only way all the truth would come out.” Harsh coughing interrupted Cox briefly. “What a sap your dad was. He truly believed that if Gavin went to jail, Lowell would finally see what a manipulator his wife was.”