by Jan Coffey
“It’s okay.” He watched her struggle with the seatbelt. She was still worked up.
“Farah was on her way to New York City, but she offered to get my car from the parking lot and bring it to the back. But…but she’s been perched right there next to it, waiting for me. She knew which car was mine. I was afraid she’d follow me. I can’t believe I’m letting her do this to me.”
“The same reporter that showed up at your house? Gomez?”
She nodded. “I hate people like that. She thinks she can bully me, harass me into talking to her. I don’t know how she found out that I was here. How could any of them know?”
Frustrated, she let go of the belt, but Gavin caught it. He clicked it into place.
“What is she going to do now, camp out on my front lawn? What can I do about it?”
“You just have to wait her out. Reporters work to deadlines. She probably has a story that has to be submitted today. She’ll move on to something else before the day is out.”
“With her, it’s more than that. She wants more. I don’t feel safe. Everything is closing in on me. Terri, Fay… Whoever is behind the killings is taunting me. I keep worrying about who might be next. Then Kathy Green, the reporters, the police…they all think I’ve done it. I’m guilty. What am I doing here? Why am I dragging you into this?”
She reached over to undo the seatbelt. She was going to bolt, but he caught her hand, stopping her. Her hand was ice cold.
“Lacey.”
She tried to pull away.
“Lacey, look at me.”
Storms were raging in her green eyes when she finally met his gaze. She was a doe, and she’d scented the hunters tracking her. But if she ran, he couldn’t protect her. History would repeat itself.
“You’re not alone.”
“But I am. And I’m also a target when I sit around waiting for him to strike.”
“You won’t. I won’t let you be. Not anymore.” He held her chin when she tried to protest, bringing her face closer to him. She didn’t struggle, just froze. “You have a great attorney who will take care of legal side of things. Then you have me, a tough son of a bitch who promises to make arrangements for twenty-four/seven protection. I will not allow anything to happen to you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking; I’m going to make it happen.”
“Gavin—”
Her complaints were silenced when he pressed a finger to her lips. His thumb brushed the soft texture. Lacey’s eyes darkened. Her gaze moved down to his mouth and for a long moment stayed there. She sat back, breaking the touch, just as he was contemplating kissing her. She looked away, but he saw the blush climbing into her cheek.
“Actually, I was thinking of maybe staying at Terri’s apartment in New Haven…at least for the weekend. That would give me a chance to go through her things and start sorting them out.”
“That’s a good idea,” he said, starting the car. Driving out of the parking lot, he could see the news crews still hanging around in the front.
“What should I do about my car?”
Gavin could see Benita Gomez and a taller man in deep conversation next to it. “I’ll bring you back this afternoon. They’re not going to hang around here all day.”
Leaving the police station and the reporters behind, Gavin decided to bring her up to date on what he’d been doing most of this morning.
“I’ve started to pull together whatever information is available on Stephanie Green’s murder case and trial.”
He felt her eyes fix on him. “Then you believe me. You think that Terri’s and Fay’s murders could be related to it.”
“I think whoever is taunting you—whoever is sending you those pictures—could have a connection to that case. But you have to remember that your sister and Fay both worked at jobs where you make enemies. But for right now, I’m focusing on one end of the string.”
She didn’t argue with his logic.
“I need some background on the case. Things that don’t show up in the reports.” He looked over when she didn’t say anything.
She was rubbing a spot by her temple. “Can we stop at a drive-thru somewhere? I could use a cup of coffee.”
“Definitely. Actually, I could eat something. Have you had breakfast?”
She shook her head. “You aren’t in charge of feeding me three times a day.”
“This will only make two meals.”
“If we stop for food, I’m buying.”
Gavin nodded, letting her have her way. This would be her first time at Terri’s apartment since the funeral, and he had no doubt that Lacey would be upset when they got there. He wanted to talk about the Green case before that.
The diner on Route 7 had just enough cars in the parking lot to promise decent food and still give them some privacy. Inside, they chose a booth in the corner, away from other people. They both ordered, but it wasn’t until Lacey had a cup and a large pot of coffee in front of her before she looked at him.
“Ask away.”
The files Gavin had gone over made it look like a standard open-and-shut case. The group had been arrested at the scene of the crime and Lacey was an eyewitness. No serious investigative work was required. They were the kind of court cases prosecutors loved. He opened the notepad on his cell phone where he’d already jotted down some questions.
“What can you tell me about Stephanie Green? What did you know about her before the night of the murder? How well did you know her?”
“I only went to school with her for about four months. We were both sophomores. I knew her face and her name, but that was it. She was popular. I wasn’t. She was a varsity athlete. I could barely walk because of my hip fracture and surgeries. She liked older boys. I had just gotten into drinking and drugs. She was beautiful and smart. I was a punk and a loner.”
Gavin watched Lacey as she stared into her coffee cup. He also knew that Stephanie Green came from rich, doting parents, while Lacey’s father had almost killed her in a beating before she’d left Cleveland…and that her mother had refused to cooperate with authorities.
“How about the other five people at Sherman Pond that night? How well did you know them?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They were all seniors. Some of them were older and should have already graduated. Michael Phoenix was the only one that I’d talked to before that night.” She twisted a piece of her napkin into a thin spiral. “I’d bought weed and pills from him a few times after I started doing drugs.”
Gavin already knew that. “So he was a dealer.”
She nodded, topping her mug with more coffee.
Michael had several minor possession charges prior to the night of the murder. The rest of the group had no priors. “How about the others. They sold drugs, too?”
She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Michael had a number of kids that hung out with him, but I didn’t know them. The four with him that night at Sherman Pond were only some of his people.”
The number of suspects just multiplied. The murder trial had only focused on the people present at the crime scene. They’d been found guilty of premeditated murder. If there had been any investigation into others, Gavin wondered who else might have been found to have foreknowledge of the crime.
“Do you remember the names of the kids at the lake?”
“Elizabeth Kinard. Peter Sclar. John Crowell. Drew Densky. Their names were burned into my brain during the trials.”
“How about the names of other people in Michael’s circle of friends?”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember any of them. Like I said, I didn’t know them. It’s been a long time.”
Their waitress came back with their orders. Gavin pushed his phone to the side and decided to wait on asking more questions until after she ate. But Lacey wasn’t interested in food.
“You probably want to know how Stephanie was connected to this group,” she said.
He nodded.
�
��She wanted Michael. That was obvious from the ride to the lake. But I found out during the trial that Stephanie had been talking to her father about all the drugs and the dealers at school. He was a judge.”
“Yes, I read that. The DA used it as the motivating factor for the assault and murder. That made it first degree. Long sentences. The rest of it is history.”
“Yeah, my history. Three years in jail…for being an idiot.” She picked up the fork, played with her food, then put it back down. Her misty gaze met his. “I hope you believe me when I say that I knew nothing of what they were planning. I was messed up. I was stupid. I put myself in the middle. But I had no idea that they were planning to hurt her…to kill her that night. I thought…I know…that she wanted to go out with them. I just figured that I was the little lie used to pacify over-protective parents.”
Gavin took her hand. She didn’t pull away. “I do believe you. And I know those prosecutors and whoever else was working the case back then believed you, too.”
“But I don’t think her parents ever did. They blamed me. They still do. I was the face that they saw at their door that night.”
His thumb gently caressed the back of her hand. He wished he could lie about how people get over a loss like that. But grief, anger, blame don’t just go away. Healing doesn’t follow any time schedule. He still felt responsible for what had happened to his sister.
“Have you ever asked yourself why you and not someone else?” he asked. “Why did Michael Phoenix ask you to get Stephanie? Why not someone else?”
“I’ve asked myself that a million times. The truth is, I was convenient, naïve, and willing. He knew me. I was a sophomore. As a user, I was already in his pocket.” She pulled her hand away and put it in her lap. “But what would have happened if I hadn’t been at that donut shop at that specific hour on that night? That wasn’t a usual place for me to hang out.”
“So he didn’t walk in there looking for you?”
She shook her head. “He came in looking, and then it was like…oh, you’ll do.”
Gavin looked out the window at the passing cars. How many times had he seen this happen, where circumstances and stupid choices and bad luck collided to create lives scarred with tragedy. Or not.
How did that old poem go? Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…and that has made all the difference.
The problem was, sometimes the difference was deadly.
CHAPTER 30
The Saturday morning meeting at the health club chain’s district office always ran like clockwork. In and out in two hours with enough time for chit-chat and coffee. The three district managers were efficient, organized people that Jane Clark trusted fully.
Today, Jane was surprised when Donna Covington walked in fifteen minutes after they’d started the meeting. But being late wasn’t so much what triggered the regional manager’s concern, but the way Donna looked. Pale with dark circles under her eyes, smudged make up, carelessly brushed hair… she looked as if she hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror. This was not the impeccably dressed woman they all were accustomed to seeing.
“Everything okay?” Jane asked as the other woman sat at the far end of the conference table, close to the door.
“Ran into some traffic,” Donna tossed off.
Jane motioned to the district manager who had been speaking to continue.
Making a practice of not wanting to know too much about the personal lives of her employees had many advantages, but it had some pitfalls, too. What Jane knew was that Donna was in her early thirties, single, beautiful, fit. She drew in husbands who pretended to work out while they eyed her boobs and ass and the tight, slinky outfits she strutted around in. Just as important, the wives of those husbands came in and hired personal trainers to keep up with Donna. And the company made a lot of money on those tight, slinky outfits the wives bought, even if they didn’t look quite as good in them.
Jane also knew Donna wasn’t married. But that was it. While others chatted about boyfriends or first and last dates, or about a sick child or an aging parent, Donna kept her personal life private from the group inside this room.
“The flyers.” The manager who was speaking stopped and looked at Donna. “You were supposed to get some pricing on that for us.”
There was a pause with a deer in the headlights look on Donna’s face.
“Yes, I am. I’ll get a price,” Donna said absently. “I…I’m looking for the right photographer.”
Someone’s cell phone buzzed. It was Donna’s. In a rush, she answered it.
“Where?”
The metal chair she was sitting on flipped backward as she suddenly stood up. Donna struggled, trying to listen to whatever was being said by the caller while she reached back for the piece of furniture.
“Which hospital?”
Jane went to her rescue, grabbing the chair for her.
“Tell me which hospital, damn it!” she said, her voice growing shrill.
There were tears in Donna’s eyes when she ended the call. “I have to go.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Jane asked, feeling helpless.
“No.” Donna shook her head and ran out of the room.
CHAPTER 31
As they drew nearer to New Haven, the stone sitting in her chest grew until Lacey could barely breathe. By the time they turned onto the street where Terri’s apartment building was located, it felt like a meteor had lodged there, burning her alive from the inside.
Lacey stared out the side window and struggled to force air into her lungs. So far, she’d been able to contain the floodgate of tears. She didn’t want to release them in case she wasn’t able to stop.
“We should probably check in with the building super first,” Gavin suggested.
Lacey nodded, scrambling out of the car as soon as he pulled into one of the visitors’ parking spaces. Terri’s face was etched in Lacey’s mind. Her sister’s words echoed from the not-too-distant past.
It’s been okay living here. It’s close to work. But it’s never been home. It couldn’t be. Not with you out west somewhere. How could it be home without my baby sis?
She leaned against the closed door of the SUV and raised her face to the autumn sun. A tear escaped. Another one followed.
“No, you don’t,” she muttered inaudibly, blinking and looking down at her feet where the runaway droplets stained the pavement.
The other door closed. Gavin’s footsteps came around the SUV. He stood next to her and draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly against him. She pressed her head against his shoulder. She’d planned to come here alone. But now she was glad that he was with her. His presence forced her to stay in control, to go through with what needed to be done.
They stood there in silence until the loud muffler of a motorcycle racing by on the street jarred her back to the present.
“Would you like me to tell the super that we’re here?”
She nodded.
“Do you have the keys?”
“Yeah, I do.” She reached inside her bag for them.
“Would you wait for me here?”
She nodded.
He walked away and Lacey took out some tissues. She wiped her face, blew her nose, and looked at her reflection in the tinted windows of the SUV. She could do this. She had to. She was here, and she would get this done.
On the drive down, she’d decided what to do with Terri’s things. She’d give them away to a women’s shelter. One of those temporary homes for battered women and their children. All her furniture, the clothes. Perhaps they would provide someone with the means to make a new start. She already had the name of the women’s organization that she had used in Terri’s obituary, asking for donations in lieu of flowers. She would ask them to arrange a pick-up.
Still, Lacey had to sort through everything today. The only things she wanted to take were family keepsakes. Photos of their grandfather. And those of their mother when she’d been a child. Lacey knew her sister had them. Sh
e’d seen them framed, sitting on the bookcases here.
The building super’s office was on the bottom floor of the apartment house. Lacey saw Gavin come back out and then stop. The headline of a newspaper in the box on the sidewalk had grabbed his attention. He searched in his pocket and put money in, taking the paper out and reading whatever it was.
When he started toward her, Lacey knew there was something terribly wrong. She could see it in the darkened expression, in the set of his shoulders. He had the paper folded and tucked under an arm.
“He says there was a courier delivery for Terri that he accepted last week. He has it in the mail room. He’ll bring it up in a few minutes.”
“What was in the newspaper?” Lacey asked.
“Nothing.” He started leading her to the building. “It’s not about anybody you know.”
“Please, Gavin. It’s bothering you. I’d like to know.”
There was a sense of tenderness in the way his gaze caressed her face. He stopped by the door and unfolded the newspaper. He pointed to a small article in the right column. The body of black girl from the city had been found near the train station in South Norwalk.
“I have a feeling that I know her.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “One of your cases?”
“No. Someone Terri was working with. She was trying to help this kid out of a real bad situation.” He tucked the paper under his arm again. “The girl called me last week. She had no idea about Terri’s death. I made some calls. I thought I put her in safe hands.”
The words were drawn out, like he felt sick even saying them. He opened the building door, not giving Lacey a chance to ask any more questions. She followed, struck by the horror of what he’d just said and by the realization that she was about to enter her sister’s apartment.
Lacey had been so consumed by her own grief that she hadn’t given much thought about others who had been affected by her sister’s death. Terri wasn’t a person who did things half-assed. Once she latched onto an idea, or undertook a cause, she became consumed by it. She did everything in her power to make things happen.