Twisted

by Laura K. Curtis

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t see a lawyer.”

  “He doesn’t think he needs one at the moment.”

  “Hmm.” Ethan pulled out a chair and sat next to Scott, across from Jim. “So, Jim—it is Jim, right? Not Jimmy or James?” The kid nodded. “Good. So, Jim, tell me about what happened tonight.”

  “Huh?” Clearly, not what the kid had expected. Ethan just leaned back in his chair and waited.

  “Well, uh, I went out for a while, to, you know, get out of the apartment. My mom made cabbage for dinner, and the place stank. So I wandered around, and then, like, I saw a light from this one window, and I got curious, so I looked in, and then this guy”—he gestured to Scott—“he grabs me and hauls me in here. I didn’t do anything.”

  “You must have been more than curious. That window was in a third-floor apartment. Officer Allenby found you halfway up a tree.”

  “Yeah, well, I was bored.”

  “Not going to cut it, Jim. We’ve had reports of someone matching your description peering in windows at the apartment complex for at the last three weeks—coincidentally, exactly the same length of time you’ve been home from college.”

  Jim shrugged. “Like you said. Coincidental.”

  “I don’t think so. I think if we put you in a lineup, people will be able to ID you. And I think your prints will match the ones we found on two victims’ windows.”

  “Look, those chicks shouldn’t have left their blinds open. They wanted me to look!”

  “I see.”

  “I’m stuck here all summer long, and my mother can’t afford high-speed Internet, so I can’t even get online. I don’t even have a car, and there’s nothing to do in this Podunk town. I gotta have entertainment. I’m not hurting anyone.”

  “So tell me, Jim, you ever seen anyone else out and about when you’re . . . doing your thing?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, a guy who might be doing the same thing you were doing? Someone else . . . bored?”

  “No. I never saw anyone.” Unfortunately, Ethan believed him. And the reports of peeping on the night Renee had been killed gave Jim an alibi. Good for Jim, bad for Ethan. True, the boy might have gotten a friend to drive him out to the bar where Renee worked after his evening activities, but Ethan doubted it. Plus, instinct said little Jim hadn’t gone beyond the peeping stage yet, though he soon might, and the man who’d killed Renee had considerably more experience.

  • • •

  THE COMMANDER TRACKED Drew Dobbs through the night scope attached to his favorite rifle as he let himself in through the construction site’s gate, his movements jerky and agitated. Normal excitement over the evening’s potential, or did Drew sense he’d become prey as well as predator?

  Drew reached into the backpack he’d brought with him and pulled out night-vision goggles. Strapping them on, he peered around the site. He didn’t call out—he knew better than to alert anyone to his presence—but he clearly wished he could.

  The Commander gave Dobbs points for having put on latex gloves before getting out of his car. Under other circumstances, no one would ever associate him with the place, because nothing would be left to show he’d visited other than normal detritus: a few hairs that could be explained by secondary transfer, a shoeprint in the clay soil that might belong to anyone. Of course, tonight such precautions were unnecessary, but Drew had no way of knowing that.

  Dobbs pulled his cell phone from his pocket and glared at the screen as if willing a message from his partner to appear. The Commander almost laughed. The only message he’d be getting tonight would signal the dissolution of the partnership.

  Dobbs took up a position by the gate, just as the Commander had known he would, just where he was most vulnerable. The Commander sighted down the scope again, sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and squeezed the trigger.

  He could have gone for the head shot, but he was no glory hound. The bullet went in an inch to the left of Dobbs’s sternum. The big rifle barely bucked at all, and the shooter never lost sight of the target, watching as the man crumpled slowly to the ground, a look of complete surprise on his face.

  Man, what a thrill! He only wished he could have done Dobbs in close rather than from afar. But he couldn’t afford to take that kind of chance. His thoughts turned almost immediately to his next target. When he killed her, and he would, it would be up close and personal.

  Chapter Eleven

  Regardless of a parent’s capabilities, a child’s natural instinct when in pain is to cry out for her mother.

  from A Bad Day to Die by Lucy Sadler Caldwell [DRAFT]

  THE STATION LINE rang at seven-thirty and Marge picked it up with a cheery expression that quickly turned grim. Ethan couldn’t hear her, but she hung up quickly and turned to TJ. Ethan rose from his desk and hurried toward them.

  “Ohmigod, Tara Jean,” Marge said, “you need to go home right now. Your brother’s been shot.”

  Ethan remembered the words TJ had said to him the day Lucy came to town. If he had a heart, she’d probably put a stake through it. And then there was Tim’s shaky phone call after Drew visited their house: He scared her. And Lucy’s not scared of anything.

  “Where?” Ethan barked at Marge. “When?”

  “I don’t know when! That was Sue, from the sheriff’s office. She said a construction worker found him this morning at the Belle Pointe development.” She switched her attention back to TJ. “Sheriff’s there now, but I don’t know if they’ve called your daddy. He’ll need you.”

  “I’m going. Ethan?”

  “Yeah. Marge, call Keith and get him in here. I’ll call in later. You can reach me on my cell.” If she chose to interpret his statement to mean he’d be with TJ, he wouldn’t argue. But he had no intention of spending time with the mayor; he needed to get to Lucy before Pike did.

  On the way over to Lucy’s, he made two calls. The first, to tell her he had something urgent to discuss with her, the second, to call in a favor.

  “What’s going on?” Lucy asked, meeting him at the door, her fingers busy braiding damp hair into a long queue. She’d clearly just come from the shower, and he forced his mind away from the picture of the water sluicing over her naked body.

  Back to business. Lucy had asked him what he’d discovered when he’d called, but he had refused to explain. Regardless of his attraction to her, regardless of the fact that he trusted her almost completely, he needed to see her reaction when she heard about Drew. She invited him in, and he followed her into the kitchen, where she poured coffee for both of them.

  “I think we’d better sit down for this one,” he said, when she leaned back against the stove and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  “Oooo-kay.”

  He trailed her into the living room, and they sat on the couch. She put her coffee on the table and he followed suit.

  “Drew Dobbs is dead.”

  Her eyes widened and her face paled. She could have faked one, but not the other. Ethan tried not to acknowledge his own relief. If he let it show, she would know that he hadn’t had complete faith in her and it would hurt her, which was the last thing on earth he wanted to do.

  “H-how?” Her huge, blue eyes were fixed on him. It cast him back to the way Renee’s mother had avoided looking at him—she’d wanted to hear nothing; Lucy wanted everything.

  “I don’t have many details. It’s not my case. He was found this morning at the Belle Pointe development site, shot to death, which makes it Sheriff Pike’s jurisdiction. Marge told TJ, and I just happened to be there.”

  Lucy nodded slowly. “And Drew told everyone who would listen that I threatened to shoot him.”

  “He did.”

  “Goddammit. Even dead, that man is intent on ruining my life.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  She shook h
er head. “Old news. I’ve only seen him that one time since he came back, and we hardly spoke at all.”

  “But your opinion of him is well known.”

  She didn’t reply to the implicit question. “Drew and Billy Pike were best friends. They probably still are.”

  “That’s been my impression.”

  “So he’ll be on his way over here.” Her hands twisted in her lap, and Ethan could see them shaking. If she hadn’t killed Drew—and he would swear she hadn’t—what could she possibly have to fear from the sheriff?

  “I’m sure he will once the scene is under control. I hope you don’t mind, but I called a lawyer for you. He’s damned good. The kind of guy no one wants to go up against in a courtroom. He’s in Houston, so he could be here in a few hours, but he felt he might cause more problems by showing up before you’re officially a suspect. He said to cooperate until you think it’s time to stop, then call him.” He handed her the business card he’d carried in his wallet for years.

  • • •

  LUCY KNEW SHE should protest. She had always taken responsibility for her own life, faced down anything that got in her way. But Ethan’s assistance didn’t irritate her. It didn’t feel like interference; it felt like . . . caring. Not that she was even close to ready for that, but she couldn’t get angry about it, either.

  “Why would you call a lawyer for me?” He couldn’t possibly believe she’d killed Drew, could he? He was sitting close to her on the couch, and she pulled slightly away, trying to evaluate his expression.

  “You’ve seen the justice system at work. Small town, big city. Some things remain the same, and one is that when a big shot—or a relative big shot—is killed, there’s a whole lot of pressure to close the case. First Renee, a beautiful young girl, now Drew, a promising politician. It would create a splash even in Houston, let alone in Dobbs Hollow. People are going to be freaking out. They’re going to be calling the station, asking what the hell we’re doing to keep them safe.

  “So there’ll be that kind of pressure. And then, too, I suspect the mayor will want your head on a platter. He knows you and his son don’t get along, even if he doesn’t know why.”

  The explanation had validity, and she relaxed, let herself lean toward him again. “I see your point. I wish we knew more about what had happened. Why would anyone want to kill Drew, of all people? I had my own problems with him, it’s true, but I would have guessed everyone around here considered him golden.”

  “TJ went on to the mayor’s house. With any luck, the sheriff’s department will keep the family informed, and we can find out that way. But I am hoping that when Pike comes by here, he’ll let a few things slip as well. It’s hard to perform an interrogation without giving away any information.”

  “You believe Drew’s death is related to Renee’s?”

  “I do. We just don’t have premeditated murders here. I looked into the records when I got hired. We have domestics that escalate too far, the occasional drug deal gone bad, armed robberies where someone dies, but nothing like Renee’s murder. We don’t know enough about Drew’s death to judge—maybe it belongs in the drug-deal category—but the timing . . . I don’t believe it.”

  “Maybe Drew killed Renee and someone avenged her.”

  “Do you see him as a killer?”

  The question surprised her. She hadn’t really thought about her words before speaking. She chose her next words carefully.

  “Except for a few words the other day, I haven’t seen or spoken to Drew Dobbs in almost twenty years. He was a creep in high school, and unbearable when he came over here, but I don’t know whether he’d have the stomach for murder. At least, not one like Renee’s. If he were going to kill someone, I’d peg him for the ‘shoot you in the back’ type.”

  Ethan started to speak, and she braced herself to answer the inevitable question of why she should feel so strongly about a man she hadn’t seen in years, but the doorbell interrupted him. Lucy checked the security monitor and saw Billy Pike and two deputies standing outside.

  “Well, this should be fun.”

  Ethan moved to stand behind her as she opened the door.

  “Chief Donovan. What a surprise to find you here.” Lucy didn’t miss the fact that Pike addressed Ethan first. “Miz Caldwell—it is Caldwell these days, isn’t it?—we need to have a chat.” The words clearly indicated that this was official business and Ethan should leave, but he merely took up a position leaning against the wall while Lucy offered Pike and his deputies seats. The two deputies took the couch, while Pike and Lucy each took an armchair. For the moment, Pike was playing it cordial.

  “You know why I am here, Miz Caldwell?”

  “I assume it has to do with Drew’s death.” She kept her voice cool and even.

  “Murder. Drew Dobbs was murdered.” He paused. “You don’t want to know when? Or how?”

  “I know he was shot. I know he was found this morning.”

  “And how is that?”

  She shrugged. “I’m consulting with the Dobbs Hollow PD, and Ethan told me this morning when he came over.”

  “Consulting on what?” Pike addressed the question to Ethan.

  “A series of possibly related cases.”

  “Cases of . . . ?”

  “Rapes. Missing people.”

  “I see. And all these are Hollow cases?”

  “Nope.” Lucy almost laughed. Ethan did monosyllabic very well.

  “Some of them are Adams County cases?”

  “Yup.”

  “And yet you didn’t feel the need to inform my department that you were reopening them?”

  “Nope.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m not. Reopening them, that is. I asked for the files so I could have a look at them, and no one seemed to feel I needed to put that request through you; I just sent one of my officers over to your property clerk. Right now, all I’m doing is trying to decide whether Renee Josephs’s death is part of a pattern. If it is, then I’ll request all the evidence as well as the case files, and reopen the cases that fit the pattern.”

  Lucy watched Billy fume and tried not to let her satisfaction show.

  His jaw clenching and unclenching, Pike switched his attention back to her. “You want to tell me where you were last night, Miz Caldwell?”

  “Right here. Working on my book.”

  “And was anyone with you?” The innuendo was unmistakable.

  “Nope,” she said, slathering her response with cheer.

  “Well, now, that’s a problem. Because Drew Dobbs was shot last night around three a.m., and everyone in town knows you threatened to kill him.”

  “Oh, please. First of all, just ask the chief: before I had my security system installed, I met everyone at the door with a gun, not only Drew.”

  “Absolutely true,” Ethan commented.

  “Second, I asked him to leave, and he seemed as if he was going to stick around. I didn’t threaten him, I merely used the shotgun for emphasis to prove I was serious about him going.

  “And third, if I had planned to kill the man, I certainly wouldn’t have made my dislike of him so obvious.” None of which would make a damn bit of difference if Billy Pike decided to arrest her. She crossed her legs, tapping her toes to prevent Pike from seeing the slight tremor of nerves.

  “You have a rifle, Miz Caldwell?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s not what Drew said. He told people you threatened him with one.”

  Lucy nodded at the fireplace mantle where the Remington lay. “Amateur mistake. That’s a shotgun, not a rifle. He was shot with a rifle? From what kind of distance?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  A pounding on the front door shook the house. “Open this door right now,” shouted an all-too­-familiar voice. With a deep brea
th she did her best to hide, Lucy rose and walked over to let the mayor in. Behind her, she felt Ethan straighten from his nonchalant pose against the wall, ready to defend her if necessary. The knowledge sent a frisson of pure, feminine awareness through her.

  “You little bitch,” Dobbs howled the minute the door opened. “You killed my son! My son!”

  “No, I—” Despite her determination, she backed up two steps, encountering the solid wall of Ethan’s body. His hands went briefly to her shoulders, steadying her, then dropped before the support could draw attention to the fact that he was no longer entirely impartial.

  But the mayor had turned his attention to Pike. “Why the hell isn’t she in custody? And what is he doing here?” He nodded at Ethan.

  “We’re trying to work through a few things,” said Pike. “Don’t worry, we’ll have Drew’s killer locked up in no time.”

  Dobbs leaned forward, his fleshy jowls close to Lucy’s face. “You’re just like your mother. Both of you—”

  “Daddy.” TJ, who’d followed the mayor into the house, tugged ineffectually at his hand. “Come on home. You need to rest.”

  He turned on her. “Get the hell away from me. My son is dead. I don’t have any reason to rest. Everything I hoped for, everything I loved is gone!”

  Lucy’s heart ached for TJ. Cecile hadn’t been a prize, but she’d loved both her children to the best of her ability.

  “I didn’t kill Drew.” Lucy couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie about being sad he was dead, so she said the only thing she could think of. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know the two of you were close.”

  “Come on, Mayor.” Pike threw his arm across Dobbs’s stooped shoulders, gesturing to the deputies to come along. “Let’s get you home.” TJ trailed them out with an apologetic glance at Lucy.

  Lucy locked the door behind them, then laid her forehead against the wood with a deep sigh. Ethan’s hands came down on her shoulders and began to knead them gently. For a moment, too worn out to move, she let him, but then she shrugged him off and went to sit on the sofa.

  “Well, that was enlightening,” Ethan said, joining her. He slid one hand over hers and captured her fingers with his. The casual touch calmed a tension she hadn’t even realized she felt.