Twisted

by Laura K. Curtis

  Lucy stepped outside and held Ethan’s phone out toward him.

  “It’s Scott,” she said.

  Ethan took the phone from her, and she slipped back into the house, a ghost on her own property. “What have you found?” he asked, wishing he could follow her. Keith began snapping pictures of the truck and its gruesome contents.

  “Registered owner of the truck is one Juan Ramirez. Long sheet, current address appears to be San Antonio. But I recognize this guy. I’ve seen him around town, I just can’t think of where.”

  “What’s the sheet for?”

  “Mostly possession. One weapons charge, one sale of methamphetamines.”

  Meth. Richie Mack’s poison of choice. Ethan wondered if they’d identified the human remains in the back of the truck. Were both Richie and his dealer on someone’s hit list?

  “Keep on it. Show his picture around. I want to know where he’s been, and if he’s still there. We have a dead body here that might be him, but no way to tell without waiting for DNA, if his is even on file. If he’s alive, who did he lend his truck to?”

  He hung up just as the medical examiner’s van pulled up.

  “You think I need to be busier or something?” O’Reilly joked as he climbed out. “’Cause I was doin’ fine without you piling bodies on me. Where you expect me to put them is beyond me. I’ve never had so many slots filled in the morgue at one time.”

  “Believe me, Bobby, I wish I didn’t have to call you on this one. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  O’Reilly peered into the truck bed. “Well, hell.” He gestured to his assistant for the evening, a young Asian man whose name Ethan couldn’t remember for the life of him. “Lay that one out and see if you can determine whether there are any parts missing before you bag him. I’m going inside to check out the other one.”

  They walked inside, and Ethan found himself pausing to look for Lucy before he followed O’Reilly to the truck. Apparently, she’d gone upstairs or into the kitchen.

  “No immediately apparent cause of death,” the ME said, drawing his attention. He gently manipulated Richie’s head to look for signs of trauma. “If not for the other obvious inconsistencies, my first instinct would be accidental overdose. He’s been headed that way for years.”

  “Yeah, well, I think we can rule that out.”

  “Not necessarily. Maybe he died, then someone came along and decided to use the body to made a point.”

  “And that point would be?”

  “Not my department. I tell you when and how. Who and why is up to you. That’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

  Ethan snorted.

  “Not the fabulous salary, then.” When Ethan cocked an eyebrow at him, O’Reilly continued. “As many people in this town gossip about why you took this job as question why it was offered.”

  “As I’ve said before, I needed a change of venue, a chance of pace. And until the past few days, I’d gotten it.”

  “Right about the time your girlfriend moved home. Maybe she’s the one should consider a change of venue.”

  “Bobby . . .”

  The older man held up his hands. “Look. I just moved here ten years back. I’ve got no dog in this fight. But someone just went to a great deal of trouble to destroy her house in a particularly nasty manner. Seems to me she’d be safer if she got the hell out of Dodge.”

  A creak from the stairs had both men turning. Lucy’s voice when she spoke was perfectly composed, but Ethan noticed how tightly she clutched the cell phone in her left hand. “I’m not going anywhere but the nearest motel.”

  “We’ll talk about it.”

  “I. Am. Not. Leaving.”

  “Did I say you were?” Ethan’s temper frayed. “For crying out loud, Lucy. Give me a little credit. Maybe, just maybe, I had a few ideas of places that might be safer than a cheap motel with flimsy, hollow-core doors and credit-card locks.”

  “Oh.” She looked suitably chagrined, and Ethan felt his anger drain away, leaving only frustration behind. His head pounded, and he scrubbed a hand across his eyes.

  “I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going to be tied up here and at the morgue for hours.”

  “Lucy can come home with me,” TJ offered.

  Ethan wanted to jump on the suggestion, but forced himself to defer to Lucy. When she agreed, he managed to keep private his sigh of relief. TJ and Lucy went upstairs to pack a bag, and he went back to work.

  • • •

  LUCY CHECKED OUT TJ’s apartment with interest. She’d imagined a sedate décor, in keeping with her friend’s basic blue uniform and unpolished nails, and the exterior of the place had reinforced her expectations. Once inside, though, she realized how wrong she’d been. The walls remained rental white, and the couch that dominated the living room was a deep, chocolate brown, but everywhere splashes of color brightened the space. A Mexican woven throw in reds, yellows, and greens lay over the back of the sofa, and a rag rug covered most of the tile in the tiny kitchen. Miniature pepper plants sat in terra-cotta pots on the coffee table and the dining table, and Art Deco posters hung on the walls.

  “Make yourself at home,” TJ said, dropping her bag on the couch. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “A beer would be great, if you have one.”

  “Coming right up.”

  As TJ handed her the bottle, Lucy’s phone rang. Her heart leapt when she saw Tim’s name.

  “I’m coming back,” he said, without any greeting at all.

  “No, don’t. It’s not . . .” She couldn’t tell him it wasn’t safe in Dobbs Hollow, he’d only run faster. “The house isn’t livable at the moment. I’m crashing at TJ’s. Did Artie find you?”

  “Yeah. He told me what happened.”

  “You should stay with him. It’s just for a few days, until we work things out here.”

  “And what about if it’s more than a few days? What about if you don’t figure out who’s doing this?”

  “Then we can renegotiate. But right now, I’d worry a lot less if you were with Artie.”

  “You’re manipulating me.”

  The same accusation she’d laid at Ethan’s door. But she and Tim were bound by blood and love. Whatever she and Ethan had, it was more tenuous. Attraction, certainly, and maybe even respect, but when he’d pushed her buttons, it was about some white-knight complex he had, nothing deeper or more permanent, no matter his protestations to the contrary.

  And he hadn’t really protested much. He’d looked as if he might, but then her home had filled with cops, and the moment had been lost. And what would she have done had he taken that opportunity to commit himself to her? She’d probably have done exactly what she’d done anyway: run. So, really, she had no right to be upset. Still, she had to shake off an achy melancholy in order to be firm with her brother.

  “I’m your sister. I’m allowed to be manipulative when it comes to your safety.”

  “I’m not a kid, Luce.”

  “I understand that. Please. For me.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Just two nights, though,” he warned. “And that’s counting tonight. So Sunday afternoon I am coming back to Dobbs Hollow, even if I have to stay in a hotel room.” Lucy remembered Ethan’s comments about flimsy motel doors, and shuddered. She’d get a handle on this before Sunday.

  She had to.

  “Call first,” she said. “I told you we’d renegotiate, and I meant it.”

  “Maybe. I told the guys what happened and asked them to keep an eye out for anything weird. They wanted to come down to Dobbs Hollow with me and kick some ass, but I explained we didn’t know who to go after. I did promise they could help, though. So at least Barry will probably come down with me. Hal and Jessup are both working.”

  Lucy couldn’t help grinning at the thought of a bunch of college boys coming to her rescue. “I gues
s I’ll have to accept that.”

  When she hung up, her mood had lightened considerably. Just hearing her brother’s voice released a huge chunk of the tension she’d carried since receiving the text message at her house.

  “He’s okay?” TJ asked.

  “Yeah. He’s going to stay with a friend, our adoptive father’s partner, for a couple of days.” She quickly texted Ethan to let him know.

  “He seems like a good kid.”

  “He is. I worry about him.” Lucy explained about Tim’s spinal muscular atrophy. She rarely discussed his condition with anyone, but then, Todd’s colleagues in the PD already knew about the diagnosis, and Lucy didn’t have many other close friends. Talking to TJ was surprisingly easy.

  “So there’s nothing to do?”

  “Not really. It doesn’t bother him much and it doesn’t seem to be getting worse, so with luck he’s escaped the worst problems. It would have been far worse if it had shown itself at birth. SMA is the primary genetically based cause of death in infants.”

  Seeing the horrified expression on TJ’s face, Lucy hurried to reassure her. “But Tim’s not in that kind of shape. Adult-onset has a much better prognosis.”

  “No, it’s not that. I mean, it is that, but—” TJ shook her head for a minute. “What did you say causes this?”

  “It can be a spontaneous genetic mutation, but most of the time it’s because a child has two parents who are carriers. Like any recessive genetic trait, it takes both of the genes of the specific pair to be bad for the mutation to show up. Nowadays, many doctors recommend SMA testing if a couple plans a pregnancy because so many of us are carriers. Why?”

  “Luce, Billy Pike’s family has a history of infant death. His mom miscarried once before he was born. Then he had an older brother who died right about the time Billy was born. And then they had another kid a couple years later who also died. My folks called those deaths ‘crib death.’ But what if they were more than that?”

  Lucy’s stomach lurched and acid backed up into her throat. “Al Pike. You think Al was Tim’s father.” It fit with what Charlene had said about Cecile having an affair with Al Pike, but Lucy had not wanted to delve too deeply into that aspect of her mother’s life. Had Cecile tried to blackmail Pike when the baby was born? Could that have been the reason for her murder? But why wait almost three years? Maybe she hadn’t needed the money until she was ready to leave town, and then she’d gone to Pike, threatening to expose Tim’s parentage?

  “Chief Pike wouldn’t have killed her over that. I mean, his wife was dead, right? His affair wasn’t even adultery. Would anyone care that he’d fathered a child with Cecile?” Lucy would have loved to solve Cecile’s death so neatly, but there was simply no evidence, not even any motive.

  “I doubt it. He wasn’t sheriff, so he didn’t have to be elected. And he might not even have been Tim’s dad. Seriously. You know the statistics better than I do. How likely is it that another man in town carries a defective gene?”

  “Likely. But still . . .” Memories of Billy Pike ran through Lucy’s head. His sneering presence in high school, the assault, their encounters since her return. Did he and Tim have any features in common? Both had hazel eyes, but Cecile’s eyes had been hazel, as well. Was it really possible that she and Billy could be related, even peripherally? No, surely not.

  “I hate the idea that Tim could have Al Pike’s blood running through his veins.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t. And even if he does, it’s no big deal. You raised him. You and your foster parents. Those influences far outweigh whatever he might have gotten genetically.” TJ jumped to her feet and struck a pose. “Look at me! How much Dobbs do you see here?”

  Lucy laughed weakly, more because TJ expected it than because she felt anything even bordering on amusement.

  “If SMA is so common, do you have to get tested?”

  “No, Timmy and I have different fathers. Or, at least, I’ve always assumed we did.” Her stomach lurched again. “I’m almost certainly a carrier, because my mother was, so if I planned to get pregnant, I’d get tested and get my partner tested, too, to be certain. But I can’t see me with a kid, can you?”

  “Why not?”

  Lucy stared at TJ, whose blue eyes reflected genuine curiosity.

  “Jeez, TJ! You can’t be serious. Look at me. I’m not cut out for motherhood. First, there’s the job. I spend hours and hours closeted with my computer, and the rest of the time I’m interviewing criminals and families of victims.”

  “Maybe you don’t have to do that for the rest of your life. I’m just saying, I heard you on the phone with Tim, and I’ve seen how determined you are to get justice for your mother. Family has meaning for you. I bet you’d be a great mother.”

  “Yeah, well, I doubt we’ll find out how good a bet that is. What about you? You planning on having kids?”

  “Me?” TJ laughed. “Please. Talk about the original dysfunctional family. I don’t think I have a lot to offer the gene pool. And as for jobs, I can’t even keep a cat, let alone a child.”

  “You’re not your family, TJ, as you just pointed out. You should get out of this town. It’s poisonous. Why did you come back?”

  “You really want to know? It doesn’t speak so well for my maturity.”

  “Out of spite?”

  “Pretty much. Though I really do prefer life in a small town to life in a city. I managed fine on the force in San Antonio, but I never really liked living there. Eventually, I suppose, I’ll move on. As they used to say in old westerns, ‘This town isn’t big enough for the both of us,’ and the mayor is here to stay.”

  “Do it sooner rather than later is my advice.” Lucy took a slug off the bottle of beer in her hand. “Hey, do you have an Internet connection I could use? I want to upload the work I got done earlier and write up my thoughts on what happened at my place.”

  “Sure thing. It’s wireless. The password is ‘morticia,’ all lower case.”

  “Morticia? Like in The Addams Family?”

  “Yeah. I loved that show when I was a kid. Still do, really. I always figured if I were home enough to have a pet, I’d get a black cat and name him Gomez.”

  Laughter bubbled up in Lucy’s throat as she pulled her laptop out of its case. “What a great idea for a name! Cats don’t need much care, you know. You should get one.”

  “Maybe I will.” TJ gestured to the dining table. “You can set up there, if you like. That’s where I usually work.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Lucy popped open her laptop and entered the Digital Jake program so she could upload all the data to the server to begin crunching.

  “What’s that?” TJ asked, and Lucy found herself explaining the program once more.

  “The FBI guy wrote it? The one from the Paxton case?”

  “Jake Nolan. Yeah. He’s a computer genius. Made a fortune designing a little widget that does predictive analysis based on previous activity. You know, like when you go on a website and it gives you recommendations based on what you’ve bought before.”

  “This is a sweet program.”

  “It is. We can only hope it comes up with a direction for us.”

  “How long does it take?”

  “As long as it takes. I’ve never actually used it this way. As I said to you before, I’m not an investigator. Jake knew I’d want to look into my mother’s murder, so he offered it to me.”

  “Nice. With any luck, it will come up with a new direction before anything else happens.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look, I’ve been wearing these clothes for almost twenty-four hours straight, so if you don’t mind, I’ll leave you to it and go shower.”

  It had been a long day, starting with Drew Dobbs’s murder.

  “How are you doing? I know you didn’t get along with Drew, but still, he was your brother.”

&n
bsp; “What bothers me most is that it doesn’t bother me. Maybe I’m just too tired today to think about it, what with running all over town from blackout panic. Then again, maybe I stopped considering him my brother a long time ago.”

  “Well, if you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.” She gestured to the spare room. “It’s not such a long walk, either. Thanks so much for allowing me to stay here.”

  “Happy to have you.”

  • • •

  ETHAN ARRIVED AT the station with his head full of death, blood, and horror. He’d seen a lot in his days in Houston, maybe too much, but he’d never come across anything quite as gruesome as the body in the bed of the truck. That it had been delivered to Lucy only added to his stress. And then there had been her rejection of his . . . whatever he’d offered. He shouldn’t have yelled at her, but he wanted her to acknowledge him, to lay herself on the line just a little. He cracked his neck, but the pain in his head and shoulders didn’t abate.

  And, joy of joys, at the station both Mayor Dobbs and Sheriff Pike awaited him inside his office. At the site of Billy Pike’s face, rage boiled up, burning away any other feeling. Ethan’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a long moment, he savored the purity of the emotion. No confusion, nothing soft: simple, straightforward fury. Billy Pike was going to get what was coming to him.

  But not yet. He wanted Pike alone, when they could take their time. For the moment, he had to deal with the man professionally and leave the personal out.

  He forced himself to count to ten, then repeat it, while flexing his fingers and damping his anger. When he had full control, he approached the two men.

  “Gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

  “You can tell us what the hell is going on with the Sadler woman,” Dobbs growled. “First you refuse to arrest her for killing my boy, and now I hear she’s mixed up in two other murders.”

  “You’ll have to talk to the sheriff here about your son’s murder, Mayor. But if you want my opinion, Lucy had nothing to do with it.”

  He flicked a glance at Pike. “I understand you discovered a second body in the woods? Close to Drew’s?”