Broken Places

by Sandra Parshall

  “I want him moved to the hospital, right now,” she said.

  “If he needs medical care, he’ll have it,” Sheriff Willingham assured her. “But I believe he’ll be okay with us while the—whatever—works its way out of his system. We’ll keep a close eye on him.”

  “I’m right here!” Ragsdale roared from the cell, making all of them flinch in surprise. He rose and slammed his open palms against the bars. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here, like I’m deaf, dumb and blind.”

  “How are you feeling, Scotty?” Tom asked.

  “How the hell do you think I feel?”

  “When was your last hit?”

  “I’m not admitting anything to you.”

  “I’d just like to know when you might be clear-headed enough to answer some questions.”

  “Go to hell. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “All right then. I guess we’ll both have to wait until you have a change of mind.” To Scotty’s parents, Tom said, “He’s staying here, at least until his bail hearing, and that’s not going to be today. The jailer will keep a close watch on him and get him help if he needs it. God knows I don’t want anything to happen to him. I need some straight answers from him.”

  Irma Ragsdale’s face knotted with frustration and sorrow. “He didn’t kill those people, Tom. He’s my boy, I ought to know what’s in his heart. He hasn’t got it in him to hurt anybody.” Her tear-filled eyes flicked to Tom’s bruised face. “Except when…But he’d never kill anybody. I’d stake my own life on that.”

  “Come on now, Irma.” Her husband put an arm around her and gently turned her toward the door. “He’ll be safe and sound here tonight. We’ll see how things look in the morning.”

  “See ya!” Ragsdale yelled after them. “Thanks for nothing! Again.”

  His mother sobbed as her husband led her from the cell block.

  Sheriff Willingham sighed, looked at Ragsdale, then at Tom. He started to speak but changed his mind and instead shook his head and walked out. Tom understood how helpless Willingham must feel. The sheriff had known the older Ragsdales most of his life, had always been friendly with them, but they had a worthless son and he couldn’t do a damned thing to change that.

  When Willingham was gone, Ragsdale reached out and tried to grab Tom’s arm. Tom never got close enough to a cell to let a prisoner touch him, and Ragsdale’s fingers closed on air. “Please,” he said, his tone turning desperate. “I’ve gotta get out of here now. I’ve got things to do. I can’t stay here tonight.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Scotty. Now accept it and settle down.”

  Ragsdale crumpled against the bars and began to sob, open-mouthed, tears and mucus dripping from his chin. Watching him, Tom realized he’d have to order a suicide watch at least through the night.

  Was this the killer who had managed to take three lives without leaving any evidence behind? Was he capable of killing a woman he’d loved?

  Tom felt sure Scotty played some part in the crimes, but he couldn’t believe he was looking at the entire answer to the puzzle. Something else was out there, just beyond sight, waiting for him to focus his eyes in the right direction.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Rachel steeled herself for an argument when she walked into Tom’s office at the end of the work day. She had to tell him what Lindsay was up to, but he’d been so angry with her the last time they’d talked that she wasn’t sure he would listen now.

  At the sight of his battered face, she momentarily forgot all about Lindsay.

  “What happened?” she exclaimed. His olive complexion couldn’t hide the bruising around one eye and across his nose. “Did you have an accident?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, his words clipped and cool. “But I’m very busy, so—”

  “Tom, give me a minute, please.” She wouldn’t nag him to tell her how he’d been hurt, but she was going to say what she came here to say. She was reluctant to jump right into it, though. Taking a seat facing his desk, she said, “I was shocked when I heard about Lloyd Wilson. Is there anything I can do? What’s happened to his dogs and chickens?”

  “His sister has them.”

  “Good,” Rachel said. “That’s good.” Tom was giving her the minimum number of words required, and he looked at her as if she were an unwelcome stranger. “I know you’re busy with Lloyd’s death on top of everything else, but there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

  Tom waited, his face impassive.

  If she blurted this out she’d make matters worse. Maybe she should let him draw his own conclusions. “I found out earlier today that a woman from the state crime lab called the clinic where I worked in McLean, asking a lot of questions about me.”

  Rachel saw the quick narrowing of Tom’s eyes.

  “The woman said her name was Ann Johnson,” she went on. “I didn’t think the crime lab did that kind of thing, gathering background information about people, and there’s no reason for them to be interested in me anyway. So I called Roanoke and asked to speak to Ann Johnson. They told me no one by that name works there.”

  Now Rachel waited, watching Tom’s face. His eyes slid away from hers and a muscle twitched in his cheek. She would not allow herself to speak again, however long he took to respond.

  At last he said, “You think it was Lindsay.” A flat statement, not a question.

  She met his gaze, telling herself she was the one in the right and she had nothing to apologize for. “Yes, I do. She’s been prying into my background. Now she’s lying and misusing her professional position to get information about me.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Tom—” How had things gone so wrong between them that he could turn such cold eyes on her? “I think she’s trying to find something she can use to drive a wedge between us.”

  “She doesn’t have to bother. You’ve done a pretty good job of that yourself.”

  Rachel knew her face betrayed how deeply his words wounded her, and she struggled to get her emotions under control. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted.”

  “You know,” Tom said, “there have been times when I thought about doing a background check on you myself.”

  “What?” Rachel said, unable to raise her voice above a whisper. “Why?”

  “Why? Is that a serious question? You’ve told me next to nothing about yourself. You won’t talk about your family. If I get anywhere near that subject, you practically panic.”

  “No, I don’t.” Yes, I do. Everything he said was true. “Tom, I just—”

  “You change the subject, you try to distract me, you won’t answer questions. You do everything you can to avoid telling me anything about yourself. My life’s an open book to you, but you’ve never been honest with me, you’ve always been secretive.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Ben Hern, he’s just one example. If he’s such a dear old friend, why is it I never heard a word about him until he suddenly showed up in Mason County? Then I was supposed to accept him, no questions asked.”

  Tears stung Rachel’s eyes and she blinked to get rid of them. She would not let him make her cry. Feeling trapped, she lashed out. “Yes, there are some things I don’t like to talk about. What does that have to do with Lindsay? How does that justify her calling people I used to work with and telling lies and making threats?”

  “What threats?”

  “She told the person she talked to that she had to answer questions about me and would be in a lot of trouble if she refused. None of which is true.”

  “Aw, for god’s sake.”

  Tom rubbed at the bruise between his eyes and winced at his own touch. Rachel stifled a rush of concern. He didn’t want her sympathy. He would probably never want anything from her again.

  Tom stood abruptly. “I’ve got three murders to solve. I don’t have time for this crap. Whatever’s going on between you and Lindsay, handle it yoursel
ves. Don’t put me in the middle of it.”

  It was happening because he was already in the middle. Couldn’t he see that? Was he blind to everything Lindsay did? Rachel said nothing, but rose and walked out of his office, feeling foolish and utterly alone.

  ***

  “God damn it,” Tom muttered when Rachel was gone. What else would go wrong before this day was over? Pressing the cold pack to his face, he realized it had long ago reached room temperature. He flung it into the wastebasket. He grabbed another instant cold pack from the desk drawer where he’d stowed them and squeezed it hard to release the crystals, giving in to a brief fantasy of strangling Lindsay.

  What the hell did Lindsay think she was doing? If her bosses found out about it, she’d either be suspended or fired outright, and Tom was willing to bet Rachel was too ticked off to let the incident go unreported. He understood how she felt. But damn it, Rachel’s behavior was driving him crazy too.

  He pressed the new cold pack to his swollen eye and the bridge of his nose.

  ***

  During the drive home, with Holly’s inconsequential chatter as background noise, Rachel carried on a silent debate with herself about the dangers of confronting Lindsay. If Lindsay smelled fear, rather than simple anger over her prying, she would be intrigued and gratified, and more determined than ever to mine Rachel’s past for information to use against her. But how could Rachel stand back and do nothing, hoping Lindsay would lose interest before she uncovered anything harmful? She had to stand up to this woman.

  Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

  Overwhelmed by frustration, Rachel groaned aloud.

  “What’s the matter?” Holly asked.

  Rachel sighed. “I’ll drop you at the house, then I have to go to Joanna’s and take care of something.”

  A few minutes later, she walked into Joanna’s kitchen. The room was redolent of garlic and onion, oregano and tomatoes.

  Joanna looked around from the range, where she was stirring something in a pot. “Hey, sweetie. What’s up?”

  Lindsay, washing lettuce at the sink, gave Rachel a dismissive glance and returned to her task.

  “I need to talk to you, Lindsay,” Rachel said to her back.

  Lindsay’s shoulders rose and fell in a shrug but she didn’t turn. “So talk.”

  “Can we do this privately?”

  “I’m busy right now.”

  “Well, I can leave the room,” Joanna said.

  “No,” Lindsay said. “I can’t imagine what Rachel has to say that you can’t hear.”

  All right, if that’s how you want it. Stepping closer to her, Rachel said, “I don’t appreciate you calling the place I used to work and asking questions about me.”

  “What?” Lindsay spun around, her expression a mixture of incredulity and amusement. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  Aware of Joanna looking on in slack-jawed surprise, Rachel felt her face flush. “You called this morning, you gave a phony name, and you told the animal hospital’s business manager she’d get in trouble if she didn’t tell you what you wanted to know.”

  Lindsay threw a wide-eyed Can you believe this? look at Joanna, then gave Rachel a sad little frown. “Rachel, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’re not making any sense.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have barged in here and confronted Lindsay, but it was too late to retreat.

  “You said someone called and gave a phony name?” Lindsay asked. “So you’re not claiming that someone using my name is making phone calls about you. And in that case, what makes you so certain it was me?”

  “I’m not going to argue with your lies,” Rachel said. “I just want you to realize that I know what you’re doing.”

  She walked out at a measured pace, wanting to run but refusing to flee like a coward. Outside, though, she allowed herself to run to her vehicle.

  After starting the engine she sat gripping the steering wheel. She felt sick. She felt like banging her head against a wall. She felt like screaming at Lindsay and Tom and herself for all the wrong steps that had led to this moment.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Ben thrust a crumpled sheet of paper at Rachel, then began pacing her living room, his shoulders hunched and fists stuffed into his jeans pockets. “I found it in my mailbox when I finally got home after wasting the whole day at the Sheriff’s Department.”

  Rachel and Holly, seated on the sofa, read the hand-printed note together.

  YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID. CAM AND MEREDITH WERE WORTH A THOUSAND OF YOU. YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH IT. WE KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH SCUM LIKE YOU.

  “Oh, no.” Rachel dropped the note on the coffee table, not wanting to touch it for another second. “Did you report this?”

  Ben gave a bitter laugh. “Report it to who? Tom Bridger, who believes I’m a murderer? You really think he’d do anything about it?”

  Maybe not, Rachel thought, surprised that she could imagine Tom shirking his duty. “It’s a death threat. At least it sounds like one to me.”

  “How can people be so mean?” Holly looked up at Ben. “What if somebody breaks into your house and tries to hurt you?”

  “I guess I’ll find out whether my alarm system was a worthwhile investment.”

  “You can’t just let it go,” Rachel said. “I really am worried about you.”

  “I’m worried about all of us.” Ben slumped into a chair, his long legs stretched in front of him. “I’m going out of my mind worrying about my mother, and I can’t get Bridger to see that something’s happened to her. He probably thinks she’s part of a conspiracy with me, like the two of us killed the Taylors together.” He looked at Rachel. “And I’m worried about you. Why didn’t you tell me you had a break-in Saturday night? Is it true somebody turned on the gas? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “You have enough on your mind.” His handsome face had taken on a haggard, haunted appearance and she doubted he’d slept through a single night since the Taylors were killed. She hoped he’d been taking his medication regularly. “We’re safe now. New locks, and Brandon Connelly’s sleeping here. His Sheriff’s Department car parked out front should be an effective deterrent.”

  “Do you know about the meeting tomorrow night?” Ben asked. “Angie warned me about it. Sounds like all the Taylors’ supporters are getting together to decide how to dispose of the evil outsider, meaning me. What do you think they’ll do? Tar and feather me, or just string me up and get it over with?”

  Holly gave a little cry of distress.

  “Don’t make sick jokes,” Rachel said.

  “Who says I’m joking?” Ben sat forward. “Do you know who’s behind it? Lindsay Taylor. Angie told me she’s been stirring people up, telling them I killed her parents and she’s afraid I’ll get away with it just because I’ve got money.”

  Rachel wished she could doubt that report, but after what she’d seen of Lindsay’s behavior, she believed it immediately.

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise me one little bit,” Holly said. “That Lindsay is like some nasty little bug that keeps buzzin’ around and won’t go away. I wish I could stomp on her.”

  That made Ben laugh. “I’d like to see that.”

  Rachel couldn’t summon any amusement. “Lindsay might as well accuse Tom of not doing his job. I’m surprised he’d put up with that. Of course, if he asked her about it, she’d deny she was doing it.”

  “Is she giving you a hard time because you’re a friend of mine?” Ben asked.

  “That’s part of it, but she has other reasons too.”

  “She thinks she’s gonna get Captain Bridger back,” Holly volunteered. “Like that’s gonna happen.”

  “I’m afraid she’s already turned him against me.”

  “No!” Holly protested.

  “It’s true. I think our relationship is over.” Speaking the words, admitting the reality of
her break with Tom, brought on a crushing sadness. “Now I just want Lindsay to leave me alone.”

  Ben frowned. “Exactly what has she done?”

  How could she explain her fear of Lindsay’s prying? Neither Ben nor Holly had any idea what kind of family secrets were hidden in Rachel’s past. “It’s been mostly little stuff. Insults and innuendoes. Nasty but probably hard for anybody to see as dangerous. But it’s getting worse.” She told him about the call to the animal hospital in McLean.

  “Why would she be stupid enough to say she was with the crime lab?” Ben asked. “No matter what name she used, that’s going to point to her.”

  “Exactly,” Rachel said. “She can say that she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to mention the crime lab, therefore it couldn’t have been her. It had to be somebody else, or—”

  “Or you made it up. Dios mio. She’s a clever little bitch. And dangerous as hell.” Ben pushed his thick black hair off his forehead, but it flopped back when he lowered his hand. “What a mess. We’ve got a cold-blooded killer who’s after the two of you, I’m a murder suspect, and Lindsay Taylor’s out to get both of us. Man, to think I moved out here to get away from stress.”

  Rachel managed a tired smile. “You and me both.”

  “At least you know there’s nothing in your background she can dig up that would hurt you.”

  Holly said, “She can’t dig up anything bad about either one of you, because you’ve never done anything bad.”

  This spirited and naive defense silenced both Rachel and Ben.

  Ben’s morose expression made Rachel wonder whether he had told her the whole story of his legal problem in New York or withheld something from her. Was there more to it? Something scandalous? If so, and Cam Taylor had found out, Ben’s motive for stopping Taylor’s blackmail attempt would be stronger than it appeared at first. And if Cam had known a damaging secret about Ben, Cam’s daughter might know too. Lindsay wouldn’t hesitate to blow it out of proportion and use it to incite a mob to go after Ben.

  Rachel couldn’t ask Ben about this in front of Holly. What right did she have, in any case, to demand that he reveal his secrets to her, when she had never shared hers with him?