“I confirmed it myself at the morgue. You’ll never have to see him again.”
Though she’d already known it, hearing it out loud brought tears of relief to her eyes. She blinked them back before they had a chance to fall. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I called you paranoid.”
“Yeah. I remember. But it’s thanks to you I’m not dead right now, so I’ll give you a pass. You really know how to wield a broken knife.”
She managed a wry smile but it drooped when she spotted the unease on Deck’s face.
“I wouldn’t have stabbed you, you know. I would have sooner stabbed myself.”
She reached for his hand and tugged him toward her, giving him no choice but to join her on the bed. He sat gingerly. Like she might break. “Sure you would have. I’d have done the same. Drake gave you an impossible choice. It was smart pitting them against each other like you did.”
She slid her good hand onto his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Did you know about Wade?” he asked.
“Not until that night. It was that phrase he used—‘the devil’s work.’ Dwayne Holt had told the cops something similar. But even then, I wasn’t sure until I saw him standing there with Drake, pointing a gun at poor Thomas.”
“Funny how we always manage to both get it right.”
“And wrong.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Her fingers fisted the center of his shirt, crinkling the starched blue fabric. He gave in, leaning toward her.
“If I want to be right one hundred percent of the time…”
“Then you better keep me close.” Already, she could feel the warmth of him, as she mustered her strength and sat up to meet his lips. Later, she could blame it on the pain meds.
He looked at her, and for a moment, he hesitated, an unspoken fear in his eyes. “I fully intend to, Doctor.” His mouth on hers—careful at first, then matching her insistence—left no doubt about that.
As soon as Deck left, Emily peeked in, grinning. “Finally. It’s about damn time you two locked lips.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“But your cheeks do. They’re blushing.” Amused with herself, Em flopped into the chair Deck had left behind. “He’s one of the good guys, Liv. So is Nick, FYI. And we’re just friends. He’s way too old for me.”
Ignoring Olivia’s groan, Emily withdrew her cell phone, tapping at the screen. “Look. He sent this for you. He said it was important, so he cc’ed me on the reply. In case you weren’t able to access your email in the hospital.”
Olivia studied the reply from Nick Spade, private investigator. Somehow, he’d managed to get his hands on the list of the VIP patrons at the Golden Steed, all proud holders of the happy horseshoe. Three pages worth of alphabetized names that cleared her brain fog in an instant.
After forwarding the message to Deck, Olivia went straight to the Cs, until she found it: Wade Coffman.
The night of July Fourth played back on a loop in her mind. The sound of a child crying. Wade’s footprints in the sand. Thomas’s terrified scream as Deck leaned in to show his badge. Behind him, all along, uniformed Wade Coffman had loomed in the doorway. A very, very bad man.
Seventy-Four
Will sat in his truck in the police station parking lot, his mind still at the hospital with Olivia, her hand grabbing at his shirt. The rest of her body, weak but not broken. He’d thought of telling her she’d been right. They should keep it professional. That he couldn’t stomach it, the possibility of her in danger again. Him, to blame. He’d thought of walking out of that room as friends. But he’d come to his senses when he’d seen all of his fears reflected in her eyes. If she could throw caution to the wind, so would he.
While he trekked across the lot, Will’s phone buzzed, notifying him of an incoming email. He stopped to take a quick peek at the list Olivia had sent, confirming Wade Coffman had been a proud owner of the happy horseshoe. Damn if Olivia didn’t manage to out-detective him again.
“Detective Decker!” Will turned toward the sound of his name. Thomas’s aunt Nora waved to him from the sidewalk.
“We’re driving back to Santa Barbara today. But I couldn’t leave without telling you how grateful I am for everything. It won’t bring them back, but Thomas and I can rest a little easier knowing that Coffman’s behind bars.” She nudged Thomas until he looked up at Will with his mother’s blue eyes. “What do you say to Detective Decker?”
“Thank you.” Thomas extended his hands, Ranger Rob lying in the center of his palms. “I have a present for you.”
“Are you sure you want me to have this?” Will took the soldier and held it with reverence. “I know it’s very special to you.”
“Ranger Rob will keep you safe.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Will tucked the toy inside his pocket, swallowing a lump. Maybe it was his near brush with death, or seeing Olivia bruised and bandaged, but that little boy sure knew how to tug on his heartstrings. He fully intended to break Woofie out of the evidence locker later and ship him overnight to Nora’s house. “I’ll put him in a place of honor on my desk.”
But Thomas stared past him, scrunching his face. “Is that a cat?”
Will turned to see Dr. Jessup sauntering up the sidewalk. In his hand, he held a pet carrier. The plaintive yowling coming from inside it was instantly familiar to Will.
“Just the man I was looking for.” Dr. Jessup set the carrier at his feet, giving it a good-natured pat. “This big guy was using Betty Jo Bryson’s garden as a litter box. Her schnauzer chased him up a tree. Luckily, she recognized him right away from the flier in the office and coaxed him down. We treated him for dehydration, but otherwise, it looks like your tomcat is no worse for wear.”
Will crouched down to look inside the carrier, hope beating its wings inside his chest, stealing his breath. Cyclops blinked back, with his good eye. Will grinned stupidly, fighting back tears for the second time that morning. Damn that cat.
Seventy-Five
A few hours later, the head nurse at Fog Harbor General summoned him and JB back to the ICU, where Wade remained shackled to his hospital bed. He’d been touch and go for a while but had regained consciousness that afternoon, telling the staff he wanted to clear his conscience in case he didn’t make it through the night. For karma’s sake, Will wished him a very long life in a very small prison cell.
Wade lay entwined in a tangle of tubes and wires, but the machine beside him affirmed the steady beat of his heart. Will tried to meet his gaze, man to man, but Wade stared ahead into nothing, pale-faced and shrunken.
“We’re here to take your statement, if you have one to give.”
Wade closed his eyes, opened them again, lost in an in-between world. A prisoner of his own vengeance, his shackles self-made. Though Will knew Wade had to pay for his decisions, he understood how the man had arrived at such a ruinous place.
“We don’t have all day, man.” JB folded his arms across his chest. “Are you gonna talk or not?”
Wade clenched his fists, saying nothing, until Will stood to go.
“And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?” Wade sounded like a wounded animal, fixing Will to the spot.
“Come again?” JB frowned at him.
“Shakespeare,” Will explained. “Right, Wade?”
“The Merchant of Venice,” Wade announced, still talking to the wall. “My mother taught English Lit at the high school, directed the drama club. That was her favorite play. She was voted teacher of the year three times running. And my father grew up on that ranch. He knew every acre like the back of his hand. My little sisters, Dana and Diane, they never made it past high school. All I wanted was justice for them. Justice for my family.”
Finally, Wade looked at them, silent tears spilling down his cheeks. “I never knew it would go this far. Hooking up with that psychopath, Devere, it was pure desperation. He told me he could help get rid of Thomas, if I helped get rid of you.”
“How l
ong had you been planning to kill the Foxes?” Will asked.
“I’d been following them for years online. Since the trial. Every summer, they vacationed in Fog Harbor in their fancy beach house. They plastered their business everywhere. Their riches. Their mansion. Their perfect children in private school. All ill-gotten gains, earned off the corpses of the dead. Off my family.”
“Is that why you took the job at Shells-by-the-Sea?”
“Right next door to Ocean’s Song, it couldn’t have been more perfect. For a while, I felt better here. Not exactly happy, but more alive. I started to wonder whether I’d go through with it. But that day on the beach tipped me over the edge. The moment I saw how Peter Fox lorded his power to make others feel small. When I watched that cop punch him in the face, I wished I’d done it. And I knew I wouldn’t be free until I watched him die.”
Will couldn’t help but think of Drake. He knew how compelling that kind of anger could be. He’d felt it in his own hands. “And the firework show was the perfect cover. Instead of doing your rounds, you left the beach. You drove to Ocean’s Song, expecting the whole family to be there.”
“I got there a few minutes too late. I watched Peter storm out of the house, and I followed him. He took the cut-through, heading out of town.” Coffman smacked the bed, a sudden intensity blackening his eyes, and the heart monitor beeped faster. “No way in hell I could let him get away. I flashed the strobe lights on the security car, and he pulled over. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me when he rolled down the window. That moron was so drunk he actually believed I was a cop. I shot him in the head and set the car on fire, figuring no one would find it for a while. Then, I sped back to Ocean’s Song on autopilot to finish the job. After I killed the first two, that’s when I spotted Thomas peeking around the corner. I tried to catch him, but he ran outside. I shot the little girl and tried to torch the place. It was me, but it wasn’t me. I wish I could explain.”
Will had heard that one before. Rage could change a man into someone else, could blacken the soul and turn it to ash. “Did Peter recognize you when you stopped him?”
Wade scoffed. “Recognize me? I doubt he ever thought of me. I tried to speak with him at the trial, to beg him not to go through with Overton’s charade. He had me escorted out… by security. The irony of it.”
“Did he say anything before you shot him?”
Wade pursed his lips, sticking his nose in the air, as he imitated Peter Fox’s last words on earth. “‘Good evening, officer. Why am I being pulled over? I haven’t done a damn thing wrong.’”
Outside the ICU, JB shook his head, dismayed. “We solved a quadruple murder, but it doesn’t feel good.”
“At least Thomas and Nora can have some peace now.” Though even as he said it, Will wondered what peace looked like when you’d lost everything. When your entire world disappeared in one night.
After a moment of silence, JB clapped Will on the back. “You did good, City Boy.”
Will side-eyed JB, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “What do you want?”
“Can’t the Detective of the Year compliment his partner? No strings attached?”
Still suspicious, Will muttered, “Thanks, I think.”
Will had gone halfway down the hall, when JB called out to him. “There is one thing. Get me out of this, will ya?” He held out his cell phone. Will chuckled as he read the subject line: Introductory CrossFit, Saturday 8 a.m.
That evening, Will pulled into the garage and eagerly grabbed the pet carrier from his passenger seat, along with a bagful of groceries. Cyclops had spent the day at the station, under Chief Flack’s watchful eye. “We’re home, Cy.”
As soon as he cracked the carrier’s door, Cyclops pushed his head through, meowing at Will’s feet. Removing a small metal tin from the grocery bag, Will pulled open the tab, setting it on the ground.
Cy sniffed the canned salmon then made quick work of it, glancing up at Will occasionally to confirm his hearty approval. After, he trailed Will into the house, like he’d never left.
“Happy birthday, buddy.” Will scratched behind Cy’s ears, listening to his contented purring. “It’s bound to be your ninth life by now.”
Epilogue
Olivia smoothed her blouse. Even in the chill of the air-conditioned Mental Health Unit, the silk clung to her armpits. Her mouth was impossibly dry, though she’d been swigging water all morning. She’d expected nothing less from her first day back at work. Her nerves predictably on high alert inside Crescent Bay State Prison, where every man within a ten-foot radius had done something dreadful.
From her desk, she watched Leah exchange pleasantries with Sergeant Weber and retreat to her own office, giving Olivia a quick wave. Since Wade’s arrest, Leah had taken it hard, blaming herself for hiring a madman. Olivia tried to tell her, to reassure her. Those kinds of men wore all sorts of disguises.
Olivia stood and walked to the door, trying to hide her limp. Better the inmates not see her weakness. Three weeks of healing had done wonders, but she’d need physical therapy to build her muscle strength before she could start running or boxing again.
With a silent nod, Javier Mendez made his way inside, taking his position in her patient chair. As soon as he sat, Olivia started the egg timer on her desk, questioning her own judgment. She should have begun with the depressed bank robber, not the stone-hearted killer leering at her as he petted his mustache. But she’d wanted a trial by fire to prove to herself she hadn’t missed a beat, and now she had one. Blazing hot.
“I’ve been enjoying my single cell.” His lips hardly moved when he spoke. “I wanted to tell you that in person. Face to face.”
Olivia’s throat constricted. Her own face, suddenly hot. She should never have written that memo. “You’re welcome. After reviewing your mental health records, I felt it was warranted.”
“Did you?” His dark eyes didn’t waver. “I misunderstood, then. You don’t want anything from me in return? I’m a well-connected man, and I always pay my debts.”
All her questions about the General and her father—his death, his status as an informant—pounded at the gates, demanding to be asked. “There is one thing.”
Olivia couldn’t look away from the head of Javier’s snake tattoo as he leaned forward, eager. “Name it, Doctora.”
“Ben Decker,” she said.
“The dirty cop?” Javier’s lip curled in disgust.
“Make sure nothing happens to him.”
Olivia’s first day back in the books, she made the turn off Pine Grove Road, anxious to get home. Emily had returned to San Francisco over the weekend to prepare for the fall semester, leaving her alone again. But it didn’t feel lonely anymore, not with Deck around. She planned to meet him tonight at the Hickory Pit for their usual shop talk over two number fives. Magnum PI reruns—he’d bought her the complete series—and making out on her sofa afterward.
Right away, she noticed the motorcycles, parked in the grass adjacent to the house. She squinted against the sun until she spotted the men standing on her porch. Termite raised his hand to wave at her. His teenaged son, Scotty, by his side, his spitting image. Termite grinned shamelessly, as if his showing up on her doorstep wasn’t a punch to her gut. The last time she’d seen him he’d been running away from the Oaktown Boys after they’d excommunicated him from the gang.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded before she’d fully exited the Buick.
“Good to see you too, sis.”
“Don’t call me that. Ever.” Olivia shut the door and stomped toward him, her leg moving faster than it had since she’d been shot. Apparently, outrage worked as a cure-all. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Termite wrapped an arm around Scotty, the scar on his bicep where he’d once been branded a member of Oaktown faded now. Scotty had covered his own Oaktown tattoo with fresh ink: a cross and barbed wire.
“We live here now. Scotty and me. We rented one of those old cabins on Wolver Holl
ow Road. Figured it’d be nice to spend a little time in the outdoors with my boy. Hunting, fishing. Getting back to nature.”
Olivia glared at him in response. The only thing her half-brother could hunt was trouble. “And the Oaktown Boys are okay with that? I wouldn’t have thought they’d be too keen on the idea of you settling down near one of their hangouts.”
“We reached an understanding. I stay out their way. They stay out of mine. Besides, don’t you think it would be nice to get to know your nephew? Spend a little family time together?”
When Scotty’s lip curled at the suggestion, Olivia had to admit she felt the same. “Cut the crap, Termite. What are you really doing here?”
Grabbing her by the arm, he led her down the porch and around the side of the house, out of Scotty’s earshot. “Word on the street is you’ve got a mole sticking its nose where it don’t belong. I warned you not to make a stink about the General. Not to go digging. You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”
“Mole? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She thought of Mendez. Nick Spade? Ben? “What’s it to you anyway?”
Termite laughed, baring his yellow teeth. “Me personally, I don’t give a rat’s hiney if you want to get yourself killed. But the last time I saw him, I gave my word to your daddy I would protect you. Lord knows, I owed him that.”
Stunned, Olivia followed Termite back to the porch, where Scotty sat on the step, waiting.
“We had a long day moving in, didn’t we, son? I don’t know about you, but I sure am hankering for some ribs from the Hickory Pit. Best damn barbecue joint this side of the Rockies.” He cocked his head at Olivia. “Care to join us?”
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One Child Alive: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with nail-biting suspense (Rockwell and Decker Book 3) Page 29