The Darkness We Hide

by Debra Webb

  “Be careful, Rowan. It’s never been entirely clear whether Addington wants you for his own entertainment or if he wants to watch you die. At this point, maybe both.”

  “You be careful,” she countered. “It may be me he wants, but he will go through you or anyone else to accomplish his goal.”

  He reached for the door but hesitated. “One other thing. Pryor is determined to tie you to Addington. I think he’s planning to use you to save himself if this thing blows up.”

  Bastard. “Thanks for the heads-up. I was reasonably confident he had a plan that involved me somehow. I just wasn’t sure why.”

  “Goodbye, Rowan.”

  “Goodbye.”

  She watched him go and that hollowness expanded inside her.

  Slowly but surely Julian Addington was taking her world apart.

  Obviously he was saving her for some big finale.

  “Get on with it already,” she muttered.

  The driver’s side door opened, and Charlotte slid back behind the wheel. “Everything go all right?” She glanced at Rowan in the rearview mirror.

  “I think it did.” For the first time since this nightmare began, she felt the situation might be about to take a turn.

  She hoped.

  Fifteen

  By three the last of the guests had wandered away from the burial. A blanket of flowers had been placed over the freshly covered grave. The tent and the chairs were being removed. The funeral had been beautiful. The church filled to overflowing, the prayer at the graveside shared with a massive crowd. Rowan hadn’t been able to stop surveying faces. Billy had stayed by her side, only stepping away long enough to give his mother a hug when she and his father readied to leave. Rowan had remained with Burt’s sister.

  Alone now for the first time since noon, Sally Jernigan hugged Rowan. “Thank you so much for everything, Rowan. Burt truly adored you. He would have been so proud of how beautiful this day was.”

  “And I adored Burt. I’m grateful I could have some part in this final celebration of his life.”

  Rowan walked Sally to the limousine where Charlotte and the driver waited. “Charlotte will ride back to the funeral home with you. Please call me if you need anything or have any questions.”

  Charlotte picked up the conversation from there as she helped the older lady into the car. Rowan waved as they drove away.

  “It won’t be the same without him.”

  Rowan looked up at Billy, who’d joined her on the sidewalk. “It absolutely will not.”

  They stood for a moment and stared out over the cemetery. Her parents were buried here as were numerous other DuPonts. She supposed that one day she would be buried here. If Julian had anything to do with it that day might come sooner rather than later.

  But not today.

  “I want to pay a visit to Anna Addington.”

  Billy turned to her. “I didn’t spot her in the crowd.”

  “Me either. I know what a master of disguise and duplicity Julian is. I didn’t recognize what he was and I’m a trained psychiatrist. But the ex-wife has had someone investigating him for decades. Someone who wasn’t emotionally involved with the situation. How could Barton not have discovered that Addington wasn’t even his real name? I think they’ve been holding out on us.”

  Billy settled his hat into place. “I say we ask her. Barton, too, if he’s there.”

  Rowan smiled. “If he’s not there, she’ll know where he is.”

  As they walked to his truck, she asked, “How did it go at the office?”

  “Besides taking some time off, I did something I’d intended to do for the past year, since Hargrove had his accident.”

  Thomas Hargrove was deputy chief of police. He’d been in a terrible car accident early last year, before Rowan moved back to Winchester, and he’d been off work since. For his family’s sake and the purposes of health insurance, Billy had kept Thomas on the payroll until he reached full retirement age just last month. Clarence Lincoln had basically taken up the man’s slack, working directly with Billy most of the time.

  “I’m sure he and his family appreciate what you did for them.”

  At his truck, Billy opened the passenger side door. “It was the least I could do after the man put in forty-odd years with the department.”

  “Did you announce his permanent replacement?” Rowan settled into the seat.

  “I did. I thought Deputy Chief Clarence Lincoln was going to cry.” Billy grinned as he walked around to the driver’s side.

  “I wish I could have been there.” Rowan fastened her seat belt. “He’s a great detective and a really great guy.”

  “He is.” Billy started the truck and headed out of the cemetery.

  The meeting with Josh had been weighing heavy on her all afternoon. She couldn’t keep this from Billy. “I met with Josh this morning.”

  Slowing for a traffic light, Billy shot her a look. “Dressler showed up at the funeral home? Where the hell has he been?”

  “He didn’t exactly show up. He called me on Charlotte’s phone and asked for a private meeting.”

  Billy exhaled a weary breath. The light turned green and he rolled through the intersection. “And?”

  “Charlotte took me so my—” she cleared her throat “—followers wouldn’t realize I’d left. She and I went to the location he gave me, the hospital parking lot, and met him.”

  Billy frowned and made a disagreeable sound. “What was he doing at the hospital?”

  “I suppose he thought no one would be watching the hospital.”

  “What did he want?”

  Billy didn’t ask why he called Rowan instead of him or one of his Bureau buddies. He was well aware Josh liked her.

  “He wanted to warn us that he believes Pryor is the leak.”

  “Ironic,” Billy said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Pryor believes Dressler is the leak.”

  Rowan ignored the comment that was made more out of jealousy of any connection she had with Josh than with doubt about his suspicions. “He’s convinced Pryor has been trying to set him up. He disappeared to avoid what he presumed to be the inevitable—being arrested and detained. He wanted to keep looking for Julian and the only way to do that was to prevent Pryor from making a move. He dropped off the grid, leaving Pryor with no proof of whether he vanished of his own accord or was taken.”

  She told him about the test Josh did to see if Pryor was the leak. This got Billy’s attention.

  “Pryor didn’t mention anything about that to me. Of course, he’s taken me off the task force so I don’t suppose he was required to brief me on anything related to Addington.” He glanced at Rowan. “Have you heard any news from Detective Jones?”

  “The last time she and I spoke, she left me with the distinct impression that she couldn’t discuss details of the case with me. April is a friend. I know she would share with me if she could but she’s also a very loyal detective and rarely breaks the rules.”

  “If what Dressler says is true, it looks like Pryor is closing ranks. Keeping us on the outside.”

  “Which means we have to find what we can on our own.” Rowan didn’t like this.

  “It appears we might just be in luck. Barton’s sedan and that car the ex-wife gets hauled around in are both here.” He came to a stop in the Antebellum Inn parking area and shut off the engine.

  Since there was only one other vehicle in the lot, Rowan assumed that one belonged to the owner or whoever was working behind the counter today. The inn didn’t serve dinner so the kitchen staff would be gone by now.

  “You should probably do the talking,” Rowan suggested as they emerged from the truck. “She likes you better than me.”

  Billy laughed. “It must be my small-town-cop charm. They probably don’t have that in LA.”

  “I’m certain. I’m also su
re there are many differences between life here and life in Los Angeles.”

  Anna Prentice Addington had moved out to LA with her daughter many years ago after she and Julian decided to end their marriage. Julian had remained in Nashville supposedly because he’d grown up there. He had inherited his grandmother’s Victorian home. A home in a highly sought-after area. He had renovated the ground floor into an office and had passed on numerous very generous offers from developers.

  How much of that could be true considering what Rowan now knew?

  She reminded herself that she might not ever know everything or even a reasonable portion of everything about her mother’s and Julian’s pasts. But she had to keep trying to find the answers. At least for now. Allowing this to consume her life couldn’t go on forever. She glanced at Billy. She wanted more.

  In the lobby Rowan was surprised not to see Donna England behind the counter. She was always here. At the moment, the lobby was oddly empty.

  Billy climbed the stairs beside her. They’d barely made half a dozen steps toward the room when Billy stopped, his hand coming out to prevent Rowan from moving forward.

  She started to ask what was wrong and then she saw it, too. The door to the room was ajar.

  Billy reached beneath his jacket and withdrew his weapon. He motioned for Rowan to stay back.

  She flattened against the wall, her heart pounding, and watched as he moved toward the door.

  When he pushed it inward, she held her breath.

  He stood in the doorway and swore.

  Before Rowan could ask what was going on, he disappeared into the room. She pushed away from the wall and went after him. Rowan stalled in the open doorway. Bodies were strewn across the room. The ex-wife. Barton. The driver—what was his name? Garrett something or something Garrett.

  Billy was crouched next to Anna Addington. “Call Lincoln,” he said. “Tell him we have three dead.”

  Rowan made the call, her instincts automatically kicking in and prompting her to back away from the door. She stood to the side so she could see into the corridor, watching for anyone who might suddenly appear. Whoever had done this could still be in the building.

  After checking the en suite bath, Billy came back to where she stood. “I’m going downstairs to look for Ms. England. Lock this door and stay right here until I’m back.”

  Rowan shoved her phone back into her pocket. “I’m going with you.”

  Billy started to but decided not to argue. There wasn’t time. Before they reached the stairs, they checked that the rest of the rooms on the second floor were locked. It didn’t take long. There weren’t that many.

  Downstairs, the area behind the check-in counter was clear. No sign of a struggle. No blood.

  They moved through the dining area. Clear. And then to the kitchen. The kitchen and adjoining storage room appeared to be undisturbed. Like the door to Addington’s room, the rear entrance stood ajar.

  “I’m going out this way,” Billy said, “to have a look around. I’ll come back in through the front. Wait in the lobby.”

  Rowan nodded and headed back the way they had come. In the lobby she considered if there was any area of the inn they might have missed. Wait. There must be a restroom down here somewhere.

  She walked around the staircase, past the hall tree. There it was, tucked beneath the staircase. The sign on the door read Powder Room. Rowan reached for the knob, gave it a turn, suddenly wishing she had her weapon. But she’d been with Billy so she hadn’t bothered. Tucking it into the waistband of this skirt wouldn’t have worked; the jacket was too formfitting.

  Slowly she pulled the door open, her breath held deep in her lungs.

  A woman, not Ms. England, sat on the floor, her head leaning against the vintage pedestal sink. Blood leaked from her abdomen.

  Rowan fell to her knees and quickly checked her pulse.

  She was alive.

  Rowan snatched out her cell and called 911. They needed an ambulance. Now!

  She set it to speaker and placed the phone on the floor. Moving quickly, she eased the woman onto her back and tore open her blouse to get a look at the wound.

  The dispatcher’s spiel echoed in the small room.

  “This is Rowan DuPont. I’m at the Antebellum Inn and we have a female gunshot victim who is still breathing. We need an ambulance.”

  The dispatcher confirmed the address and said, “Help is en route, Ms. DuPont. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

  “Yes.” Rowan reached for the stack of paper hand towels on a shelf above the sink. She used them to help staunch the flow of blood from the entrance wound as the dispatcher fired off her questions. “The gunshot is on the left side of the abdomen. Victim is unconscious. Pulse is weak but steady. She looks to be about thirty. I am attempting to staunch the bleeding.”

  There were a few more questions Rowan couldn’t answer, like the woman’s name and how the injury happened.

  Billy appeared at the door. “Oh hell.” He knelt at the woman’s feet. “This is Laura Brewer.”

  “Maybe you can reach someone in her family,” Rowan said as she kept one hand on the wound and checked her pulse with the other. “Have them meet the ambulance at the ER.”

  Billy made a call to his office. His assistant would locate a name and number and call the family. Sirens in the distance sent relief coursing through Rowan. This woman needed the kind of help Rowan or Billy couldn’t give and she needed it quickly.

  Billy rushed out to meet the ambulance and guided the paramedics to the powder room. Rowan stepped out of the way and allowed the paramedics to do their work.

  Clarence arrived along with four others from the department. Rowan went outside and found a water spigot. She checked to ensure there were no footprints around it and that the ground wasn’t damp, indicating the faucet had been used recently. The last thing she wanted to do was contaminate any potential evidence.

  She washed the blood from her hands and shook them dry. There was blood on her skirt and some on her sleeve. Didn’t matter. The only thing that had mattered was keeping the woman alive.

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath and then another to clear the smell of blood and death from her lungs. “Get back in there.”

  She started for the steps. The paramedics rushing out with their gurney stalled her. She watched as they loaded the victim into the waiting ambulance and drove away. Rowan hoped the woman would make it. There was no way to know just looking at her what sort of internal damage had been done. Two uniformed officers had started rolling out crime scene tape. The inn was now an official crime scene. If there were other guests arriving today they would need to find someplace new to stay for the next couple of days.

  Climbing the steps she heard another vehicle pull into the lot. She glanced back expecting to see Pryor or some of his people but it was the forensic techs. As she went on inside she wondered why Pryor’s agent hadn’t followed her from the cemetery. She’d spotted today’s surveillance detail when they first arrived at the cemetery. Strange.

  Billy had ended the department’s detail since he intended to be with her at all times. She wasn’t sure how that was going to work out, but he wasn’t going to change his mind.

  She climbed the stairs and walked along the corridor until she reached the room where three people had died. How in the hell did Julian do this? He obviously had one or more hired killers working for him. He couldn’t possibly have executed all of this mayhem himself. He was an old man, for Christ’s sake.

  Not so old, she reminded herself. Sixty-seven. But he was in outstanding physical condition, better than most forty-year-olds.

  “Better than you,” she muttered to herself.

  Today she felt a hundred.

  Next to the door of the room, an officer was stationed. He nodded to Rowan. She paused at the door and surveyed the scene inside. Clarence an
d another detective were with Billy. They studied the positions of the victims and discussed the possible weapon used. Billy checked Anna Addington’s fingers and bent her arm, assessing the state of rigor mortis. All things the deputy coroner would do when he arrived.

  You’re missing all the fun, Burt. Rowan closed her eyes against the thought.

  She didn’t go into the room. Wouldn’t be a good idea. Scene contamination and all that. No matter that she’d been in there before, at this point she could have the Brewer woman’s blood or some trace evidence from the powder room or elsewhere in the inn on the bottom of her shoes. Billy and the others had donned shoe covers and gloves. Rowan was only too happy to let them do their jobs.

  The two forensic techs hustled up the stairs. Rowan moved aside and they entered the scene. Lucky Ledbetter hurried along the corridor next. He nodded to Rowan before rushing through the door.

  Rowan backed up, leaned against the wall on the other side of the corridor. She was so tired of the killing. Of the devastation.

  The pounding of footsteps echoed from down the hall once more. Rowan turned her head in that direction just in time to see Pryor and two of his colleagues striding toward the primary crime scene.

  Pryor paused to glare at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  There were a great many things she wanted to say to the man but she decided it was better not to say anything at all. Not just yet.

  He shifted his outraged glare from her to the lawmen in the room. The officer at the door held up a hand. “This is an official crime scene.”

  Openly hostile to the young officer, Pryor and his team dragged on shoe covers and gloves, then filed into the room.

  Pryor’s first act on the scene was to order Billy off the premises.

  “This is a triple homicide in my jurisdiction,” Billy reminded the arrogant man. “Until we’ve confirmed these murders are a part of your investigation, this is my crime scene. Until then, you need to step back, Agent Pryor.”

  If Rowan had thought Pryor was angry when he arrived, he was beyond pissed off as he tramped away, his colleagues following. They wouldn’t go far. Maybe to the parking lot where they would simmer until they had the go-ahead to take over.