by Diane Bator
Danny handed him the entire folder. “I don’t have much so I’d appreciate whatever you can dig up. From all appearances, this whole case is a dead end.”
“Since when are things ever what they seem?” Leo slid on a pair of dark sunglasses as they stood and left the coffee shop.
Ten minutes later, Danny turned onto Bishop Street, surprised to see Clancy leaning against his truck shaking his head and laughing. Lucy stalked away from him toward her house, her face aglow as she slammed her front door. Clancy waved then turned and bowed over the truck engine.
It was a stroke of luck Clancy’s parents lived near the cheating spouse in question. With Clancy’s mom in and out of hospital fighting cancer, he spent more time looking after their house and less time in his bachelor pad above the bakery. Everyone in town knew he ran a tattoo parlor near Katie’s bookstore, but no one needed to know he sidelined as a private detective on occasion.
While Clancy watched their subject mostly on his days off and in the evenings once the shop closed, Danny sat in his car to do surveillance in the summer heat. Not the best planning on Danny’s part. He settled back with the emails from Bobby and tried not to fall asleep. Fifteen minutes later, Lucy and the kids left the house and strolled down the street toward Main Street.
Danny texted Clancy to stand watch while he strolled to Lucy’s front door then broke into her house and sauntered into the kitchen. Aside from the house being spotless, nothing had changed from the last time he’d walked through with Roger two weeks earlier. Last time, Roger grumbled about having to put away a suitcase sitting at the top of the stairs and lamented about Lucy’s laziness. Since Roger hadn’t even lived in the house in months, the whole encounter seemed odd. Staged.
The half pot of lukewarm coffee smelled tempting, but he rifled through the stack of mail on her counter. No love letters, no party invitations, and no bills from dating websites, just a postcard from a friend vacationing in New York, a gas bill, and a phone bill.
He snapped a picture of the list tacked up by her phone. Short and sweet. Everyone appeared to be family or friends of the kids. Didn’t all women have a string of girlfriends to cry to? He wandered around the living room taking snapshots of the photos of Lucy and the kids. One or two were of her and the kids with Roger, who always posed in the background like he was itching to run away from his family. Vacations, holidays, birthday parties, but no wedding pictures. No photos of her and Roger together alone.
The house was clean, aside from a thin veil of dust, a couple binders on the coffee table, and a few toys scattered around the room. Lucy was meticulous and neat, which is why Roger’s earlier rant now seemed strange. What else struck him as unusual was the collection of books on her shelf.
Apparently, she had a fetish for the macabre. Edgar Allen Poe. Minette Walters. Kathy Reichs. Stephen King. The list went on. He pulled an anatomy book off the shelf, its pages dog-eared from use. Several other books on forensics and crime scenes flanked anatomy and abnormal psychology books. She was either an investigator or—he cringed to even think it—a writer. Enough to make any man run in fear.
The shelf below confirmed his fears. Writing books. He set down the anatomy book and backed away. While some people feared spiders, Danny had a major aversion to writers. His fears were based on real past experience, not expectations. Was there a spray he could use to guard against rampant writers? If only writer’s block could protect him like sun block.
He found Lucy’s laptop on her desk upstairs and installed the spyware program Leo had given him. After ten more minutes of lurking through the house, Danny scanned the street before he retreated to the safety of Clancy’s garage where Lucy wouldn’t see him when she returned.
Once an old hotel, the Davidson house had a wide veranda and swirls of gingerbread trim that were breathtaking when covered in Christmas lights. When Daisy took sick last fall, no one had bothered to decorate for Christmas. To make matters worse, with Clancy staying at the house and tools scattered everywhere, the house took on an even more mournful appearance.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Clancy wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
Danny blew out a long breath. “Hot, tired, and bored as hell. Why do I feel like I’m missing something about this case?”
Clancy paused, eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just overreacting.” He sat on a nearby dusty stool. “You haven’t seen any activity around her house in the evenings after I leave, have you?”
“Nothing.” Clancy dove back to work on the engine, his voice muffled. “Just her chasing after the kids in the backyard and riding bikes around the block. Aside from that, no one visits her and she and the kids don’t go far. Does she have family here?”
“Seattle.” Danny picked up a wrench. “You need a hand?”
Clancy grinned. “You bored or something?”
He snorted. “I was until Bobby sent me some files to read over.”
“Yeah?” Clancy raised his eyebrows. “About what?”
Danny filled him in on the murders.“You interested in helping out?”
“No. I have a few clients this week I couldn’t reschedule.” Clancy leaned his forearms on the front of the truck. “I also have to check on my mom and give my dad a break now and then.”
“How’s your mom doing?”
He shook his head. “Not good. She’s adamant we need to find my sister. My dad keeps brushing her off, but I’ve tried every number I could find. Either she’s moved or she really wants nothing to do with us.”
Danny frowned. “Doesn’t she get along with your mom?”
“My mom and my sister used to be tight. It’s my dad she fought with all the time. The last time she was home...let’s just say things got bad and she took off in the middle of the night.” Clancy sighed. “None of us have heard from her since.”
As young voices filled the air from up the street, Clancy took a step back and peered around the corner of the garage. “Lucy and the gang are back. You need me to cover you while you run back to the car or are you planning to hang out here for a bit?”
Danny knew where he’d rather be. “I’ll stay here out of sight until they’re inside. I’ve got raccoons to chase and walls to paint.”
“So long as you’re not painting raccoons and chasing walls.” Clancy grinned. “The second you do, call your shrink then grab a nap.”
Chapter 4 ~ Lucy
With one hand on the front door knob, Lucy stopped to take a deep breath. The kids had laughed all the way to the candy store then argued all the way back in the sweltering heat. Her nerves were already frayed from the excessive heat and lack of sleep.
Up the block, Clancy and another neighbor laughed. Lucy clenched her fists. She didn’t hate Clancy Davidson. Truth was, she barely even knew him. She was mad at Roger and Clancy just happened to be male and a convenient Roger substitute to lash out at. Every irritating thing Roger did made Clancy the one to earn her wrath.
A faded blue Honda Civic sat parked up the street again. She cursed under her breath, positive the car wasn’t there when she and the kids left to get ice cream. She didn’t personally know the driver, but wished he’d go find something better to do.
He’d made her paranoid enough to call the police no less than three times in the past two weeks. Twice, the police asked him to move on, but it didn’t seem to deter him. The third time, the officer advised her to put her overactive imagination to better use then he waved to the guy to move along. Infuriated, she considered calling the police again, but had more than enough to do before the kids went away with Roger.
She had a headache from the tension of the sizzling day. Blowing out a breath, she forced a smile and vowed to make the rest of the day better if it killed her. Better yet, if it killed the victim in her novel.
She sent the kids off to play and settled at her computer upstairs to write. While she’d already written the first three chapters of her newest book, she hadn’t figured o
ut how to kill off the first victim of the psychotic serial killer her heroes needed to catch. The words came so fast her fingers stumbled over the keys until she accidentally typed Clancy’s name instead of her hero’s. The words stopped cold. Was he why the words flowed so freely?
She fanned her face with a stack of note-covered pages and looked out the window. The Honda was gone like it had been a figment of her thinly stretched imagination. She hunched back over her keyboard and deleted Clancy’s name. Several pages later, yelling erupted from the backyard. She sucked in a sharp breath with her fingers paused in mid-air. After a second shout, she jumped up and descended the stairs.
Six year old Gina flew inside, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Shawn hit me.”
“Why did Shawn hit you this time?” A growl escaped her. The Zen-like state she’d breathed her tired body into while writing dissipated like tiny pixels in the kids’ video games. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. A faint red circle glared at her from her daughter’s arm.
Eight year old Shawn came in, dark hair rumpled and damp with sweat. “She hit me in the head with a ball.”
“No, I didn’t.” Gina burst into tears that rolled over her rosy cheeks and dripped to her tank top. “You just hit me for no reason.”
He gave his sister a shove then dropped onto the couch and flicked on the television. “You’re being a stupid baby.”
Lucy sighed. “We don’t hit or call names. You guys know I need to get some work done. If you don’t play nice, you won’t get to play video games later.”
Gina sobbed. “I don’t want to play video games anyway. The boys always cheat.”
“They won’t cheat.” Lucy hugged her. “They’ll play nice or they’ll lose their games.”
“Stop taking her side!” Shawn’s face contorted. “You always take her side. Ever since Daddy left, you don’t love me anymore. You just love them.”
His words came like a slap to her face. Not that Lucy hadn’t heard them before, but today they hurt more knowing he’d soon get his wish to spend more time with his dad who’d drive the wedge between them even deeper. “That’s not true, honey. I love you all the same. Just as much as I did before—”
The screen door slid open for a third time. Ten-year-old Parker, gangly as a two-month old puppy, came inside, his ruddy cheeks in sharp contrast with his dark curly hair and blue eyes. “Gina didn’t throw the ball, Mom. I did.”
“Why?” She held her breath. Anticipating the same story she’d heard before.
Parker frowned. “He was calling Gina names and didn’t listen when I told him to stop.”
Lucy sent them all to their rooms for a time out grabbed a pad of paper and went into the backyard to get past the anger that bubbled beneath her skin. Anything she said now would be used against her the second Roger showed up. With a groan, she sagged onto one of the deck chairs. She didn’t need this crap on top of the rest of the dung heap that made up her day.
“Hey, Lucy. Why don’t you come over for a drink?” Mitch stood on his deck and asked over the fence. “You look like you could use one.”
Yes, she did. Preferably something ice cold and loaded with tequila and lime and served by someone way more buff and tanned than Mitch. Clancy sprang instantly to mind and she fanned her face with her notepad. “No, I’ve got to feed the kids and give them baths.”
“It’s summer vacation. They’re supposed to be filthy.” He stood up on his deck. As usual, he wore nothing but a pair of denim cut-offs. “April’s at work so I’m all alone for a few hours. We could talk or something.”
The “or something” made Lucy’s head pulsate.
“Come on over and we can keep each other company.” Mitch coaxed. “I’m sure the kids will be happy to play video games for a bit.”
She sighed. “No thanks, Mitch. I have to get them packed for Sunday.”
“Yeah?” He raised both eyebrows. “Where are you going?”
Lucy hesitated, not wanting to speak the words. “The kids are going to the cottage with Roger for the week.”
“Oh yeah? That’s a first.” He frowned. “What’s he going to do with them?”
“Take them to his parents’ cottage.” And likely ditch them so he and Tanji could go have fun, which was the part that irritated her most.
Mitch rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. He’ll probably just ditch them with his parents.”
She raised one eyebrow. Mitch seemed to know Roger better than Lucy gave him credit for. Her opinion of him softened and her guard slipped. “Yeah.”
“Come over later then if you want,” he said. “I’ll still be up.”
She cringed and scrambled for an excuse. “I’ve got a couple hours worth of writing to do. Deadlines, you know.” She admired his persistence, but decided long ago he was a lecherous alcoholic who would have to endure his mid-life crisis without her. It wasn’t her job to entertain him, yet the fact she was in the middle of a divorce seemed to add fuel to his fantasies.
Lucy didn’t dare let out the long scream that echoed in her head . Most days, she couldn’t even go to the bathroom without someone banging on the door. Today she’d managed to get in over an hour of writing. Maybe being away from the kids for a whole week wouldn’t be such a bad thing for all of them.
Alone in the backyard, she closed her eyes and rested her head back on the cool chair cushion. Out on the street, she heard Mitch call to another neighbor. Their voices blurred together until they faded into silence and her mind drifted.
Someone tapped her arm. “Excuse me, Mommy.”
“Huh?” She struggled to open her eyes and discovered the sky was darker than when she’d closed them. The scent of a bonfire wafted through the air from up the street. “What’s up, baby?”
“Can we have baths now?” Gina batted her blue eyes.
She stretched and glanced at the living room clock. Nearly eight o’clock. She’d dozed undisturbed in the chair for well over an hour. “Oh my gosh, you haven’t even had dinner yet. Let’s get you guys washed up and find some food.”
“That’s okay.” Gina leaned on the chair arm. “Parker told us to let you sleep and made us macaroni and cheese. Shawn put bacon in with the noodles and I got to put in the cheese. It was so good we ate it all.”
“That’s great.” She blinked away tears. Her kids made dinner as a team and she’d missed seeing the big event. She was as proud as she was disappointed she’d slept undisturbed while they used the stove unsupervised. Roger would be furious when he found out. Hiding her mixed emotions, she praised them all. The day had been long enough without starting another fight.
She yawned and stretched as she walked inside. “Hey, I hear you guys did a good job making dinner. Can you do me a favor and run a bath for your sister, Parker?”
“Sure.” He beamed with pride. “Can I take a shower when she’s done? I’m too hot to sleep.”
Shawn glanced up from watching a cartoon. “Me too.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Lucy herded them all off the couches and upstairs to read. When Shawn got up, he leaned on the remote control. The channel changed without him even looking back.
When she groaned and reached to turn off the television, the image that flashed across the screen made her step back. Roger’s real estate office was cordoned off by yellow tape. Her heart hammered and she sank onto the couch. “What the heck?”
“The woman murdered in a downtown real estate office yesterday evening has been identified as thirty-five year old Cora Lee,” the announcer read. “Her body was discovered late last night by a janitor who came in to clean after office hours. No official cause of death has been release yet. Police say there will be an autopsy in the next few days and will be talking to anyone who has had contact with Ms. Lee.”
The photo jarred Lucy to the core. Cora took on the job as Roger’s secretary when he first opened the office five years earlier. She was his right hand and the one to pass along Lucy’s phone messages.
She shut off
the television and dropped the remote control. Her hands shook and her eyes welled with tears. Cora was a sweet, quiet lady who was always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone. Losing her would be an unbearable loss for everyone in the entire office. Why would someone kill her? Most real estate offices held nothing of value for a would-be thief.
She sighed and helped the kids bathe and get ready for bed. After snuggling up with them to watch one last cartoon, she decided to write at her computer until they fell asleep then indulge in a bubble bath and collapse into her soft bed.
When she awakened at quarter to three in the morning, she found herself cheek down in a puddle of drool beside the keyboard, her arm stiff. Her shoulder cramped when she tried to straighten her arm. She’d fallen asleep in her chair without ever getting to the bathtub. If she kept this up, she’d wear herself out before she finished writing her second book.
Standing up was painful. Her knees refused to straighten as she hobbled around like a hunchback, trying to work out the kinks before stubbing her toe on the open bedroom door. She hopped around the room and fell onto the bed. “Oh crap.”
Once she pulled herself together, she limped down the hallway to check on the kids. Gina never even flinched when Lucy planted a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. She drew the curtains closed so the morning sun wouldn’t wake Gina too early.
In Parker and Shawn’s room, she looked out the open window at the moon and the shadows in the backyards. When Roger first left, every shadow frightened her and sent her running for the bedcovers. Now they intrigued her, especially the one that zigzagged across Mitch’s backyard.
“What on earth?” She squinted then rubbed her eyes. The shadows and moonlight weren’t playing tricks on her. Someone walked across Mitch’s backyard in the dark at three in the morning. The figure stopped near the back fence.