“According to the APD, he already has. Telling everyone who will listen to him what a good deed he’s done for the city, the state, and the entire internet.”
I put one hand on the top of the door and paused as Archie moved to the jail entrance. “Arch.”
“Yeah?” He turned.
“Something isn’t right here. Keep your guard up with this guy.”
“Whysat?”
“I know politicians. He’s talking about this hand to keep people from looking at what he’s doing with the other one. Or hiding with the other one.”
“Have you read this guy’s bio? He’s not sane enough to be that clever.”
“If that’s him on the video, he killed Ray to keep anyone from finding that out, and he wanted his secret kept bad enough to assault a police officer carrying the McClellan name.” I touched my stitches. “The governor cares way more about an attack on his family than he does about me, and this guy is a politician. He had to know the risk when he hit me. Chuck McClellan’s wrath is way scarier than a rape charge, even one this horrifying, and this guy already confessed to one murder. Just give me a few minutes and let me see if I can figure what the smoke and mirrors are about. I’ll text you what I come up with.”
“Politics isn’t the same nowadays as it was when your dad was in the mansion, kid. Plain old crazy gets elected to more seats every year.” Archie stepped toward the door.
I shook my head. “Nah. It’s just that greed gets better at talking a good game and people get more divided and gullible. My gut says Darren Richardson is in this up to his fake-baked hairline, Arch. What if the gifts Tenley bought weren’t about goodbyes, but because she was running away? From him, maybe? People around her said she seemed happy lately, for the most part. A hundred grand would’ve taken her about anywhere she wanted to go.”
“Why was she at the dam, then?”
“Thinking. Getting her courage up. Her folks said it was a special place for her.” Graham’s voice came from inside the car.
“Exactly,” I said. “And if she was having some sort of bizarre affair with Richardson, he knew that, too.”
My fingers tightened on the door, the variable my brain had been teasing since I left the trailer park popping neatly into stark relief. “And Richardson knew Ray Wooley.”
That made Archie let go of the door. “He what?”
“The dealer Erica Andre went after today said it—actually he said it twice, and I caught it but it got lost in the rest of the case,” I said. “His buddy Ray went for the big time in Austin and got himself in with the basketball coach, that’s what he said. And then he said Richardson was bragging about sleeping with Tenley. And there are a hundred reasons why the two of them might’ve wanted Tenley dead, depending on how many of their secrets she knew.”
Archie nodded. “Makes as much sense as anything else around this. Find the coach. And holler if you do happen to find anything on Otis.”
I slid into the passenger seat, turning to Graham. “This feels right.”
“The whole damned thing is crazy. And you were the only one who saw it.”
“Thanks for believing me.” I opened the browser on my phone, and a text alert flashed at the top of the screen.
Skye: Sen. Bobby Wayne Otis’s assistant signed the coach out six minutes after he cleared processing.
I stared at the letters. A headline. Different words in a bigger font from fifty-six hours that seemed like three lifetimes ago.
Shit.
Buzz. My guy says Otis is sitting in a cell. Mix-up?
“No.” I shook my head. Tapped I don’t think so. Send.
I touched the search bar. Tried to stop my hands from shaking as I typed Otis’s name. Please, let my stupid photographic memory be wrong this time.
Graham hung a right out of the parking lot. “Where to?”
Search results. News. Top hit: Mom says pastor’s miracle camp “cured” lesbian daughter of demons.
Shit, shit, shit.
“The hospital. They’re after Nicky.” My voice sounded hollow and far away, my brain racing faster than my heart as the magic rock finally came up off the answer: Nicky Richardson was the secret at the center of this case—both girls, his dad, Otis . . . every trail led back to Nicky.
“Faith?” Graham stopped at a light. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer, clicking back to my messages. Skye, there’s a bigger story here than you can imagine. Go to Richardson’s home and make sure he’s not there. If he was, if I was wrong about them wanting to hurt Nicky, so be it. But I knew in my bones I wasn’t.
New text to Archie: Otis runs a religious podcast and a conversion camp for gay teenagers by day. Jessa DuGray was a teaching tool, Arch. His office got Richardson out. Please be careful asking about that video—it’s the thing he’s trying to hide because it’ll kill his cash cow.
“Graham, they were trying to convert Nick to heterosexuality.” The words sounded hollow as I clicked back to the article and scrolled. “Prayer. Lectures. ‘Innovative proven therapy.’”
“That’s code for electric-shock treatments,” Graham said. “And we hear whispers of stuff that’s a whole lot darker.”
Jessa.
Dear God.
“Nicky’s hair used to be shorter.” I flicked on the lights and siren. “Darren Richardson is absolutely the sort of man who’d slip into a hospital and smother his sedated kid to cover his own ass. Go.”
44
The angel smiled.
It had to be a sign, the way she looked at him. The way her lips curved up, beckoning him closer. The way she practically begged him for it. No more wondering. No more waiting. The monster was fully awake and off its chain.
Showtime.
And then the angel started to talk.
“You know those days your whole life turns on? Today is one of them for me. I’m quitting track.” She raised one perfect honey-tanned hand without looking up, words tripping out of her mouth so fast he had trouble keeping them in order. “The truth is, I can’t be a champion forever. Maybe I can’t be one at all. Missing the Olympics last year nearly killed me. I appreciate every sacrifice people I love have made to see me run. I even got gifts.” She pointed to the bag, pausing for breath.
He stared, face blank, eyes hard. Why was she telling him this?
The monster didn’t care. His feet moved closer, blocking her exit path.
The angel didn’t back away. Didn’t recoil. She actually reached for his hand.
“I did a stupid, stupid thing. With your dad. And I’m so sorry, but I’m not sorry because he shot off his big mouth and . . . Nicky, I know. Shock therapy? Are they kidding? You knock that shit off. I mean it. You are amazing and I love you exactly the way you are. I’m buying off that asshole the coach hired to do this to you, I’m getting everyone I love out from under all these lies, and you and me are getting the hell away from here. I can still go to Stanford on academics, and you can wrestle! I’ll be your biggest fan. God, I’m so—”
He tipped his head to one side, a smile spreading across his face. Wicked. Wolfish. Chilling. The monster’s smile.
She stopped talking.
“Nicky?” She drew the word out, unsure, a tiny wrinkle fracturing her perfect forehead when her brows drew together. “Are you okay?”
He would be. In just moments, he’d be better than okay.
They had promised.
He raised his left hand and drew his index and middle fingers across her right cheek. “You will quiet the monster. And when he’s done with you, I will set you free. My angel. So perfect.” The low, gravelly whisper was laced with danger.
She froze. Twisted. Pushed off with her back leg.
Ran.
She was fast.
But not fast enough.
His hand shot out, closing around her arm in a wrestling move that gave her no choice but to move back to him—her wrist would snap otherwise.
Almost like she knew that, she yelped and retur
ned to him. Her eyes searched his face, terror making a bright-white ring all around the light latte amber.
“I thought you loved me,” she whispered.
His breath slowed for five beats as he fell into those eyes. He would love her. He would worship her. Never forget her. She would set him free. She would make him normal.
The monsters swore she would.
His grip tightened, his foot shooting out and taking them both to the ground.
Every bit of air forced from her chest by the fall, the angel struggled to pull in more.
She twisted and wriggled, working her arm free as she pulled in enough air to scream.
“Go ahead,” the monster crooned, warm, sticky breath spilling over the angel’s face. “Let me hear you.”
Nothing came out of her open mouth before he covered it with his.
He let go of her arm to work at his jeans, the monster’s voice as hard, as painful, as the erection he needed to free. “Come on, sweet angel, scream for me. Scream as loud as you want. Nobody’s here to hear you but us.”
The angel’s eyes went wide, her breath shallow and fast.
“Please, Nicky, no.”
He slid his zipper down and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
“You can’t do this. You can’t be this. You’re not like your father.” Her half-whispery pleas fell unnoticed. She pushed at the solid wall of his chest, and he could feel her muscles coil and fight. She was strong. But no match for the state wrestling champion.
The monster forced a hand under her skirt, groping for her panties. Shoving them aside.
Thick, rough fingers shoved inside her, tearing and burning.
“There. That’s what I need. Open your legs like a good little whore.”
Her palm flew into the side of his face, stinging, her nails raking fire across his arm when he grunted and corralled both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them over her head.
“Don’t you ever call me that again,” she sobbed. “Nicky, please. What is the matter with you?”
Her voice was raw. Terrified. Nicky stirred. And the monster faltered.
Just for a moment. But it was long enough.
He had strong hands.
His angel had strong legs. He’d watched her for hours. He should’ve been ready.
But he wasn’t.
Her right knee rocketed up, her thigh slamming into his balls and sending pain to the ends of his hair, his guts coiling under a breaking wave of nausea. A sharp breath snuck in through his teeth, his grip loosening for the split second the angel needed.
She pulled the knee down. Shot it up again, this time jerking both hands straight down in the same instant, shoving with everything she had until he landed on his side in the dirt.
One hand cupped his crotch, the other reached for her as she scrambled across the gravel.
“You know you’re not supposed to drink with your meds.” The words came out between ragged breaths as she stood, her hand closing around a gold locket nestled in the hollow of her throat like it could keep her safe. “What the ever-loving hell has gotten into you?”
Twin beams pierced the darkness, lighting her perfect face with an otherworldly glow.
Tenley.
His Tenley. His angel. His deliverance.
Nicky blinked. Buried one hand in his curls and reached for her with the other.
God what had the monster done here? Why was she looking at him that way? He pushed off the ground, stretching toward her, fumbling with the front of his jeans when he felt them slipping. His fingers brushed her ankle and she jumped backward, her heel catching on a half-buried rock near the edge of the dam.
She stumbled.
The whole world rocked and wavered, rushing past them too fast to shift fate.
Her arms spun behind her, finding no purchase but the dewy predawn air.
So fast.
So quiet.
She was there.
She was gone.
There wasn’t even time for her to scream.
45
We left the car in the fire lane outside the ER. I sprinted through the doors, my lips moving in a repeated prayer for Nicky’s safety.
Graham caught up as I reached the desk. “Breathe. He’s in a safe place.”
“Your lips to God’s ear.” But the same unease I’d had in Ray’s apartment settled around my shoulders like a granite-lined cloak, and I couldn’t shake it.
“I need someone to check on a patient,” I said, flashing my ID. “I’m afraid he may be in danger. Nicholas Richardson. He was admitted through the ER about an hour and a half ago.”
“Are you family?” The young man behind the counter smirked. “Because I can’t confirm anyone is here unless you’re on a list the patient gives us.”
“His family is what you need to be worried about,” I half shouted.
Graham put a hand on my elbow. “I’m Travis County SO, she’s Texas Rangers. This young man is in your care and could be in danger. If you’re not comfortable sharing information about him, perhaps you could find me his physician?”
The guy shrugged. “I’m not saying he’s here.”
“I know he’s here, I saw him here not two hours ago,” I said, every ounce of control I could muster barely keeping me on my side of the desk.
“Kid. If you don’t want to go to jail, go find me a doctor.” Graham’s tone was pleasant, but firm. “Any doctor will do.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “Just keep your gun in its place there, Officer.” A snide twist hit the last word. “Excuse me.”
He sauntered away and I turned, folding my arms across my chest and scanning the room. “Why is everything so hard today?”
I spotted the friendly orderly from earlier at the far end of the hallway to the right, wishing to hell I’d asked his name and patting Graham’s hand. “Be right back,” I whispered, starting that way.
“Where are you going? Faith.” Graham’s voice was low, but I waved a Be quiet at him over my shoulder, holding up one finger and working to keep my legs from racing down the hall and calling attention to myself.
“Hi there,” I said, stopping behind the young man as he emptied a wastebasket into his cart.
“Hey, Officer,” he said. “What’re you doing back here?”
I looked around and lowered my voice. “I need to find Nicky Richardson,” I said. “His father bonded out half an hour ago, and judging from what I saw earlier, I’m afraid for the kid’s safety. Dr. Lindgren was admitting him. Any idea where they took him?” I stuck out a hand. “I’m Faith, by the way.”
He removed his latex glove and tossed it into the trash before he shook my hand. “Earl. Did you say Dr. Lindgren?”
I nodded. “She came in right before I left.”
He furrowed his brow. “Well then, he’s up on seven, though I’m not sure why. Seemed like a fine dude.”
I tipped my head to one side. “Isn’t seven the . . .”
“Locked psych ward?” Earl nodded. “Yep.”
No.
I turned back for the doors just as my phone went nuts.
Call from Jim. Text from Skye. I clicked the call first.
“Did you find a match?” I hurried my steps as the smirky desk guardian and a man in a lab coat approached Graham.
“Yes and no. Yes, the tissue under Tenley’s nails matches one of the profiles in the vaginal swab from Jessa DuGray that Waco tested last week.”
My eyes fell shut.
God, please no.
“Then it gets weird,” Jim continued. “We triple-checked the accuracy, but it’s the damndest thing. Match on five loci, one exact allele on each. Like . . .” Jim paused. Or the phone cut out. I pulled it away to check bars, my heart free-falling to my knees.
“Jim?”
“Can you hear me now?” he asked.
“Like the blood I brought you was from a relative of the perp.” I didn’t bother with the question mark, grabbing Graham’s hand and hauling him toward the door.
“That’s what we got, yeah. You okay?”
“Nope. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a job to do.” I thanked him and touched the “End” button, then opened my texts.
Skye: Richardson just left in a little Mercedes convertible. And there’s a Jaguar SUV pulling into the driveway.
Can you follow him? I tapped back.
He’s gone.
Shit. I didn’t break stride. The Jag white?
Buzz. Yep.
Keep an eye on that and let me know if it gets interesting.
I stashed the phone and quickened my pace. Why the hell was Erica at the Richardson house? Hadn’t she caused enough trouble for one day?
No time to wonder right now.
“Can you take a breath and fill me in?” Graham asked, breaking into a jog to keep up. “They said the Richardson kid is gone.”
Of course he was.
“It’s him. Jim said the DNA under Tenley’s nails came from someone related to Darren Richardson, not from the coach himself. And it turns out that doctor I talked to earlier was a shrink. Nicky was admitted to the psych ward.” I walked faster, the words punching hard. This was so fucking unfair.
“Electric-shock therapy. Pills. Twice, he looked dead at me and told me he wanted to be in love with Tenley. I saw a fucking picture of the two of them on top of the dam, for Chrissake. How could I miss this?” I didn’t need Graham to answer.
I’d seen what I wanted to see. And I did not want to see Nicky Richardson as a murderer. But there’d be time for overanalyzing and beating myself up later.
“What?” Graham broke into a jog to keep up. “It was the kid? The one who was her friend?”
I nodded. Think. Where would he go?
I paused with my hand on the car door handle. “Do we still have Tenley’s phone?”
“It’s in my bag.”
I dived into the car, sucking in a deep breath after I closed the door.
Tenley. Jessa.
Nicky.
I was right about the main variables, but I’d put that last one in the wrong place. My brain was stuck, not wanting to process the new information. I liked Nicky. Nicky couldn’t be a rapist. Or a murderer. He loved Tenley and she loved him.
Fear No Truth Page 26