Reading Between the Crimes

by Kate Young

  Was he serious right now?

  “Calvin! It was all over the news. Mother marched into the courtroom not two hours after she had some major meltdown about her past.” I swallowed. “And she announced to the judge that she would be putting up bail for Harper and offering her place as lodging while she submitted to house arrest. She followed that up by making a case to the press about the injustice of this case.”

  He really hadn’t known this. I could scarcely believe it.

  “I helped a buddy out after I spoke with Jenkins,” he trailed off. Calvin’s face turned purple. His eyes looked wild. I’d never seen him react to anything this way before, not even when Charles had thrown up the name Folsom. I started to rethink my idea to clear the air tonight.

  “God, Calvin, you look insane.” The cords of his neck were bulging and so were his eyes; he gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  He took a step toward me, and I took an involuntary scoot away as he spat out, “How could your mother be so careless? What is she thinking?”

  I shook my head. “I think she believes she is helping a young woman in need. A mentally abused woman.”

  He paced the floor, and when his eyes fell on the briefcase on the chair beside the table, he froze. I’d been so out of it that I’d not even considered having stolen property in my house while Quinn was here. I guess Charles didn’t know I had his computer. Perhaps Bea had already fled, and he believed she took his property. I worried for the girl.

  Slowly, Calvin bent and lifted the tag. He whirled around, his nostril flaring. “Can I not trust anyone in this family to listen to me? I forbade you from seeing Charles Hammond.”

  Something in me snapped. My fists balled at my side; my freshly manicured nails stung my palms. I couldn’t control the tremor of rage that ran through my body. “You freaking forbade me! What a misogynistic, high-handed, egotistical load of bull! You can’t forbid me from doing anything.”

  “I’m your damn boss.” His eyes were hard, cold, and intimidating. I’d never seen this side of my uncle before and certainly had never expected it to be directed at me. He’d had a background in special ops and had survived in the roughest squads in the most dangerous areas of the world. And now I knew how he’d grown up: with a father as the leader of some crazy movement. I’d been aware he was a mean SOB when he needed to be. But never ever to me.

  “Not anymore,” I shot back—both of us heaving. Oh my God, if this is how he acted when I mentioned Harper and Charles, I couldn’t even begin to fathom his reaction to me telling him about Charles’s notes. PTSD, my inner voice screamed. He has exhibited symptoms, no doubt about it. I wished Daddy were here. I forced myself to be calm. I picked up my bottle of water, took a sip, and then fiddled with the lid. My mind was whirling with fears, worries, and a bit of guilt from bringing any of this up. He seemed to be struggling with his own emotions. This private man felt exposed. His business had just burned and would not be a functional workspace for some time. All of his equipment was probably destroyed. I tried to be mindful of this.

  He began to pace, pausing here and there to cast a glance my way, clearly struggling with his warring emotions. I thought of the picture of the young boy and nearly broke. He’d done so well. He was a warrior. A survivor. He and my mother both. I wouldn’t lie to him or patronize him. He deserved the truth.

  I kept my tone low and hopefully soothing. “Charles came to the courthouse today and told me that I had no idea who I was. He said neither you nor Mother is what you appear.” I held out my hand as if to try and calm a wild animal. “And right now, I don’t recognize you.”

  “I tend to become agitated when someone who is supposed to trust me implicitly hides valuable information. This isn’t the way we work, Lyla Jane Moody.”

  I leaned over and picked up a napkin off my table, waving it in front of his face. “I made a mistake by not telling you. I’ve been in the dark for so long.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hand.

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea when I started digging that I’d dig up a life you wanted to stay buried,” I said softly.

  He dropped his hand and made direct eye contact with me. An expression I couldn’t read flashed across his face. He opened his mouth, and his phone rang. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, and I sat my weary self on the sofa. “What’s wrong, Franny.”

  My phone pinged with an incoming text and image. I glanced down, and my world ended.

  I have your family. Come to the house. Bring Charles’s computer.

  No cops, or they all die. We’ll be watching.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Calvin and I sat down the street from my parents’ house. He hit the steering wheel three times in succession. “Damn you, Franny, and your bleeding heart.”

  I sat staring straight ahead. My nails were digging into the stupid briefcase I held. My emotions oscillated between rage and terror. If Detective Battle hadn’t had tunnel vision on this case, he would have seen the glaring evidence against LJ Richardson, and my family wouldn’t be held captive right now. If I’d done my job better, I would have produced evidence to force the detective to look at LJ with urgency.

  Calvin blew out a breath. “You clear on what you need to do?”

  I nodded. We’d been over it several times. “I’m not to anger LJ or attempt to goad him in any way. I’ll play to Harper’s sympathies if he still has feelings for her, and hope she can talk some sense into him by letting”—I cleared my throat—“letting them live. If I appear cooperative and scared”—no problem there—“he might not frisk me everywhere.” I’d taped Calvin’s boot gun, a Kahr Arms P380, into my bra that had the strongest underwire. I’d been surprised by the gun’s tiny size. At just barely five inches, it still could pack a punch with the right ammo and had seven-chamber capacity. If I could get by LJ, it would be a miracle. A miracle we needed.

  “Good girl. And the second you get a clear shot?”

  I met his eyes and swallowed. “Take it.”

  “Come on.” He had his hand on the door.

  Before he got out of his truck, I leaned over and flung my arms around his neck. “I love you, Uncle Calvin. You are the best uncle in the world. I’m proud to be your niece.”

  He hugged me back, and his arms tightened around me. “Don’t count me out yet, kiddo.”

  “Never.” I kissed his cheek.

  “Okay. Time to buck up.”

  I nodded.

  We walked slowly up the driveway and went to the front door. Uncle Calvin said LJ would tie him up straight away if LJ had any sense, and he suspected LJ had plans for him. My heart ached and my hands violently shook, but I did my best to put my fears to the back of my mind. My parents and Gran needed me. And by the look on my uncle’s face, he needed me too. Now more than ever. I didn’t know if LJ would hurt Harper—somewhere deep down surely he felt something for her. But I fully believed he had no compunctions with ending the rest of us if we got in his way.

  The door opened and Gran stood there, her bottom lip trembling. LJ had a gun to her side. All the fear was instantly replaced with anger. Calvin gripped my wrist, and I took a deep breath, arresting the impulse to launch myself at LJ.

  We stepped inside the door without a word. He handed a pair of handcuffs over to Calvin. “Put them on behind your back.”

  Calvin went on point, just like a setter, and I wondered if he would comply. He did, his eyes never leaving LJ in the process.

  “Harper get in here and frisk Calvin and Lyla. And Granny,” LJ pulled a roll of duct tape out of the back of his pants. “Tape his mouth.” He tore a strip off, cutting it with his teeth and handed it to Gran.

  I met her gaze and tried with all my might to will courage her way. I would save her or go down fighting. I hoped she could see the determination in my expression.

  Harper came into the hallway looking like a completely different woman from the one she had been this morning. Still pale, but she’d showered and was in
a Kate Spade jogging suit that came out of one of the drawers in my old bedroom. She avoided my gaze while she frisked Calvin with accuracy and efficiency, and I began to worry she’d find my gun. Perhaps she wouldn’t say anything.

  “He’s clean.” She patted his face. “Good boy.”

  What? My nails dug into my palm. I glanced down briefly at the half-moon shapes, forcing my whipsawing moods to settle.

  Harper took the computer bag from my shoulder and swallowed. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay. If you all cooperate, we’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  We? My jaw started to drop and then I clenched it back into place. The truth stomped over me in a pair of military boots, and I swayed on my feet.

  LJ said, “In the family room. That’s where the party is. You okay with Lyla, Harp?”

  “Fine.” She gripped my hand. “Don’t go passing out on me.” LJ took Gran and Calvin into the other room. Calvin cast a surreptitious glance my way in passing, and I steeled myself.

  Harper tapped her nose as if she had my number. “She’s not going to risk her precious Gran getting shot. Spread ’em.” She began frisking my legs.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  “I’m looking out for myself.” She stared up at me, and for a brief second, I thought about kicking her right in the face. But she was right: I wouldn’t risk my family.

  She huffed. “You heard them in the courtroom today. They’ll find me guilty for sure. I can’t do real time. If you just chill, give him what he wants, we’ll be out of your hair and you can go back to your life.” She moved up to my waist.

  Dread knotted in the pit of my stomach. I sniffed. “And I cared so much for you. My mother cared.”

  “Please. People don’t really care.” She moved to my sides.

  “I do! We loved you—the club took you into our fold. We came when you were in need. And I bent over backward to help.” I swallowed, seeing she wasn’t swayed. I played the only card I had to play. “I was terrified about how I was going to tell you about your aunt.”

  She froze then and stopped frisking me. “You found her?”

  I nodded and swallowed. Her eyes began to water, and I began to believe perhaps she could still be an ally. I needed her.

  “Harper!” LJ bellowed.

  She sniffed and waved her hand. “Go on.” I thanked my lucky stars that my news had distracted her enough to avoid her finding my gun. It was something.

  “She clean?” LJ asked when we entered the room. I took in the sight of my parents gagged and tied to dining chairs set up in the living room. Despite all the sensible things I kept telling myself—how I could talk some sense into the LJ, how Harper wouldn’t let this go too far, and how I was strong enough to handle this—I became increasingly afraid. My hands began to shake, and I clenched my fists to force them still.

  LJ steadily worked on securing a gagged Calvin to a chair. Tears streamed down Gran’s and Mother’s faces. Daddy looked both helpless and furious at me for coming. He would’ve wanted me to call the police and save myself. How could I do that? They were everything to me. My gun, cold and hard against my skin, reminded me we still had a chance. I glanced at the gun in the back of LJ’s pants, and I moved my hand to the top of my high-waisted jeans. Calvin who watched me like a hawk, gave his head the tiniest shake.

  “Go on.” Harper nudged me to the vacant chair by the fireplace.

  I sat down, and she grabbed the rope and began tying me up. “Did you really find her?” she whispered, and I felt the bite of the rope into the delicate place on my wrists.

  “Yes.” I glanced at Calvin, feeling like I should have taken that chance. When would I ever get another? We could all be dead in a matter of minutes.

  “Find who?” LJ wanted to know.

  “My aunt Phyllis.”

  He gave Harper a glare. “We agreed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know. The past is the past. We’re starting over.”

  I had to do something. “She’s dead,” I blurted. “Your aunt. She was executed by a gunshot in the forehead, and someone sunk her car in a chemical waste pond.”

  Harper’s eyes were wide, and she gasped. She moved around to face me. Big huge tears ran from her eyes. “Are you sure it’s her?”

  “Yes.” I spoke with urgency. “It isn’t too late, Harper. I found evidence that LJ was—” And the next thing I knew a hand slapped me hard, and I hit the floor.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  My head spun and I tasted blood. I was still tied to the chair, in an awkward position on my side. I wriggled my wrists against the rope and felt a hot, burning sensation. LJ loomed over me and reared back to kick me. Mother and Gran screamed behind their gags. Daddy and Calvin roared against their restraints.

  “What the hell is going on in here?” Charles bellowed, standing in the doorway between the family room and my father’s office. I blinked through blurry vision to focus on his face.

  Harper and LJ whirled around, and both seemed to cower. Cower?

  Oh my God. Bea had tried to tell me. Charles was the ringleader. Something I would have discovered if I’d had more time to dig. When Charles saw me, half tied to the chair and, I was sure by the sting in my cheek, with a welt across my face, his face reddened. His eyes bulged, and he rushed into the room, grabbed Harper by the upper arms, and flung her against the couch.

  “Hey!” LJ stood and came at Charles. Charles, ignoring the gun, reared back and punched LJ right in the face. The man fell to one knee and shook his head.

  Charles knelt down in front of me and ran his fingers over my cheek and brandished a knife. I sucked in a breath.

  He put a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched. “It’s okay. I’m going to cut you lose.”

  LJ stood up, still shaking his head, and I gasped as blood streamed from his nose. I was afraid he’d start shooting. Instead, he said, “We didn’t want her to do anything stupid. You said to make sure she was here when you arrived. We thought she might run.”

  “So you hit her, tied her to a chair, and were about to kick her? You’re on dangerous ground.” Charles’s lip curled as he glared at LJ, who cast his gaze toward his shoes. Wow. Charles had these under some weird mind control. My heart sank to my feet before it began pounding. He’d fed Leonard’s delusions.

  Charles helped me to my feet. “Don’t be frightened. You’re in no danger. They won’t hurt you anymore.” He gazed at me as if I were a damsel in distress and in need of his rescue. And with something else I tried to place. Adoration? Obsession? Dear God. “Where’s my computer?”

  I glanced around.

  “Here.” Harper handed it over to him. “Oh, Lyla. I can literally see the wheels turning inside your head. Just like something out of those crazy novels you read.” She put her finger to her chin and said in mock falsetto, “Someone poisoned my husband, and the killer is still in this house.” She rubbed her arms where Charles had grabbed her but showed no discomfort. “Isn’t it funny that all along the most crooked house was your own?”

  “Stop it,” Charles said firmly.

  “Is that the Netflix movie with Glenn Close in it?” LJ asked and moved closer to Harper.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears. Harper and LJ chatted as if everything transpiring—kidnapping, assault, and blackmail—was completely ordinary. LJ went on as if Charles had never slugged him. Almost like he was accustomed to such behaviors. I studied their faces. If they had any compunctions, their faces didn’t belie or betray it.

  “Yeah. It’s stupid. I would have killed off more people. Made it like a horror flick.” Harper rolled her eyes elaborately.

  “I said, stop.” Charles voice came out cold and menacing. He spoke to them as if they were subservient. And they shut up. I’d remember that.

  Charles pointed at Harper. “You were honored to be a part of her group. Perhaps you should have paid attention, and you could have learned to be a woman of honor.” Charles took my hand and led me over to the leather lo
ve seat. Harper stuck her tongue out at him when his back was turned. She made a gun with her fingers and acted like she was shooting everyone. I stared in gape-mouthed surprise, then forced my mouth closed. At any moment LJ could unload on everyone. I had to force myself not to look at my family anymore. I needed to focus. The simplest answer is usually the correct one.

  “You looked through my files?” Charles pulled my attention to him. I noticed he didn’t sound angry a bit. My mind spun, knowing everyone’s life was riding on my ability to control this situation.

  I struggled but managed to focus on his face, understanding now that Charles was brutal to uncooperative and disloyal people. “You wanted me to? You had Bea give it to me?” I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been.

  “Not exactly. I just maneuvered a few things, knowing how Beatrice would react. It was the best way for you to discover the truth. I knew that you, with your clever mind, wouldn’t stop. You need answers. All I needed to do was supply you with the pieces, and you’d put the puzzle together.”

  I closed my eyes. “Leonard didn’t really want to restart the movement, did he?”

  “No. Leonard had dementia. He wasn’t reliable.” He held out his hand. “LJ, bring it here.”

  LJ dragged a duffle bag from behind the couch out onto the rug. He put on a set of gloves and then pulled the missing candlestick out of the bag. It was bloody and had tissue stuck to it. What monsters.

  He brought it over to Charles, who looked at me. “You saw who Frances was in the movement?”

  I nodded, trying to keep my eyes off the object LJ held. “Um, I believe I read that she was a mother of the movement.”

  He smiled and an audible heart-wrenching sob left my mother’s lips. When her eyes met mine, she deflated like a pricked balloon with all the helium swiftly escaping. I struggled to remain seated, taking in a deep, quavering breath.

  Charles took my chin gently in his fingers and turned my face back to his. “Right. And I came from the other mother of the movement.”

  How had I not seen the wild, crazy glint in this man’s eyes before? He actually believed that he and I were destined to be together. I could read that all over his face. Yet I could also read that he wasn’t sure if he could trust me.