Deadly Lies

by Mary Stone

  He didn’t know what it was. He, like Storm, lived for this. But the deeper he got into the collapsed building, the more his pulse began to pound in his temples. The more he felt like the walls were closing in on him, getting ready to collapse around him. And then he heard the words:

  You’re no hero. You killed them all. You know it should be you.

  Linc’s heart skipped several beats, echoing in his ears, and the world tilted to the left. He reached for the crumbling wall of stone to brace himself, thinking the building had shifted under his feet.

  He jumped as someone shouted. It was Seth, calling him over. “Hey, Linc. What about here?”

  Linc turned back. There was a door buried under the rubble. He hadn’t seen it. Shit. He was thorough. He usually never missed opportunities like that.

  Seth was using bolt cutters to cut through a lock. He ripped off the chain, and Linc climbed over the chunks of giant concrete bigger than he was to get back to him. Working together, they managed to lift the door up a bit.

  They both stared down into a gaping, dark hole.

  “Anyone down there?” Seth called, shining a flashlight in the empty space. He let out a growl. “I don’t see shit.”

  Linc guided Storm over to scent it, but she merely sniffed without interest and circled around to continue forward. He shook his head at Seth.

  “Dammit. Been at this more than twelve hours and haven’t found shit,” Seth said, tilting his helmet back and reaching into his pack for some water. His face was covered in dust, and for a second, Linc saw Austin’s blue eyes.

  Linc blinked and looked away, and only noticed Seth was offering his bottle of water to him when he shook the bottle and said, “You okay, man?”

  Fuck. Could people tell?

  Yeah, they could. Linc felt it. Felt like his inferiority was oozing off him in waves, hitting everyone it came across. He not only looked batshit…he was batshit. He was the person people avoided.

  “Fine.” Linc took the water from Seth and downed a few thirsty gulps. Not that it helped at all. He shoved it back into the firefighter’s hands and gritted out, “Let’s keep going.”

  They pressed on, over entire cars that had been flattened into complete pancakes. Storm sniffed around them but didn’t alert.

  “There’s got to be someone here,” Seth said, shaking his head. “That bar’s always packed, and it was last call, so all the people were spilling out into the street and going to their cars.”

  They stopped every few seconds to listen for any noises. But there was nothing. When there was work like this to do, Linc tried not to think of the victims. Too much of that got in the way of making reasonable decisions and interfered with judgement. That was one of the main things he taught in his seminars.

  But as he walked, he thought of these unwitting young people lying in a tomb of concrete. They’d gone out for a night of fun and had ended up here. Dead, or dying.

  You killed them all. You know it should be you.

  Linc sagged against a wall.

  Seth came up to him. “Hell, man. You came down here in the middle of the night and probably haven’t eaten all day, huh?” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. He was young, probably just over drinking age. “You want to go back up and have a donut? We usually have more hospitality than we do. But this has rattled us. Things like this don’t happen here.”

  That was the problem. Bad things happened everywhere. You couldn’t escape them.

  “I’m good.” Whatever was ailing him, a donut sure as hell wouldn’t cure it.

  They pressed on, and meanwhile, Seth told Linc in whispers a little about how he’d been in the fire department since he was sixteen. His father was captain. He said he felt like he was born to do this, to save lives. Then he went on to say that Linc’d been an inspiration to him. That he had a few dogs of his own and had always thought about going into SAR work. He asked Linc if he would give him some more pointers about the job.

  Linc was glad Seth was doing all the talking, because he could barely breathe. But the kid clearly looked up to him, and he felt like he was the shittiest role model a person could’ve picked. Every so often, Seth paused to listen for sounds. He was respectful to a fault, and Linc could tell he thought he was in the presence of greatness.

  Linc hated to disappoint him, but he wasn’t great. Maybe once, but that’d ended long ago.

  Suddenly, Storm’s ears perked up, and she ran to the end of the pathway, stopping at a wall of rubble. She barked, then ran back to Linc, lifting her front feet to bump him in the chest.

  She’d found something.

  They pushed forward, over to where Storm’d returned, looking back at them with a clear “come on, idiots” on her face. Their two legs took more work to get them there, but when they made it, he gave Storm a treat and her toy, although she had little room to fully enjoy it.

  “Good girl,” he said, rubbing her head. No matter how tired he was, no matter how messed up he was, he had to make sure Storm knew she’d done a good job.

  And she had.

  It took a while to cut their way through the rubble. As they did, they slowly unearthed what used to be a small, silver sports car, mangled so badly Linc couldn’t tell which part of it he was looking at.

  “There’s one here,” Seth said, but Linc had already seen her.

  He’d seen the pretty blonde hair first, splayed out of the flattened car window. The glass had been shattered, as had the woman’s skull. There was brain matter everywhere, but her eyes were closed, peaceful, as if in sleep. An arm, graceful and slender, with equally slender fingers dangled out. She wore a silver bangle bracelet with charms all over it. Blood trailed down her hand like a snake.

  His heart drummed in his chest. Breathing became impossible.

  Linc flattened himself against a wall and closed his eyes as Seth radioed in the find. Beside him, Storm nuzzled his hand, clearly worried.

  He needed to move. He needed to check the rest of the crushed car. He needed to start the process of clearing the rubble, cutting away the barrier so the body of this young woman could be freed.

  He couldn’t move.

  “Hey, Mr. Coulter, sir,” Seth said, but his vision was bending, and the words sounded like they were being spoken underwater.

  Linc sunk to a crouch, only partly aware that he was shaking. His heart was squeezing in his chest, the pain radiating out to his fingers and toes. Storm’s warm tongue licked at his nose, trying to comfort him, but he was powerless to move, to stroke her. All he could do was shake.

  And then he leaned over, his head against the concrete, and vomited the nothing inside his stomach.

  22

  After Kylie’s run-in with the peppy little vet assistant, she decided to take it a little easier on Linc. Yes, he may have been MIA, but he’d had a good reason, and a stressful job. It couldn’t have been very easy doing what he did. No matter how many times he said otherwise, and no matter how many times he neglected to call her, one thing would always be true. In her book, he was a hero.

  So, Kylie decided to do what Jacob had advised her and give Linc the space he needed. It made sense. Besides, she had other things on her mind. The Jennings case was more perplexing than ever. She’d gone down the list of all the potential interviewees and come up with a big zilch. No one seemed to know where any of those paintings were.

  Well, she’d interviewed everyone…except one person.

  She needed to put on her big girl panties and do what needed to be done.

  The problem was, when she imagined going head-to-head with Jonathan Coulter, it always dissolved into an all-out screaming match.

  Ugh.

  So, she decided on a little workaround, putting off Jonathan Coulter for the moment.

  First, she’d see what his wife knew.

  It was the most logical thing to do, anyway. Women always knew more than their husbands. Linda Coulter was a smart woman, and she very well might be able to shed some light on her
husband’s activities. Late afternoon, when Kylie knew he’d be at work, was perfect timing. At the dinner the other night, all the men had boasted how they were never home until seven o’clock, at the earliest, and always worked on Saturdays. Always.

  She really hoped they hadn’t been lying.

  Dressed in her nicest sweater and slacks combo, complete with heels and what she hoped was tasteful jewelry, Kylie stopped by the flower shop at the end of the street to get a bouquet of lilies. Then, she made the drive to Biltmore Forest with Vader in tow. She had one thing on her mind: to get a better look at that painting in the dining room of the Coulter house.

  The place looked bigger and even more spectacular in the daylight. They must’ve had not just a gardener, but a team of gardeners manicuring the perfect lawn and landscaping. The house was so sparkling white in the sunlight, it almost hurt to look at it.

  She parked in the long driveway, feeling a bit like an intruder. She didn’t even have to ask. They were most definitely anti-dog. “Look,” Kylie said to Vader, pulling her key out of the ignition, “be goo…” She gasped. “What are you doing?”

  The big dog tilted his head at her, the lily between his teeth twitching at the movement.

  “Vader…” She used her most alpha tone as she pointed a finger at him. “Bad dog. Bad.”

  Vader looked perilously close to bursting into tears as he gently placed the flower on her lap.

  Aww…now she felt like a rat.

  She petted his head. “It’s okay. I just hope lilies aren’t poisonous to dogs.”

  She pulled out the destroyed stems and arranged the flowers a bit, and voila. Not as impressive as before, but not terrible. She wagged a finger at Vader. “Stay. No chewing. On…anything. Got it?”

  He really didn’t get it. As usual. Unless Linc was around, he generally did as he pleased because she was still trying to get up the heart to assert her alpha self.

  Kylie climbed the stairs to the beautiful Coulter home, still trying to imagine a young Linc playing and growing up there, and rang the doorbell.

  Their butler answered. “May I help you?”

  “Hi,” she said brightly. Mason’s expression was like a blank mask, but she didn’t let that stop her. “I’d like to visit Mrs. Coulter, please.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “And you are?”

  Did he really not remember her?

  “Kylie Hatfield. I was here with Linc for dinner a few nights ago.”

  The eyebrow hadn’t moved. She swore it said, If you say so.

  “Anyway,” she babbled on. “I have flowers as a thank you for a lovely dinner. Is Mrs. Coulter available?”

  He opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Right this way, miss.”

  Kylie followed him inside and found herself once again ogling all the expensive-looking things hanging on walls and sitting on little ornate tables. In her lifetime, she didn’t think she’d make enough money to buy even one of the vases gleaming beneath its individually placed spotlight.

  When they passed the dining room, Kylie briefly wondered where they were going, but paused long enough to catch another look at the googly eyed painting.

  She shivered. Why did anyone want the thing staring at them while they were eating?

  “Miss?”

  Kylie snapped back to attention, realizing that Mason was waiting for her at the end of the hall.

  “Where are we going?”

  He totally ignored the question, just continued walking. Kylie shrugged, hoping he wasn’t leading her to some dungeon where all the other peasants were taken.

  Trying to orient herself, she realized they were at the very back of the house. Was this his idea of a joke, showing her out of the servants’ entrance?

  Then she spotted Mrs. Coulter, lounging under an umbrella in tennis whites, a racket by her side. She tilted her visor up when she saw Kylie. “Oh…?”

  Oh, god. Linc’s mother didn’t recognize her either.

  “Hi,” Kylie said. “Mrs. Coulter. I’m—”

  “Kylie,” she finished, to Kylie’s relief. “So nice to see you. What brings you here so unexpectedly?”

  The rich really did know how to offer a rebuke with style.

  Kylie walked out into a veritable wonderland of a fairy garden. The Coulter’s backyard was a masterpiece, complete with trellises, gazebos, and a long, rectangular pool full of dark water that didn’t look suitable for swimming in.

  “Oh, this is lovely, Mrs. Coulter,” she said, looking around, then motioned to the lame flowers in her hands. “Just wanted to thank you for dinner the other evening.”

  Mrs. Coulter motioned to the chair across from her. The wrought-iron chair scraped against the stones as Kylie pulled it out and sat. “Please, call me Linda. You’re very thoughtful, Kylie,” she said and glanced at the butler, who still hovered at the door. “Mason, please put those in water and bring Kylie a beverage.”

  He looked at Kylie. “Yes, madam. What would you like?”

  She was tempted to ask for a glass of wine, extra large, but settled on ice water instead. He nodded and retreated back into the house.

  Kylie smiled at the older woman. “You play tennis?”

  She could have slapped herself for the obvious question, but instead of offering a sarcastic comment in return, Linda Coulter simply smiled. “I usually play with my sons’ wives. You just missed Addison, I’m afraid. Do you play as well?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” Just another reason why she’d never fit into Linc’s family. She didn’t even know how to hold a racket correctly, as her high school gym teacher had reminded her each year.

  Linda’s smile didn’t waver. “We all play. Well, except Lincoln. He’s always been the oddball. He hates tennis. Most of the time, he just liked getting his hands dirty.”

  Kylie was about to jump to Linc’s defense, but Linda hadn’t said the words with any contempt. She clearly loved her son, even if she didn’t understand him and his ways.

  “I must say,” Linda went on, “it was such a shock to everyone but me when he decided not to go into law. I could tell it was making him miserable, but my husband took it for granted that that was what he’d do. You have to admire a person who follows his calling, especially against such strong opposition.”

  Kylie smiled. It was good to know Linc had at least one ally in his family. “Did they fight him on it every step of the way?”

  “Oh, yes, every step. I fought him, too, but for a different reason. No mother wants to see their child put in danger. I’d hoped that if he was going to do something else, it wouldn’t have been something dangerous. But that isn’t Lincoln. He has his own mind and has always taken his own path in life. And he should. He should follow what brings him joy.”

  At that moment, Kylie missed him so much she nearly shook. It wasn’t right for her to feel that way, since he obviously hadn’t missed her, so she cursed herself and got down to the business of why she was there.

  “I wanted to tell you that I was sorry if I said anything at dinner that offended you. Sometimes, I just don’t know when to shut up.”

  Linc’s mom waved a manicured hand at her. “Nonsense. My husband needs to be put in his place every now and again. And you were right. Plus, I think Lincoln needs a woman who speaks up for him because he usually just sits there and takes everything his father shells out.”

  Kylie leaned forward. “Why do you suppose Linc does that? Takes it, I mean.”

  Linda seemed to consider the question. “Well, he was always a quiet child, happiest when playing alone.” She smiled wistfully. “We would tell him what to do, and he’d never argue about it. Instead, he’d just do whatever he wanted anyway. A man of action instead of words. Always has been.”

  Kylie smiled, thinking of a headstrong little Linc, but she also wondered how much of being in the military had hampered his ability to speak up for himself as well. After joining the military, soldiers learned very quickly not to argue with authority. From what Kylie understood, the
y basically did as they were told, no thinking about it. After so many years living in those conditions, when did a soldier simply stop arguing?

  “Plus,” Linda went on, “you really can’t win an argument with my husband. He’s in the business of arguing, after all.” She met Kylie’s gaze. “It worries me for Lincoln. When a person bottles things up for so long, there has to be a breaking point. That’s what I worry about with him. He became even more reserved when he left the military. Now, he’s so quiet, you’d never know if he was in trouble.”

  Kylie stared out into the garden. She worried about that too. “Have you spoken to him since then?”

  “No. Where my other sons call me almost daily, with Lincoln, I’m lucky if I hear from him once a month. Usually, I have to hunt him down.”

  Kylie barely stopped herself from snorting. Well, that makes two of us.

  A cloud covered the sun and Linda shivered. “My, it’s definitely getting chillier,” she said, scooting off her chair. “Let’s go inside. Would you like to stay for tea? Dinner won’t be ready for another couple hours. Jonathan works so late, I normally prefer to dine with him. Of course, you’re welcome to stay for dinner as well.”

  As repulsed as she was by the idea, Kylie gave it some consideration. Dinner meant dining room. With one particular piece of artwork staring down from the wall. Was tea served there too? Her stomach rumbled at the thought. Though they weren’t in Europe, Kylie hoped there’d be some little sandwiches and biscuits to snack on. But looking at the pencil-thin woman, she seriously doubted it.

  “That’d be lovely. I might do that.”

  They went inside and through to another parlor-looking room, and though she was kind of turned around, Kylie spotted the flowered wallpaper in an adjoining room that looked familiar…her heart leapt. Was that the dining room?

  She kept sneaking furtive looks. Meanwhile, Linc’s mother went on about how the décor wasn’t exactly what she liked, asking Kylie what she thought of seafoam green for the palette. Kylie had no clue.