On Borrowed Crime

by Kate Young

  I scanned the sanctuary; the local police had attended. Quinn, dressed in uniform, stood at the back of the room, his officers spread throughout the pews. He gave me a single nod when he saw me looking. I returned a small, sad smile and ceremonially ducked my head. My mind spun with worry and fear.

  A sob echoed from the left side of the room, and my heart ached. I’d given anything to prevent this tragedy. Flashes of the scene where Carol’s Jane Doe had been found came flooding back. Brad had driven me slowly down the service road behind the rundown, whitewashed Baptist church, overgrowth so tall you could get lost in it. The area was littered with detritus consisting of beer bottles, drug paraphernalia, old tires, and burn barrels. I’d hoped to see or find something, anything that could help us solve this. We found nothing.

  My initial impression of Brad Jones from my short time with him was that he was dedicated to his work. There was a doggedness about him I’d never recognized in another human being before, and I admired the trait.

  Everyone began to rise and file out of the church. Weeping and soft music filled the space. I mopped my face with a tissue as I followed the person in front of me, and we all filed out into the cloud-covered afternoon.

  Amelia gave my hand a squeeze, and we shared a commiserating glance.

  “Is that him?” Mel motioned with her head to the right.

  I was surprised to see Brad standing under the canopy of a large pine at the edge of the small cemetery on the church’s property. Like me, he’d changed. Now he wore a black suit, a white shirt, and wraparound sunglasses. He looked suspicious and dangerous.

  “Yes, that’s Brad. I’ll catch up with y’all,” I whispered to Amelia and Mel.

  “Wait a minute.” Amelia had a death grip on my arm. “Special Agent Brad Jones?” On my nod, she gripped tighter. “I take it you’ve met with him.”

  “Yes. But we can’t talk about it now.”

  She searched my face with great urgency. “Does he agree with us that there is a connection with the Jane Doe case and Carol? How scared do we need to be?”

  People were starting to notice, and I hugged Amelia and patted her back in a consoling sort of way. “Yes,” I whispered at her ear, “but we have to keep it between us for now. Okay? And just be careful. Don’t go anywhere alone.” I wished I could involve Uncle Calvin, but he was still deep into the new case that would keep him out of town until late next week.

  “You have my word.” Amelia whispered. I nodded, and she said in a reverently low tone, “I’m really getting scared now.”

  I released her, and Mel said, “We all are.”

  Patsy and her tall, thin husband walked toward us. She had her hand tucked in the crook of his arm and wore cat-eye glasses. They paused, and Patsy whispered something to her husband, and he went off ahead. “Hey, y’all. Wasn’t that a beautiful ceremony?”

  We all nodded.

  “I was a wreck this morning. I couldn’t even get my contacts in.” Patsy’s eyes were bloodshot.

  “Your glasses are lovely.” I smiled at her.

  “They’re not, but thanks. I still can’t believe all this. Bill and I got into it about the book club. He thinks we’re asking for this negative attention.”

  “What?” Amelia hissed.

  “That’s crazy!” Mel scrunched up her face.

  “Let’s not do this here.” I smiled at a few guests passing us, and I noticed Brad appeared to be watching us. “And Bill’s entitled to his opinion.”

  Patsy squared her shoulders. “I’ve got to go—Bill’s waving to me. See y’all at the house.”

  Gray skies and dense clouds were overhead as we dispersed, and I crossed the grassy patch on tiptoes. My heels sunk into the soft dormant Bermuda grass.

  Brad moved to the left to make room for me. “How was the service?”

  “It was nice. I think Carol would’ve liked it.” I wiped my nose.

  “Nothing of consequence to report then?”

  I snorted in a very unladylike way. Mother wouldn’t be pleased. “No one threw themselves in front of Carol’s painting, wailing and begging for forgiveness, if that’s what you’re asking.” I pulled sunglasses from my little clutch and put them on. I didn’t need them, but it afforded me privacy as I watched the crowd interact.

  I spied the judge receiving condolences on the large stone porch of the church. Judge Timms’s face contorted in a distasteful way as he conversed with Kevin. I honed in on them when Kevin’s head whipped backward, as if he’d been slapped. He must’ve said something equally harsh to Judge Timms because the man tensed up, looking fierce and ready to fight. My heart hammered against my ribcage. My cousin Ellen walked out, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder, looking around. She spotted Kevin and sauntered over, pulling him down the steps of the church.

  “You know, in the book the judge was the guilty party.” I shivered.

  “I think we’ll need more to go on than a hunch from a novel.” Brad sounded unimpressed.

  I cut my eyes his direction. “I understand that. There are lots of cases where weirdos reenact crime novels or use them as research. What about that man in the UK who offered a hitman two hundred thousand pounds to kill his partner? He claimed he planned to use it as research for his new crime novel.”

  Brad didn’t respond. Quinn walked out mid-conversation with Officer Taylor, and both men turned, saw us, and stopped cold. Quinn was better at hiding his surprise than Taylor. I tried to get a handle with my warring emotions. I should be grieving the loss of my friend, not worrying about a killer among us.

  “Chief Daniels said the scarf was misplaced?”

  I turn to face Brad. “What? That’s absurd.”

  He didn’t return my gaze. “Indeed. They’re in possession of the camo cap, but the scarf I need for my case has conveniently vanished.”

  “Oh, my God,” I breathed, and my gaze skated back to the church. I also shouldn’t be wondering what secrets these men sworn to uphold the law were hiding behind closed doors. Mother’s constant insistence that respectable folks in Sweet Mountain didn’t air their dirty laundry took on a whole new meaning now. I really wished my uncle were here.

  “I believe you about the cases being linked. I think it’s highly probable your friend was killed for the knowledge she possessed. And if we’re right, then you are the next target.”

  As his words sank in, my thoughts drifted back to the phone call I’d overheard. “There isn’t anything else that can be done at this point. If she comes by, rest assured I’ll handle it. This squares us!” Quinn had said, and I whispered my concerns to Brad, relaying the phone conversation.

  “Hmm,” Brad said. “He also warned me to be careful when it comes to you. He claimed you had compulsive issues regarding Jane Doe cases.”

  I fought a wave of anger. “How dare he!”

  “He did, however, sound genuinely worried about you getting involved. He’s taking the threats you received seriously.”

  Well, that is his job!

  “I’m supposed to have dinner with him tomorrow.” I took an inadvertent step closer to Brad, the outsider’s presence more than welcome now. “I haven’t been out with him in over ten years. I’m not sure I even know him anymore. And right now, I don’t trust anyone.”

  “Good. That might keep you alive. But you should keep the date. He’s interested in you, that’s for certain. He acted territorial when I inquired about you.”

  “He may not be interested in me much longer. He’s shooting daggers my way as we speak.”

  “Those are directed at me. He doesn’t like that I didn’t go back home and wait for him to send me whatever he deems is related to my cases.”

  “Should I be worried about the department acting shady? I know you don’t know Quinn. What I’m asking is if you have a hunch or whatever. You get senses about people, right? Your profession requires it. I usually trust my own instincts.” I tried to calm down by taking in some timed breaths. “Now, I just don’t know.”

&n
bsp; “That’s smart. Your senses are rattled, skewing your judgment. And someone wants you to stand down.”

  I swallowed as Quinn whispered something to Taylor and then stalked toward us.

  “Be careful. The threats you’ve been receiving have escalated. First texts, then the dead possum.” He didn’t tiptoe around my sensitivities, didn’t worry about my feelings or speak to me as if I would break at any moment. I liked that about him.

  “I’m aware, and I will.”

  I nodded and left him standing there and lifted a hand when I reached Quinn. I had no intention of stopping.

  My head spun in astonishment as Quinn blocked my path. “You have a minute?”

  I nodded, and we moved a few steps away from the others.

  “We processed your car and I had it sent to be fully detailed. We didn’t find any prints—not surprising. The camera positioned at the side of the building had been tampered with.” Chills broke out over my body. “If you receive any more threats or at any time feel threatened, call me. I care.”

  “I appreciate that.” Unsure how to act, I simply wiped my nose with the tissue I had in my hand and wiggled a little distance between us. “It’s all just so awful.”

  “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this. Watch out for that guy.” He jerked his chin toward Brad. “He’ll stop at nothing to close his case, even if that means destroying everyone’s lives within his path.”

  I glanced up in surprise and got another shock. Quinn’s lips brushed my forehead. Nonplussed, I stumbled back, and he caught my arm, steadying me. That’s weird.

  “I’ll see you later.” He rose to his full height before continuing his advance toward Brad. In that same direction, I saw Val walk past Mother’s car in the parking lot. When she made it to me, she hugged me and held on for a moment longer than I’d anticipated.

  “Hey. You okay?” I put the sunglasses up on top of my head.

  “I just can’t believe she’s gone. It’s hitting me harder today. Funerals are so final.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Weddings and funerals had a way of bringing all the emotions home to roost, Gran always said. “It was a beautiful service.”

  She pulled back, wiping under her eyes with the sides of her index fingers. “It was. Thank you for coming. I know how you feel about these rituals. It was nice of your parents to come too.”

  They had? I glanced around and didn’t see them anywhere. Huh. I must have missed them, though I wasn’t sure how. “I wouldn’t be anyplace else.”

  The wind kicked up and blew, making me second-guess my choice in wearing my somber gray V-back sheath dress. I rubbed my arms.

  “You still going to work the case? After that incident with your car? And those notes?”

  I nodded. “I have to.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About the book. If Carol knew the killer and the book rang true with her, it could be—”

  “The judge. Yeah, I had that thought too.”

  She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “I suppose all the club members had that though. But he’s pushing for us to find answers. We should be careful around him though.”

  “And I also heard he’s been seen at the Catfish Diner with Officer Taylor,” Val said. My eyes went wide.

  “So his reach could extend to our police force.”

  Val glanced around. “On the one hand, yes. On the other, I’ve been around him a lot, and I just don’t know what to think. I mean, I could be all wrong, but Carol never acted afraid of the man. And she never confided a fear for her life to me.”

  We settled into silence. “Lots to think about. I guess I’ll see you at his house. I won’t lie, it makes me nervous. You need a ride?”

  She tucked her sleek, straight hair behind her ears. “No. I’m going to run by and pick up my contribution from Joe’s.”

  “Okay. I’m going to run by and pick up a bucket of chicken.”

  She lifted a hand, and off she went.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The parking situation at the Timms’s residence was overflowed onto the street. Cars lined up next to the curb forced me to park several houses down. I was arriving a little late.

  The large, faceless, two-story brick home with an L-shaped, three-car garage situated at the front of the neighborhood seemed to be the largest on the street. I rapped lightly on the double-paned stained-glass window in the front door. Someone I didn’t recognize opened it, nodded in the way of greeting, and moved on. I closed the door behind me. The large traditional staircase split the first floor. On my right was a large formal dining room, and to my left, a living room. The house filled with cacophonous noises felt a little jarring. Idle chitchat from one corner. Sobbing and sniffling in another. Laughter came from another portion of the house from what I assumed or hoped emitted from those sharing humorous stories about their life with Carol.

  People were seated at the cherry-wood dining table with small plates of food. I navigated through the dining room—nodding sympathetically as I passed anyone who made direct eye contact with me. I placed my offering on the large granite island in the kitchen. Women were fussing around, laying out additional plates and silverware.

  “Can you believe that Heinz girl?” one of the elderly women said to the small group. “She’s buzzing around Judge Timms like a honeybee on an azalea bush.”

  “Shameful. I heard from his housekeeper that she’s been coming over after dark to visit him,” another woman added.

  All three women began shaking their heads. “Shameful.”

  I turned to them and wagged my finger. “‘Judge not lest ye be judged.’ Carol was Val’s best friend, and I can assure you there is absolutely no impropriety going on between them. They are simply helping each other get through Carol’s death.”

  A couple gasps and a few huffs went up as I brushed past the gossiping old biddies.

  Through the curtains of the French doors off the breakfast room, I spied Val sitting across from the chair Judge Timms occupied. He had a long black cigar between his fingers.

  She spied me through the window and cast me a small smile as she rose. I cracked open the door just as Judge Timms reached out and grabbed Valerie, behaving effusively, squeezing her hip and attempting to lay his head on her chest. Val visibly flushed.

  “You’re too good to me. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.” Val fought to pull his hands away and free herself.

  “Okay. Someone has had a little too much to drink.” She made a face in my direction.

  The judge must be coveting rumors because this behavior would certainly fuel them. “Val, could I see you for a moment?” I asked in an attempt to draw the judge’s attention.

  “Lyla!” He drew out my name. “So good of you to come.” The judge waved me over, and Val shot free.

  She embraced me, and over her shoulder, Judge Timms grinned at me. Now I could see he’d already had more than a little too much to drink. The scotch glass on the garden table in front of him contained melted ice cubes.

  “I’ll just go inside and see if I can be of any help. Be careful. He’s sloshed.”

  As Val slipped through the doorway, the judge stood, reached out, and took my hand, pulling me over to where he sat back down. I squeezed it and strategically took the chair opposite.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked and tried to look pleasant, even though my mind constantly went back to the guilty judge character in the novel.

  “As well as can be expected. I just can’t believe I’m alone. Again.” He picked up the glass and sucked loudly on the contents.

  “Nice to have so many caring, um, … friends,” I said ambiguously.

  He balanced the glass on his knee. “You’re referring to Val. She’s a good little gal.”

  “She loved Carol for sure.” I nodded.

  He let out a sigh and stared off at the yard, which was full of hardscapes. “Carol wasn’t much into gardening or flowers.”<
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  I glanced around the red-bricked patio and firepit that, despite the lack of plants or color supplied by flowers, remained lovely. And the upkeep would be a lot easier.

  “I heard you had a little trouble at the police station the other day.”

  “Yes.”

  He rose and waved for me to follow him. I reached out instinctively when he stumbled. He laughed and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “I trust you won’t allow some stupid threat to keep you from looking into what happened to Carol.”

  “No, sir. If anything, it’s spurred me on more. Terrified me but fueled my desire to make someone pay for what they did and stop them from killing again.” As I followed him down the brick steps, off the patio, to another glass-paned door at the side of the house, I fought my inward trepidation. He dug into his pocket and unlocked it. He left it open, and I tentatively ducked my head inside to see that this was his office.

  “Come on in and shut the door behind you.”

  I did as beckoned, and he walked over to a large painting of a heavyset nude woman. The painting left nothing to the imagination.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” He shook his head as he set the frame on the floor, exposing a safe in the wall, and I averted my gaze to the floor to afford him privacy.

  “You work for me now. No one will mess with you. I’ll put the word out.”

  Is he serious? I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “This safe is the best on the market today. My thumbprint is the entry code. Unless someone chops off my thumb, it’s uncrackable.”