A dark, bloody bullet hole was centered right between his eyes. He’d been shot at close range. Execution style. Vance glanced to his hands, which were bound with duct tape.
Joe had been executed, but why? For what? Everything seemed to be here.
Vance stooped for a closer look, his heart rattling inside his chest. By the way the blood had dried around the wound, he thought Joe had been dead for a while. There wasn’t enough light to see whether there was an exit wound or a pool of blood. Vance stood, turned, grabbed a nearby box to steady himself. He was flashing back, and he didn’t want to. But streams of images wound through his mind like a ticker tape.
He stumbled to the opening of the truck. He squinted as the light hit him, then closed his eyes and let it wash over him. The warmth penetrated him. Shivering, he stepped off the truck, walked to its side, and planted his back against it, trying to catch his breath.
Joe was the bad guy. That’s what he knew. That’s what he believed. But now there was somebody even worse. Somebody willing to kill.
* * *
Conner returned with an armful of books. Lindy wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She’d been immersed in the computer, wandering the pages of cyberspace, trying to look for answers. The answers were coming, but they were not ones she wanted to see. Vance had many of the symptoms of PTSD. Most of them. And if Doug Cantella was any sign, he had some psychosis, too. Was he seeing things that weren’t there? Or was he hiding something and lying to try to get away with it?
“How many books can I check out, Mom?”
Lindy glanced at him. “What?”
“This many?”
Lindy kept a neutral expression. If she looked the way she felt inside, she’d scare Conner to death. “How about five.”
“Seven?”
“Six.”
“Oh, all right.”
“Go over to that table and pick out your favorites.”
Conner took his books, dumped them out, and began looking through them. Her phone vibrated in her purse and she pulled it out, expecting Vance. She couldn’t talk on her cell at the library, but she could at least see who was calling.
Karen?
She let it go to voice mail, then texted her: @ the library. Can I call you in a bit?
A text was returned almost immediately. Please call ASAP.
Lindy pushed the phone into her pocket as she grabbed her purse. “Conner, hurry up and pick, okay?”
“Hold on, Mom.”
Lindy went to the front desk and filled out the form for a library card. Finally Conner decided on his books and brought his armload to the counter. The librarian here was younger, seemed a little less uptight. She engaged Conner in conversation about books and reading, which ordinarily would’ve delighted Lindy, but today she was heavy with thoughts of Vance. How could she have missed the signs?
He didn’t sleep well. He’d had mood swings, but those had leveled off in the last few years. The migraines were back, though.
And he was visiting dead detectives.
She watched the librarian laminate the card and vaguely kept an eye on Conner, who had wandered to a nearby jungle display. Inside, deep inside, she prayed. It wasn’t a prayer with words. And it was desperate and unorganized. She wavered between clinging to a God she had barely believed in to raging against Him for the mess they found themselves in. Then she’d start over with an apology. Then desperation. Then anger. This cycle continued until she was interrupted by Conner, who stood next to her with two more books. On the jungle.
“These look good,” she said, pressing that mommy smile onto her face. She wondered what age kids started looking at the eyes, not the mouth. Conner seemed unfazed and was drawn to a life-size cardboard cutout of a giraffe.
She checked out the books, and they walked outside. Lindy felt like she was suffocating a little. She gasped for air, then tried to take some deep breaths. Maybe Karen had some good news. If they could get this thing settled with Joe, they could start the process of healing.
Even in the midst of the chaos and this new revelation of what might be going on with Vance, she found within herself a resolve that wasn’t there before. She wasn’t angry with Vance, and that had to be a minor miracle. She felt sorry for him and wondered how long he’d been suffering without any support from her. It brought tears to her eyes, imagining him wandering this hot, desolate desert by himself.
That was going to change.
She unlocked the car and motioned for Conner to get in as she dialed Karen’s number.
“Hello?”
“Karen, it’s Lindy.”
“Thank you for calling.” She sounded different. Tension weighted each word.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, why?”
“You sounded like it was urgent.”
“I just have some things I need to discuss with you. It is urgent. But I can’t talk by phone. Can you meet me at your house? I’m just a couple of miles away.”
Lindy stood outside her car, her hand on the door. “Karen, is everything okay?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” she said, that Southern accent smooth as butter. “I’m sorry. I probably am sounding stressed, aren’t I? Don’t worry about me. I got a million and one things rolling through my mind. See you in a few minutes?”
“Okay, sure. I’ll be there.”
19
Vance pulled out his phone, started to dial 911. But stopped. Was that the right move? Of course it was . . . except this was complicated. And he wanted to know more before the police arrived. Would they go through his things? Would they find the disc? Maybe it was hidden among the rest of his belongings.
He hated that disc. He had been ready to tell Lindy everything. But was he ready to tell the police if they asked? This would be a murder investigation, and that meant they’d investigate everything. Even him.
He, after all, had motive.
He could walk away. Let the police eventually find him. But that wouldn’t solve the problem of who killed Joe. And why.
Was his family in danger?
Vance dialed Lindy’s number. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey,” she said. She sounded tired.
“Hey.” He didn’t want to alarm her. But he didn’t want to take this lightly either. “Where are you?”
“Driving back to the house.”
Vance closed his eyes. What should he tell her?
“Karen’s meeting me—is she there yet?”
Okay, that was better. Someone would be with her, at least, until he could figure out what he was going to do.
“I’m not sure. I ran out for a minute. But I’ll be home soon, okay?”
“We need to talk.” Her voice, for the first time in weeks, sounded soft. It took him by surprise.
“Yeah. Sorry about last night. I was so tired. The next thing I knew, it was morning.”
“You needed to sleep.” The brief silence was filled with traffic sounds through her phone. Everything was quiet around him. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”
“Okay.”
Vance hung up the phone and then dialed the one person who could help him figure this out. Only a fellow cop would know for sure.
* * *
Lindy arrived home. The drive seemed instant, as she was lost in her thoughts most of the way. Conner was in the backseat, immersed in his books.
At the curb was Karen’s dazzling red car, looking like a cherry on top of the dark fudge of the asphalt. Lindy parked in the driveway and got out, expecting Karen to emerge from her car, but she didn’t. Conner struggled out of the car with his books, insisting on carrying them himself. Karen still didn’t get out of her car. Her windows were reflective, like aviator glasses, and Lindy couldn’t see inside.
She walked across the lawn, waving a little. When she got up to the car, she had about decided Karen wasn’t in there. She leaned forward, peering in, with her hands shading her face from the sun.
No Karen.
She looked up an
d down the sidewalk, wondering if she’d decided to take a little stroll. But the sidewalk was midmorning quiet. A car drove by slowly but didn’t stop, and it seemed like the driver was looking for an address.
Lindy pulled out her cell phone and dialed Karen’s number. But before it even rang, she turned to find Conner and saw him hurrying inside the house.
The door was unlocked?
Maybe she’d left it unlocked and Karen had somehow found her way inside. Lindy’s feet carried her swiftly across the grass, up the porch, and into the house. “Conner?”
No answer.
“Conner!”
Her eyes scanned the room. Karen was nowhere, and everything was quiet. Except it shouldn’t be because Conner was never quiet.
“Conner!”
“What?” He came around the corner from the hallway. “I was just putting up my books.”
“Was the door unlocked?”
“I guess.” He shrugged, going to the fridge. “Do we have any Kool-Aid?”
Lindy took a deep breath and nodded to him as she passed by the kitchen. She glanced out the back window but didn’t see anyone in the backyard.
“Mom, I’m hungry.”
“It’s an hour until lunch.”
“Please. A snack. Please, please, please.”
Lindy sighed, trying to get back into mommy mode. She had so much on her mind, and it was hard to be a good mom when dread filled her. A big part of her just wanted to curl up on the bathroom floor. She and Vance had a lot to talk through, and she could only wonder about how he was going to take it. Before, in Maryland, discussions about how he was doing never went well. He always felt like she was blaming him, and fights would ensue.
Nasty fights.
They still caused a lump in her throat, just thinking about them.
She would approach it differently this time. With more care. Because she felt more care. Before, she just wanted him to get well for the sake of the family. Now she saw the man, all his hurts, what he’d endured and tried to endure on his own because he wanted his family more than anything. He didn’t want to burden them—her—with it all.
She hated herself for it. But she was going to make it right.
“Mom? Hello?”
“Sorry,” Lindy said, again with the smile. She hoped he wouldn’t grow up hating that smile. “Graham crackers with peanut butter?”
“Lots of peanut butter.”
“All right. Go get some good reading time in, okay?”
“I got a book on dinosaurs.” He grinned and pretended to superhero-fly into his bedroom.
Lindy found the graham crackers and peanut butter and grabbed a paper plate. If she never saw another paper plate in her lifetime, she’d be okay with that. She just wanted stainless steel forks and cute ceramic plates that matched something. Anything.
She got out the milk. He always wanted milk with peanut butter.
Her thoughts on where Karen might be pervaded her worry about Vance momentarily. She’d left the front door open so she could see the car better, and she was enjoying the evergreen smell wafting in on the air of a distant ocean.
A scratching noise bothered her back into the here and now. She was living a lot inside her thoughts, and she couldn’t quite leave their grip, even for a few moments.
“Conner, what are you doing?” she called, standing at the door and staring at Karen’s car, still looking for her.
“Reading!”
“Stop making that noise.”
“What noise?”
“Whatever you’re doing. Scratching the wood.”
“I’m not doing anything. Can I have my snack?”
Lindy sighed. Focus. Get the kid his snack.
But that scratching noise. She knew she wasn’t hearing things. It was like a kitten clawing at a door or something. Light. Barely there. But noticeable in the silence. Maybe she hadn’t gotten used to all the new-house sounds.
Focus.
She took out the graham crackers and slathered some peanut butter on, then poured the milk and took it to Conner’s room, where he lay sprawled out on the floor with three books open. Ordinarily she made him eat his snacks at the table, but ordinarily was gone these days.
The scratching noise was a little louder in Conner’s room. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“You don’t hear that scratching noise?”
Conner listened but the noise stopped. He shrugged and went back to his books.
Lindy stepped into the hallway and heard the noise again. She followed it carefully, with light steps, and found herself in front of the hall closet, where they kept their coats and some board games.
She stood there for a long moment, waiting for the sound. It didn’t come again.
But then, right as she was about to step away, she heard it very faintly. She wasn’t even sure it came from the closet.
It was probably a squirrel. Or a mouse. She shuddered. She didn’t need to be facing a rodent right now. She hated them, and she was the quintessential screamer-with-the-broom lady.
The broom. They’d bought one to try to keep the floors clean until they got their vacuum cleaner back. She hurried to the kitchen to get it. She needed something to fight it off, because as far as she was concerned, squirrels, rats, and other horrible little creatures always came flying out of closets with their fangs exposed.
Back at the closet, she tried to calm down, but her heart was pounding so hard, she couldn’t even get half a breath in.
“Come on, Graegan. Get a grip.”
Talking to herself wasn’t helping. She gripped the broom with both hands and held it out like it was a medieval weapon.
But she just couldn’t get herself to reach for the doorknob.
She lowered the broom. Vance would be home any minute. That was one of the perks of being the wife. The husband was expected to do these things, even if he was equally as terrified.
She took a step away and laughed. She was pathetic.
Then she heard another sound.
It was her name. Being whispered.
***
“He’s dead,” Vance said. He’d moved around the side of the mechanic’s shop so he could keep an eye on the street to see if anyone was coming or going.
“Where are you?” Erin’s voice sounded strained, urgent.
“I’m safe. I’m fine. I’m in this old industrial district. At an abandoned mechanic’s garage. The truck is here. Joe was inside the truck, shot dead. In the head. Like he was executed.”
“How’d you find out where the truck was?”
“Part investigation. Part luck. The truck was yellow. Easy to spot. I had a confrontation with Joe yesterday. I told him I would be back to get my things. I had Conner with me at the time.” There was a long silence. “Erin?”
“I’m here. Listen, just stay there, okay? I’ll be there. We’ll figure this thing out. Just stay right where you are, and I’m coming to get you.”
“I’m worried. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what this means.”
“Vance, we’ll figure this out. We always do. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“It’s right off the highway, on Duncan Street.”
“You caught me just in time. I was leaving town. On your orders.”
“Look, Erin, we have to put that aside. For now.”
“It’s lonely in a new place. Not knowing anyone. No one to call on for help.”
“Don’t rub this in. Not now.”
“Just stay put. Everything will work out how it is supposed to.” She hung up the phone and Vance sighed in relief. He hated calling Erin, but there was nobody else. He had thought he was too late, that she’d already left town. He was glad she hadn’t.
He wasn’t sure how long she’d be, so he decided to go back to the truck. He wondered again if Joe had removed the disc and the evidence he’d planned to blackmail him with.
His feet felt heavy, weighted down with concrete guilt. He’d run from th
is for so long, and it still had come to hunt him down.
But now that he’d lost everything he thought was important to him, he realized the only thing that really mattered was his family. And that was all he cared about.
Protection was everything.
He took out his cell and texted Lindy. Will be there soon. U OK? He tucked the phone into his back pocket and climbed into the truck. He’d been around enough bodies to recognize the smell. Decomposition would start soon, even more so in a warm truck. He put his arm over his mouth and let his eyes adjust to the darkness again.
He knew which box the disc was in. It was red. They’d had the box since their wedding day. A blender came in it, from Lindy’s mother, and Lindy had always loved how sturdy and pretty the box was. It had held various things through the years but ended up in the attic, dusty and old. He’d asked if he could use it to store some of his police work, and she said that it was fine.
There were a lot of boxes in here, but only one red one.
He scooted past furniture and climbed over other boxes, making his way to the back as he tried to not think of the smell.
A small piece of light seeped through a tiny crack where the roof of the truck met the side. It amazed him how it could pierce the darkness. So small, but mighty in its effect.
It set aglow the back half of the moving truck, and with it he could make out color. He spotted the red box. It had been set on top of some furniture. Opened.
He cleared the way and got to it. Inside it was totally empty. He pushed the box away in frustration. What had Joe done with it? Had he given it to somebody? Who?
He checked his phone. Lindy hadn’t texted back. Maybe she was still on the road. She never texted when she was driving. Both their rule.
Pulling out the phone, he decided to call her, just to make sure everything was fine. But then something caught his eye. It was in the far corner of the truck, just beyond the empty red box.
A cold spike of adrenaline hit his nervous system. The light dimmed and he felt dizzy. But he couldn’t stop looking at it, even as his knees gave way.
His leather jacket.
20
“Lindy . . .”
She heard it again and this time there was no mistaking it. She stumbled backward, staring at the closet door, hitting her head against the wall behind her. The broom fell to the ground.
Possession Page 14
