by Chris Taylor
“Jesus!” Colt breathed and fresh horror surged through him again.
“Yeah,” Bob agreed. “That’s his story. It gets worse.”
The dread that had settled in Colt’s gut spread like icy tentacles through his veins. “What do you mean?”
Bob looked over to where another man stood with a junior constable. The man was dressed in a suit and tie and looked like a lawyer or perhaps an accountant.
“See that man over there?”
Colt followed his line of sight and nodded. “Yeah. What about him?”
“His name is Simon Potter. He’s an accountant with Wright and Westport.”
Colt shifted his weight and tried not to let his impatience show. “What about him?”
Bob blew out his breath on a heavy sigh. His expression remained grim. “He told the constable he was traveling behind Anthony Adamson, on his way to see a client. He witnessed the accident.”
“That’s lucky. It will make our job easier.”
“Yes. It does. Especially when our eyewitness says he never saw the brake lights come on.”
Colt stared at his colleague. It took a moment for the words to sink in. He frowned.
“What do you mean, there were no brake lights? Adamson must have braked at some point. He was heading straight for the river.”
Bob’s somber gaze remained steady on his. “Yeah. You’d think so. Only, we took a walk back along the road in the direction he came from. There were no skid marks on the road.”
Shock rendered Colt momentarily speechless. Finally, he found his voice. “You mean… He did this on purpose? He meant to kill his kids?”
Bob shrugged. “The bastard said he braked, but the eyewitness gives another account. Take it however you like, but to me, that’s what it looks like. I suspect it might have started out being him and the kids, but at the last minute, the asshole chickened out. He made sure he got out safe and sound and left his kids in there to drown.” Bob shook his head and anger glinted in eyes that had seen far too much.
Colt stared at him, aghast. “I don’t believe it! Nobody would do something like that! They’re his kids, for Christ’s sake! His fucking kids!”
“We made some calls,” Bob said quietly, ignoring Colt’s outburst. “Adamson’s in the middle of a messy divorce. Yesterday, the court gave his wife custody.”
Colt gasped. The shaft of pain that went through him nearly doubled him over. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! You can’t be serious! He meant to do this? He meant to do this!”
Bob regarded him with a sad and weary expression on his face. “There are no brake marks on the road, Colt. You figure it out.”
* * *
Morgan checked her emails for the hundredth time and frowned when there was no more word from her father. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d wished he had a cell phone, but there was no point wasting time on that. He didn’t have a cell and she had no way of contacting him, other than through emails – and even then, she was at the mercy of decent Wi-Fi service in the middle of the outback and the whim of her father as to when he might actually check his mail.
She’d sent another email the moment she got back to Colt’s place. She’d told her father about her discovery and pleaded with him to tell her why he’d lied about Rusty. She finished the message with her cell number and an impassioned plea for him to call. She needed to hear his voice.
But that was hours ago and she still hadn’t heard a thing. She wished Colt wasn’t at work. She needed someone to distract her from the endless questions that circled around her mind.
A feeling of helplessness surged through her. No matter how much she willed it to happen, there was nothing she could do. Her father would check his emails when it suited him, or when he had a decent Internet signal. His next contact could be a day or more away, depending where he was.
The sound of her phone ringing sent her heart leaping into her throat. It was her dad! He’d finally received her message! She snatched up the phone from where she’d left it on the kitchen counter and stared down at the screen. And just like that, she was deflated. It wasn’t her father. It was Colt.
“Hi,” she said, her tone dull.
“Hey,” he said, his voice equally subdued.
“How are you doing?” she asked, remembering her manners. It wasn’t his fault she’d been waiting all day to hear from her father.
“Good. No. Not good… The truth is, since I dropped you back at home, my day’s gone to shit.”
His voice was raw with emotion. Morgan pushed her own troubles aside. Something was wrong and it sounded like Colt needed her.
“What happened?” she asked quietly and heard his heavy sigh.
“A car accident. It’s not good.”
“Fatalities?” she asked gently.
“Two kids.”
“Oh, no! Colt! How dreadful! I’m so sorry!”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“How terrible for you to have to deal with that.”
“Hey, I’m a cop. It’s what I do.”
“Yes, but you’re still human. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I’m calling because I don’t think I can face going out to dinner tonight.”
“That’s fine,” she hastened to reassure him. “We don’t have to go out. I can throw together something here. Don’t worry about it.”
“You hate cooking,” he said and she detected the faintest sound of a smile.
“I don’t hate it. It just isn’t something I enjoy enough for it to take precedence over other things. Like cutting my toenails.”
This time, he laughed and the sound of it warmed her through. She was pleased she’d been able to lighten his mood, even for a little while.
“What time will you be home?” she asked softly.
“I’m aiming for seven, but who knows? We’re still interviewing witnesses, including other members of the family. It could be awhile.”
“No problem. Don’t worry, I’ll have dinner ready whenever you get here.”
“Thanks, Morgan. I owe you.”
The warmth in his tone sent a glow of contentment rushing through her veins. With another reassurance for him to not concern himself about her, she ended the call.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was closer to eight than seven when Morgan heard Colt’s key in the door. He entered the condo slowly, tiredly, as if he carried the weight of the world. His face was drawn and lined with fatigue. His eyes were dull.
Her heart went out to him. She couldn’t imagine what the past few hours had been like. Two children dead. Relatives to console. Scattered fragments of the story to piece together. Questions asked. Answers given. Reports to be prepared. She believed being a police officer was one of the hardest jobs in the world. She admired him and all the other officers who did this every day.
“How did you do?” she asked softly, unfurling herself from the couch. She came toward him, intending to offer him comfort in whatever way she could.
His sigh was deep and heavy. Setting his briefcase on the kitchen counter, he went straight for the fridge and pulled out a beer. The sharp crack of the can opening filled the silence.
“I made some dinner,” she murmured.
“Thanks,” he replied, but she could tell food was the last thing on his mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
He was silent for so long, she didn’t think he was going to answer. And then, he cursed under his breath. His eyes turned hard with anger.
“He did it on purpose, Morgan. The fucking prick did it on purpose! He murdered his own children! And the worst part is, he did it out of spite!” He rounded on her. His eyes burned with fury, his expression was fierce, but she held her ground. He was angry, but his anger wasn’t directed at her.
“Can you believe it?” he continued, his volume increasing along with his fury.
It was a rhetorical question, but she answered him anyway. “No, I can’t believe it. How about you tell me what hap
pened? I’d like to know.”
With another curse, he pushed away from the counter and began to prowl the modest space between the kitchen table and the couch.
“Anthony Adamson. What a hero!” Colt said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “The bastard had it all planned out, right down to the last second. The only thing was, at the last minute, he chickened out.”
“What do you mean?” she said quietly.
“The plan was to drive into the river with him and his kids in the car. He intended for all of them to drown, but at the last minute, he couldn’t do it – to himself, that is. As the car filled with water, he panicked and got himself free. The fucking coward swam to safety and left his kids to drown. They were strapped into their fucking car seats, Morgan. Their fucking car seats!”
His voice cracked with emotion and his eyes flashed once again with anger. Morgan stood nearby, frozen in shock, unable to comprehend how any parent could do such a thing. It was beyond belief, beyond explanation. It was the most horrible thing she’d ever heard. How anyone could do that to their innocent children… The thought defied belief.
“How… How old were they?” she whispered.
“The little boy was two-and-a-half. The baby was barely six months.” He turned toward her, his eyes tortured, his face ravaged with fury and pain. “They didn’t stand a chance, Morgan. They didn’t stand a chance…” His shoulders slumped with defeat. He shook his head slowly back and forth, beyond words.
Without thinking, Morgan stepped forward and put her arms around his waist. Her only thought was to offer him comfort. He tensed momentarily, but then pulled her hard against his chest. He dropped his head to her shoulder and continued to pour out his distress.
“The cowardly bastard… No words can describe it… How could he? How could he swim away from that vehicle, knowing his children were locked inside? And then he had the audacity to tell us it was an accident, that he lost control of his car. That he hadn’t meant to go through the fence and into the river. That it wasn’t his fault…”
Morgan tightened her arms about him. When she spoke again, her voice was muffled against his chest. “How did you discover the truth?”
Colt lifted his head off her shoulder and stared down at her, as if only just becoming aware that they were holding each other. Dropping his arms to his sides, he released her and took a couple of steps back. Retrieving his beer from where he’d left it on the counter, he emptied it in just a few swallows and then cleared his throat, his composure restored.
“There was a witness to the accident. A man traveling behind Anthony Adamson’s car. He saw the whole thing happen, including the fact Adamson didn’t apply the brakes.”
Morgan’s breath caught in horror. “He didn’t try to stop?”
Colt’s lips thinned. “No, he didn’t.”
“Perhaps there was something mechanical at fault? Do you think that’s possible?”
“It’s always possible, but not this time. We made inquiries. Discovered Adamson was in the middle of a nasty divorce and the court had just awarded his wife the kids. In light of the evidence against him, Adamson finally broke down and confessed. He told us he meant for all of them to die – he was meant to die, too. Only, he got scared when the car filled with water and the cowardly bastard got himself out.”
“Oh, Colt!” Morgan was devastated all over again.
The depth of evil that resided in some people’s souls never ceased to amaze her. The thought of someone murdering their children as payback to the other parent was beyond abhorrent. She didn’t know how society could begin to punish a person capable of such selfishness and depravity. Was it even possible? Did the man even have an inkling of the evil he’d done?
“How is he?” she asked, her voice rough with emotion.
“Adamson?”
“Yes. Has he expressed any remorse?”
Colt shook his head and his shoulders slumped on a weary sigh. “Not enough. Oh, he’s sorry, but I got the distinct impression he’s sorrier about facing a lengthy jail sentence than the fact his kids are dead. He ought to be paralytic with grief, beside himself with the horror of what he’s done – and the sad truth is, he’s not. No doubt it’ll be a different story when it comes to fronting the courts and when the cameras are out in force.”
She nodded grimly. It was amazing how sorry people could be when confronted with a healthy prison term. Too bad it wouldn’t bring Anthony Adamson’s children back. She couldn’t bear to think how their mother was feeling.
With another sigh, Colt tossed the empty beer can into the recycling box that stood in the corner of the kitchen. He reached into the fridge and pulled out another and then paused. He glanced at Morgan.
“Would you like one?”
“No, thanks. I’m good. I’m not much of a beer drinker.”
He nodded. “White wine, right?”
“Yes, I guess so. Or vodka. You can’t beat a decent vodka martini.”
“Shaken, not stirred, right?” The tiniest grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Morgan smiled back at him. “Right.”
It was much later when Colt agreed to have something to eat and Morgan heated up bowls of spaghetti bolognaise. They ate together on the sofa, like they had in Morgan’s college days. Back then, it had been out of necessity. Neither Colt nor Beau had owned a kitchen table, but tonight, after the trauma of the day, it seemed more comfortable to relax on the couch.
Colt set his empty bowl on the coffee table and sat back. He sighed quietly and looked at Morgan. “How did you do with your father? Did he explain about his dog?”
Morgan swallowed her last bite of spaghetti and shook her head. “No, he hasn’t replied to my email yet.” Colt frowned and Morgan hurried to explain.
“He’s out in the middle of nowhere. He only has sporadic Internet service. He’s got an old laptop and a dongle. It’s fine to use in the city and towns, but in the outback… Who knows? And public phone booths are few and far between.”
She shrugged. “I’m sure he has an explanation. No doubt he was trying to spare me the upset and worry, and he’s right. Losing Rusty is upsetting. It was bound to happen someday, but he was only ten. I didn’t expect it to be so soon. I’m totally unprepared. It’s different when you have an old dog that’s near the end of his life. You brace yourself for it to happen. It’s the way life is. But Rusty…” She shook her head.
“I gave him that dog after Mom died. Rusty was only a puppy. Dad needed a distraction and Rusty was only too happy to steal his attention as often and for as long as he could. He grew up faithful and loyal. He was always by Dad’s side. Dad knew I’d feel relieved knowing he had Rusty with him. I guess that’s why he lied.”
Colt nodded in understanding, but his expression remained grim. He opened his mouth and then closed it, as if unsure whether he should speak. Morgan set her bowl down on the coffee table and frowned.
“What is it, Colt?”
His lips compressed into a thin line and once again, he appeared to be debating about what to say. She sat forward on the couch and stared at him.
“What do you know? I can tell you know something I don’t.”
Colt’s gaze remained steady on hers. A moment later, he blew out his breath. “All right, I’ll tell you, but only because I want you to be safe. There’s something about your uncle that concerns me.”
Morgan’s frown deepened. She shook her head in confusion. “Concerns you? In what way?”
“I’m not sure. That’s why I wasn’t going to say anything, but it’s obvious how much you love your dad. I think you have a right to know.”
Morgan’s confusion deepened. “Know what?”
Colt drew in another deep breath. “Rusty didn’t die of old age. He was shot.”
Shock ricocheted through Morgan. She gasped and her hand came up to her mouth. “He was…shot? Are you sure?”
“Yes. I saw the bullet hole in his skull. There’s no mistake.”
Morgan’s mi
nd whirled with so many questions, she couldn’t think straight. Who would kill her father’s dog? She couldn’t imagine her dad had done it. He loved Rusty almost as much as he loved her. There was no way he would have done such a thing.
But the dog was buried at the back of her dad’s place. Her father must have known about it… So why had he lied and said Rusty was with him in the outback? So much didn’t make sense.
“I couldn’t tell if the dog was ill – did your father say anything about that? That Rusty was suffering from a terminal illness? That he might have to put him to sleep?”
Morgan was shaking her head from side to side before Colt was even finished. “No! No, of course not! He never mentioned a thing! We haven’t spoken for quite a while. The first time he mentioned Rusty was in the email I received last night.”
“When he emailed you and lied about having the dog with him,” Colt finished. “The question is, was it your father who sent the email and if so, why would he mislead you?”
Morgan frowned. “Of course my father sent the email. It came from his account.”
Colt’s gaze remained steady on hers. “Who else has his login details?”
Morgan stared at him, her thoughts in a whirl. “No one that I know of. What are you getting at?”
Colt shrugged. “I’m just throwing up possibilities. You’re at a loss to understand why your father wouldn’t tell you the truth about Rusty. You’re relying on the fact you were advised by your father that the dog was with him. All I’m saying is that it might be possible it came from someone else.”
“You mean, someone else could have written that email? How could that be? Dad was a lawyer. He knew all about confidentiality. I can’t imagine he’d ever disclose his login details – and certainly not to one of his friends. It doesn’t make sense.” She slumped back against the couch, her thoughts too jumbled to interpret.
“What about to your uncle? Is it possible your dad gave his login details to his brother?”
Morgan stared at him. “I doubt it. He’d only just met the man. Is that what you meant when you said you think this might have something to do with my uncle?”
Colt’s nod came reluctantly. “After discovering Rusty had been shot, I decided to do a little investigating into Leslie’s background. It’s obvious he’s a drifter who’s been down on his luck more than once. I was curious about him. So I ran his name through the police database.”
