“I’m just getting…something from my locker,” Lucy said. “Packing up some of my stuff.” Curiosity got the better of her, and she motioned toward the commotion. “What’s going on?”
“Blue McCoy’s military records just arrived,” the raspy-voiced dispatcher told her, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Did you know that he’s got some kind of expert status in martial arts-style hand-to-hand combat?”
“Well, yeah, umm…actually, I did,” Lucy said.
Lucy couldn’t quite believe she’d dared to come inside the police station. The normally bland beige walls seemed to be dripping with conspiracy. The familiar faces of her co-workers seemed suddenly sinister.
She was probably overreacting. She was going on the unsubstantiated statement of Darlene Parker—a woman who, for all Lucy knew, could have paranoid delusions. If R. W. Fisher and the entire police department had killed Gerry McCoy, there had to be some kind of reason, some sort of motive. Darlene hadn’t provided her with one of those, and Lucy was having a hard time coming up with one of her own.
But she couldn’t totally discount what Darlene had told her. In fact, Lucy took Darlene’s warnings seriously enough to want to be armed. Of course, she’d turned in her police-issue weapon when she’d had it out with Chief Bradley two days ago. But she had a personal license for a smaller gun—which happened to be inconveniently stored in her locker in the basement of the police station.
This entire day wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned. She’d awakened alone again and had a moment of frustration until she caught the fragrant smell of coffee and frying pancakes floating up from the kitchen. When she went downstairs she found Blue cooking breakfast. He’d greeted her with a smile and a maple syrup-flavored kiss. That was nice—she couldn’t complain about that.
But after breakfast, Lucy had left the house alone, intending to drive into town to the library to photocopy the Yellow Pages listings of private investigators from the Charleston phone book. Today she had intended to seek professional assistance in this murder investigation.
Instead, here she was, spooked by Darlene Parker’s crazy suspicions, creeping down the police-station stairs, hoping she’d get to her locker, get her gun and get the hell out of there before anyone besides Annabella noticed her.
Not a chance.
Chief Bradley stopped her in the hall on her way back to the door.
Lucy kept her face carefully expressionless, hoping the fact that she suspected him to be part of some wild, murderous townwide conspiracy didn’t show in her eyes.
But he didn’t ask her what she was doing there. He glared at her and said, “You knew Blue McCoy had extensive martial-arts training?”
Lucy looked down toward Annabella’s desk, where the dispatcher was smoking yet another cigarette, watching with unabashed curiosity.
“All Navy SEALs do,” she said evenly. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”
“No, I did not know that,” Bradley fumed. “Just now Annabella told me you knew about McCoy’s martial-arts training. And I happened to be talking to Doc Harrington’s pretty little wife yesterday, and she mentioned the fact that you’re some kind of walking fountain of information about the military’s Special Forces divisions.”
“Special Operations. And Sarah was exaggerating. I don’t know that much—”
“What I want to know is why the hell didn’t any of that information bubble over onto my desk?”
“I didn’t think—”
Bradley shoved several pieces of paper into Lucy’s hands. It appeared to be pages photocopied from Blue’s personnel file. Much of the text was blacked out, censored no doubt for security reasons. But there was a full listing of the areas in which Blue held expert-level—or higher—status. Martial arts and hand-to-hand combat were high on the list.
Lucy flipped the page, fascinated by Blue’s private file, despite the fact that she was surrounded by people who were allegedly involved in Gerry McCoy’s death.
She skimmed the brief psychological evaluation that was written at the bottom of the second page. “Carter McCoy is a perfect candidate for the SEAL program,” she said. “He is a tenacious, usually steady, thoughtful individual who is not afraid to take action. Negatively, his temper can be volatile at times. He also is very much of a loner, unwilling or unable to share his thoughts and feelings with anyone other than his very closest friends, if even them. Carter McCoy is—”
“You look at that file,” Chief Bradley interrupted her, “and you tell me if you think McCoy has the skill and training necessary for him to be able to snap a man’s neck.”
Lucy gazed up at him. She didn’t want to answer that. She couldn’t answer that, not without damning Blue. But if she refused to answer, Bradley would assume she was hiding the truth.
“Blue McCoy is a lieutenant in the Navy SEALs,” she told the chief. “He’s the executive officer of SEAL Team Ten’s Alpha Squad.” She slapped the papers against her hand. “According to this, he’s won countless medals for bravery—”
“I didn’t ask you for a background sketch of the man,” Bradley said. “I asked if Blue McCoy has the skill and training to kill in that manner—”
“He’d never do such a thing,” Lucy protested.
“It’s a yes or no question, Tait. Does he or does he not have the skill and training to break a man’s neck?”
Bradley was watching her. Annabella was watching her. Farther down the hall, Travis Southeby and Tom Harper were watching her. They were all waiting for her answer.
“All SEALs do—”
But Chief Bradley wasn’t listening any longer. “That sounded like a yes to me. Run next door to the judge’s chambers,” he said to Travis. “Let’s get a warrant and bring that son of a bitch in. We got motive and now we’ve got means.”
“Motive?” Lucy asked, following Bradley down the hall, back toward his office. “What motive did Blue McCoy have for killing his brother?”
Bradley stopped and looked at her as if she were first cousin to the village idiot. “Jenny Lee Beaumont,” he said. “She’s motive enough for damn near any man.”
“That’s ridiculous—”
“You got a better motive?” Bradley said, turning back to glare at her. “Or maybe you’ve got an entirely different suspect in mind?”
They killed Gerry McCoy, Darlene Parker had said ominously. They won’t think twice about killing again.
Lucy shook her head, backing slowly away. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t.” She gazed into the chief’s eyes, trying to see if he was capable of murder. As much as she disliked the man, she found it hard to believe. But she’d been wrong about a lot of things before.
“Got the warrant, Chief,” Travis called.
“Take Tom and go pick up McCoy,” Bradley said to Travis. He turned to Lucy. “He still staying out at your place?” He smiled knowingly. “In the guest bedroom?”
Lucy’s stomach was in a knot. They were going to arrest Blue. They were going to bring him in, charge him with murdering his stepbrother. Or maybe they weren’t going to bring him in. Maybe they were simply going to kill him instead, claiming he resisted arrest.
“Let me go along,” she said to Bradley, her mind going a mile a minute as she searched for a way out. “I can talk him into coming in quietly.”
“Yeah, or you can tip him off—warn him so that he gets away. You don’t work for me anymore, remember?” Bradley said. He nodded to Travis, who headed for the door, Tom Harper one step behind. “No, I want you to sit down right here in my office and stay until I receive word that McCoy is behind bars.”
“You can’t keep me here,” Lucy said tightly, her fear for Blue stronger and sharper than her concern for her personal safety.
“Yes, I can,” Bradley said. “We can do it one of two ways. You can sit down nice and quiet, or I can have you arrested. Which will it be?”
Lucy walked out into the hall, toward the front door. “Arrest me.”
“Have it your way
,” the chief said. He called down the hall, “Annabella, get Frank Redfield up here to arrest Lucy Tait.”
Lucy could see Annabella flipping frantically through her code book, trying to find an appropriate ten code for the situation. The dispatcher finally gave up and just picked up the phone.
But Frank was already upstairs. He stepped out into the hallway in front of Lucy, blocking her exit out of the building.”
“Come on, Lucy,” he said. “Why do you want to make trouble for yourself?”
“If you’re arresting me,” she said, “what are the charges?”
“Attempted obstruction of justice,” Chief Bradley volunteered.
“That’s ridiculous,” Lucy said, turning to face him, “and you know it. You try arresting me for that. Just try it.”
She stepped around Frank, who looked down the hall at the chief, waiting for instruction. But the chief didn’t say a word. He was silent as Lucy pushed open the door and went down the stairs into the hot morning sunshine.
She’d called Bradley’s bluff.
Lucy ran for her truck, and started the engine with a roar even before she shut the door. She pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires and headed up toward Fox Run Road, praying that she wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BLUE WENT OUT onto the porch as the police car pulled into the drive.
Lucy was still downtown, and he recognized Travis Southeby behind the wheel. That wasn’t good. But at least Tom Harper was with him. Tom had no doubt read all of his civil-rights handbook, while Travis had clearly skipped a few chapters.
They’d come to arrest him. He knew that even before they got out of the car. And the two police officers got out of the car with almost comedic differences in style.
Tom stood up and straightened his pants, nodding a greeting to Blue, closing the car door behind him.
Travis drew his weapon, and, flinging his car door open and using it as a shield, he aimed his gun at Blue.
“Blue McCoy, you are under arrest,” he shrilly announced.
Tom glanced at Travis, then looked apologetically at Blue. “We’ve got to bring you in,” he said. “We’re making the charges official.”
“I didn’t kill Gerry,” Blue said evenly. “If I had, I would’ve been long gone.”
“Keep your hands where I can see ’em,” Travis said sharply.
Blue glanced back at Travis and his gun. “You’re too far away to get an accurate aim with that thing,” he said. “Put it away before you accidentally hurt someone.” He turned back to Tom. “You’re making a big mistake here. You’re wasting your time on me while Gerry’s real killer is running around free.”
Tom actually looked sorry as he snapped a pair of handcuffs on Blue. He quickly searched him as he recited Blue’s Miranda rights.
Travis approached, obviously keeping his hand close to his reholstered gun. “We’ve got enough evidence to put you away, McCoy,” he said. “We’ve got a motive of jealousy—”
“That’s total bull.”
“Is it really? I didn’t think so. Chief didn’t, either,” Travis said. “We’ve got a witness who places you with the victim at the scene of the crime—”
“You’ve got a liar who’s probably getting paid a small fortune to make up stories,” Blue countered.
“We’ve also got a hundred other witnesses who saw you threaten the victim earlier that evening. Are they all getting paid off, too?” Travis was enjoying this way too much.
Tom opened the door to the patrol car, and Blue started to climb in. It wasn’t easy with his hands bound together behind his back.
“And,” Travis said, playing his winning card with a flourish, “we’ve got military records that peg you as a martial-arts expert and we’ve got our own local military scholar—of sorts—who will be called to testify that as a Navy SEAL martial-arts expert you have the knowledge and skill necessary to be able to break a man’s neck the way Gerry’s was broken.”
Blue straightened up. Was he talking about…?
Travis smiled at the look on Blue’s face. “That’s right,” he said. “Lucy Tait. And she’ll be doubly valuable to the prosecution considering you’ve been shacking up with her for the past few days. Imagine how that’ll look to the jury—your own lover testifying against you.” He made tsking sounds.
“Lucy would never do that,” Blue said. He could feel anger starting inside him, burning hot and tightly contained.
“She will if she’s subpoenaed,” Travis said. “And she’ll be subpoenaed. All she’ll have to do is repeat what she said this morning down at the station.”
Blue got into the car. “Play your head games with someone else, Southeby,” he said shortly. “I know for a fact that Lucy wasn’t at the police station this morning.”
“Well, I know for a fact that she was,” Travis said, slamming the door behind Blue and climbing in behind the driver’s wheel. He put his arm along the back of the front seat, twisting to look at Blue. “She came in to give you up. She provided us with that last bit of information we needed to come on out here and bring you in.”
Blue just laughed and told Travis in quite specific language exactly what he could do with himself.
Travis turned to look at Tom, who’d climbed into the car and was fastening his seat belt. “McCoy thinks I’m telling tall tales,” he said. “He thinks I’m making this all up. Isn’t that exactly what happened this morning, Tom? Lucy Tait walked in, told the chief that McCoy had the martial-arts training needed to cleanly snap a man’s neck, and five minutes later I was holding the warrant for McCoy’s arrest in my hand.”
Tom glanced at Blue, clearly sympathetic. “I don’t know exactly how it happened,” he said. “I didn’t hear all of it, but Lucy was at the station this morning, and I did hear the chief ask her if you had the skill to break a man’s neck. Right after that, we had the warrant.”
Part of Blue up and died. Just like that. Sudden, instant, tragic death.
He stared out the window of the police car as Travis pulled out of Lucy’s driveway. Summer had hit full stride, and the trees and meadows were bursting with life and color. Wildflowers were everywhere. A breeze ruffled the green leaves, making the trees seem like some giant, moving, living thing. There was all that life out there, yet Blue felt dead inside. Dead and brown and dried up and broken.
So tell me honestly, Lucy had said to him last night, after they’d made love for the second—or was it the third?—time. Do you know how to break a man’s neck the way Gerry’s neck was broken? Their legs were still intertwined, and he had been running his fingers down her back, from her shoulder all the way to her thighs. Her skin was so soft and smooth he couldn’t stop touching her.
They’d just talked about honesty, about how Lucy was the first woman Blue had known who hadn’t had some sort of ulterior motive for being with him.
But she had. She’d had one hell of an ulterior motive, hadn’t she? She’d used sex and the intimacy it created between them to get the information she’d needed to send him to jail.
He’d almost let himself love her. Damn, he was such a fool.
Blue was silent as Travis Southeby and Tom Harper led him into the station, silent as they took his fingerprints and mug shots, silent as they told him his bail would be set that afternoon, silent as they put him in the holding cell and locked the door.
It wasn’t until Travis came back, telling him that Lucy Tait was outside, that she wanted to see him, that Blue spoke.
“I don’t want to see her,” he said, amazed that someone who felt so dead inside could still speak.
* * *
Lucy stared at Travis Southeby. “But…”
“He said he doesn’t want to see you,” Travis repeated. He smiled. “Can’t say I blame him, seeing how you were the one who provided the final piece of evidence in the case against him. He wasn’t too happy when I told him about that.”
“You told him what?”
“Nothing but the
truth,” Travis said smugly. “You came in here to tell the chief that Blue McCoy had the ability to break a man’s neck. Not everyone knew that he had that particular skill, you know. Your little tidbit of information proved vital in our case against him.”
“You son of a bitch!”
Could Blue really believe that she would betray him that way? She wouldn’t have thought so, but apparently he had.
“Watch your mouth, missy,” Travis said primly.
Lucy took a deep breath. Slamming her fist into Travis’s smug face wasn’t going to do her—or Blue—any good. She forced herself to calm down. “I’m sorry.” She took another deep breath. She’d gotten to her house too late. Blue was gone and Travis’s patrol car was nowhere in sight. She’d turned right around and come back to the station. “Please, you’ve got to let me see him anyway.”
“Can’t do that.”
The front doors opened, and Lucy turned to see Jenny Lee Beaumont walk into the police-station lobby. She was wearing a rose-colored suit with a frilly white blouse. The frills made her generous bosom look even larger. Her hair was up in an elegant bun and she had high heels on her tiny feet, pushing her height up to a full five foot three.
Travis moved toward her. “Ms. Beaumont,” he said. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
Jenny took off her sunglasses. Her eyes still looked smudged and bruised from grieving. “I received a call from Blue McCoy,” she said in her breathy Southern accent. “I’m here to see him.”
Travis nodded. “Right this way, ma’am.”
As Lucy watched, Jenny turned back to Annabella, who was sitting at the dispatcher’s desk. “My lawyer should be arriving soon. Will you please bring her back to us when she comes?”
Lucy watched as Jenny Lee Beaumont was ushered down the hall, toward the holding cells. Blue had called Jenny Lee. Jenny’s lawyer was coming to help him. He trusted Jenny, not Lucy….
But Jenny didn’t know that some—if not all—of the police officers on the Hatboro Creek force were involved in the cover-up of Gerry’s death. And Jenny didn’t know that R. W. Fisher had allegedly paid Matt Parker large sums of money to make up his story about seeing Blue in the woods with Gerry on the night of his death.
Tall, Dark and Dangerous Vol 1: Tall, Dark and FearlessTall, Dark and Devastating Page 47
