by Diane Capri
“Why? Why did you do this?” she mumbled, to keep him talking, to give herself time.
Her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth. Every second that passed seemed like one closer to the very edge of oblivion. Even sitting upright seemed impossible.
After the blows, the migraine she’d willed away earlier in the day was now a full, hard throbbing in her head.
She glanced at Billy again. He’d shifted restlessly, revealing his face in the moonlight filtering in through the filthy window. His plump cheeks were smeared with dirt and his clothes were soaked through. But damn it, he was alive. And she would do whatever it took to make sure he stayed that way.
“He only wanted to play with Billy,” Wagoner said, perhaps by way of apology.
Marilyn’s confusion was like thick, gooey molasses inside her pounding head. She tried to grasp his words, but comprehension wouldn’t come.
Wagoner still in his pajamas, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, stood before her with a shovel in hand. He was an almost invisible little man.
But was there a hardness in his eyes? A cruelty around the edge of his mouth?
Had the collar and the Cabbots’ friendship with him distracted her from the truth?
Or was her brain so scrambled that she couldn’t process the truth?
What was it Jess Kimball had said? About getting two kids out of the house? She moved her head slowly for another long look at the second man, who stared at her from his spot in the corner.
He looked like Wagoner.
And yet, he didn’t.
Her vision distorted into multiple bright zigzags, like looking through a turning kaleidoscope, and nausea swirled in her belly.
“So you drugged them before bedtime and left the window open.” The kaleidoscope scrambled and the nausea grew.
She took deep breaths and closed her eyes a moment. The kaleidoscope played out on her closed eyelids, which was worse, so she popped her eyes open again.
“I wish I had. Emily would still be alive if I’d drugged her. Tony wanted to play with Billy.” Wagoner shook his head. “I didn’t know he’d left the window unlocked. He climbed back into the house after the Cabbots passed out.”
“Who’s Tony?”
“Me!” The big man in the corner shouted, as if the question was a game. “Me, Tony!” Marilyn narrowed her right eye and turned her head slightly and gazed across the shed only through her left eye, to avoid the kaleidoscope. “You’re Tony?”
“Yes!” he shouted. The volume sliced through her head like a guillotine.
“What happened to Emily?” Marilyn asked, as quietly as possible. Maybe if she spoke quietly, Tony would, too.
“Emily fell.” Tony dropped his chin to his chest. “Billy got mad.”
Marilyn’s scrambled brain seemed to clear, like a brief parting of dark clouds during a storm. She glimpsed an important insight.
Tony was the key to this case, not Tim.
Pastor Wagoner wasn’t a killer. She hadn’t misjudged him that badly.
Tony was the guilty one.
She formed a cautious plan without taking her one-eyed gaze from Tony.
Speaking quietly and calmly, she said, “My deputy will be here soon, Tim. Cut your losses and go while you still can. You’ve got one murder on you already.” “Liar,” he snapped.
But he wasn’t certain, because in her periphery, his hands fisted as he turned to peer through the dirty window.
“Just go. Now. For Tony’s sake. Before something happens to him.” She sensed that Tim’s bond with Tony was stronger than anything else she could grasp hold of right now.
Tim didn’t reply.
Marilyn tried another angle. “Leave Billy here with me. I’ll see he gets home. Alicia and Owen will be so happy to have him back. You are their pastor. It’s your duty to comfort them, Tim.”
She swallowed hard and inched her hand toward her hip.
Her holster was empty.
Carefully, she glanced around the small shed.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Wagoner said when her eyes lit on her pistol resting on a workbench. “He’d bash your head in like a pumpkin on Halloween. He’d have already shot you with it if that old biddy across the way would ever mind her own business.”
The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place a split second before her pulse kicked in to high gear.
“Tony, hand me that cloth please,” Wagoner said.
Tony creaked into action, fiddling in the corner with a bottle and a cloth. He shuffled toward Wagoner, one hand outstretched, the other pinching his nose like a child.
The distinctive astringent smell preceded him by three yards.
Chloroform.
If he got close enough to hold chloroform over her face, she was as good as dead and so was Billy.
She slapped her palms over her ears as she sucked in deep a breath and let out an earpiecing scream. Her head felt as if it might cleave in two and splat her brains all over the dirt floor.
Wagoner lunged toward her.
She rolled to the side.
Her distorted vision made it impossible to aim.
She screamed and kicked out hard and fast with both legs until her booted heel connected squarely with the most vulnerable spot on the outside of his right knee.
She felt the tendons and then the bones give with a sickening pop and tear, like pulling the legs off a giant turkey at the joints.
He howled with the searing pain and went down, crabbing frantically sideways out of kicking range.
Tony dropped the chloroform-soaked cloth and let out a roar.
He grabbed a shovel and raised it high above his head, eyes wild, furious.
She used the last of her ebbing strength to lunge forward and close her hand over the butt of her pistol.
The next moments passed in that zone where actions were fast and her mind was slow.
Tony came straight at her like a charging bull.
Big, broad target.
Easy aim.
Slow, steady squeeze.
Explosive blast.
Kick jolt to her wrist.
Scent of gunfire.
Shots reverberating in her ears.
Her arm fell to her side.
Her head might literally explode at any moment.
The kaleidoscope distortions to her vision heightened the nausea. She held back a heave.
She stared at Tony. He’d staggered away from the blast before he hit the floor.
Behind him, to the right, lay Wagoner, prone on the ground, holding his ruined leg and keening. Blood flowed from a gash on his head. His right leg was bent at a totally unnatural angle.
Her head felt heavy on her neck. She strained to keep her chin up. Kaleidoscopes distorted her vision in both eyes now, but she didn’t dare look away or drop her weapon.
CHAPTER SIX
She’d lost all track of time before a low, male voice sounded, as if it came from a mile away.
“Marilyn? Can you hear me?” Dimly, she recognized her deputy, Brady Colton. He took hold of her arm and squeezed it gently. “You’re going to be okay.”
She nodded, the motion sending a knife of pain through her skull. “Billy?”
Brady knelt beside the little boy and pressed two fingers to his neck. Marilyn sucked in a breath.
Brady’s relieved gaze connected with hers. “He’s still alive.” Alive. Thank God.
Her vision flickered and then went black.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I will never get used to that,” Jess Kimball said quietly as they watched the Cabbots toss a rose on their daughter’s coffin.
Marilyn blinked away glassy tears and nodded. “I think that’s for the best. The second we start thinking a coffin like that is part of the norm, we might as well pack it in.” “Amen,” Jess murmured.
The sun had sizzled away the early morning fog, leaving behind another blistering hot day. Marilyn shivered.
It had been four days since
she’d found Billy in the shed and two since she was released from the hospital, but the horror of it clung to her like oil on her skin. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Tony’s face, and her stomach bottomed out.
So close. They’d been so close to losing Billy, it hurt to think about.
Jess nodded toward Mrs. Willis. “She’s on her way over.”
“That’s good. I haven’t had a chance to thank her yet. Without her, Billy and I would both be dead.”
Mrs. Willis had seen Marilyn arrive, walk around the house, head to her car, then turn and skulk around to the back yard a second time. She’d called the station, alerting the deputies. Brady, ever diligent, arrived just in time to handle the cleanup.
“Marilyn, dear.” The older woman gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re up and around again. Billy, too.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Willis.” Marilyn patted her hand. “You’re the one who saved Billy’s life by mere minutes. If you hadn’t called Brady—”
When the paramedics had reached the scene, Billy’s blood pressure was ninety over sixty and dropping, due to whatever drugs Tony had administered.
Billy was recovering, but not well enough to attend his sister’s funeral. Which Marilyn felt was for the best. He blamed himself. Tony had wanted to see Billy’s rocket for the science fair that night. Billy had wanted to demonstrate. But Emily tried to stop them.
Mrs. Willis offered a shaky smile. “I wish I could have helped Emily, too.”
“I wish we both could have.” Marilyn shared a sad glance with her and nodded before Mrs. Willis moved on.
When Mrs. Willis was out of hearing range, Jess said, “Emily fell, just like Tony claimed, you know. The medical examiner confirmed. The evidence is consistent with a fall down those steep stairs from her bedroom. It’s a wonder her parents didn’t hear her. I’m sure they’ll never forgive themselves, although they couldn’t have saved her life, even if they’d heard.”
Marilyn felt a rush of sympathy. Every time Jess saw something like this, it had to chip away at her. Her face was tense, her eyes full of grief, and Marilyn wondered if her suffering wasn’t worse than the Cabbots’ in its own way. Jess clung to the hope, no matter how slim, that her son Peter was out there somewhere. But the relentless pressure of never knowing must be crushing her every day.
Marilyn cleared her throat and rotated her stiff jaw. “Want to go get a cup of coffee before you catch your flight back?”
“Let’s do that. I forgot to ask this morning. Did Wagoner confess?”
“He filled in most of the missing pieces,” Marilyn nodded. “He claims Tony had been at the Cabbot house with them all night. Tony liked the kids and Billy in particular. But they’d concealed Tony’s presence because of the parents. Both Owen and Alicia were afraid of him. Didn’t want him around the kids.”
Jess said, “Parents have good instincts where their kids are concerned. They were right.”
“Tony was Tim Wagoner’s younger brother. He was mentally handicapped. Sly and cunning, but low IQ.” Marilyn paused for a breath. “Wagoner says it was Tony who went back to the Cabbot house that night. Tony who climbed in the window he’d left open earlier in the evening. He said Emily’s death was an accident. He claimed she fell before he figured out where Tony was and made it back to the house.”
“What about the truck stop? Why leave Emily there?” Jess asked.
“Wagoner said he thought no one would find the body back there until he had a chance to bury her.” Marilyn shook her head. “If that truck driver hadn’t stumbled in the wrong direction while looking for the men’s room, Wagoner would have been right.”
“Your crime techs found hair and fibers and other forensics in the trunk of Wagoner’s black Town Car. Enough to prove that both kids were stashed in that trunk. And a few matching trunk fibers on Emily’s clothes, to confirm.” Jess cocked her head. After a few seconds, she said, “I guess we’ll never know for sure. It’s not like Tony can contradict his brother now.”
“I don’t believe it. I think Wagoner is more involved than he admits. For one thing, why was his hat still inside the house?” Marilyn shook her head. “But his lawyer worked out a plea deal. He confessed to the kidnapping and covering up the crimes, in exchange for life in prison without possibility of parole.”
“He lost his brother. And he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.” Jess shook her head slowly.
Marilyn replied, “But none of that will bring Emily Cabbot back to life or erase the guilt from Billy’s heart. It does nothing to repair Owen and Alicia’s ruined lives, either.”
Jess and Marilyn watched the Cabbots say their last goodbyes to their beloved daughter.
“I wish we could, but we can’t save them all,” Jess said, giving her arm a squeeze. “Saving Billy and giving the Cabbots closure for Emily will have to be enough this time.”
Marilyn knew Jess meant she craved closure for her son. Marilyn hoped that one day, Jess would find Peter, too.
* * *
Get the next book in the series!
FATAL DAWN
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Jess Kimball’s son, Peter, has been missing far too long. She’s done everything possible to find him. Henry Morris is pressuring her to give up and make a life for herself without Peter. She thinks he may be right. But in her mother’s heart, she believes Peter is still out there and she’s determined to find him. When Jess receives a ransom demand, her prayers may have finally been answered. She races to find the ones who hold Peter hostage. Will her son’s long ordeal finally be over?
Join Jess Kimball for more adventures in her thrilling search for her missing son!
The Jess Kimball Thrillers Series:
Fatal Distraction
Fatal Demand
Fatal Error
Fatal Fall
Fatal Game
Fatal Bond
Fatal Enemy (novella)
Fatal Edge (novella)
Fatal Past (novella)
Fatal Heat (novella)
Fatal Dawn
~Keep reading for more from Diane Capri~
MORE FROM DIANE CAPRI
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Have you read all of Diane Capri’s books? Maybe it’s time to give them a try!
For a complete list of Diane Capri Books visit:
http://dianecapri.com/books/
The Hunt for Jack Reacher Series:
(in publication order with Lee Child source books in parentheses)
Don’t Know Jack • (Killing Floor)
Jack in a Box (novella)
Jack and Kill (novella)
Get Back Jack • (Bad Luck and Trouble)
Jack in the Green (novella)
Jack and Joe • (The Enemy)
Deep Cover Jack (Persuader)
Jack the Reaper • (The Hard Way)
Black Jack • (Running Blind / The Visitor)
Ten Two Jack • (The Midnight Line)
Jack of Spades • (Past Tense)
Prepper Jack • (Die Trying)
Full Metal Jack • (The Affair)
Jack Frost • (61 Hours)
Jac
k of Hearts • (Worth Dying For)
Straight Jack • (A Wanted Man)
Jack Knife • (Never Go Back)
The Jess Kimball Thrillers Series:
Fatal Distraction
Fatal Demand
Fatal Error
Fatal Fall
Fatal Game
Fatal Bond
Fatal Enemy (novella)
Fatal Edge (novella)
Fatal Past (novella)
Fatal Heat (novella)
Fatal Dawn
The Hunt for Justice Series:
Due Justice
Twisted Justice
Secret Justice
Wasted Justice
Raw Justice
Mistaken Justice (novella)
Cold Justice (novella)
False Justice (novella)
Fair Justice (novella)
True Justice (novella)
Night Justice
The Park Hotel Mysteries:
Reservation with Death
Early Check Out
Room with a Clue
Late Arrival
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Diane Capri is an award-winning New York Times, USA Today, and worldwide bestselling author. She’s a recovering lawyer and snowbird who divides her time between Florida and Michigan. An active member of Mystery Writers of America, Author’s Guild, International Thriller Writers, Alliance of Independent Authors, and Sisters in Crime, she loves to hear from readers and is hard at work on her next novel.
Please connect with her online:
http://www.DianeCapri.com
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