Winter Song (Seasons Pass Book 1)

by Susan C. Muller

  Do it. You already know the answer.

  Holding her breath, she slid the small compartment open. Empty. No safe deposit box key. The major pieces would be long gone by now.

  “You son-of-a-bitch,” she yelled and threw the box across the room. A lot of good that did. Now she had spare earring backs spread throughout her dirty clothes. Heat rose up the back of her neck, but no tears came.

  Only an hour until her appointment. There has to be a matching pair in here somewhere. Something silver will work just fine.

  Peter could keep his trinkets. They weren’t the expressions of love he’d always claimed. They were chains that weighted her down and kept her from seeing his real character. Bribes, payments to keep her quiet and docile.

  Knowing him like she did now, they would feel like lye against her skin. She’d rather go without than wear his brand.

  Noah held his breath as Conner leaned back in his chair and rested one foot on the open drawer. If Conner didn’t accept his apology, he might lose the best friend he’d ever had. The only person left in his life willing to put up with his crazy, see-sawing moods. Well, Rachelle, but she was his sister and had to love him, right?

  “So prove you’re now willing to act like a real partner,” Conner said. “Tell me exactly what you’ve been up to and why you believed whatever it is you believed.”

  Noah glanced around the noisy squad room. Was anyone listening? Earl Sparks was taking a statement from a less-than-cooperative witness and Alonzo, his partner, was standing in the Lieutenant’s door discussing either a case or golf. It was hard to tell which, but the Lieutenant laughed, so it was probably golf. Everyone else was on the phone or out on a call.

  The printer coughed and wheezed as it came to life. That did it. They might as well be sitting in a cone of silence.

  He scooted his chair closer to Conner and sighed. This was going to be hard. Could he get by with the condensed version? No, he needed to tell Conner everything. If he found out later that Noah had held back, it would be bad. He flashed back to lying in the attic, waiting to ambush whoever stuck their head up and realized he might have to leave a few things out.

  “Whoever came into my house on Saturday night had to have been there before and knew their way around. That could have happened on Friday, when he poisoned Sweet Pea, but climbing around in the attic felt too familiar. At first, I thought it was the kid who used to live there.”

  “And that was the reason for the trip out to Sam Houston?” Conner didn’t move, but his eyes bored holes through Noah.

  “Just wait, I’ll get to that. When we were interviewing Icky, I recognized that red-headed kid the minute I saw him, even his voice was familiar. And from the way he reacted, he recognized me, too. While you were bringing the car around, I checked his plates also. They had the same sticky substance around a couple of numbers that Icky’s did, indicating he’d tried to disguise them.”

  Conner’s voice got tight. “Yet you didn’t see fit to mention this to me.”

  Noah squirmed. His chair was beginning to feel like an Inquisition rack. “I thought he might be a kid that lived down the street from me. I’d only seen him once, briefly, and I wasn’t sure.” Okay, lie number one. He’d been sure. Sweat formed behind his ears and on the back of his neck.

  “I made up a bullshit reason to talk to his parents, and, yes, that was Ryan. He’d been friends with Kenny, the kid that lived in my house, and had spent a lot of time there. It was just too big a coincidence. Whoever broke into my house had been there before, I could feel it. Ryan had and Icky hadn’t. Besides, that attic is too tight for a dough-ball like Icky. I had to back out. There wasn’t room to turn around.”

  Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that. Now Conner would wonder exactly what he’d been doing up there. He hurried on with the story before Conner had time to question him.

  “But Ryan was off at college by the time we moved in so he didn’t know me or where I lived.” Lie number two. He’d obviously noticed Betsy, and could have asked about me or which house we lived in. But he’d definitely left for Galveston before the picnic was over.

  “Then I talked to Kenny’s folks, got my first hint what a creep Ryan was, and got an address for Kenny. That was the reason for the trip out to Sam Houston.” Finally, a whole sentence that was truthful.

  “Uh huh, so what changed your mind? You would never have come in here and apologized if you hadn’t found out you were wrong.” Conner hadn’t touched his peace-offering coffee, but Noah couldn’t blame him. The smell alone would put off the most dedicated caffeine addict.

  “I never wrote off Icky completely. That’s why I had you checking him out. Ryan’s an even bigger pervert than I thought. He spent his time spying on Kenny and his family from the attic. But just because he’s a creep, doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. He couldn’t be the shooter. He’s missing most of his trigger finger and part of his index finger.”

  Conner tapped his pen on the desk, for the first time showing more interest than anger. “How’d the kid lose his finger?”

  “You’re gonna love this. The Howell’s had a bird feeder, and rats got into the birdseed. Ryan tried to invent a better rat trap and set up a tiny guillotine. He chopped off his own two fingers trying it out.” Noah felt a smirk build. “After that, small animals started to disappear around the neighborhood. A cat was found mutilated in a wooded area where the drug store is now.”

  Noah sat back, relieved. He’d told the story and was done. One glance at Conner said he wasn’t finished.

  Conner leaned forward, his eyes still hard. “So far, so good. Now tell me the things you left out.”

  If telling the story the first time was hard. Going back and filling in the details he’d omitted was agony. He skimmed over the part about waiting in the attic, but from the look in Conner’s eyes, he’d already guessed that. When he described the trip to visit Kenny’s parents, Conner actually laughed.

  “Two things.” Conner swiveled his chair in front of his desk and started making a list. “Having more than one person involved in a murder is rare, but not unheard of. Let’s check out that weird kid who was behind Ryan in the dorm. If not him, we’ll investigate Kenny further.”

  “I hate to say this, but the only suspicious thing about Kenny is that he seems to have turned out normal despite having such screwed up parents. The idea of a partner goes a long way toward explaining that bull’s-eye shot out of a moving car during a sleet storm. I suspect Ryan doesn’t have many friends, so that Derrick kid is a good place to start. What’s your second item?”

  “You said from the beginning that the perp tried to do the job in Bellaire and if we found out why, we’d be closer to finding out who. We let that slip when he tried to take you out. That might have been his reason for coming after you.”

  Fuck, he hated it when Conner showed him up. “Let’s take an hour. You check out that Derrick kid and maybe even Kenny. I’ll see what Ryan was up to in Galveston and look for any similar murders in this part of the state. Then we’ll confront Hudson. He hired someone to kill his wife. I think we can turn him.”

  With all his money and power, he’s still the weak link. He has the most to lose.

  More than an hour had passed when Noah looked up to see Conner place a Starbucks coffee and a chicken salad sandwich on his desk.

  “We’re going to need all our wits to face Hudson, and vending-room food won’t cut it.”

  Noah pulled the cup to him, inhaling the potent brew. “Thanks, partner. I didn’t know how much I needed this. Did you find out anything good?”

  Conner slipped the top off his own cup and took a long swallow. “I didn’t bother checking Kenny. I found all I could possibly want with Derrick.”

  A jolt of fresh caffeine hit Noah and he sighed, his exhaustion slipping away. “So what’s he been up to?”

  “Derrick was a competitive shooter in high school. Not a champion, or I’d have found it sooner, but a decent shot just the same. If he hadn’t list
ed it on his admission essay, I might have missed it. When I checked his meets, one guy kept beating him. Zack Taylor. Then guess what I found?”

  Noah just grunted and started eating. He felt stronger with every bite of the sandwich.

  “Zack recently purchased seven replacement barrels for a 9 mm Glock from a gun store in Amarillo. There’s only one problem. Zack’s doing his junior year in Italy. And Derrick, who comes from a ranch just outside of Amarillo, got behind on his tuition payments when his parents had to sell off their herd after last summer’s drought. He belongs to some weird, off-beat religious cult that preaches retribution. They believe the drought is God’s punishment for all the evil in the world, and things won’t improve unless good people try to wipe out sin.”

  Noah caught his breath and waited. Conner’s pet peeve was people who did evil in the name of religion. It was a subject they had talked about at length during many long stake-outs. He wasn’t disappointed. Conner’s jaw clenched. “Derrick got caught up on his payments a couple of months ago, but his family’s still scrambling to save the ranch.”

  “I found a few interesting things, also.” Noah pushed his sandwich aside. It tasted good, but couldn’t compare with solving a case. “No club or organization Ryan belongs to held any event in Galveston around the Fourth of July. However, a woman was killed that evening while jogging. The police questioned her husband, but the case is listed as an accidental shooting by a person unknown who was firing in the air while celebrating the holiday.”

  “What caliber gun?”

  “A 9mm Glock. That’s not all. Tomball had one in October. Wife killed in the back parking lot of her small craft store and robbed of the cash deposit she was taking to the bank. Over in Sugarland, a man was killed in a dark parking garage while leaving his office well after hours.” Noah flipped a page in his notes. “Good to know they’re equal opportunity killers.”

  “So, one in each jurisdiction. No two crimes investigated by the same outfit. Pretty smart. What about Houston? Are we so sharp they’re avoiding us?”

  “No, we got ours in December when a woman was supposedly followed home from Christmas shopping and killed in her driveway. All the gifts stolen. That’s why they wanted the job done in Bellaire. There may be others that I haven’t found, but these all used a Glock. None of the riflings matched, though. But why buy a new gun when all you have to do is swap out the barrel?”

  “That’s four, five with Crystal Hudson. If he bought seven, he’s got two barrels left.” Conner brushed a crumb from his suit.

  “Maybe three. He had one on there to start with. Hard to believe Galveston was his first. Maybe the small animals were his warm up. I have one other piece of news.”

  Conner straightened the crease in his pants. “Yeah? What’d you find out?”

  “Martin, the head techno geek, called. They found the backdoor hidden in a Craig’s List add for a mechanic. It leads to a website that was set-up at a Texas City library. It can be accessed from anywhere with the right code. He’ll keep searching, but the phone number’s a throwaway. If Ryan suspects we’re on to him, that phone’s gone by now.”

  Noah pushed back from his desk. “Let’s go see what Hudson has to say about all this. I can’t wait to see his face when he opens the door.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Hudson. We wanted to return a few of your things.” Noah smiled, but Hudson obviously wasn’t buying it. His frown pulled his features into an unpleasant grimace.

  Too bad. He didn’t need Hudson to like it. He just needed Hudson to go along with it.

  “A few of my things? Where are the rest? You haven’t harmed anything, have you?” he growled.

  The morning’s bright sun had disappeared behind a wall of gray and did little to warm the air. The cardboard box Noah was holding cut into his hands, and he didn’t like not having easy access to his weapon.

  Conner strode up the walk with a matching box. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Hudson. Nothing’s harmed and I think it’s all here. If you’ll let us put these boxes down, there are several more in the car.”

  Hudson’s frown may have lessened a millimeter or two as he opened the door wider.

  Noah and Conner entered the same ornate hallway as on their last trip, but Noah was even less impressed with the chandeliers and furnishings. He turned toward the back office, but halted when he heard Hudson’s voice.

  “Stop right there. I don’t want you in my house. Just set the boxes here and I’ll move them myself.”

  Move them yourself? Not likely. You’ll probably get the maid or gardener to move them. I doubt you’ve ever done a lick of physical work in your life.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Hudson. Let me bring in the rest of your things.”

  Noah was on his third trip carrying boxes into Hudson’s home when Laurel Bledsoe pulled onto her driveway. She smiled and waved as she climbed out of her car.

  He couldn’t help smiling in return. She hardly resembled the woman he’d met just a few days ago. She’d pulled her hair off her face in some type of arrangement that looked both simple and intricate at the same time. She wore make-up and jewelry, and a business-looking suit that still managed to flatter her figure. High heels showed off trim, shapely legs.

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t have noticed any of those things a month ago. Not even two weeks ago.

  But it was her face that showed the most dramatic change. Her smile felt warm and honest and her skin glowed. If he wasn’t a married man, or at least still felt like one, he’d have said she was a knock-out. What was happening to him? Had he changed as much as she had?

  “I know you can’t talk now, but if you have time, stop by when you finish,” she called. “I have good news and I need someone to share it with. And if you can tell me you’re getting closer to solving Crystal’s murder, then it will be a true celebration. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” She waved again and disappeared through her back door.

  Hudson’s voice brought him back to reality.

  “Is that it? I want you fellows out of here.”

  Noah didn’t answer until he’d set the last box on the floor. “Let’s go back to the kitchen and sit for a minute. I need you to sign some papers saying we returned everything in good order.”

  He started for the kitchen without looking back, but he could hear Hudson muttering.

  “How do I know they’re in good order? I haven’t looked through them yet. And what about the money? Where is it?”

  “Right here.” Noah pulled an envelope from his pocket. “Why don’t you count it? I want you to be satisfied we returned every dollar.” But not before we recorded the serial numbers.

  Hudson grabbed the money from Noah’s hand and riffled through it. He pulled the form close and clicked open the pen Noah handed him. The scratching of the pen as Hudson signed his name seemed to echo through the silent mausoleum of a house.

  He’s going to leave a mark on this fancy table if he presses any harder.

  “Take it.” Hudson pushed the form back to Noah. “Are we done here?”

  “Not quite.” Noah glanced at Conner. “We found a few suspicious things on your computer.”

  Hudson’s face froze. “What are you talking about?”

  Conner grinned. “That was an interesting mechanic you found on Craig’s List. It didn’t take our computer guys long to find the backdoor to his real website.”

  “What? What? Backdoor? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sputtered and spittle flew out of his mouth and onto Noah’s arm. Noah reached over and lifted a cloth napkin from a stack on the counter. He wiped his arm without taking his eyes off Hudson.

  Thank goodness for crime shows on TV. Now every doofus thought forensic labs were invincible. If only they knew how thin their budget was. Lying to a wife murdering scumbag didn’t bother him at all.

  “Come on now, Gary.” Noah switched to his first name to show that all pretense of respect was gone. “The tapes you made of Crystal’s phone calls prove you knew what she
’d discovered, and your actions show what you planned to do about it. Our tech guys can follow every keystroke you made. We know exactly what you found, when you found it, and how many times you visited it before you made the first call.”

  Hudson’s eyes went wide and Noah struggled to keep the smile off his face. This wasn’t the time to screw up.

  “You just signed a receipt for the computer you found him on and the cash you promised to pay him with. Not to mention the cell phone you used to call him. You might as well have signed your own death warrant.”

  Hudson’s shoulders slumped and Noah thought he saw tears in the man’s eyes. Now came the tricky part. Hold out a ray of hope before he had time to ask for a lawyer. He leaned closer and lowered his voice.

  “You’re not the one we want, Gary. You’re responsible for one death. The guy you hired has killed five people we know of. And he’ll go on killing if we don’t catch him. Help us and it’ll go easier on you. You can live a long and comfortable life.”

  If you call jail comfortable. Three hots and a cot, all furnished by the state of Texas.

  “All right. I’ll help you find him.” Hudson began to cry in earnest. The sight made Noah want to puke. Killing his wife. Just to save money on a divorce.

  He turned to Conner. “Call a squad car and take him in. I’ll be along by the time you have him booked. I don’t even want to ride in the car with him.” He felt dirty sitting near him at the table.

  Noah waited until Conner and Hudson left in the squad car. He locked Hudson’s door securely, then tromped across the damp grass to Laurel’s back door. He needed to see something fresh and innocent, to breathe in uncontaminated air.

  Besides, he convinced himself, she’d been a big help on the case. She deserved an update.

  He tapped twice on the glass, and saw her shadow flit across the curtain. The aroma of coffee and perfume greeted him as she opened the door. She had changed into tight jeans and a snug sweater. Her hair hung loose and silver earrings twinkled between the blonde strands as she moved her head.