He’d spent too many years protecting her. He didn’t plan to stop now.
She set the Pyrex bowl and a bag of groceries on the table. “Right. That’s why the swelling is going down so fast.”
She disappeared around the corner and returned with his crutches, handing them to him without a word.
“Thanks, Sis. I appreciate the food. I know how busy you are. I’ll help you put it away and you can get back to your girls. I’ll be able to drive by tomorrow.” Not according to the doctor, but what did that overeducated prick know? It was his left knee. If he could bend it enough to get behind the wheel, he was good to go.
“Not so fast. Frank took the girls to that princess movie and then they’ll go to the park. You have me for the whole day, and I have plans for how we’ll spend it.”
And he’d thought the casserole was bad.
She reached into the sack and pulled out a box of plastic garbage bags. “Don’t groan or roll your eyes at me. We’re going to clean out your room. It’s time. You are not responsible for Betsy’s death. Whatever you did that slowed her down, that’s not what killed her.”
“How do you…”
“I can read you like a book, Noah. I always have. Anyone who ever met the two of you knew how much you loved her, but I’ve seen you deal with grief before, and this isn’t grief, it’s guilt, remorse. And I’ve seen you deal with that, too. Remember, you weren’t the only one who sat up nights with Mother.”
He opened his mouth, but she kept talking as if she didn’t notice. “You can keep a few items that have special meaning for you. Betsy had nice things, and there’re people out there that need them. Now, follow me, but use your crutches.”
Five minutes later, he was propped up on his bed, his bad leg stretched out in front of him and Sweet Pea by his side. Rachelle pulled out dresses and slacks and shirts, occasionally holding one up and telling about the shopping trip the two of them had taken when Betsy bought this one, or reminding him of the restaurant they’d all gone to when she wore that one.
Only once did he ask her to put something back. She looked at him questioningly, but the memory was too private to share.
“You can keep it, but I’m going to put it in your bottom drawer. I don’t want you mooning over it every time you open the closet door. What do you want me to do with her jewelry?”
“You take it. I’d love to see you wear it. Anything you can’t use, let the girls play dress-up with. There’s nothing special I want to keep.” Well, there was one thing, but it was on the arm of a no good, thieving murderer’s mother and he planned to get it back real soon.
Noah glanced at the stack of folded clothes, expecting to feel pain. Instead, he felt relief. Talking about Betsy, remembering, reliving their good times with Rachelle, had lifted a weight from his soul.
Why had he thought it so painful to say her name out loud? Why had he worked so hard to avoid his sister, the one person left in the world who cared about him? That he cared about. Well, the girls, Emma and Iris, and also Conner and Jeannie. But the list was small, and he’d done his best to push them away in case they figured out what he was planning.
Maybe it was time to reconsider the way he’d been living his life.
“This wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d expected. Thanks, Sis. I truly couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I’m glad you thought it was easy, because what comes next is the hard part.” She pivoted and left the room.
Oh, shit. Where is she going?
He heard her open the closet in his office and his heart stopped. He struggled to get off the bed, but Sweet Pea was in his lap and his leg tangled in the sheet. Rachelle’s footsteps sounded in the hallway.
When she appeared in the doorway holding the violin, he couldn’t breathe. She doesn’t know anything, he tried to tell himself. She was only seventeen, just a kid.
“It’s time to get rid of this.” Her eyes weren’t smiling, and her voice didn’t leave any room for doubt.
“That’s worth a lot of money. It’ll pay for college for the girls.” He tried to stall, wait for her to give away a clue.
“It’s not your responsibility to pay for my kids’ education. Frank and I will take care of that.” Her voice took on a hard edge.
“Yeah, but Frank—“
“Frank what? Had to borrow some money when Emma was born? How long are you going to hold that over our heads? He paid it back. We were young. He has a good job now.” She wasn’t shouting, but it was close.
“I want to help take care of the girls. They’re all I have.” This was spiraling out of control. Just like he knew it would. Exactly why he kept them at arm’s length.
“Then help them by being there for them. If you hang onto this, you won’t be. What do you think it will do to them to have the uncle they love so much in jail for the rest of his life?”
Talk about saved by the bell, Noah had never been so glad to hear the phone ring in his life. He thought it might be Conner, but he never expected Laurel Bledsoe.
“Are you okay, Noah? I looked for you among all those people at Crystal’s house, but Detective Craw… Conner said you were home ill. Your bite didn’t get infected, did it?”
“No, my hand is fine. I just had a little fall and banged my knee. I’ll be back at work tomorrow. So Conner was at Crystal’s?” What was his partner keeping from him now, and why?
“Oh, there are dozens of people at her house. Guys in suits, guys in uniforms, people in paper jumpsuits. I don’t know what all they’re doing. There’s a van that says CSU, squad cars, regular cars, lights flashing. I haven’t seen Gary.”
“How long has this been going on?” And he thought he had things to make up to Conner. All bets were off now. That promise he’d made to share all information? As far as he was concerned, Conner was the one who’d broken it.
“I’m not sure. I just drove up and they were here.”
“Thanks for the update, Laurel. I better check with Conner.” He hit disconnect before she had time to answer.
Rachelle stared at him, her eyes big and her mouth partly open. Had he said Laurel’s name out loud? Damn, he didn’t know.
“Got your keys, Sis? I need you to give me a ride.”
“Don’t brush me off like that. We still have things to talk about.” She held the violin in one hand, and the bow in the other.
“We can talk in the car. But first, I need you to help me put my pants on. This is work and I have to go.” He took the violin and bow from Rachelle’s hand and slipped them under his bed.
Ten minutes later, sweat pooling at the back of his neck, he looked presentable. If he hadn’t lost weight over the last few months, Rachelle would never have been able to slip his slacks over his brace. The pain when she moved his leg was almost unbearable, but he kept his face impassive. If she had any idea how much the slightest movement hurt, she’d refuse to drive him.
The aroma of her casserole greeted him as he hobbled into the kitchen. How could something that smelled so good taste so bad? Had he eaten any lunch? Too bad, he’d get something later.
Sweet Pea followed them into the kitchen, so at least he didn’t have to chase her. He dropped fresh papers on the floor without bending over. “Let’s go. I need to get moving before they finish whatever it is they’re doing.”
“Just a minute. Let me put the casserole in the fridge. You can heat it up again later. Are you sure you can get a ride home?”
He’d never be able to get rid of that casserole. It would follow him forever, like a bad debt. He wouldn’t eat it, he couldn’t feed it to Pea, it would probably clog the disposal. Maybe he could give it to Conner. That back-stabbing SOB deserved it. No, it might make Jeannie sick.
“I can always get a ride. A gold shield isn’t worth much money, but it will buy you a ride every time.”
They started for Rachelle’s car and his heart sank. Her silver Kia sat in his driveway, laughing at him. He’d never be able to get his leg in that thing. “You wa
nt to take my truck?”
“No, then I’d have to get it back to you. Don’t worry, I have plenty of gas.”
Gas wasn’t what he was worried about.
She clicked her opener, and the doors unlocked with an audible pop. Before moving to the driver’s side, she opened the passenger door and moved the seat back. He relaxed as he saw the seat slide back farther than he would have imagined. She propped his crutches in the rear while he eased himself into the cramped area. So far, so good. If she didn’t make any sudden stops, he might be okay.
“Don’t think you’re going to skate on this one. “ Rachelle kept her eyes on the road, but he could feel her anger. “We’re not through discussing this. You cannot keep that violin any longer. Get rid of it, now, today. And for Heaven’s sake, don’t try to sell it. I wouldn’t touch that money, it’s blood money. Even if it was the right thing to do.”
The entrance to Hudson’s cul-de-sac was cordoned off, but Noah flashed his badge and the silver Kia pulled up in front of the now teeming mansion. Squad cars, forensic vans, and unmarked cruisers waited, some with lights flashing, others dark and silent.
It was the sight of the coroner’s wagon, parked discreetly to the side, that sent Noah’s heart slamming against his ribs.
Conner was nowhere in sight, which suited Noah just fine. It gave Rachelle time to drive off. Made it harder for Conner to send him home.
He flashed his badge again to a couple of newbies and made his way inside. Conner had his back turned, directing a CSU tech toward the fireplace. Something nasty had burned in there. Something rubber or plastic. Shoes?
The whole room had an acrid smell that burned his eyes. The house was cold, only slightly warmer than the outside air. That door must have been open for hours.
His crutches caught on a throw rug and he cursed softly, causing Conner to twist around.
“Tell me you weren’t dumb enough to drive here with your knee in that condition.” Conner sighed, resignation coating his voice.
“Rachelle brought me.” Crammed in that little car with a knee that didn’t bend, he’d rather have walked.
“I don’t suppose you’d have come inside if she hadn’t already left.”
Noah didn’t bother to answer. “So what happened here? Our little friend still cleaning up?”
“Or a robbery gone bad. Lots of stuff missing.” Conner motioned around the room. A decorative shelf sat empty. Noah didn’t remember what had been on it, just that it was something gaudy and expensive looking.
Heat rose up the back of Noah’s neck and he struggled to keep his voice in check. “Where the fuck was his protection?”
“Two officers patrolled the grounds, then did a complete walk-through, checking every door and window. After that, they did a drive-by once an hour. That’s all somebody upstairs would allow. Nothing looked amiss until the maid came running out and flagged them down.”
Noah remembered the woman from the night she served them coffee. At least she hadn’t been hurt. “Where was she when the shit hit the fan?”
Conner pointed with his chin toward the garage. “She lives out back, but it was her night off and she spent it with her kids. Then she had a dentist appointment this morning. Didn’t get back till after lunch. And yes, I’ve already checked with her family and the dentist.”
“You can tell the lieutenant about this one. I wasn’t here.” Would the outcome have been any different if he hadn’t been laid up? Probably not, but he’d never know for sure.
“Jansen already knows. He came by earlier.”
“What’d he say?”
Conner drew out his words in imitation of Jansen’s East Texas drawl. “You better hope the press doesn’t get wind of this or you’ll spend the next hurricane standing outside directing traffic.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet that’s all he said. My ears were on fire just riding over here. He doesn’t look like much, but he has an impressive vocabulary. Don’t sweat it. He knows that decision was made higher up. He may fuss, but he’ll have your back.”
“That doesn’t bring Hudson back.” Conner’s shoulders slumped slightly and he didn’t look Noah in the eyes.
Yup, that’s exactly how I felt about Derrick. They were murdering scum, but being responsible for another person’s death stings like hell.
Noah balanced on one foot and raked a hand across his chin. He still hadn’t shaved and his face was starting to itch. “Why didn’t the fool leave town, or at least go to a hotel? It’s not like he couldn’t afford it and the judge would have given permission in a case like this.”
“I suggested that. He didn’t want to leave his house. Said he’d invested in the best security available. That it was better than having ten cops sitting beside him. Then someone disconnected the alarm and substituted an innocuous feed in a continuous loop. The same moth flits by the security light every three minutes.”
Conner kicked a numbered forensic marker across the room where it hit the leg of a bar stool and spun around. “Fuck. I can’t believe I let this happen.”
“What do you mean, you let it happen? You warned him, arranged as much security as our budget allowed, even suggested he go to a hotel. Short of locking him in a holding cell, he was as safe as you could make him.”
Heat built in Noah’s blood and he wished he could kick something, but couldn’t figure out how to manage it on crutches. “He did this to himself the minute he started searching the Internet for someone to kill his wife. You lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas. Only in this case, I’m assuming he didn’t get up at all.”
“He didn’t get up, but he sure as hell fought back. Several bullets struck the wall. Probably too much to ask that any hit Ryan. Anyway, isn’t that what I told you about Derrick?”
Noah blinked twice as Conner’s words sunk in. He tried in vain to think of a logical argument, but none came to him. “In that case, we were both right. Now, show me where this confrontation took place.”
Conner led, the slap of his shoes echoing through the protective paper booties onto the marble floor. Noah followed, his crutches making a muffled “thump,” while his feet swooshed a half second later. His mind swirled, leaving him too deep in thought to speak.
Noah paused outside the door to Hudson’s inner office as his gaze wandered over the scene. His mind filed away bits of information. There’d be plenty of crime scene photos for him to study later, but they would be cold and dry. Antiseptic.
In person, he could judge how long the blood had been pooled on the floor by its color and texture. If its scent still filled the air. If the smell of gunpowder still burned his nose.
Noah leaned in to study the room, but the overturned file cabinets blocked his view. He sat on one cabinet and swung his legs over, then did the same to the second. This was getting old. It was one thing when his bum knee gave him trouble at home, but now it was interfering with his investigation.
The room was small, with little ventilation. He took a deep breath but caught only the faintest whiff of gunpowder. The coppery smell of blood was present, but not overwhelming. The blood splatters and the smaller drops were dry. Only the one under Hudson’s head remained damp.
“What’s the doc say about time of death?”
“He doesn’t know bupkus. This cold air screwed up his measurements. It might have been right after the maid left at seven, or a couple of hours ago.”
“Not a couple of hours. Blood’s too dry. Closer to seven last night, eight at the latest.” Noah lifted his head and looked around. “What’s with this cold air anyway? If the front door was standing open, shouldn’t the patrol car have seen it?”
“Back door and windows are open and the AC is on. Gas in the fireplace was going full blast, but the heat went right up the chimney.”
“Any sign of a break in?” Noah still hadn’t moved, his eyes studying every corner of the room.
“Nope. Killer waltzed in here smooth as a silk dress. Unless Hudson opened the door for him. But why would he do th
at? We warned him Ryan was cleaning up.”
Noah peered at the empty accordion folder, half out of an open file drawer. “Because he thought he’d have plenty of warning with all his fancy security. He decided to set a trap. Had a gun hidden in the folder instead of the money. He made the biggest mistake of his life; he thought he was smart enough to take on a professional killer.”
He gazed around the room, taking in the blood spatter on the walls. “Killer had to be covered in blood. If that stink I smelled in the fireplace was his clothes, what’d you suppose he went home in?”
An hour passed before the forensics team finished documenting the scene and the coroner’s office could move the body. File cabinets were shifted and Noah got his first good look at Hudson’s body. Some mortician was going to earn his money with this job.
It killed Noah to admit weakness in front of not only Conner and the whole forensics team, but he couldn’t stand up any longer. If he rested his body on his crutches, his underarms felt like boils. If he held himself up, his hands, especially the still tender one, ached. He could only balance on one foot for so long before he began to sway dangerously.
He sank into the soft leather of Hudson’s expensive desk chair, its fragrance wafting up as he leaned back. Conner glanced at him but didn’t say anything. Shit. He might not comment, but he’d definitely noticed.
The chair had a familiar feel. Noah twisted his head to study the back and arm rests. It was the same chair Betsy had bought for him, only adjusted for a shorter man. Damn. How much had she paid for that thing?
She claimed to have bought the chair with her signing bonus when she started at the new school. Music teachers for special ed kids were both rare and disposable. Hard to find, but the first ones to be cut during a budget crisis. A shame too, because music helped them in so many ways.
“You still with me, partner?”
Winter Song (Seasons Pass Book 1) Page 21
