by V. B. Tenery
The revelation of Trevor Nelson’s death had hastened Matt’s decision to send a team to Australia. Multiple deaths to family and friends happening to one individual were rare.
It defied the law of averages.
Grayson Manor
Twin Falls, Texas
Emily and Ian left the hospital at eleven o’clock that morning. He didn’t try to make conversation, and she appreciated that. There were no words profound enough to explain her feelings.
They drove through the gates and up the long driveway. Had it only been seven days since she’d arrived from England? It seemed eons had passed.
Home. It wasn’t really her home any longer. It belonged to Alexander. He had kindly offered for her to stay at Grayson Manor for as long as she wanted. She would accept his offer until she had time to check out her personal finances and decide what to do with her life.
Ian pulled under the portico, slid out of the driver’s seat, and opened her door. Overpowering pain in her breast made her pause outside the entrance.
Perkins opened the door. “Welcome home, Miss Emily.”
She walked right into his arms and gave him a long embrace. Obviously distressed beyond any means to control his composure, Perkins placed both arms around her and returned the embrace. They stood there for a long moment until he apparently remembered Ian’s presence. Perkins released her and stepped back. “I’ve had your room prepared. Shall I have someone bring up a tray? Perhaps some soup and tea?”
“Thank you, Perky. I’m fine.” She patted his arm and stepped inside the vestibule.
Ian took her by the elbow and led her inside.
Her gaze swept the room and up the staircase. Muscles in her throat constricted into a knot. Everything looked the same. No signs of the carnage visited here in a little less than a week.
She swallowed past the tightness, tears burned behind her eyes. She fought back the emotions and inhaled deeply, suddenly realizing her mother wasn’t here to greet her with a hug.
Ian squeezed her arm. “Emily, are you alright? Let me help you upstairs.”
She nodded. Her room seemed a long way off, but it was the best place until she could deal with the overwhelming pain, anger, and sorrow tearing at her soul.
At the top of the stairs, Ian ushered her into her bedroom and turned back the bedcovers. She removed her shoes and still dressed, slipped between the cool sheets. Turning her face into the pillow, she didn’t try to stop the racking sobs that shuddered through her body, barely noticing when Ian turned off the light and closed the door.
Grayson Manor
Twin Falls, Texas
Sunlight streaming through the bedroom window awakened Emily, bringing back all the sorrow of the past week. She’d cried last night until exhaustion and sleep overcame her. Sedatives must still be in her system for her to have slept so long. Her bare feet touched the soft carpet and she stumbled into the bathroom. Still dressed in the clothes she’d worn yesterday, she shed the slacks and blouse. Entering the shower, she turned the water on hot and stood under the rain shower head, letting the water run over her hair and down her face, hoping it would revive her.
Shower finished, she slipped into a terry cloth bathrobe and sat at the dressing table. Her reflection in the mirror looked as bad as she felt. Eyes red and swollen, her face pale. As always, her gaze went straight to her greatest imperfection, her nose. The family nose, her mother called it. Emily closed her eyes, her throat suddenly too taut to swallow. Growing up, when she complained about the feature, her mother pointed out, “You’re in good company, Audrey Hepburn and Ingrid Bergman each had a ‘family’ nose.” Now her mother was gone, no longer there to soothe her little girl ego.
She laid her head on her folded arms and gave in to her grief.
Later, tears spent, she resolved to pull herself together. A basket case couldn’t help find her mother’s killer. She pressed a cold washcloth to her face and the cool water brought back her color, but it didn’t improve her appearance. A small bald spot over her right temple, compliments of the surgeon, would need the attention of a beautician soon. For the moment, she did a comb-over that almost hid the flaw.
At least her wrist had healed.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have come back to Grayson Manor. But she couldn’t stay away. How could she leave her home of the past seventeen years? A cold sterile apartment held no appeal, but could she stay here and deal with the trauma Grayson Manor represented? The good memories were crowded out by the horror of what happened here. Every sight and sound resurrected ghosts.
She had no clue what her financial situation was. Her mother had handled the family budget. That was something she would have to consider as soon as she could face going into her mother’s empty room.
Lethargy overtook her, her feet felt like lead weights, but staying in her room wasn’t an option. She moved into the closet and pulled on a bulky knit sweater and slacks. Dressed, she made her way downstairs.
The library doors were open, and Ian stepped out. “Feeling better?”
She stopped just outside the doorway. “A little. Sorry about yesterday.”
“No need to apologize for your grief, Emily. We all understand. It will take time. For all of us. I told Perkins not to wake you for church. I thought you needed the rest.” He inclined his head towards the desk in the corner. “I’ve been working on my sermon for Wednesday’s chapel service. Focusing on my ministry helps keep me from dwelling on…”
He chucked her lightly under the chin. “You’re too thin. Shall I have Molly bring a lunch tray to your room?”
“Molly?”
His face twisted in a slight grimace. “She’s the new cook Perkins hired.”
An almost physical pain pierced Emily’s heart. “Of course, Perkins had to replace my mother.” Her voice caught, and she turned away.
Ian pulled her into his arms in a warm embrace. “It had to be done, Emily.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. She stepped back and touched his arm. “It’s okay. Really. I’m not an invalid, and I’m not a guest. I can eat in the kitchen.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what my position is anymore.”
Bracing herself for the encounter with her mother’s replacement, she made her way down the hallway. Enticing aromas greeted her entrance into the kitchen, making her stomach rumble. The last meal she’d eaten was the terrible breakfast at the hospital yesterday. And she’d only choked down a few bites.
Emily introduced herself to Molly, a rotund little woman, not more than five-feet tall with graying red hair and bright blue eyes. Molly wiped her hands on her apron and shook Emily’s hand.
She hadn’t wanted to like this woman, but she couldn’t resist her infectious smile.
The little cook placed a gentle hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Sit down at the island, dear, and I’ll bring you a tray. A nice omelet since you missed breakfast.”
“Thanks, Molly. But you don’t need to wait on me. I’m not a guest.”
Molly stopped and turned back to her. “It’s no bother. And I’m under strict instructions from Mr. Perkins to take good care of you.”
Emily pulled out a stool, her usual place at the island. Elbows on the counter, she folded her hands under her chin while she waited for her meal. Like a ghost from her subconscious, the form of her mother moved around the kitchen, preparing the meal. Always unhurried.
Her girlfriends at school had laughed at the old Donna Reed Show reruns when she wore pearls and high heels in the kitchen. Emily never found that the least bit funny. That was Amanda Castleton, minus the heels. Always elegant, in the kitchen or elsewhere.
A noise from the outside made Emily look through the glass pane in the kitchen door, and she met Sean McKinnon’s gaze.
He entered, crossed the room, and sat next to her. “Molly, could I have a cup of tea?”
The cook put her fists on her ample hips. “You’re not crippled, Mr. McKinnon. It’s already made. Surely you can pour it into a mug.”
&n
bsp; Emily hid a smile. She needn’t worry about Molly. The little woman could take care of herself.
Sean inclined his head toward Molly. “She’s going ta miss me when I’m gone.” He rose and poured his tea then returned to Emily’s side. “I’m so sorry about your mum, Em.” His blue eyes misted. “She will be sorely missed.”
Emily patted his hand, her voice husky. “Yes, she will.” Sean had always had a crush on her mother.
Placing her hand on Sean’s shoulder, Emily looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry about Jack. Do you really have to leave Grayson Manor? What happened...it isn’t your fault. I...I think I need you here.”
Sean stared into his teacup. “Aye, I know that, lass.” He ran a hand over his craggy face. “But you see, Em, folks here believe Jack guilty. My son’s no choirboy, but he’s no a murderer either. I couldna live under that shadow.”
Emily shook her head. “Where will you go? How can you support yourself?”
He smiled and placed his hand over hers. “Don’t worry, lass. I’ve saved a good bit over the years. And I’ll have no trouble finding work. Folks have tried to lure me away from Grayson Manor for years. Besides, I must devote myself to Jack’s defense.”
The air in her lungs felt weighted. She didn’t want to lose Sean. Growing up around him, Perkins, and Ethan, she’d had three fathers. They guided and sheltered her, trying to replace the father she’d lost. Jack, Peter, and Victoria were the siblings she never had.
Jack McKinnon had many self-esteem issues, though Heaven only knew why. Growing up, girls had followed him like sick puppies, but he only had eyes for Victoria. But she agreed with Sean. Jack wouldn’t commit murder. He’d never harm Vic.
She took Sean’s rough hand into her own and gazed into his eyes. “Sean, we must work together to prove his innocence. The police found the murder weapon in Jack’s possession, and I have no idea how it came to be there. But as the only eyewitness to what happened that night, I would swear on the Holy Bible, Jack wasn’t the shooter.”
CHAPTER NINE
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Matt arrived at the office around eight. He’d just settled into his chair when Sean McKinnon appeared in the doorway.
The old gardener held a plaid cap in both hands, twisting it with nervous fingers. “Chief, can I speak to ye for a minute?”
“Of course, Sean. Come in.” Matt stepped from behind his desk, greeted the old gardener with a handshake, and motioned him to a chair.
Matt asked the question he already knew the answer to. “What can I do for you?”
Sean cleared his throat, and a moment passed before he spoke. “It’s about Jack. My boy didn’t do this, Chief Foley. Yer probably thinkin’ all parents believe their children are innocent. I know the lad’s faults. He’s materialistic, growing up around the immense wealth of Mr. Grayson, and sometimes he has a frightful temper. But he ner abused liquor nor did drugs, and I don’t believe he’d do murder.”
“Sean―”
The gardener held up his hand in a hear-me-out gesture. “Under extreme circumstances, Jack might have killed Ethan, but not the others. Ner Amanda and Lady Ann. Ner the lassie, Miss Victoria. Jack loved that girl his whole life. He would ner have harmed her. She was the princess of his dreams, the girl he could ner aspire to have. And I think she had feelings for the lad as well.”
The office lighting reflected the sincerity on Sean’s face. He believed everything he’d said. That didn’t mean it was true. All the evidence pointed to Jack.
“If you are right, Sean, you need to get Jack to tell me where he got the gun. He lawyered up and he hasn’t answered any of our questions. The rifle he brought home on the plane ties him directly into the murders. Unless he can explain how it came to be in his possession, we have to assume he’s the killer.”
Sean stood and nodded. “I canna explain it, but I’ll make him talk to ye.”
After the gardener disappeared down the hallway, Matt’s mind was unsettled. He must be getting soft. The old man had gotten to him. Aside from his admiration for Sean McKinnon, Matt admitted to himself that the case didn’t feel right. Jack couldn’t have been the driver of the limousine. Even without speaking, when he dropped her luggage in the foyer, Emily would have recognized him. Jack could have an accomplice, but the motive seemed too thin, and he wouldn’t have let his partner stick him with the murder weapon.
A sane man didn’t take out the entire family of the woman he loved.
***
The call from the county jail came in soon after Matt returned from lunch. Jack McKinnon was ready to talk.
Matt notified Davis and Turner and had McKinnon brought into an empty interrogation room.
This should be easy as interviews went. The subject had agreed to be questioned without his attorney present. Matt waited outside until Davis and Turner entered the viewing room next door, before he stepped into the room and sat in the chair facing Jack McKinnon.
The kid’s tan seemed to have faded in the room’s bright light, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. His cuffed hands fidgeted on the table where he sat shackled to the chair.
“Want something to drink?” Matt asked.
Jack gave an eager nod. “A Coke would be great. The county only serves water and bad coffee.”
Matt opened the door and asked the guard stationed outside to bring two Cokes. “Jail is not supposed to be Club Med, Jack.”
“I know, but that doesn’t stop the cravings.”
A knock sounded, and the guard handed in the drinks.
Matt flipped through a page of notes he’d made on a yellow legal pad. “Okay, let’s get started. Do you agree to answer questions without your attorney present?”
“Yes. My lawyer wasn’t happy, but I trust my dad to give me good advice.”
“You know this interview is being recorded?”
“Yes,” Jack said.
“How and when did the murder weapon come into your possession?”
Jack took a long draw from the soda can. “I met this guy, Juan Vargas three weeks back at the Red Dog and started talking hunting and guns. He said he had a Weatherby he needed to sell. Said he didn’t want to but he needed the money. He took me out to his car and showed me the rifle. It was a beauty.:
“Three weeks was before the Grayson family was murdered?”
Jack gave a solemn nod. “Yeah, I know. That night he backed off selling it, said he was going to try to get money somewhere else. I gave him my card and told him if he decided to sell it to give me a call.”
“When did you get the gun?”
He drew in a long breath and gave his head a weary shake. “Last Sunday night. I can’t believe how easy he set me up to take the fall for this.”
Matt motioned with his hand for him to continue.
Jack looked into Matt’s eyes as he spoke. “I got a call Sunday evening while I was with dad at the Red Dog. Vargas told me he needed to sell the rifle right away and if I wanted it I could have it for two hundred dollars. He told me to meet him in South Dallas in an hour. Do you know how much that gun is worth?”
The kid appeared to be telling the truth or he was a great liar. But Matt had met serial liars who could almost pass a lie detector test. “Unless you can prove your story, the price may be your life. Texas is a death penalty state. Where did he want to meet?”
“At a dive called the Anything Goes Club.”
“Did anyone see the exchange?”
The kid shook his head again. “We met inside the club, but he took me out to his car to make the deal.”
“Can you describe him, maybe help an artist make a composite drawing?”
His face brightened. “Yes, I could do that. He was short, about five-nine, and wore his hair in a fo-hawk.”
“Fo-hawk? You mean Mohawk?
“It’s similar, but gangs call it a fo-hawk as in faux. The sides aren’t shaved clean
and the top isn’t as long as a Mohawk. He wore design
er jeans, a short-sleeved polo, and expensive snakeskin boots.”
“You ever see him in the Red Dog before?”
“No, just that once.”
“What kind of car did he drive?” Matt asked.
“A white late-model Jeep Cherokee.” Jack lowered his head and stared at his cuffed hands. “I’m pretty much done for, right?”
“Pretty much,” Matt said. “Why do you think this Vargas guy would want to kill the Grayson family? He told you he needed money, yet nothing was taken from Grayson Manor.”
“I don’t know, Chief.” Jack raised his hands and let them fall back on the table. “I’ve thought about it constantly since I’ve been in jail. All I know is that he’s the guy who sold me the gun, and if the gun is the murder weapon, he must be the killer.”
“Why would he pick you as the fall guy if you’d never met him?”
The kid gave a helpless shrug. “I wish I knew.”
There was another subject Matt needed to discuss before sending the prisoner back to his cell. “Jack, did you know Victoria was pregnant? Was it your baby?”
Jack closed his eyes. When he opened them again tears glistened under the overhead lights. He placed his head on his hands and wept deep gut wrenching sobs. He didn’t speak but Matt had his answer.
CHAPTER TEN
Lucy Turner’s Home
Twin Falls, Texas
Lucy Turner snapped the suitcase shut and scanned her bedroom making sure she hadn’t missed anything. She’d stretched the family budget to add a few new things to her wardrobe. Things she could mix and match to keep the luggage light.
She, Lucille Elizabeth Turner, was headed to Australia on an investigation paid for by the city fathers.
Unbelievable.
Her last, and only trip, outside the U.S. had been to Mexico on her honeymoon. Hopefully this trip would turn out better than that one had.
