by Debra Webb
“I thought I might catch Chief McCabe for an update.”
Laney found it strange that McCabe hadn’t given an update to Jessup. He certainly kept the City Council up to speed. Maybe there was bad blood between the two. “He had a late meeting.” This was a lie but she figured she owed it to McCabe to cover for him. “I’m happy to bring you up to speed, if you’d like.”
Jessup scrutinized her for a moment, almost as if he sensed she was lying. At thirty-six he wasn’t that much older than her. Laney suspected a good portion of his salary went on clothes since he was a walking, talking definition of the term clotheshorse. Never a dark hair out of place, and green eyes that seemed to look right through you. The man was handsome and single but not at all her type even if she were in the market.
“I would appreciate that. Shall be go into my office?”
Laney glanced around the sidewalk. Since it was nearly seven there was no one along this particular block, all the businesses were closed. “We can talk here. There’s not that much you don’t already know. We’ve re-interviewed the victim’s employees.”
He held up a hand. “I’m sorry. Can we not call her the victim? I’d prefer to use her name. It’s more personal and we need to keep this close to our hearts.”
“Of course. Habit.” She resisted the urge to sigh. “We’ve also spoken to a number of Sylvia’s friends and, certainly, her family. We’re still waiting on the lab to give us the results of the evidence collected at the scene. Nothing useful on the hotline yet. And that’s pretty much it.” She had no intention of bringing up all that money that was currently at the lab for fingerprint processing. McCabe may or may not have told him, that was the chief’s call. She couldn’t see any reason the mayor needed to know just now.
Jessup nodded. “Well, it certainly sounds like you’re covering all the bases. Hopefully you’ll have more soon. We should have another press conference on Monday. I’ll arrange it for the same time, around five.”
No pressure. Laney felt confident McCabe would be thrilled to hear this news. “I’ll let the chief know.”
“Good night, Deputy Holt.”
“Night, sir.”
Laney loaded up and drove straight home. She thought about calling McCabe and telling him about the press conference but decided to wait until morning. Why ruin his night, too?
To her surprise, his Bronco was parked in her driveway. Laney parked next to him and climbed out. She checked her cell to make sure he hadn’t called. No missed calls.
“I didn’t call,” he announced.
She walked around the front of her car and looked up, saw him sitting at the top of the steps on her front porch. “Well, hello to you, too.”
Hitting the lock button on her fob, she climbed the steps and sat down beside him. He held a pint of Wild Turkey, it was somewhere in the vicinity of half empty. She’d only seen him drink that stuff one other time. This was not a good sign.
“Did you open that before or after you got behind the wheel?”
“After I parked myself right here on your porch,” he said, his tongue a little thick.
“I see.”
“I bought the Wild Turkey to split with you but I just kept waiting and waiting and you didn’t show so I started the party without you.”
“You know I hate Wild Turkey.” She reached for the bottle, took a swig. Made a face at the burn. So not palatable to a casual drinker like herself. She shuddered.
“I know. I figured there would be more for me this way.”
She laughed, couldn’t help herself. “Let’s go inside. You should eat.”
He swayed a bit when he stood. Laney resisted the urge to steady him. Instead, she moved to the door and unlocked it. He joined her, his gait a little off.
“You should eat, too.”
“I already ate.” Laney opened the door and flipped on a light. Pearl pranced toward her, tail twitching.
McCabe followed her inside and closed the door. “Oh, that’s what took you so long to get home.”
“Yep.”
Laney went to the refrigerator. Pearl shot one look at the chief and followed Laney. With a little digging, Laney found some cheese. She prepared a plate of crackers and cheese and a can of Vienna sausages she found in the pantry. They might have been in there from the previous owner but the expiration date was still in the future. She took the plate and a bottle of water to her boss where he’d crashed on the sofa.
“Eat all of this.” She placed the bottle on the table next to the sofa. “Drink the water.” She snagged the Wild Turkey and left it on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”
He gave her a crooked salute and set in on the cheese.
In her bedroom, she put her badge and weapon away. Toed off her shoes and peeled out of her jacket. She would change after she showered, but first she needed to find out what was going on with McCabe.
He was still plugging away at the goods on the plate when she returned. Pearl was now parked on the coffee table watching him. Wild Turkey in hand, Laney sat down beside him. She took another sip, closed the lid tight and parked the whiskey on the sofa between them.
“So, what’s going on?” she asked.
He finished off a sausage. Washed it down with water. “Vernon told me to get off his property.” He shrugged as she reached for a chunk of cheese. “There were a few other choice words, but those are irrelevant.”
Laney told him about what Dana had agreed to do and about Vinn’s slip in grades that came a few months after the Bradshaws dropped off of Sparkle’s client list. She also, reluctantly, told him about her conversation with the mayor. That was when he bypassed the water and returned to the Wild Turkey.
“Getting shitfaced is not going to help the situation,” she reminded him.
He set the mostly empty plate aside and downed another swallow of whiskey. “Maybe not, but at least I won’t care.”
Laney reached for the bottle, despite the voice warning her she would be sorry, and knocked back another slug. The chief was fully aware of her buried demons—the ones that haunted her dreams every night. And one of these days she was going to know about his.
The man had demons and this murder had resurrected them the same way it had Laney’s.
Chapter Eleven
Saturday, October 6
Vinn should have told the police everything.
Rage burned inside him. But he was a coward. A damned coward.
He flopped over onto his back, stared at the ceiling fan. He could smell breakfast. His mother always made pancakes on Saturday mornings, but he didn’t want to get up. He just wanted to lie here and pretend nothing had changed. Pretend that his parents were still the same loving people they’d been before.
But nothing would ever be the same.
Sylvia was dead.
Vinn closed his eyes and fought the tears. He would not cry for her! He wouldn’t. She lied to him. Lied. Lied. Lied.
He was glad she was dead.
His eyes flew open and his fingers fisted in the sheets. No, no, no. That wasn’t true. He wasn’t glad. It shouldn’t have happened. He should have…
What could he have done differently?
Begged her to stop? Begged her not to ruin his life?
She would have laughed and told him to grow up the same way she did when he yelled at her in that stupid parking lot. Someone had seen them and told the police. Now he was a suspect or something.
He hadn’t wanted anyone to know. His lips trembled as more damned tears slid from his eyes. He really didn’t. It was private. No one was supposed to ever, ever know. But now they would.
The whole world would know before this was over.
There had never been a murder in Shutter Lake. That cop—that woman, Laney Holt—was a big time detective in Los Angeles. She wasn’t a drunk like the chief. She would know how to figure everything out.
She would find the truth and then it would be the end of everything.
He had to do something. He couldn�
��t let that happen.
But what?
One person was already dead.
His lips quivered. Sylvia was dead.
Was he going to kill someone else to try and stop the inevitable?
He couldn’t do that.
Fear gnawed at him. He was a coward. If he hadn’t been a coward—if he hadn’t been so blind and selfish—none of this would have happened and Sylvia would still be alive.
He had believed her when she told him not to worry that everything would be okay. He shouldn’t have believed her.
He should have killed the person who started all this.
That’s what he should have done.
But he couldn’t do that to his mother. She had been hurt enough.
~
Six months ago…
She laughed and laughed and laughed.
Vinn had sat crossed legged on her living room floor and watched. He loved the way Sylvia laughed. She was so beautiful. How could any girl—woman, he reminded himself—be so beautiful? He loved his mother and thought she was beautiful, but it was different with Sylvia. His feelings for her were way different.
He smiled as she wiped her eyes. He liked that he made her laugh even when they were supposed to be working.
“Okay,” she said, finally catching her breath. “We have to finish this. It’s due tomorrow, right?”
He nodded. “I turned in the report today but I need the charts for my presentation tomorrow.”
“One more and we’ve got it.”
His presentation was about entrepreneurship. Sylvia had designed and launched her own business at eighteen—just a year older than he was right now. By the time she was twenty-one she had added six employees and moved into an office downtown. She was the perfect example, in his opinion, of a successful entrepreneur.
“There you go!” She stared at the words she’d written on the page. NEVER GIVE UP! “That gives you six charts.” She looked at him, her eyes glittering with happiness. She was the happiest person he knew.
He nodded. “That’s enough.”
Pounding on her front door made her jump. She made a face. “I guess I should see who that is before they beat the door down.”
Vinn watched her get up and tiptoe to the door. She was so beautiful. His whole body burned to touch her, but he couldn’t do that. They were friends. He couldn’t risk ruining their friendship by making a stupid pass. But man he wanted to. He wanted to touch her all over.
She turned back to him after checking the peephole and hurried back over to where he sat, her bare feet soundless on the floor. She whispered, “It’s your mom. Will she be mad you’re here?”
He made a face. “Definitely.”
“Hide in my bedroom,” she whispered. “I’m sure whatever she needs it’ll only take a moment.”
Vinn grabbed the charts they had made and rushed into her bedroom. He would turn them into a PowerPoint presentation when he got home and then he was done.
He pushed the door almost completely closed but left a crack so he could listen to whatever his mother had to say. It wasn’t because he was afraid his mother would get the wrong idea about him being at Sylvia’s. She had no idea about his feelings for Sylvia. He just didn’t want his mom to know he was doing his presentation on Sylvia instead of on his dad.
He couldn’t hear everything they were saying but his mom sounded upset. Vinn tried to focus but he couldn’t help looking back at Sylvia’s bed. Unable to stop himself, he sneaked over and leaned down to sniff her pillow. Smelled just like her. Man, he wanted to pick it up and hug it. He bit his lip and looked around at her private space. He’d never been in her room. Her closet door was standing open, but he’d better not go in there. He was already hard just from talking to her and being in the same room with her. He couldn’t help himself, he knelt down and sniffed her sheets. God, they smelled so good. He laid his cheek there and imagined staring into her eyes as they lay facing each other in bed.
His mother and Sylvia sounded deep in conversation so he unzipped his jeans and reached inside with one hand. He couldn’t help himself. He was about to bust. He closed his eyes and thought of pushing into Sylvia, of hearing her call his name. He’d barely touched himself when he came. His eyes jerked open and he shoved himself back into his jeans. Embarrassed he tried to make sure he didn’t have any on the front of his jeans. His hand was sticky with it. What was he going to do? He couldn’t risk going into the bathroom and turning on the water. He reached under the edge of the bed and swiped his hand on the rug. Sylvia wouldn’t notice it there. Maybe it would fade away before she ever cleaned under her bed.
He was such a loser!
Feeling like an idiot, he eased to his feet and backed away from the bed. Stupid. Stupid.
The voices in the other room got even louder and he sneaked back to the door. What the hell were they arguing about? He opened the door a little wider and listened.
“Don’t you ever come back to my house!”
Vinn frowned at his mother’s mean voice. She was never mean like that.
“Mrs. Bradshaw—”
“Never, I said,” his mother snarled, cutting Sylvia off.
Why would his mom be mad at Sylvia? He didn’t like that she was being so mean.
“You stay away from my family or you’ll be sorry, do you hear me?”
“This is way out of control,” Sylvia said, still pretty calm. “You should leave now, Mrs. Bradshaw.”
“I’m telling you and you’d better listen,” his mom screamed. “If you go near my family again, I will make you wish you hadn’t.”
~
That was the day Vinn should have done something, but he hadn’t. He had allowed Sylvia to convince him that his mom was just overreacting and that everything would be fine. Once his mom was gone, Sylvia had come to him and promised him that it was nothing. She had hugged him so hard. He’d felt her breasts pressed against him and he’d melted. He’d believed everything she said.
But she’d lied.
She’d lied and now she was dead.
He should have killed her that day instead of waiting.
And now there was no way to change what was done.
Chapter Twelve
You killed me.
Laney turned away from the boy lying face down on the ground. She couldn’t bear to look. Couldn’t bear to face what she knew she would see when she turned him over. Blood oozed from beneath his body, soaking into the gray sweatshirt.
His blue jeans were ragged and hanging below his waist…one leg was twisted at an odd angle.
He was dead.
In the dream she reached toward him, cupped her right hand over his shoulder and turned him onto his back. His mouth was open, his face frozen in a mask of surprise but it was his eyes that crushed her. His dead eyes stared into hers. The eyes of a twelve-year-old boy.
You killed me.
Laney bolted upright. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get air past the constriction in her throat.
A dream. Just a dream.
She struggled to catch her breath. Closed her eyes and waited for her heart to slow its frantic pounding. Pearl raised her head, stared at her in question. Laney reached out and patted her.
Another deep breath, then another. Finally, Laney pushed back the covers and shoved her hair out of her eyes. It had been more than a year since she’d suffered with those nightmares. She went to the bathroom and washed her face. A million years could pass and the fact would never change. She had shot and killed that kid. No matter that he had shot her partner and that he was readying to take a shot at her, she would never be able to forgive herself.
“Suck it up.” She couldn’t drag through life feeling sorry for herself.
She brushed her teeth, rounded up a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater since it was Saturday. The top item on her agenda today was re-interviewing the Bradshaws. McCabe had said that Vernon Bradshaw refused to talk, practically kicked him off his property.
One shoe on a
nd one off, Laney hesitated. Damn. McCabe was on her sofa. He’d been far too drunk to drive home last night. To tell the truth she had likely been beyond the legal limit as well so she’d insisted he sleep on her sofa.
Damn, damn, damn.
After tugging on the other shoe, she ran a brush through her hair and braced to face the music. McCabe was never a happy camper before ten in the morning. That she’d ordered him around last night would no doubt make his attitude all the more foul.
Well, he shouldn’t have shown up at her door if he wasn’t prepared for the consequences.
In the two years they had worked together this was the first time she’d had to take care of him twice in one week—less than a week actually. She wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure of this investigation. Cutting him some slack, it would be tougher for him. He’d known Sylvia her whole life and, the fact is, the Shutter Lake Police Department had never investigated a murder before.
This was just hard all the way around.
The instant she opened her bedroom door the smell of coffee filled her lungs. So, he was up. No sign of him in the living room. She drifted into the kitchen and found him staring out the window over the sink, mug of coffee in hand.
“Good morning.”
He turned around. “It could be worse.”
A day’s beard growth mixed with the bloodshot eyes and the slightly wrinkled shirt almost made him appear vulnerable. That was one thing she’d never jotted under the mental list of impressions he’d made since hiring her.
“Coffee smells good.” She poured herself a cup. “You think there’s any chance we can change Mr. Bradshaw’s mind?” Laney wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to point a finger at Vinn Bradshaw but there was something going on that related to Sylvia and it was intense. If nothing else, they needed to rule the boy out so as not to waste time. Sylvia’s murder was more than forty-eight hours old. Every hour that passed at this point lessened the likelihood of finding her killer.
“I don’t think so. We can try arranging an interview with the attorney present but I’m thinking that’s going to get us nowhere.”
