by Debra Webb
She broke down. Mrs. Windermere passed her another handful of tissues. Laney gave her a moment to compose herself once more.
“Kristina, I need you to think carefully and tell me which end of Sylvia’s house you saw this man run from. Was it the end going back toward your house or the other one?”
She dabbed at her eyes, seemed to mull over the question. Eventually, she said, “The one on this end.”
Bingo. Sylvia’s bedroom was on this end of her house. The window and the scuffmarks would explain why the fleeing man had come from that end of the house.
“Think back, Kristina,” McCabe said, “before you saw this man, did you hear any voices? Maybe someone shouting? Or a slamming door? Any sound at all?”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “No. It was so quiet. That’s why he startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come rushing from the direction of her house.”
“Were there any lights on in her house?” Laney asked.
Kristina frowned. “Yes, in the window by the front door. I guess the living room.”
The light from that window would never have reached the yard much less the street. There were no streetlights that far out of town. Laney had reviewed the weather from that night, the cloud cover had almost hidden the moon. No wonder the girl hadn’t gotten a look at the guy.
“Is there any possibility that he saw you?” McCabe asked.
She shook her head again. “I was on the other side of the road. With all the trees I don’t think he could see me. I wouldn’t have seen him except he was running so his shoes were making that sound on the pavement. I heard him first. Then I saw him streak past.”
“Kristina,” Laney said, “I know this is extremely difficult, but I need you to think very carefully before you answer this question.”
She nodded.
“Was the person you saw running from Sylvia’s house Vinn?”
Her head shook almost frantically. “No. No. It wasn’t Vinn.”
“How can you be so certain?” Laney pressed. “You said it was dark. You couldn’t see him well enough to identify him.”
She didn’t answer for a moment but her eyes were wide with worry or fear.
“Kristina,” Mr. Windermere said, “you don’t need to be afraid. Whatever your answer, we’ll be okay. We’ve already discussed that you shouldn’t have been away from the house at such a late hour, particularly so far away. But we’re not going to punish you for telling the truth. We’ll only hope you won’t do this again.”
She nodded, more tears slipping down her cheeks. “I walked to the other end of Olive Tree Lane to meet up with Vinn. We talked and…” She glanced at Mrs. Windermere. “We kissed. But that’s all. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
The older woman patted her knee. “We have complete faith in you, Kristina. We don’t believe you would do anything wrong. Kissing a boy you like isn’t wrong.”
“You can’t tell his parents,” she cried. “His parents are too hard on him. They wouldn’t understand.”
“Kristina,” Laney said, drawing her attention, “did Vinn tell you why he was so upset with Sylvia?”
She shook her head. “He wouldn’t talk about it. He has been so upset since the murder but he won’t talk to me at all.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around when he’s had time to recover from the shock,” Mrs. Windermere offered.
“Kristina, where did this man who ran from Sylvia’s house go? Did he disappear into the woods or did he go back the way you had come? Toward town?” From Sylvia’s house, it was about four miles back into town. Unless the man left a vehicle somewhere, he had a hell of a walk.
Or run. Laney ran five or so miles most nights. Maybe this guy did, too.
The frown that marred the girl’s face told Laney she hadn’t considered that question until now.
“I don’t know. He just kept running. I never heard a car or anything like that. Just the sound of his shoes on the road.” She stilled, then nodded. “He ran and ran and ran.”
“One more question, Kristina,” McCabe said. “Did you see a car or truck, maybe an SUV in Sylvia’s driveway?”
The driveway was visible from the street. Laney mentally crossed her fingers.
“Only her white car. That was when I first saw him, when he ran past her white car. I froze. Afraid to run or to say anything.”
The man probably didn’t see her. And if it wasn’t Vinn—if her alibi for him could be trusted—there was only one other person it could be, in Laney’s opinion.
Nolan Ikard.
“Thank you, Kristina,” Laney said, “for telling us about what you saw. Sylvia’s parents are devastated by what happened to their daughter. They want her killer found as quickly as possible and coming forward with what you saw may very well help us make that happen.”
The girl nodded though she didn’t appear particularly happy. She was worried about Vinn.
“If you think of anything else,” Laney added, “please call us.” She handed her card to Kristina.
She nodded again.
McCabe stood. “We really appreciate your help,” he said to the Windermeres.
Mr. Windermere walked them to the door. “We’ll try and keep the communication open. If she remembers anything else we’ll let you know.”
McCabe shook his hand. Laney did the same.
Loading into her vehicle, she went straight to the point. “We need Ikard’s DNA. My money is on him.”
McCabe fastened his seatbelt. “I think you’re right. Let’s pick him up.”
As Laney pulled away from the Windermere home, McCabe’s cell vibrated.
“McCabe.”
She maneuvered her vehicle along Olive Tree Lane, slowing as they passed Sylvia’s house. Why would Ikard murder Sylvia? Jealousy? He seemed too damned laid back to work up enough energy to murder her over another man.
Did he have a secret she had learned? Maybe he killed her to keep his secret.
McCabe ended the call and put his phone away. “Nolan Ikard will have to wait. That was dispatch. Vinn Bradshaw is at City Hall. He says ne needs to talk to us.”
So maybe the big break they had been waiting for was about to happen.
~
Laney paused at the front entrance of City Hall. Beyond the glass she spotted Vinn Bradshaw seated all alone on a bench in the lobby. When he spotted the boy, McCabe groaned. “You know we’ll have to call his parents before we can talk to him.”
Laney turned to her boss, “You call his parents. I’ll go keep him company while we wait.”
“Don’t question him,” McCabe warned as he reached for his cell.
She held up her hands. “Got it.”
Laney entered the building. The whoosh of the door closing behind her drew Vinn’s attention in her direction. He shot to his feet.
She gestured for him to sit back down. “No need to get up, Vinn. Let’s sit for a while.”
“I need to tell you something, Deputy Holt.”
Damn but she wanted to hear it. “We have to wait and do this all official and everything.” She had a feeling if she told the kid they needed to wait for his parents he would balk. Clearly he was on a rebellious path. Meeting his girlfriend in the middle of the night. Talking back to his father in front of the cops and his principal. Whatever was going on with Vinn, he wasn’t behaving like the good kid everyone thought him to be.
At the moment he looked nervous. One leg wouldn’t be still, the knee bouncing. His hands were clutched in his lap, fingers twisting. He was scared.
In spite of herself, Laney had to say something. “That was a great report you did on Sylvia Cole’s business. Ms. Perkins showed it to me.”
His knee stopped bouncing and he stared at Laney. “Why did she show you the report?”
“She wanted me to know you and Sylvia were really good friends.”
He looked away. “Ms. Perkins is wrong.”
“A person can still be your friend even when they disappoint you or make yo
u angry.” Laney was pushing the envelope here. She needed to shut up and wait like the chief told her.
A shrug lifted one skinny shoulder. “Whatever.”
Thankfully, McCabe arrived and prevented Laney from pushing the boundaries any farther.
Vinn shot to his feet again. “I have something to tell you, Chief.”
He held up his hands to stop the kid before he could go on. “We have to do this by the book, Vinn. Deputy Holt will get you set up in the interview room and then we’ll hear what you have to say, understand?”
He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
The anticipation was killing Laney, but she did as McCabe said. She escorted Vinn to the conference room that also served as an interview room when the need arose.
“I’ll get you a bottle of water,” she offered, seizing the opportunity to snag his DNA.
He muttered an okay and she went to the break room and grabbed a bottle for him and for herself. If he saw her drinking he was far more likely to follow her example.
She returned to the interview room, placed his bottle in front of him and sat down. She opened her own bottle and took a long swig. She had to take another couple of sips before Vinn followed suit.
Good boy.
By the time McCabe appeared, Laney was getting antsy. The Bradshaws and their attorney followed the chief into the room.
Vinn stood and pointed at his parents. “I’m not talking with them in here.”
The parents and the attorney started talking at once. Urging the boy to keep quiet. To discuss with the attorney what he had to say before he told the police.
Vinn refused. He turned to McCabe. “I want them out of here.”
Laney was more than happy to let the chief handle this hornet’s nest.
“Vinn, I’m afraid due to your age, we can’t listen to anything you say without either one of your parents present or your attorney.”
“The attorney, then.” He glared at his father. “I want you out of here.” He looked to his mother then. “You, too, Mom.”
A few minutes of discussion was required but the attorney finally convinced the parents to leave the room. Laney’s nerves were jumping by the time she, the chief and the attorney settled around the table.
McCabe placed a small audio recorder on the table. “We’ll be recording your statement, Vinn.”
“Good.” He nodded. “I want you to.”
Laney’s instincts were roaring. As much as she wanted to hear what the kid had to say, something was off. Way off.
McCabe stated the date and time along with the names of those present for the recording. Then he looked to Laney to take it from there.
“Vinn, you came to City Hall and stated you wanted to talk to the chief and to me. Before you say anything, I need to advise you of your rights.”
While the attorney looked on and made the occasional note, Laney recited the Miranda Warning.
“Do you understand your rights as I have explained them, Vinn?”
He nodded.
“I need you to answer aloud, please.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I understand my rights. Now can I talk?”
“By all means,” Laney said, giving him the floor.
“You can close your investigation into Sylvia Cole’s murder,” he announced.
In the chair next to her, Laney felt McCabe tense.
“Why do you believe we can close our investigation, Vinn?” he asked.
He extended his arms across the table, turned up his wrists. “Because I’m here to confess.” He looked straight at Laney as he spoke. “I killed Sylvia. She made me angry. I lost control, and I killed her.”
~
Read on for a sneak peek at what happens next in Shutter Lake! And please help an author by leaving a review!
SNEAK PEEK: So Many Secrets
Enjoy this Sneak Peek of the next BREAKDOWN book, so many secrets, by Vicki Hinze
©2018
Chapter One
Monday, October 8
Five days.
Impossible to believe but that’s all it had taken for the idyllic vision of Shutter Lake, California, lauded by Country Living as the most perfect town in all of America, to prove perfection is a façade and all the safety and security sought and found in it had been an illusion.
One murder. Illusion shattered.
One murder, and so many secrets…
A shiver crept up Dr. Dana Perkins’s backbone. She stiffened against it, determined to reclaim her sense of security here. At the deli counter inside Stacked, a block off downtown’s main square, she ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with a side salad and a bottle of Evian berry-flavored water, then glanced over to the cluster of two-dozen tables. About half-full. A lot of people were having a late lunch today.
Dana took a table surrounded by empties then settled in and reached for a sheaf of papers from her tote. She had been through the school records at least a dozen times, but maybe in the sandwich shop, she would be more objective, gain some new insight, and see something she had missed.
Oh, but she needed to be certain she hadn’t missed anything. After Phoenix, to retain her sanity she had to be absolutely certain she hadn’t missed any warning sign.
There had to be a reason this year’s best and brightest student had confessed to murder. Some logical, rational reason that Vinn Bradshaw, gifted future nanotechnologist, studious, popular basketball player, who exhibited nothing short of fantastic leadership skills, confessed. Vinn could not have killed anyone much less a prominent Shutter Lake founder’s daughter like Sylvia Cole.
Nolan Ikard, about thirty, tall and lean with sandy blond hair and a handsome man’s confident swagger, paused at her table. Nolan owned The Grind, a coffee shop sharing a common wall with Stacked that Dana frequented every morning on her walk from home to the school.
“How’s our favorite principal?” Nolan asked. “Things settling down any at S.L.S.?”
Many students, current and former, referred to Shutter Lake School as S.L.S. “Getting better,” she said because it was expected and not because it was true. “The students are still rattled, but then aren’t we all?”
He nodded and avoided her eyes, his own gold-flecked ones clouded and troubled. “Guess the kids won’t settle down until their parents do. Maybe we will all get back to normal soon.”
“Maybe we will.” Dana smiled.
He walked on to his favorite table beside hers and next to the front window. How many times in the last year had she seen him staring out that window as if he had lost his last friend? She’d been tempted often to ask if he was okay, or to offer to listen if he needed to talk, but something had held her back. She couldn’t say what, but she always followed her instinctive urges on things like that. In his case, she hoped she didn’t live to regret it.
A waitress Dana didn’t recognize delivered her order. She must be from Grass Valley. She hadn’t been one of Dana’s students.
That was a perk of being principal of a school with three-hundred students. You knew them, and they knew you. The other items on the waitress’s tray were Nolan’s. Cuban sandwich and a side of slaw. A hint of citrus, garlic and a splash of white wine gave the mustard on his sandwich a distinct scent that set her mouth to watering. It smelled spicy and tart, interesting. It smelled great.
When the waitress placed his food on the small square table in front of him, Nolan barely glanced at her. That piqued Dana’s curiosity and fired a red-flag warning too bold to ignore. Nolan Ikard not flirting with an eligible woman? Normally, he’d flirt with a lamppost. Oh, not offensive flirting, just friendly flirting. It was as natural to him as breathing. But not today.
Apparently his perfect façade of Shutter Lake also had shattered—and Dana certainly shouldn’t make too much of it. Everyone in the community seemed disturbed and wary and disillusioned these days.
Shifting her thoughts to her work, she studied the details in Vinn’s files and nibbled at her food, wishing she’d dared to o
rder Nolan’s hot and spicy Cuban. Stacked made the best sandwiches and slaw in the tri-county area, but with Dana’s stomach acting up since Vinn’s confession, she didn’t dare to risk eating anything not mild.
About a third of the way through the teachers’ observation notes, she spotted Kristina Sharapova’s name. Her image sprang to mind: long dark hair and eyes, pale skin and a mischievous smile that was nothing short of infectious because it was so rare. Kristina bent toward being serious, which was normal for a teenage Russian exchange student. They competed so fiercely for the chance to come to Shutter Lake to study.
Thanks to the wealthy and childless benefactors, the Windermeres, there were always foreign exchange students at Shutter Lake School. Attending there was an amazing opportunity for all the students really. A group of the most gifted professionals in the world in science, medicine, and industry designed and created the nearly self-sustaining community and they often shared their vast pool of knowledge and expertise with the students.
Dana was proud of the program she and Mayor Thomas Jessup had created. In two short years, its success rate at preparing knowledgeable, socially mature and motivated graduates had surpassed expectations and her wildest dreams.
On Kristina’s first day with them, she had been like a fish out of water. Who wouldn’t be? Strange school, no familiar friends or faces. Living in a strange country and speaking a foreign language. But Vinn Bradshaw had picked up on her uneasiness. Without prompting, he’d taken her under his wing and helped her fit in. They were, according to the file observation note, good friends.
Dana too had been wrong about that. She reached into her tote for a pen, accidentally pulled out a large Ziploc bag, and smiled to herself. Every teacher she’d ever known carried a waterproof bag in her handbag or tote. Old habits die hard. Stuffing the frosted bag back in, she snagged the pen and then scribbled a new note on a page she had labeled “Things to tell Laney.”
Laney Holt was the Deputy Chief of Police and lead investigator on Sylvia Cole’s murder case. A beautiful young blond who favored long hair and ponytails over short red hair like Dana’s and, guessing, a year or two younger than Dana’s thirty-four. Not just friends. She added the note to the list.
