Reasonable Doubt

by Tracey V. Bateman

  They both turned to the sound of Mac’s voice.

  “Sorry for waking you, Dad.” Keri walked to the rack and grabbed her coat. “Justin took off for Kansas City and I’m going after him.”

  Sitting up in the dark, Mac switched on the lamp next to the couch. “Leave him be to do what he has to do, Keri.”

  “I’m not going after him to force him back,” she said, exasperation thick in her voice. “I might be able to help. I imagine he’s going to search his house. I plan to go straight to the mission and nose around. If I find anything I’ll call his cell phone.”

  He nodded. “All right, then. Be looking for my truck. That’s what he’s driving.”

  “Dad! You knew he was going and didn’t say anything?”

  Looking rather pleased with himself, Mac grinned. “That’s right. Justin tiptoed in here around midnight. He planned to drive his own car in all this mess. I told him he wouldn’t get to the highway in that car of his and tossed him the keys to my truck. That four-wheel drive will go anywhere.”

  Keri glanced at her glowing watch. “So he’s been on the road almost five hours. As slowly as he’ll be driving, he’s probably either not there yet, or just getting there.”

  Raven nodded. “It took me four and a half hours yesterday and that was with most of the main roads in fair shape. With the snow ending around seven last night, the road crews should have been out clearing and laying down salt. The little highway will be the most dangerous, Kere Bear. So take it easy.”

  An uncharacteristic surge of affection shot through Keri for her sister. She grabbed Raven and pulled her close for a snug embrace.

  Raven returned the hug, then pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Justin’s worth this,” she whispered. “And so are those precious boys. You’re doing the right thing.”

  Keri pulled away and looked from her dad to her sister. “Pray.”

  Though dawn was beginning to glimmer through the ice-laden branches lining Justin’s street, there was just enough of the grayness left to cloak him while he unlocked the back door and entered his home. First he checked all the curtains and blinds to be sure no one could see inside and catch him moving around. Then he stood in the center of the living room for a moment, savoring the sights and smells of his home. Amazing how despite the circumstances, he felt a sense of comfort just in coming home.

  What would it have been like if he’d have come home after work and Keri had been the one to greet him every day? He climbed the stairs, swept away in a dream of redheaded babies and growing old with his childhood sweetheart.

  Reality bit him hard when he reached the landing and found the door to Amelia’s room wide open. The intruder had definitely been the killer, or at least in some way involved in Amelia’s death.

  Justin had made a point of closing the door and leaving it that way after the last time the police had been in here. He’d finally been given permission to replace the frame that had shattered when he kicked the door open that day. The police had taken plenty of photos.

  After Amelia’s death, he’d had every intention of selling the house and moving to another neighborhood in the boys’ school district. Someplace they wouldn’t have to remember their mother’s drunken staggering. Where they could walk past the living room and not imagine their mother’s dead body. But once he’d become chief suspect, Bob had warned him against the idea. Could look bad for the grieving widower to sell the house so soon after his wife’s death.

  The police knew the truth about the marriage, but a prosecutor might put an ugly spin on the situation and make the jury question the selling of the house.

  The first thing he planned to do upon clearing his name was put the house on the market.

  Gathering a long, slow breath, he stepped through the door to Amelia’s room. As much as he hated walking inside, he knew his answers most likely lay within those four walls. He glanced around at the Santa Fe decor. The one thing Amelia hadn’t lacked was an eye for design, and she enjoyed the Southwestern, native-American look. Navajo Indian pottery was all over the place, from the three-foot-high vase in the corner filled with dried plants, weeds as far as Justin was concerned, to the matching lamp on the nightstand.

  Justin took another look at the vase. Probably too obvious a place to hide anything and he wouldn’t be the only person who’d thought to look. He shrugged and headed for the corner, anyway. It couldn’t hurt to check it out just in case.

  “Oh, no you don’t!”

  Startled, Justin spun around just as his head exploded with pain.

  Once Keri left the secluded highway leading to the cabin, the roads looked much better and she was able to accelerate, almost matching the speed limit. She reached the city by nine and took the first promising exit with a gas station that didn’t look too run-down from the interstate. The phone book was missing from the pay phone, so she went inside, wishing for all she was worth that she hadn’t insisted on no cell phones on what was supposed to have been their vacation.

  She grabbed a bottle of water and a donut, then went to the counter.

  “Do you have a phone book handy?” She asked giving the middle-aged, ponytailed man behind the counter her nicest grin. He grunted and reached under the counter. Defenses on full alert, Keri watched his tattooed hand pull out a four-inch-thick book. He dropped it on the counter. “Two-fifty.”

  “To use the phone book?”

  He gave her a lopsided grin, making him appear less gruff. “The water and donut.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Keri pulled three dollar bills from her pocket and handed them to him. “Long night.”

  “You in town for Thanksgiving?”

  “Something like that,” Keri mumbled as she perused the residential pages. Panic began to flood through her. Justin’s name wasn’t there. “Is this a current book?”

  “Yep.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she closed the book. Then an idea glimmered and she opened to the Yellow Pages.

  “I’m pretty familiar with the city. Maybe I can help.”

  “Thanks, I found it.” She memorized the number, smiled back at the man and headed back outside.

  She gripped the receiver with two fingers and grimaced at the thought of how many germs were most likely lurking on the thing. She got through on the first ring. A man’s voice answered. “Victory Mission, Happy Thanksgiving. Rick speaking.”

  “Yes, hello. This is Keri Mahoney.”

  She rolled her eyes. This is Keri Mahoney? Like that was going to make an impression on him.

  “I’m sorry, who?”

  “Uh—actually, I’m a friend of Justin Kramer’s. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to the mission.”

  “I’m sorry, but Justin isn’t here today.” His voice sounded wary.

  “Yes, I know. I’m—look I’d rather not go into this over the phone. Will you please give me directions?” She told him which exit she’d taken. “I need to get over there.”

  “Any cabbie in the city knows where the mission is located,” he said.

  “A cab?” Keri wasn’t sure she liked this Rick guy, even if he was Justin’s best friend. “Look, I am driving my own vehicle. I need directions, not advice about cabs.”

  “I know you say you’re a friend of Justin’s, and I’m sure you are, but I’ve got several hundred guests lining up to eat turkeys that aren’t even finished cooking yet. I’m short on volunteers and my help is desperately needed. You have the address. There is no point in my giving you directions because there’s no place to park anywhere near the place. And if you did park you wouldn’t have a car when you went out to find it. I hope you’ll take that cab and come down, we could use the help today.”

  Keri stared at the silent receiver, then hung it up. Now what? With a huff, she stomped back into the store. The biker-type clerk gave her another grin and pulled the phone book out. “Need this again?”

  “Can I leave my Jeep here for a few hours while I go to the Victory Mission? I was just informed there’s
no place to park.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “What do you want to go down there for, anyway?”

  Tempted to tell him that was none of his business, Keri studied him for a second and changed her mind. He didn’t look like the kind of guy you’d want to anger. “They’re shorthanded on volunteers to help serve Thanksgiving dinner. I thought I’d go down and pitch in.”

  Apparently, that was the right thing to say, because the tall, ponytailed biker boy smiled, his eyes kind. “Let me call a cab for you. I’ll make sure no one messes with your Jeep.”

  Keri wasn’t sure whether to trust him or not. While her head and all of her training screamed at her not to be stupid, her best instincts told her he was on the level. And what other choice did she really have?

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it. What time do you get off work? I don’t want to take a chance the guy coming into work after you might not be so generous.”

  Picking up the phone, he dialed a number from memory. “Today’s your lucky day, then. I’m working a double shift.”

  “On Thanksgiving?”

  “Yep.”

  “But you’ll miss out on your family dinner.”

  He nodded. “So will you.” Then he raised his hand, cutting off her reply. “Hi, Tina? Yeah, it’s Mike. Look, I need a cab over here to go down to the Victory Mission. How soon can you send someone over? Uh—no. Don’t send Ken. I think the lady would be more comfortable with Rob. Do you mind?”

  Keri watched him in fascination. Despite his outward appearance, this Mike guy seemed as nice as they came. He hung up the phone and nodded. “Rob’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks. I’ll just go lock up the Jeep.”

  Keri used the extra time to place a calling-card call to her dad’s cell phone.

  “Hi, Ruth,” she said when the woman’s soft drawl answered.

  “Where are you, Keri, honey?”

  “I made it to Kansas City and I’m about to head over to the mission. I’m waiting for my cab.”

  “Cab? Did your Jeep break down?”

  “No. I—”

  “Hold on, Keri. Your dad wants to speak to you.”

  “What’s this about your Jeep breaking down? What’s it doing? Do I need to come and get you?”

  “Dad, no. Everything’s fine. It’s just that there is no place to safely park close to the mission, so I’m parking here and taking a cab.”

  “Parking where? What do you mean? Didn’t you find Justin?”

  Thankfully, Keri saw a yellow cab pull into the parking lot. As it honked, she said, “Sorry, Dad. I have to go. I’ll call you a little later. Don’t worry!”

  Hurrying over to the cab, Keri waved to Mike through the glass door. He returned the wave and smiled.

  “Hi,” she said as she slipped into the back seat. “Can you take me to the Victory Mission?”

  “Sure can.” He moved to the edge of the parking lot, then gunned the accelerator, screeching into the thickening traffic. “Is that how you know Mike?”

  “I don’t know him. He just offered to keep an eye on my car today.”

  The cabbie nodded, but didn’t say any more.

  Keri sucked in her breath as the cabbie sailed through a light turning from yellow to red.

  “Why’d you think I’d met him at the Mission?”

  “Mike used to stay there a lot back in his drinking days. Before he found the Lord.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. Got drunk one time and ran his car head-on into a concrete underpass wall. Killed his wife and baby daughter instantly. Poor guy walked away with barely a scratch.”

  “Well, wasn’t he the lucky one?”

  “Believe me, he paid for it. They gave him a few years in jail, and when he got out, he just couldn’t live with himself. Took to drinking again and ended up on the streets. Hit all the missions and shelters. But Victory Mission is where he got straightened out.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s good.” Feeling ill, Keri stared out the window, watching as the buildings grew less and less cared for, the streets dirtier the deeper they drove into the city. Finally, they pulled up in front of a doorway with a painting above it of a large dove carrying a branch and the words, Victory Mission. Ask Us About New Beginnings.

  “I’d walk you in,” he said. “But my cab wouldn’t be here when I came out.”

  Fishing for the fare, Keri waved away his apology. “I’m a cop. I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s a pretty rough-looking mob out there.”

  Keri followed his gaze and swallowed hard. “Yeah.” They were lined along the building and crowded on the sidewalk all the way to the street. Men, women and children in tattered clothing, trying to push their way into the mission. Would she even be able to get in?

  “Tell you what. I’ll stay here until you get inside. Will that help?”

  “Maybe.” She took out an extra five and added it to the cash still in her hand. When she extended it, he shook his head. “This trip is on Mike.”

  “No way. Take it.”

  “Would you have accepted the trip from Mike before you found out what happened to his wife and baby?”

  The cold accusation in the cabbie’s voice chilled Keri to her bones. Would she have?

  “If you can’t accept his way of saying thanks for giving your time to help out down here today, then just donate the money once you get inside. But I’m not taking it.”

  “Let me ask you something,” Keri said, on the defensive now. “If Mike is so generous, why isn’t he down here serving food himself?”

  “First off, because the man he’s covering for at the gas station has a family, and Mike insisted on working all sixteen hours today so that his fellow employee wouldn’t miss out on Thanksgiving. Second, Mike has nowhere to go but home to an empty apartment.”

  “All right,” Keri muttered. “Mike’s a saint.” She tucked the money back into her pocket. “I’ll donate it.”

  “Do you care about the other reason Mike doesn’t come down here and volunteer?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Because he knows that even with the Lord, he is weak. He doesn’t feel strong enough to be down here with the men who once drank with him. He knows he could wind up right back in the gutter if he isn’t careful. So he sends donations, and prays and hopes for the day when he can be of service.”

  Tears pushed into Keri’s eyes. She blinked them away and swallowed hard. “Okay. I better go inside or I won’t be any help today, either. Thanks for the lift.”

  Keri hurried from the cab, not sure which she preferred, the gauntlet of catcalls, wolf whistles and lewd suggestions, or the conviction that had closed in on her as she sat listening to the cabbie telling her of a broken, but changed man.

  She got inside without being accosted, and a cafeteria-style room greeted her. Tables were spread with white paper tablecloths and every attempt had been made to make the “guests” comfortable, including horns-of-plenty centerpieces and real dishes, rather than paper plates and plastic cups.

  The line stretched the length of the crowded room. Keri made her way to the front. “Hey, get in line, sweet cheeks.”

  A rough hand grabbed her arm and spun Keri around. A woman’s icy, brown-eyed glare met her. She had to be fifty if she was a day and she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with sunflowers.

  “I’m sorry. I’m here to help, not eat.”

  The woman squinted, clearly accusing her of lying. “Never seen you here before.”

  A crowd was beginning to form around them.

  “Clean her clock, Auntie Em!”

  “Kick her to the back of the line.”

  Keri’s heart picked up speed. One Auntie Em she could definitely handle, but several members of the crowd were looking a little too eager to join the fight.

  “Now, look,” she said, fixing her steely gaze on the still-gathering crowd. “I didn’t come down here to cut in line. That doesn’t even make sense. I’m just here to—”
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  “All right. Break it up.” The crowd parted in response to a deep, loud voice. The voice of authority. Keri looked up. Way up. The man was at least six foot four and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Stern blue eyes censured her through wire-rimmed glasses. “What do you want?”

  “See, I told ya she wasn’t here to help out. Rick don’t even know her.”

  “Oh, so you’re Rick?” Relief nearly weakened her knees. “I’m Keri. Justin’s friend. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  “I’m afraid I still don’t have time to talk. You see this line? These people are waiting for a Thanksgiving meal.”

  “I know. You told me over the phone that you’re short on volunteers. Right?” Keri followed him back to the serving line. A half a dozen people worked feverishly, serving, adding food to the serving bins and scraping dishes and loading washers.

  “Yeah. Fine. We can use an extra pair of hands.” He tossed her an apron. “Put this on.”

  Keri slipped the apron over her head and wrapped and tied the strings. “Okay. What should I do?”

  Rick gestured over the entire kitchen area. “Whatsoever your hands find to do, do with all your heart as unto the Lord.”

  Keri grinned and took a look at the huge pile of dirty trays. “Gotcha.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Justin fought through smoky confusion and struggled to open his eyes. A dull ache began at the base of his head and radiated around to his brow. He moaned as light stabbed his eye sockets, giving a whole new meaning to the word pain. Squeezing his eyes tight, he sat up.

  “Oh, Justin. I’m so glad you’re awake. I was about to call an ambulance.”

  Turning to the sound of the woman’s voice, Justin opened his eyes slowly, ready to shut them again if the searing pain returned. But it was bearable.

  “Mrs. Angus? What are you doing here?” The fifty-something housekeeper sat next to him on the bed.

  “Let me see that bump,” she commanded. Justin leaned his neck way over to accommodate her.

  “What happened?” Justin asked, fully aware the woman hadn’t yet answered the first question.