Yuletide Jeopardy

by Sandra Robbins

  Her parents had gone to bed early in the adjoining bedroom after dinner, and she’d rattled around the suite trying to entertain herself while she waited for a call from Alex. She picked up her cell phone for the third time to call him. Before she could punch in his number, she shook her head and laid it back on the table. He’d call when he had any information for her.

  Thirty minutes later when he still hadn’t called, she gave up and got ready for bed. She’d just gotten her gown and robe on when the phone rang. Her excitement over Alex finally calling died when a number she didn’t recognize popped up on caller ID. She connected the call and raised the phone to her ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Good evening, Grace. Did you have a good visit with Sharon Warren today?”

  Her breath hitched in her throat, and she clutched the phone tighter. “H-how did you—”

  “Know you saw Sharon?” her anonymous caller finished for her. “I know everything you’ve done for days. You’d think two people trained as a news investigator and a police officer would realize when they were being followed. You and Alex Crowne are pathetic.”

  She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “What do you want?”

  “I want to tell you who killed Landon.”

  “And Sam, Dustin, Billy and Jeremy, too? You took care of the Wolf Pack, didn’t you?”

  A chuckle came over the phone, and a chill went up her spine. “So you think you know the whole story, but you haven’t arrived at the full truth yet. Do you want to know?”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Don’t be so eager, Grace. I’m not going to tell you over the phone, but I’m sure you’re suspicious of meeting me.”

  Grace gave a snort of disgust. “I’ve tried doing things your way. Once I was shot at, and the next time I was poisoned.”

  “There’ll be nothing like that this time. I’m leaving town in a few minutes, but I’ve left you something.”

  “What is it?”

  He sighed. “I’m tired, Grace. I’ve stalked the Wolf Pack for years, and I’m ready to finish my quest. In fact, I’m sitting on board a plane right now bound for Germany. I hope to meet up with Clay there. But don’t get any ideas. We are taxiing to the runway and will be in the air before you can alert the police to my plan.”

  Grace sucked in her breath. “You won’t get away with killing Clay. The police will notify the German police, and they’ll stop you.”

  He laughed. “Maybe they will, but I doubt it. All kinds of accidents can happen on a ski trail. Afterward, I plan to disappear, and you’ll never hear from me again. So I’ve left you something to remember me by.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve made a video of my confession. When you see it, you’ll know who I am and why I’ve done what I did.”

  “Where’s this video?”

  “It’s in an appropriate place. I’ve left it underneath the entrance to the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge.”

  “Why there?”

  He laughed again. “I thought since your interest in the Wolf Pack started on the bridge, it would be a good place for you to learn the truth. The video is easy to find. Leave your car at the E. H. Crump Park visitors’ area and walk up the grassy rise toward the entrance to the bridge. At the top of the rise, walk down the slope toward the river, and you’ll find the DVD in a box on the bank that runs underneath the bridge. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but how do I know I can trust you?”

  “I suppose you’ll have to decide. We’re in line for takeoff right now, and I’m going to have to stow my cell phone. By the time you get to the bridge I should be safely away from the city. Goodbye, Grace.”

  Before she could say another word, the call disconnected. She stared at the phone, undecided what she should do. Alex would know. She punched in his number and waited as the phone rang. When it went to voice mail, she blurted out her message. “I just had a call from the killer. He’s on a plane for Germany, and he’s left me a recording of his confession. I’m going to find the video, Alex. If you get this message, meet me at the E. H. Crump Park near the entrance to the bridge.”

  She disconnected the call, tossed her phone on the table and ran to the closet. Within minutes she was dressed and ready to leave. She debated whether or not to leave a message for her parents but decided against it. She would be back before they woke.

  Grabbing her purse, she hurried out the door and down to the parking garage where she’d left her mother’s van earlier. She unlocked the car, jumped in and turned the ignition. She glanced at the menu panel on the dash and frowned when the Bluetooth didn’t connect with her cell phone in her purse. With a groan she smacked the steering wheel with her hand. The phone wasn’t in her purse. It was still lying in her hotel room. Why had she run out of the suite without picking up her phone?

  Ignoring the urge to leave the phone behind, she leaned forward to turn off the ignition but froze when something round and cold touched the back of her neck. Only the barrel of a gun could feel like that. “Hello, Grace,” a soft voice purred from the backseat. “I’ve been waiting.”

  She closed her eyes and berated herself. How could she have been so gullible? The answer popped into her head. She’d let the story become so personal that she’d lost her objectivity. She’d been quick to believe a killer, and now it might cost her dearly. “I thought you were on a plane.”

  “I lied.”

  Grace’s heart thumped wildly, and she struggled to breathe. “Wh-what do you want?”

  “I thought I’d ride with you to the bridge.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap and tried not to move. “How did you get inside this car?”

  The sound of jingling keys echoed in her ear, and she cast a sideways glance at her mother’s extra set of keys. “I found these when I was at your house last night. I must say they came in quite handy.”

  She straightened in her seat and lifted her chin. “So what do you have planned next for me?”

  He gave a sharp gasp. “I want to tell you the truth. I thought we could all do it at the bridge. I’m sure you phoned Alex, and he’ll be along shortly. Just the three of us at the bridge where it all started, but only one of us will walk away tonight. After you two are out of the way, your father will be next, then I’ll get to Clay. That part wasn’t a lie. I think he’s about to have a skiing accident. As much as he drinks it won’t come as a surprise to anyone.”

  He laughed when he’d finished speaking, and the hatred in his voice made her skin prickle. “You’re despicable. Why would you want to kill my father?” She almost spat the words at him.

  “You’ll find out in good time, Grace. Now drive. We don’t want to keep Alex waiting.”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. Not until I know who you are.”

  “Then turn around and see.”

  She took a deep breath, looked over her shoulder and gasped at the familiar face smiling at her from the backseat.

  * * *

  Alex walked back into his office from his trip to the break room, opened the tab on the soft drink can he’d purchased and dropped down in his desk chair. He took a long drink and set the can aside before he turned his computer on and berated himself for not getting to the office earlier.

  Grace and her mother had returned exactly when they said they would, and he’d begged off staying for dinner so he could go to his office. The truth was, however, he wanted to put some space between himself and Grace. After the conversation with her father, he felt the need to ponder everything that had happened in the past week.

  So instead of going to his office, he’d driven home, fixed something to eat and paced through his apartment for hours trying to decide what he wanted. Now at his office with the clock inching toward midnight, he was no closer to an answer than he’d been earlier.

&nb
sp; He sighed, took one more sip from the soft drink and turned back to the computer. Looking through the records of several years for some unknown person might be a hopeless task, but he did have a few leads that might prove helpful.

  He pulled a legal pad out of his desk and wrote Randal Donner at the top of the page. Underneath he began to write the things he knew about his former principal. (1) Rides motorcycles (2) Father of a son (3) Gave son his motorcycle and bought himself a bigger one (4) Denied drug use in school (5) Denied knowledge of a secret society.

  Alex looked over the list, turned the page and started a new list under the heading Facts About The Killer. (1) Rides a motorcycle (2) Had a son who died of an overdose (3) Gave his son a motorcycle (4) Killed the boys who sold his son drugs.

  When he’d finished, he laid both lists side by side. The two lists appeared very much alike. However, he didn’t know if Mr. Donner’s son had died, but he knew who would. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Brad’s number.

  He answered after two rings. “Hello.”

  “Brad, it’s Alex. I’m at the office working on something, and I wanted to run a few things past you.”

  “Alex, do you know what time it is? It’s nearly midnight. What are you doing there so late?”

  “It’s this case about the kids at our high school. I feel like I’m so close, but there’s something I’m missing. I thought I’d bounce some things off you.”

  Brad sighed. “Man, you need to get a life. You can’t let work rule you. Take it from an old married man. You need a wife.”

  Alex snorted. “I’ll think about that. In the meantime, I wanted to ask you about Mr. Donner.”

  “Our high school principal?”

  “Yeah. What do you know about him?”

  “Hmm, well, he’s been at the school for years, and from what I hear, he’s done a good job.”

  “Did you know he’s in a motorcycle club?”

  “Yes. It’s a group of professional people who do charity rides for different organizations. They also do some mission work.”

  Alex’s eyebrows arched. “What kind of mission work?”

  “They go to motorcycle rallies and set up a tent where they speak to people about God’s love. They’ve become well-known across the southeast for their work at events.”

  “Very interesting. And what about Mr. Donner’s son?”

  “Which one?”

  “He has more than one?”

  “There are three. The oldest is a doctor in Nashville, the middle one is a teacher at the University of Tennessee and the youngest one is in college.”

  Alex’s phone beeped, and he pulled it away from his ear to stare at the screen. A message popped up that he had an incoming call from Grace. He’d return the call when he finished talking to Brad. He pulled the phone back to his ear.

  “So, did Mr. Donner have a son who died?”

  Brad was quiet for a moment before he answered. “No, I don’t think so. Not unless he died in infancy. My parents have known his family for years, and they never mentioned a child dying.”

  “This son would have been college-aged.”

  “Then, no,” Brad said. “I know he didn’t have one die at that age.”

  Alex exhaled a long breath and drew a big X through the page where he’d written the things he knew about Mr. Donner. “Well, that eliminates him as a suspect. My guy’s son bought drugs from Landon and his friends, and he rode his dad’s motorcycle. The son died of a drug overdose when he was college age. I guess I’ll have to keep looking.”

  “Wait a minute, Alex. You say this guy’s son died of a drug overdose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you thought of Mr. Caldwell?”

  Alex bolted upright in his seat. “What?”

  “He had a son who died of an overdose. His body was found in an alley near the downtown area about two years after we graduated from high school. Don’t you remember us talking about it? We were in college, and a guy we graduated with came by our table in the cafeteria and told us Mr. Caldwell’s son had died of an overdose. He remarked how surprised he was because none of the students even knew he had a son. The boy had grown up with his mother in Chicago. Evidently he got into drugs, and she couldn’t handle him anymore. So when he started college, she sent him to live with his dad.”

  Alex hit his palm on his desk and groaned. “I knew there was something I had forgotten. This is it. When Grace and I went to the school the other day, we talked to him, and he mentioned he had no family. Grace later told me she always felt sorry for him because he didn’t have a wife and children. Thanks, Brad. You’ve given me the answers I needed.”

  “One more thing,” Brad interrupted. “Mr. Caldwell also rides a motorcycle. In fact, he’s in the club with Mr. Donner.”

  Alex clenched his fist and pulled it down in a victory salute. “Yes, this is what I needed. I need to find Mr. Caldwell’s son’s death record now. Maybe by Monday morning I’ll have enough evidence to take it to the D.A. By the way, do you know his son’s first name?”

  “I think it was Dennis, but he went by Denny.”

  “Thanks, buddy. I owe you for this one. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “See you then.”

  Alex disconnected the call and turned to the computer screen. Within minutes he’d found the death certificate of Dennis Caldwell. The death was ruled a drug overdose, and the next of kin listed the name Patrick Caldwell.

  Alex sat back in his chair and smiled. Ever since he started in law enforcement, he had a deep desire to bring closure to a victim’s family. Now with his job in the Cold Case Unit, he was able to do that. In Landon’s case, however, it was too late for his father, but Grace would be happy.

  At the thought of Grace, he remembered her call. He needed to let her know what had happened, but she might already be in bed. He picked up his phone and noticed she’d left a message when she called, maybe to tell him good-night. Smiling, he retrieved the message, but his smile disappeared as he listened to what she was saying. His hand began to shake, and he groaned aloud.

  “No!” he screamed when the message ended.

  He willed his shaking fingers to punch in her number and waited for her to answer. When it went to voice mail, he yelled into the phone. “Grace, the killer is Patrick Caldwell. Do not trust him. I am on my way to the bridge. I hope you get this message.”

  When he’d hung up, he looked back at her message. It had been sent twenty minutes ago. The Peabody wasn’t too far from the entrance to the bridge, and she had a head start on him.

  Shoving the phone in his pocket, he ran from the building, jumped in his car and roared off to the park where Grace had told him to meet her. He hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

  THIRTEEN

  Grace pulled the van to a stop in the parking lot where Mr. Caldwell had directed her. She then turned off the ignition and sat back in her seat. “What now?”

  “Give me the keys,” he said. She passed the key ring to him and locked gazes with him in the rearview mirror. He opened the back door, stepped out and motioned for her to do the same. When she stood on the ground beside him, he pointed toward the grassy rise that led to the side of the bridge. “Now walk up that way.”

  She turned around, and he stuck the gun in her back as they began their ascent toward the bridge. “You can’t get away with this, you know. Alex will track you down and see that you go to jail.”

  “Don’t waste your breath, Grace. Alex should have kept his nose out of this, and he would have been all right. Now he knows too much, so I have to get rid of him, too.”

  “How do you think you can escape? The police patrol this area all the time. Gunshots would bring them on the double. Then how are you going to get away?”

  He chuckled. “I already have my e
scape plan. I stopped by here earlier and left my motorcycle underneath the bridge before I called for a cab to take me to the Peabody. I’ll be out of here before anybody knows what’s happened. Now get moving.”

  She walked a few more steps before she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “But I don’t understand. What is your connection to the Wolf Pack?”

  “It’s simple. They killed my son.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “You had a son?”

  “Yes. His mother and I divorced before he was born, and she kept him in Chicago and away from me for years. When she finally sent him to me, he was a nineteen-year-old drug addict. I tried everything to help him, but it was no use.”

  “So your son was the one who died from the drug overdose?”

  “Yes. I tried to keep an eye on him, but he hooked up with Landon and his friends right away. They were only too glad to sell him what he wanted.”

  “And you blame them for his death?”

  “Partly, but I also blame the dealers in Chicago who got him started—there was someone else to blame, too.”

  “Who?”

  “Your father. I could have saved my son if it hadn’t been for him.”

  Grace’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “How on earth is my father involved in this?”

  “When Denny got so bad, I knew he had to go into rehab, but I didn’t have the money to put him where he’d get the best help. I went to your father at the bank and begged him.” He hesitated, and his features dissolved into that of a madman. “I begged him,” he yelled, “to give me a loan so I could put Denny in rehab. And do you know what your father did?”

  “N-no.”

  “He turned me down without a second thought. I pleaded and told him it was a matter of life and death, but he called the guards in and had me removed from his office. When they were dragging me out of there, I told him he’d be sorry. And he was, when I put him in that wheelchair.”

  Grace’s legs wobbled, and she struggled to stand. “You shot my father?”