HER SISTER'S KILLER an absolutely gripping killer thriller full of twists

by MICHELLE S. SMITH

  Maurice tried to collect himself and managed a glimmer of the old charm. “I’ve spoken to you privately about the boy before,” he said, addressing Victoria. “I think the time has come for complete frankness.”

  “That would be nice,” Victoria muttered.

  “Gavin, as you know, is a compulsive liar. Last night, we had an altercation, and I said—” Maurice smiled ruefully at them, a somewhat calculated smile, intended, Victoria was sure, to win them over. “We all say what we regret in the heat of the moment,” he continued. “Gavin threatened me. Said he was going to discredit me and go to the police. Then he stormed out.”

  “And you thought we had taken him in?”

  Maurice shrugged. “He can be very persuasive.”

  “We’ll do what we can to trace your son, Mr. Jenkins,” said Steve.

  “Thank you,” Maurice replied. “My wife and I hoped he’d spent the night at a friend’s and weren’t overly worried. Till now.”

  Chapter 28

  “Hurry up, Vicky!” shouted Carrie, tugging her along while trying to stop Belle pulling in the opposite direction. “Pick Belle up, Harvey.”

  “Where are we going?” protested Victoria.

  “Just around the common,” Harvey said, tucking Belle under his arm, where she wriggled like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Mom says that Belle needs lots of exercise.”

  “I agree,” Victoria said, examining her gnawed sneakers. Belle had discovered them under the bed that morning after a night of remorseless destruction that had left the living-room curtains ripped partially off their railing.

  Victoria jogged along with the children as far as the common, and then flopped down onto the grass. “Why don’t you walk Belle in the direction of the war memorial over there?” she suggested, hoping to get a few minutes’ breather.

  “Hey, there’s the vet with his dog!” shouted Carrie, waving enthusiastically. Victoria wished she could vanish into the ground. “And his friend with the Adam’s apple.”

  Victoria noted, with amusement, as John and Joe neared them, that the latter did have a protruding Adam’s apple.

  Joe slowed down and smiled his usual nervous grin as they came abreast, but John merely nodded at Victoria in greeting, though he gave the children a wink.

  “She’s looking in good shape, kids,” John said, his dimple showing slightly as Carrie demonstrated how she was teaching Belle to sit.

  “Vicky?” asked Harvey, puzzled.

  “Your dog,” John said flatly. He barely glanced at Victoria. “I’m going to give St. Patrick a quick run. Back in a minute, Joe.”

  “C-congratulations,” Joe stammered to Victoria.

  “For what?” Victoria said bitterly, turning her back on John as he jogged off.

  “I h-hear you and Steve are an item.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks as she flushed. “Did Claire tell you?”

  Joe grimaced. “John told me. I h-haven’t seen much of Claire recently.”

  Victoria sighed. “You should, Joe. Maybe ask her to the Shakespeare play that’s coming up soon?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “I’m no c-competition for someone like Steve,” he said. “W-who was I kidding?”

  “But seeing Steve is with me now, you have a chance with Claire,” said Vicky. She smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile, and her fingers intertwined and released as she waited for his response. She had to make this right, somehow.

  Joe’s head jerked involuntarily, and he blinked rapidly in embarrassment. “Not as h-her second choice,” he murmured, “even I deserve better.”

  The usual self-deprecatory smile was so vulnerable that Victoria felt moved to say, “Particularly you, Joe.”

  They say for a few minutes in an awkward silence. Victoria was relieved when Carrie came running over.

  “Hey, Joe, look what Belle can do,” shouted Carrie, and Joe knelt beside the puppy to watch her do a trick that consisted mostly of Carrie shouting commands that Belle blithely ignored while she tried to pull the laces out of the little girl’s shoes.

  “She’ll get there in the end,” said a slightly breathless voice in her ear, and Victoria turned to see John drop down onto the grass beside her. St. Patrick hurried over to join the children and Belle. “She’s still a puppy.”

  Victoria stared down at her damaged sneakers. “That’s what worries me,” she muttered. “I think I need to take her to yoga to calm down. Either yoga or exorcism. Both could work.”

  John grinned, and for a moment the tension between them dissipated. “My mom goes to yoga on the shore of Norway Pond,” he said. “You should try it.”

  “Maybe I will,” Victoria replied. She smiled awkwardly.

  John smiled back in silence, the tension returning.

  “Come on guys, we’d better get going,” Victoria said, getting up and dusting off her jeans. An impulse grabbed her. She turned to Joe.

  “Ducks,” she said suddenly.

  “Ducks?”

  Victoria nodded. “Ring-necked ducks. In the pond in Janet’s back garden. I know you’ve been doing research on them.”

  Joe’s hands were a flurry of excitement as he dug in every available pocket for his phone. “Are you sure? It is n-not even fall yet,” he stammered. He finally unearthed his phone and showed her a picture.

  “Is that what you saw?”

  John, watching her closely, saw Victoria’s hand tremble slightly before she shoved it into her pocket.

  “Looks familiar,” said Victoria, assuaging her conscience by assuring herself that all ducks did, in fact, look alike. “Want to come look tomorrow after work? About six?”

  “Th-thank you.” Joe glanced at John. “You going to join me investigating the ring-necks, John? It’s highly unusual, what she’s describing.”

  John glanced at Victoria, frowning. “You go first and report back,” he suggested.

  Joe glanced from John to Victoria but said nothing other than, “Will do. Thanks, Victoria. Are we on our way, John?”

  “With you in a minute, Joe,” the young vet replied. “Why don’t you help the kids walk Belle to the bandstand and back?”

  Joe’s eyes, sharp behind the thick glasses, registered the silent request, and he nodded.

  “C-come on, guys,” he said, “I’ll race you.”

  Victoria tried to breathe slowly. No more arguing, she pleaded silently. She’d had enough.

  “What’s your game, Victoria?” John asked.

  She sighed. “No games,” she replied. “At least, nothing underhand. I just want to make amends to those I’ve hurt. Joe. Claire.”

  Comprehension showed in his face. “How about if I send Claire around with the invoice for Belle’s op?” he asked, and she saw the faintest glimmer of a twinkle in his eyes. “Our internet connection has been intermittent, so probably best not to try emailing it.”

  “Would you?” asked Victoria. “I know I’m probably interfering, but I can’t bear how unhappy I’ve made her. Unintentionally.”

  John shrugged. “Maybe occasional interference is justifiable.” He smiled, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m really sorry, John,” she said, her shoulders jerking slightly.

  “Hey, you’re not crying, are you?” he exclaimed, pulling her to him as he put an arm around her. He stopped as he felt her stiffen.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he said. “May I give you a hug?”

  She nodded, the automatic anxiety she always felt dissipating as he held her gently. As a friend would. Almost.

  A sharp intake of breath made Victoria look up, and she broke away hurriedly. “Steve!” she exclaimed, embarrassed.

  “Victoria,” he replied, though he kept his eyes fixed on John. “Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  John released Victoria and shrugged, turning away.

  “Don’t turn your back on me,” Steve snapped, glaring at the back of his head.

  John turned back to meet his gaze. “Or what?”r />
  “Steve, please, it was really nothing but a friendly hug,” Victoria said, rubbing her neck tiredly and stretching it from side to side.

  “Yoga.” John smiled at her, gesturing at her stiff neck. “Norway Pond. Don’t forget.”

  Steve started forward as Victoria’s phone suddenly rang.

  “Thank you,” she whispered under her breath, seeing Steve pause and his clenched fingers relax slightly at the interruption. “Hi, who is this?”

  She straightened up suddenly, her tiredness gone, and grabbed Steve’s hand.

  “To the hospital, quick!” she exclaimed. “Todd has been attacked!”

  Chapter 29

  Victoria and Steve were shown into a small office by the doctor on duty, Dr Anderson, and Sister Lemmer was summoned.

  “Last night there was a fire alarm when a storeroom caught alight,” Dr Anderson began. “In hindsight, the fire was presumably the work of the perpetrator. In the confusion, a person attacked Todd as he was being wheeled out to the emergency exit.” She gestured toward Sister Lemmer. “It’s thanks to Sister here that Todd is, currently, still alive.”

  Sister Lemmer didn’t appear at all moved by this tribute. She herself was in the wars, with a large bandage on one arm and a dressing on her cheek. She sat squarely in her chair, her hands in her lap, and glared at each of the others in turn.

  “Did you get a glimpse of the attacker?” Victoria asked her. “What happened when he — she — attacked?”

  Sister Lemmer clenched her jaw.

  “The person who tried to kill my patient,” she said, with a clear emphasis on the possessive adjective, “was wearing a mask and armed with a kitchen knife of sorts. They attempted to push me out of the way and tried to slit my patient’s throat.”

  “What did you do?” Steve asked.

  Sister Lemmer shifted her arms slightly, and Victoria, catching a glimpse of her biceps, was grateful that Todd had such a powerful carer.

  “I grappled with them,” she said succinctly. “I mean him, almost certainly. They have very little courage, I find, when confronted,” she added as though this sort of situation was a daily occurrence. Victoria banished a vision of Sister Lemmer gearing up for regular night-time battles, fighting off armed intruders each evening. The sister pointed to her bandaged cheek. “The coward tried to frighten me by slicing open my face and arm.”

  “You weren’t frightened?” Victoria interposed. “What did you do?”

  “I subdued him,” Sister Lemmer replied, as though surprised Victoria should ask. “When he bent over my patient, I took him by the throat and rammed his head against the wall. After that, he appeared a little dizzy.”

  Victoria stared at Sister Lemmer in awe.

  “She’s a legend.” Dr Anderson smiled briefly, checking Todd’s file. “The infiltrator did manage to do a fair amount of damage to Todd, however, before escaping through the emergency exit. We have bandaged Todd up and are trying to keep him as quiet as possible, but there has been significant damage to his vocal cords, so he won’t be able to speak for some time, and he has lost a great deal of blood.”

  “Is he conscious?” Steve asked.

  Sister Lemmer shook her head.

  “He won’t be able to respond to anything at present,” said Dr Anderson. “Your chief of police was here this morning to arrange with the hospital authorities for additional security for Todd until, we hope, he recovers and is able to communicate with us.”

  “Any evidence as to the perpetrator?”

  “Big,” said Sister Lemmer. “Very powerful.”

  “But not powerful enough to contend with you,” Victoria said. Her eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. “You’re an angel, Sister Lemmer.”

  Sister Lemmer glared ferociously back at Victoria, but her eyes glistened very slightly, and there was the tiniest hint of a smile.

  “Just doing my job,” she said. “If you need me, I’ll be with my patient, making sure he doesn’t get himself killed. Men,” she added in disgust.

  Chapter 30

  The aching in Victoria’s neck and temples drove her to take John’s advice to try yoga on the sandy beach of Norway Pond before heading off to the police station for work. Yoga, she reflected, as she straightened out the beach towel that she’d been assured would serve for an exercise mat, might just be the thing to help calm her down right now.

  “And downward-facing dog,” she heard the tranquil tones of the instructor say, and she pushed herself up into the position, legs and arms straight, calves protesting as she attempted to keep her soles flat on the towel.

  “Head down. Looking great, Victoria.” Victoria tried to grin in response but only managed a grimace as her calves accustomed themselves to the unfamiliar exercise.

  Paula Gardner, John’s mother, was stretching beside her, and she smiled at Victoria too and gave her a thumbs up. Victoria managed to reciprocate the gesture without falling over. It seemed that even here there was no escape from reminders of Becky’s death.

  She eased down gratefully into the child pose, idly wishing she could stay curled up with her knees tucked under her forever. Life would be so much simpler. Beside Paula, Megan Jenkins had also come to join in the exercise. Long sleeves in this weather, Victoria thought. She must be boiling. Megan glanced furtively at Victoria once or twice as though she was trying to gather up the courage to speak to her.

  “And now, lie on your back. Bring your knees up to your chest, and rock gently side to side. Good.”

  Victoria tried to relax, but she kept seeing Steve’s face in front of her, his fury at John.

  “That guy loses no opportunity to try to get you away from me,” he had exploded later as they’d stood on Janet’s front porch.

  “It was just a hug,” Victoria had objected.

  “And you really believe that?” Steve had laughed sardonically. “The guy’s a womanizer.”

  “You’re a bit of a womanizer yourself,” Victoria had snapped. “Look how you treated Claire.”

  “I asked her to a dance, Vicky.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t swear eternal love or propose to the girl. She knew full well we were just friends.”

  “Did she?”

  “Sure.” Steve had looked down at her, and she’d melted inside, her anger dissipating. She had wondered why she’d never noticed what dark eyes he had, so intense and, she’d privately admitted, intriguing, because you were never sure what was going on behind them. He’d put his arms around her and gazed down at her thoughtfully. “We should go away for a bit together. Get away from it all.”

  She had longed to say yes, but the thought of her sister had made her pause.

  “Not until Becky gets the justice she deserves.”

  “Just a few days,” he’d said coaxingly, but she had shaken her head.

  “Not right now, Steve.”

  “And breathe in and out,” the yoga instructor said, interrupting Victoria’s thoughts. She breathed in, counting slowly, and out. Eight . . . nine . . . ten. Better. The throbbing in her temples gradually subsided, and she felt her shoulders relax. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, but a gentle hand on her arm made her open her eyes. Paula Gardner.

  Around her, all the others who’d come down to the beach were folding up their towels, chatting to one another. Behind her, she saw Megan lingering for a moment or two and then, when she caught Victoria’s eye, taking fright and walking away.

  Victoria frowned. “Did I fall asleep?” She blinked and stared up at Paula Gardner.

  The retired English schoolteacher nodded in amusement. “Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,” Paula quoted, and Victoria groggily rose to her feet. She shook out her towel.

  “Shakespeare?” she guessed.

  Paula nodded. “They’re doing Shakespeare at the Hancock Inn at the end of the month, and I’ve been helping with the prompting, so I’m indulging my love of both drama and poetry at the same time. You should come watch.”

  “I heard
about it from John. Sounds great.” Victoria frowned as Paula’s reference to poetry triggered a memory. “There is a poem hanging on the wall of John’s surgery,” she said.

  “‘My Last Duchess’,” Paula said.

  Victoria nodded. “I looked up the poem because it seemed somehow to describe my late sister, and while I was doing the yoga relaxation now, I suddenly remembered an old photo of Becky that reminded me of the duchess in the poem. How she took delight in all that was around her, regardless of the source. She didn’t have favorites. She saw the good in everyone and responded to it with kindness.”

  Paula Gardner stared at her, troubled. “It is not easy for most people to understand that sort of openness to beauty,” she replied slowly.

  “My mother certainly didn’t,” Victoria said.

  “It could be very dangerous,” Paula replied, perturbed.

  “For my mother?”

  Paula shook her head as she replied.

  “I was referring to your sister.”

  * * *

  Still no word from Megan. And why hadn’t she gone to the police station with her husband? Wasn’t she concerned about her son? Victoria tapped her phone, perplexed, and was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear Janet’s doorbell ring until it had been pushed twice.

  “Megan?” she called, hurrying to the front door and yanking it open in her hurry to get there before Janet, who was busy making hot dogs in the kitchen, while listening to her children bicker over who was guilty of giving Belle the ketchup to eat.

  “Oh. Claire,” Victoria said, surprised for a moment.

  “John asked me to drop off an invoice,” Claire said. She held out the paper.

  “Of course. Do you want to come in? I was hoping to chat.” So much had happened since the previous night that Victoria had almost forgotten Claire was coming. And Joe. “Come through to the back garden,” Victoria said, over the escalating shouts of Janet’s noisy offspring. “Quieter there.”

  “I mustn’t stay long.” Claire sounded as awkward as Victoria felt. The garden was overgrown with pasture rose, flowering dogwood and elderberry, drawing a flurry of robins, brown thrashers, rabbits, and squirrels. Comparing it with her mother’s run-down garden, Victoria wondered why Janet’s equally overgrown plot felt so different. Maybe happy families somehow projected their atmosphere onto their surroundings, however long it had been since the grass had been cut.