by Sarah Biglow
“Chris, this is Kalina. I don’t know where you are but I figured it out. Please call me back.”
Her palms turned slick with sweat as she ended the call and the phone slid from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She bent to pick it up and stopped with her fingertips brushing the screen. The front door squeaked open. The irrational part of her brain told her it was Cahill and he had come to finish what he’d started. Her heart began hammering in her chest and the blood rushed in her ears, drowning out all other sound. Balancing with one hand on the floor, she swore she felt vibrations as someone walked into the room. The vibration intensified and then stopped.
“Kalina? What are you doing?” Chris offered his hand.
Forgetting her phone for the moment, relief washed over her. She allowed him to pull her up and she collapsed into his arms. He staggered back a step under her weight before he eased her into a chair and retrieved her phone for her.
“You look pretty freaked out,” he said.
“Did you get my text?”
He nodded. “I’m still looking into things. But that helps narrow it down.”
“They sent an innocent man to prison and then he killed himself. Don’t you see? This is all about revenge on the people who lied and the person who made sure the lies stuck.”
“Slow down. What do you mean the person who made sure they stuck? Should we be putting someone else in protective custody?”
“No, no. He’s already dead. That car accident last year. Alan Grant. He was Sam Gordon’s defense attorney. I read the articles in the paper, Chris. He didn’t do anything to prove Sam’s innocence. He just sat there and let them all lie, claiming they saw the car and him in it.”
“You were right about there being some blood on the handle of the letter opener. That’s where I was. I met the forensic team at their mobile lab. It didn’t match Mrs. Grant and I examined her hands. She didn’t have any cuts.”
“So why is she still sitting here? You should let her go.”
“There’s just something that doesn’t sit right with me. She’s holding something back. I can’t put my finger on it but I need to find out what it is.”
Kalina rubbed at the headache forming just above her sinuses. “Forget that, okay? I know who the real killer is. We need to get Mrs. Grant somewhere safe.”
“I’m already on it. I called in someone to watch her. The blood is being tested now and the lab is running some prints lifted from Mrs. Davies’ teacup from the fair.
“I’ll drive you home, okay? All of this has been more than you should have to deal with, Kal. You’ve helped a lot and I do appreciate it.”
She tried to resist but his hand was so gentle on hers as he led her to his car. As if helping a child, he eased her into the front seat and pulled the belt over her shoulder, snapping it in place. Her pulse still raced as he stuck the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye but Chris pulled out of the small lot and onto Main Street before she could get a good look.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Who did you send to watch Mrs. Grant?” Kalina’s throat felt raw.
“Everything will be fine. The captain is on it. He won’t let anyone near her.”
Kalina’s whole body went numb. In a foolish move she reached for the steering wheel, anything to get Chris to stop the car. Panic flushed his face and he slammed on the breaks. The car narrowly avoided plowing into a mailbox. She was going to regret that action.
“What the hell are you doing? You could have killed us!” His voice echoed in the confines of the car.
“I’m sorry but you can’t leave her with him. She won’t be safe.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s the killer!”
Her declaration hung in the air between them for far too long. She tugged on the seatbelt release but it wouldn’t unlatch. Chris stared at her, mouth hanging open in obvious disbelief. She could tell he was trying to find words but they wouldn’t come. Finally, the seatbelt unhooked and slid with a sharp ‘zip’ back to its original position.
“What… I don’t understand.”
“Sam Gordon, the man who killed himself, had a son named Daniel. After Gordon killed himself, his wife and son left town and started going by her maiden name, Cahill. It’s all in the town records. As I said, Alan Grant was Sam Gordon’s attorney. I don’t think that accident was an accident. And I bet you Cahill was on the scene. We have to go back before he finishes what he started.”
Chris continued to stare at her, taking the information in. She needed to act, to turn the car around and get back to the station. She snapped her fingers in front of his face; it did nothing to rouse him from his trance. Finally, the blare of a nearby emergency vehicle snapped him out of his shock. An ambulance flew past them in the direction of the police station.
“Put your seatbelt back on,” Chris ordered before he gunned the engine and the tires squealed on the pavement as he turned the car to follow the path of the flashing lights.
Kalina didn’t have time to bother with the seatbelt. She gripped the edge of the passenger seat and braced herself against the door as Chris employed driving skills better suited to a racecar driver than a mild-mannered police detective. They rolled into the station’s parking lot maybe two minutes after the ambulance. Two paramedics—not the ones who had been on scene for Mrs. Davies or Ms. Ellicott—jumped out of the rig and raced through the front door with medical bags slung over their shoulders.
“I need you to stay out of the way,” Chris said and shoulder-checked his door open.
“Yeah, okay,” she replied and followed suit.
She could stay out of the way and still see what was going on. She flashed to all kinds of horrible scenarios in the thirty seconds it took them to get inside. She imagined Mrs. Grant lying on the ground stabbed to death like Ms. Ellicott. The reality was worse. The camera feed to the interview room was still active. A man who looked to be in his forties sat on the floor cradling Mrs. Grant’s head in his lap. The paramedics ordered him to stay out of the way as they checked for a pulse and an airway.
“Just like Mrs. Davies,” Kalina whispered just loud enough for Chris to hear.
“You don’t know that.”
“Chris, the water. You have to tell them it was arsenic.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I saw the report on your desk. Look, yell at me later. She’s going to die!”
Chris waved a hand at her to shut her up and took three long strides to the open doorway to the interview room. “She may have been poisoned with arsenic.”
One of the paramedics nodded and started to do chest compressions. His partner held Mrs. Grant’s limp wrist lightly between his fingers. “I’ve got a pulse. We need to move.”
Kalina and Chris backed out of the way as the medics loaded Mrs. Grant onto a gurney and raced with her out the front doors of the building. Sirens wailed as the ambulance took off. Kalina had no idea if time was on Mrs. Grant’s side or not. She hoped they wouldn’t have to bury three people at the end of this. The man who had been in the interview room—she assumed he was Mrs. Grant’s attorney—dragged himself to a standing position and looked around dumbfounded. Chris closed the distance and leaned in close.
“What did you see? What happened?”
“I don’t know. I got a call that Margaret needed an attorney. I was down at the fair with my son and daughter. I came as soon as I could. When I got here she was slumped over in the chair. So I called 9-1-1.”
Chris ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated breath. “You didn’t see who brought her the water?”
“No. I’m sorry. I should go to the hospital.”
Chris dismissed him with a wave of his hand and the lawyer moved with brisk steps until he disappeared from view. Kalina studied the empty station in shock. What were they supposed to do now? They knew that they needed to find Captain Cahill but where to look? A single ‘beep’ puncture
d the silence between them. Chris glanced at his phone and tapped the screen a couple times.
“Damn it!”
“What is it?”
“DNA came back on the blood. You were right. It belongs to Captain Cahill. And the only prints on the teacup belonged to Mrs. Davies and the captain.”
“Chris, I’m so sorry.” She wasn’t sure why she said it but it felt like the right thing to say.
His facial features hardened into a mask of determination. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. If it weren’t for you, I’d be slapping cuffs on the wrong person.”
Before she could respond, one of the fresh-faced officers wandered in. “Sir, what’s going on?” His voice shook with nerves.
Kalina stepped out of Chris’s orbit. The officer was in for an interrogation of his own. Chris launched himself at the kid and grabbed the front of the officer’s uniform in his fists. “Who gave Mrs. Grant that bottle of water?”
“I ... don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chris dragged the officer into the interview room and shoved the man’s face to within a few inches of the bottle. “This one. Who gave it to her?”
“I did. She said she was thirsty.”
“Where did you get it?”
“The fridge. What’s going on? Where’s the witness?”
“You poisoned her,” Kalina said in a soft tone.
The officer blanched. “What? No I didn’t. I just … gave her water.”
“She’s on her way to the hospital. She didn’t look good when he left here,” Chris said, his tone sharp.
“Chris, I don’t think he had anything to do with this. We should be focusing on finding the captain.” She walked into the room and placed a hand on Chris’s bicep, trying to exude calm.
Chris’s entire body tensed under her touch. Slowly, second by second, he relaxed and released his grip on the officer. The officer leaned against the table, clearly afraid of another outburst. Without realizing it or intending to, Kalina slid her hand down Chris’s arm and took him by the hand, leading him back into the open space of the station.
“We have to find him,” Chris said.
“I know. Can you … I don’t know, track his phone or something?”
“You’re brilliant.” Chris pulled her into a one-armed hug as he dialed a number on his phone. “This is Detective Chris Harper out of Ellesworth PD. I need a trace on a phone.”
Kalina waited patiently as he rattled off the captain’s phone number. Two minutes later, Chris ended the call and rounded on the officer who had slowly inched his way out of the interview room. “You need to get your partner and follow me. No lights or sirens. We are going in quiet.”
“Where are we going?” Kalina asked.
His phone beeped twice at him and he opened a map app. A tiny red dot blinked from the middle of the screen. “The cemetery. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kalina sat in the passenger seat of Chris’s car in silence. She stared ahead at the road in front of them, leading to the cemetery and the church. They could have walked it from the station but Chris insisted on driving. Maybe he needed to feel in control of the situation. She didn’t argue. She was just grateful he was letting her come along. It had to be violating who knew how many rules to have a civilian involved in an arrest like this. She was also surprised that Chris only had the two new officers for back up. He pulled the car into a spot near the front gate and cut the engine. The car clicked and rattled as the engine block cooled. He turned to her but she held up a hand to silence him.
“I know. Stay out of the way. I got it. I’m not stupid or a hero. This is your show.”
“Thank you. I mean it.”
“Thank me when this is all over.”
He quirked a half-smile at her before easing the driver side door open and shutting it as quietly as possible. The two uniformed officers climbed out of the cruiser beside them. Chris removed his gun from its hip holster and the other officers followed suit. Chris consulted his phone before stepping through the open gate.
“The grave is near the back fence on the far right,” Kalina offered in a whisper.
Chris pointed at each officer and then to the left and the right of the cemetery. They were going to surround Captain Cahill. He might try to jump the fence but it was wrought iron and spiked at the top. There wasn’t much chance he would make it over before Chris or the other officers got to him. Chris let them go first before he started forward, gun gripped in his right hand but down by his thigh. Kalina stayed behind him a few paces, just as she’d promised.
The cemetery felt strange as they moved through it. It hadn’t held any special meaning for Kalina before, but now—even with all the other people around—she felt the quiet awe and respect for the dead one should have upon entering this place. And she could swear she felt a touch of sadness for Sam Gordon’s fate. She thought she might feel a little sliver of empathy for Captain Cahill but she didn’t. He may have been acting out of a place for love of his father but his actions were inexcusable.
They reached the back fence and found the captain kneeling in front of his father’s grave, rearranging the bouquet of flowers. The uniformed officers hung back just out of sight, weapons at their sides. Chris motioned for Kalina to stay where she was as he took a few steps closer to the headstone. He still held his gun against his thigh. He made sure to step on some loose twigs.
“Captain,” he called.
Captain Cahill turned to face them. He didn’t look surprised. Had he really expected they would catch him? He stayed crouched down but pulled his hands away from the flowers. He held them out, fingers splayed in a gesture that Kalina assumed meant he was unarmed.
“Sir, I’m going to need you to pull the weapon out of your ankle holster and toss it to me,” Chris instructed.
With slow movements, Captain Cahill complied. Chris bent down and scooped up the gun and tucked it into his waistband. Dead air filled the space between the two cops; neither seemed to know what to say. Kalina longed to speak, to say she understood why Cahill felt betrayed, but that wasn’t her job. She was here to be a silent observer.
“We found your prints on the teacup and your blood on the weapon that killed Cynthia Ellicott.”
Captain Cahill sighed and rotated to face Chris head on. “I didn’t realize the thing had cut me until later.”
“And the teacup? Seems pretty sloppy.”
The captain shrugged. “Someone would have noticed if I was wearing gloves.”
“That’s why you went back and touched the cup after Mrs. Davies died.” Kalina couldn’t help herself.
Both Chris and the captain looked at her. “I saw it in a picture on Facebook.”
“I guess I should have been more careful.”
“You had to know you wouldn’t get away with it,” Chris said.
“I nearly did. You had Margaret Grant in for questioning. If you hadn’t noticed that damn little speck of blood you would have charged her with at least one murder. Probably both.”
“Would it have been worth it?”
Captain Cahill let out a bitter bark of laughter. “They killed my father. They lied and put him in jail. He couldn’t handle it in there and so he took the easy way out.” His eyes shone with unshed tears. “My mother thought by moving away we could escape the shame but it never left me. Oh, I wasn’t ashamed of my father. I knew he hadn’t hurt that girl. But the injustice stuck with me.”
Chris loosened his grip on his gun. “So you came back as a cop, hoping people wouldn’t remember you.”
“I left here as a child. People change a lot in thirty years. I made sure when my predecessor retired, I was in the right place at the right time to assume his position. I knew people wouldn’t think I could be behind it.”
“The car accident with Alan Grant. That was you too,” Kalina said. She just couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“Clever aren’t you? Yes, that was me too. He had my father’s case forced o
n him. And can you believe he went on to marry one of the witnesses who put my father away? They had to pay for their crime.”
Chris holstered his gun and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “I need you stand up.”
Captain Cahill again complied without argument. He got to his feet and turned around, hands behind his back. The officers who had been on the periphery approached, weapons aimed at the ground. Chris snapped the cuffs in place. “Daniel Cahill, you are under arrest for the murders of Alan Grant, Cynthia Ellicott and Agatha Davies and the attempted murder of Margaret Grant. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney to be present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”
“Yes. I am waiving my right to counsel and I would like to give a written confession.”
Kalina hadn’t been expecting that response. If it shocked Chris, he didn’t show it. He just led Captain Cahill through the maze of headstones and back to the car. He situated the man in the back seat before turning to address Kalina. “Thank you again. We can take it from here.”
“Sure. I’m just glad I could help.”
She watched both cars pull out of the parking lot and head down Main Street toward the station. She wasn’t sure what to do so just started walking. She ended up back at the fairgrounds. It wasn’t as populated now that it was late afternoon. The fact that this whole ordeal had lasted only a few days washed over her, instantly draining her energy reserves. She found a bench and slumped onto it, letting the sturdy wood hold her up. With the killer caught, there wasn’t much left to do but wait for the trial, if there even was one. If Captain Cahill was refusing a lawyer and willing to sign a confession, something told her a trial might not be in the cards.
