* * *
“What the hell is going on here?” Regan cried when she got out of Mitch’s car and saw the police cars and ambulances in her driveway.
“Regan?” Nina called to her from the deck chair where she was wrapped in Wes’s jacket. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”
“Dolly ran out of things to say,” Regan told her as she ran onto the deck. “Honey, what happened here?”
“Kyle decided to take her for a boat ride,” Wes told Regan and Mitch. “She didn’t want to go.”
Regan’s jaw all but dropped as she watched the paramedics load the stretcher holding Kyle onto the ambulance.
“What happened?” Regan repeated. “What happened to him? Wes . . . ?”
“Wasn’t me.” He nodded toward Nina. “She took care of him all by herself.”
“Honey, what did you do?” Regan knelt in front of Nina’s chair.
“He was going to throw me into the bay,” she said solemnly, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m afraid of the water. I couldn’t let him throw me in . . . “
“Okay, honey, let’s take you inside where it’s warm. You are positively shivering,” Regan noted.
“Come on, Nina.” Wes reached out to her. “Let me give you a hand.”
He helped her out of the chair and pulled the jacket closed around her.
“And then I think someone had better fill me in on what went on here tonight,” Regan said.
Wes did so as they went into the house.
“So your father was right,” Regan said as she brought a tray holding four mugs and a pot of steaming tea into the sitting room. “Olivia was behind the whole thing.”
“You know, when I first read his letter, I assumed he was accusing Olivia of having committed the murders herself,” Nina said from the sofa where she was curled up in a cozy afghan. “Which of course made no sense if in fact the girls had been raped. And in the absence of DNA reports, it was something I felt we had to question, if for no other reason than to get the police to take another look at the file.”
“I have to tell you the truth, I wasn’t willing to do that,” Wes told her. “And frankly, if you’d come in alone, without Regan, I probably wouldn’t have given you the time of day.”
“I never liked to play off my father’s name,” Regan admitted, “but I must say, it came in handy this time.”
“Do you think your father realized exactly what Olivia had done?” Mitch asked Nina.
“I don’t know if he’d understood just how treacherous this woman was,” Nina replied. “God knows, I never did. I always thought she was cool, removed. But then, talking to Kyle, I was starting to think that maybe I’d misjudged her all along. I’d never felt there was any love lost between us. But then Kyle was saying things like, my mother wanted you to be the daughter she never had, things like that, and I thought maybe I’d just been too wrapped up in myself to see how she really was.”
“Well, that much is true. Apparently no one saw her for what she really was,” Regan said.
“Except for her son, and he didn’t seem to mind,” Nina reminded her. “He really had me fooled. I still can’t believe he killed those two girls this past week.”
Her voice dropped. “And he was going to kill me. He knew I’d always been afraid of drowning. He was going to do that to me.”
“And then there’s Dr. Overbeck. She certainly had him wrapped around her little finger,” Regan reminded them. “I can’t believe he got away with murder for all those years.”
“I can see looking to lay a dozen at his feet. Four in Stone River, eight more at the very least in other states,” Mitch commented. “I hope you don’t mind, buddy, but I’m going to have to take that one from here. I know I said I didn’t want the case, but we’ve got multiple jurisdictions, and it looks as if at least one of the victims was taken across state lines. That brings it into the Bureau. I’ll try not to step on your toes.”
“He’s all yours, as far as I’m concerned. The chief isn’t going to want to cough up the case, but in light of the fact that he was the lead detective at the time Stephen Madden was arrested, I think it should be in someone else’s hands, to be honest. I want this thing done clean. I don’t want to see it stalled anywhere along the way because Chief Raymond is in a snit.” Wes added, “You need anything from me, you just say the word.”
“I appreciate that,” Mitch told him.
“How do you think Father Whelan is going to feel when he realizes what Olivia did?” Nina was hunkered down with her head on a pillow, her eyes at half-staff.
“I think Father Whelan knows exactly what Olivia did,” Wes told them.
“You think Olivia confessed to him?” Nina asked.
Wes nodded. “I knew the entire time I was speaking with him that he was holding back something important. He all but admitted it to me when he said anything told to him in confession could never be revealed.”
“Well, that would have just about killed him, if she’d told him what she’d done,” Nina said. “All those years, he’d been very close to her, he’d been her friend. I’ll bet he was as shocked as I was to find out what she really was, and how she’d manipulated everyone around her.”
“Including him. By telling him in confession, he’d never be able to tell anyone,” Wes reminded her.
“If she’d told him about Dr. Overbeck being the killer, it must have driven Father Whelan near crazy to see that man walking around the campus every day,” Nina said sleepily. “Knowing Overbeck had gotten away with murder, knowing my father had been convicted of Overbeck’s crimes . . .”
“And knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.” Mitch said what the others were thinking.
Wes sat in thoughtful silence for a while, then patted Nina on the leg softly.
“Father Whelan says the seven o’clock mass at St. Benedict’s on Sunday. Think you’ll be up for an early ride into Stone River?”
Nina, out cold, never heard a word.
He tucked the blanket around her, and let her sleep. She’d more than earned it.
Twenty-five
“Father Whelan,” Wes called to the priest who, having chatted with the last of that morning’s worshipers, was crossing the lawn next to St. Benedict’s Church on his way to his car.
The priest turned at the sound of his name.
“Good morning, Detective . . . Powell, was it? And Nina,” he greeted them. “Good to see you both here.”
“I was hoping to catch you before you saw it on the news,” Wes said.
“Before I saw what on the news?”
“Kyle Stillman was arrested last night for the murders of Allison Mulroney and Lanie Jacobs,” Wes told him.
“Kyle!” The priest appeared genuinely shocked.
“Were you expecting it to be someone else, Father?” Wes asked.
“I’m just . . . I’m just very surprised to hear this.”
“Well, Kyle was just full of surprises last night,” Nina said. “He told me about how his mother had convinced Dr. Overbeck to murder the girls my father’d been involved with. How she’d planned to have my father blamed. How she’d stood by and watched him arrested. Tried. Convicted. Sent to prison to serve a life sentence.”
“But of course, you’d already heard that story, hadn’t you, Father Whelan?”
Father Whelan’s sigh seemed to come from his soul.
“I’ve already figured out that Olivia had confessed her involvement in the murders, and her scheme to have Stephen sent to prison for them. But as her priest—as her confessor—you were bound to silence. She really knew how to get the most out of her relationships, didn’t she?” Wes jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “She got Overbeck to kill for her, to punish her cheating husband—who once he figured out what she’d done, offered to take the blame for her—and then she got you to absolve her of her sins. What a woman.”
“You cannot imagine the despair I felt when I realized what she’d done. The e
xtent of her treachery astounded me.” Father Whelan’s face was etched with sadness. “And I was helpless to do anything about it. All those years, I’d believed, as had everyone else, that Stephen Madden had killed those girls. And, as far as absolution is concerned, I’d like to believe Olivia’s confession was sincere, that she was truly contrite. But that’s between her and God.”
He appeared at a momentary loss for words. Finally, he said simply, “The truth has been a terrible burden on my soul, and on my heart, for the past several weeks.”
“So I know you must be happy to have that burden lifted,” Wes noted.
“I’m happy, yes, delighted, that the truth has finally been discovered.” Father Whelan took Nina’s hands in his. “You must be so relieved to have your father’s name cleared, after all these years. It’s truly a miracle.”
“A miracle of your making, Father.” She smiled up at him.
“Me?” His eyes darted from Nina to Wes and back again.
“If you hadn’t remembered to give that letter to Nina—the one Stephen had sent to Olivia—no one would have ever thought to take another look at that case. Olivia’s scheme would never have come to light. The real killer would never have been identified. And Stephen Madden would always have been known as the Stone River Rapist.”
“Well, it was certainly a lucky break, wasn’t it,” Father Whelan said.
“Was it now?” Wes smiled. “I think there was more at play than a little luck.”
Father Whelan looked away.
“I’ll tell you what I think, Father.” Wes lowered his voice as the altar boys raced around them to the parking lot. They called to the priest, and he waved to them absently before turning back to Wes.
“I think you planned all along for the truth to come out. I think once you realized what Olivia had done, your sense of justice tormented you. I think Olivia never looked in that box the prison sent her after Stephen died, so she’d never seen the letter, much less read it. If she’d read it, surely she’d have destroyed it.”
“But you read it, Father,” Nina said softly. “And once you did, you had to make sure it got into the hands of the one person you knew would do something about it. And that would be me.”
“I really didn’t know what else to do, Nina,” the priest said wearily. “I knew what had happened, yes. Right before she died, Olivia told me everything. She asked for absolution for her sins, and as her priest, I had to assume she was contrite. But the knowledge of what she’d done, the injustice of it all, ate at me every day. I couldn’t tell, and at the same time, I couldn’t live with the secret.”
“Why didn’t you bring the letter to me, Father?” Wes asked.
“And what would you have done with it, Detective?” Father Whelan replied. “I was afraid it would have been disregarded. You’d investigated the case once, you’d had your trial and gotten your conviction. Why would you have wanted to revisit the case, especially on the basis of a letter from a dead man—a dead man who’d already been convicted of the crime. Tell me, Detective, what would you have done if I’d brought the letter to you?”
Wes thought it over, then said, “I’d like to say I’d have looked into it, but honestly, I’d have tossed it in my desk drawer or the trash.”
“That’s what I thought you’d do.” He turned to Nina. “You were really the only hope to have the truth come out. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more to help you.”
“Father, what would you have done if I hadn’t read the letter?” Nina asked. “Or if I hadn’t gone to the police with it once I had?”
“I suppose I would have had to go to Plan B.” Father Whelan smiled weakly. “I’m not quite sure what Plan B would have been, but I’d have had to come up with something.”
“I’m grateful for what you did.” She shook his hand. “And I’m sure that my father is finally at peace.”
“You know, ever since Olivia’s confession, I’ve been haunted by that quote, that line about justice delayed being justice denied,” Father Whelan told them as they started to walk toward the parking lot. “It’s been a terrible weight on my soul.”
“Then you can be at peace now, too, Father.” Nina patted his arm. “In the end, justice delayed has been justice served.”
Twenty-six
On their way out of the Branigan police station, where they’d spent the last four hours answering questions and signing statements, Wes took Nina by the elbow and said, “Well, maybe we’ll get to have that dinner after all. I hear that the third time is supposed to be the charm.”
“Actually, I’m going to have to take the train back to New York in a little while. I have to go back to work tomorrow.”
He thought it over while they walked to his car.
“Do they still have dining cars on the trains?”
“Some of them do, yes.”
“Well, if that’s the best we can do . . . “ He took her hand.
“You’d ride all the way to New York just to have dinner on the train?”
“Dinner on the train with you, yes, I would.”
“Do you realize that means you’ll be spending about six hours on the train? And then there’s going to be waiting time in the station while you wait for a return train . . . “
“It’ll be worth every minute,” he told her. “Besides, if I can avoid Chief Raymond for a few more hours, I’m doubly happy. I gave him a heads-up report last night, but he’s called me about six times already today. The press has been driving him crazy since Overbeck was arrested this morning. Did I mention that Mayfield said the professor cried like a girl and admitted everything?”
She laughed. “Twice.”
When they got to the car, he unlocked it and opened the passenger door for her. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
Nina put her arms around his neck and drew his face down to hers, and kissed him. She’d been wanting to do that all weekend long, from the minute she’d sat across the table from him at Dellarosa’s and wondered if the wine would have tasted as good on his lips as it had in her glass. She wasn’t disappointed.
“Actually,” she said into the collar of his jacket, “I was thinking about asking if you’d like to come up to the city weekend after next.”
“Not next weekend, but the one after that?”
“Right.”
“I can do that. Next weekend I have Alec for Saturday and Sunday, but the following weekend I’ll be free.”
“Great. I have an awards thing to go to—the Golden Leaf Awards, it’s an industry thing, very big deal. They’re giving a special achievement award to Regan’s father, so she and Mitch will be there. It’s going to be held at a very posh club and will be a very frou-frou event.”
She leaned back and asked, “Do you have a tux?”
“I can get one.” He smiled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done frou, but I can pull it off. I’ve been told I clean up real good.”
“I’ll just bet you do, Detective.” She smiled. “I’ll just bet you do . . . “
“Well, they had quite a weekend,” Regan said as she and Mitch watched Wes’s car disappear down the long drive from her house. “Who’d have thought my editor would have been capable of such a kick-ass performance? Singlehandedly taking down a cold-blooded killer? It defies comprehension.”
“Hey, you never really know what someone is capable of until they’re cornered. And he had her cornered, that’s for sure. It was all on the line for her. She had to fight or die.”
“True, but still, she surprised me. Nina’s never been particularly athletic. Oh, I think she may have played sports in college, but that was some years ago.” Regan grinned. “I’m so proud of her.”
“You should be.” Mitch draped an arm over her shoulder and watched as the last of the crime scene technicians came off the boat. “Guess it’s going to be a while before they let you use that boat.”
“I never liked that boat much anyway,” she told him. “It came with the property.”
“I tho
ught there was no house here before you built one.”
“Some years ago there’d been an old fisherman’s shack. He’d built the dock and had that boat tied up to it. When he died and the parcel was divided up, I got the part with the dock. The boat came with it.”
“And the shack?”
“We tore that down. It stood right about where my garage is now, I think.”
“You can always buy another boat, if you don’t like that one.”
“I’m thinking about it.” She nodded. “Something big and fast, maybe. I’ll have to see what they have up at the marina next time I’m there.”
She tugged on him to follow her into the house. The sun was starting to set and the temperature was dropping. In another week, it would be Thanksgiving.
“Mitch, have you ever cooked a turkey?” she asked on their way inside.
“No. My mother does that.” He glanced at his watch. “And I guess she’ll be getting ready to do that soon enough.”
“Do you go home for the holiday every year?”
“Sure. We all do. It’s pandemonium. All my brothers and sisters and their spouses or significant others and their kids, and my mother’s sister and her family, my father’s sister and hers . . . “ He laughed. “You can barely find a place to sit when everyone finally arrives.”
“And your mother has to cook for that crowd?”
“Everyone brings something. My mom just does the turkeys. Plural. Usually two of them. And a ham. It’s quite a feast. It’s noisy and people argue over politics and which football game to watch. Someone’s kid always feeds a sock or something to the dog and then someone has to take the dog outside and make him throw up the sock. Someone always drinks too much wine and insults someone else.” He smiled happily. “I can’t wait.”
Regan forced a smile and turned to the sink where she absently rinsed the coffee mugs they’d used earlier in the day. This was the tough part about not having family. She’d never experienced the kind of boisterous event that Mitch described. Her holidays with her father had always been fun, in their own staid way. But now, with him gone, the looming holiday season seemed to be a long black tunnel with nothing at the end for her. She felt the lack of any extended family most acutely this year.
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