by R. D. Brady
A smile slowly broke across Jack’s face. “Which means…”
Declan nodded. “I’m heading to Keith now.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder.
Before he walked away, he went back and glanced once more into Steve’s cell. Bad idea. It just made his anger boil. He turned away, his fists clenched.
When he got to Keith’s office, he stopped outside to take a couple of deep breaths and count to ten. But it didn’t work. He was still ready to rip someone apart.
Calm down. You can’t help Steve if you’re all worked up.
He stepped into Keith’s doorway.
Keith looked up with a growl. “I don’t have time for you right now.”
Declan stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Make time.”
Keith glared at him and pointed toward the cellblock. “Kane is staying in that cell.”
“He didn’t kill Mel. Mel died between midnight and three a.m.”
“How the hell could you know that?”
“I did an internal temperature on Mel, and the rigor mortis confirms it.”
Keith smirked. “So, what, you’re a medical examiner now?”
Declan clenched his fist, warning himself not to take the bait. “No. But I’m trained in forensics.”
Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “I still have plenty of cause to keep—”
Declan lashed out. “So what is it you’re suggesting? That while Steve was in your jail cell, he escaped, slipped past every officer on duty, ran down the road, committed a very bloody murder, cleaned himself and the murder scene up, and then slipped back into his cell? Is that your theory?”
Keith’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“Don’t you get it?” Declan said. “The Millners Kill Police Department is his alibi. Steve didn’t do it. And the longer you focus on him, the longer the actual murderer has to get away.”
“I can hold him for twenty-four hours.”
“To what end?” Declan said, and he knew he sounded exasperated. “It wasn’t him. So during this storm, when you’re stretched for manpower as it is, you’re going to leave an officer here to guard a man you know didn’t commit the crime. And a man who needs medical attention at that! Any chance the deputy who drove Steve here can explain that?”
Keith ignored the question. “Kane needs to be watched.”
Declan threw up his hands. “Where do you think he’s going to go? We’re cut off here. And if something happens to Steve while he’s in police custody, I will make it my life’s work to see that you are held responsible.” He clamped his mouth shut, even though he wanted to keep ranting. He was afraid that if he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from leaping over Keith’s desk and making Keith’s face look ten times worse than Steve’s.
Keith gritted his teeth and tried to stare Declan down.
Declan met his glare, unflinching.
Keith looked away with a growl. “Fine. He can be released. But if anyone else gets hurt, it’s on your head.”
CHAPTER 53
Steve opened his eyes and stared at the bright fluorescent lighting. He blinked, and his head pounded. He held a hand over his eyes and groaned.
“He lives.”
Steve squinted over at Jack. “Not so sure yet.” He sat up and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
Jack held out a bottle of water and two aspirin. Steve took them, swallowed the aspirin, and took a long swig of water. He leaned back against the cement wall. “So, are you locked up in here as well, or just visiting?”
Jack smiled. “Just visiting. But I don’t plan on letting you be locked up here for very long.”
Steve started to laugh, but it made his head pound, making him groan instead. “Pretty sure good old Keith is going to keep me in here for a while. How long have I been here?”
Jack glanced at his watch. “Going on four hours now.”
Steve’s stomach growled, but he didn’t want to eat. The idea of food made him think of Mel, and that chased away his appetite. “You know about Mel?”
Jack’s voice softened. “Yeah. Declan took care of him. Mel’s at the funeral home now.”
Steve’s head jerked up. He took in a couple of deep breaths, waiting for the pain to pass. “The funeral home? What about an autopsy?”
“They’ll do one, but not until the bridge is back up.”
The bridge. Right. He’d forgotten about that little tidbit. “Does Grandma know?”
Jack nodded. “I called her.”
Steve closed his eyes. “Damn. I really wish she didn’t have to know.”
“Well, better from me than someone else.”
That was true enough. “Why are you still here?”
Jack gave him a long look. “I know you didn’t kill Mel. Same way I know you didn’t kill Elise Ingram or Simone Granger. And I don’t trust these deputies. I figure I’ll just hang around and make sure you’re safe.”
Steve stared at him in surprise. He wasn’t used to someone looking out for him. It felt… well, nice. “Thanks.”
“Besides, I don’t think you’ll be here much longer.”
“You always were an optimist.”
Russ appeared at the cell door with Declan beside him. “You’re free to go,” Russ said.
Steve stared. “What?”
Declan pulled the cell door open. “You’re free to go. Although the chief cautions you to stay in the area.” Declan smiled. “So no swimming in raging flood waters trying to escape.”
Jack pulled Steve to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get moving before Keith changes his mind.”
Jack helped Steve into the hall, and Declan helped support him on the other side.
“How?” Steve asked as they walked.
“Seems you have an alibi,” Declan said.
“I do?”
Declan nodded. “The Millners Kill Police Department. Mel was killed while you were locked up.”
Ten minutes later, Steve rested his head on the window of his brother’s car. Jack drove slowly. In part because of the weather, and in part because of him. Steve appreciated it. His head pounded with every turn, and his cheekbones felt like they were swollen to twice their normal size.
“We’re home,” Jack said quietly. Steve opened his eyes. He must have dozed off.
He looked outside. The rain was lashing down. Little rivers of water were flowing down either side of the street. And the porch seemed awfully far away.
“You all right?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” Steve opened the door and stepped out into the rain. He didn’t even try running to avoid getting wet. Honestly, he wasn’t sure his legs were going to stay under him as it was. He shuffled up the front steps. Jack stood on the porch, patiently waiting for Steve to catch up before opening the front door.
As soon as they entered, Bess came bustling in from the kitchen. “Thank God, I was getting—” She let out a shriek and ran over to Steve.
“Oh, Steve. What did they do to you?” She gently cupped his face. There was a tremble in her hands and she looked pale.
Steve placed his hands over hers. “I’m okay. It’s nothing.”
Tears crested in her eyes. “They can’t do this to you.”
Steve pulled her into his chest. Her shoulders heaved. Damn. Seeing her hurt was worse than actually getting hurt. He pulled her away. “Why don’t you go get a cup of tea? I’m going to get cleaned up.”
“No. I should help you—”
Steve looked over at his brother. “Jack.”
Jack nodded and put his arm around their grandmother. “Come on, Grandma. I’ll get you a cup of tea, and then maybe you can make Steve and me something to eat.”
Steve’s heart broke at the anguish on her face. “But I need—”
Jack began to lead her away. “It’ll be all right.”
She looked up at him. “It’s not fair what they did to him. It’s not right.”
“I know, I know,” he soothed. “I’ll take ca
re of it.”
Steve watched them go, his heart heavy. He leaned back against the wall. Maybe he needed to move out of town and take Grandma with him. Maybe we could live over on the mainland, and I could just come back for work at the diner.
The thought brought him up short. He no longer had a job. Who knew what would happen to the diner with Mel gone. Maybe Shawn would take over after a while. Maybe it would close for good. It was hard to imagine anyone would ever want to eat there now, knowing what had happened in that room.
I’m unemployed. The thought struck fear in him. They’ll send me back to prison. He felt horrible worrying about that with everything going on, but he couldn’t help it. He’d focused on his release date for years. Now after being out for only four days, he might already be going back.
He closed his eyes. Mel’s dead, and I’m heading back to prison. How the hell did all of this happen? Then again, maybe things would be better with him back inside. His release only seemed to bring disaster.
A soft knock sounded at the front door. Steve sighed. No more bad news, he prayed.
He debated for a second just ignoring whoever it was, but then he crossed to the door and glanced through the transom glass. Julie.
He opened it. “Hey.”
“Oh my God.”
Steve groaned. He hadn’t actually looked in a mirror yet, but the reaction of his grandmother, and now Julie, told him all he needed to know about his appearance. “It’s nothing. It looks worse than it is.”
“I doubt that.” She swung a backpack off her shoulder. “I brought medical supplies.”
“How did you know?”
“Russ. As soon as you left the station, he called me. Come on. Let’s get you looked at.”
Julie walked past him and headed up the stairs. As Steve followed, memories of the thousands of times they’d pounded up these same stairs to wash their hands before dinner flashed through Steve’s mind.
But he said nothing, just followed her to the bathroom. Right now he was beyond exhausted. It was an effort just to make his feet move.
Julie turned on the shower. “Hop in and warm up. I’ll go grab you some clothes.”
He stripped out of his soaked clothes as soon as she closed the door. He stepped into the shower and felt the relief as the heat from the shower soaked into his bones. He stayed in the hot shower for a long time, his hands leaning against the wall. It was an effort just to stay upright. His eyes had begun to close when he heard the door open. He jerked his head up and winced as pain slashed through it.
“Here are your clothes. Give me a yell when you’re decent,” Julie said before closing the door again.
He closed his eyes again, letting the warmth flow through him. After a while, another knock sounded. “Steve? You all right?” Julie asked.
Steve jerked his eyes open. If he stayed in here any longer he was going to fall asleep. “Yeah. Be out in a minute.”
He turned off the water, toweled off, and pulled on the clothes Julie had left for him. Then he opened the door. “All good.”
Julie stepped into the bathroom and closed the lid on the toilet. “Sit.”
He did as he was ordered. She examined his face with a tsk. “Look up,” she said. He did. “I’m going to need to sew that.”
“Okay,” he said, feeling weariness fall over him.
She cleaned his face with a warm, damp towel, then placed something cold on his cut. “This will numb up the area.” She waited a few seconds. “Can you feel that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She stood between his legs and began to sew. Steve tried not to focus on the fact that her breasts were right at his eye level. He closed his eyes. She smelled like lavender.
He must have dozed off again, because she patted him on the shoulder. “Steve,” she whispered softly. He looked up into her face. Her hair fell over her shoulder, gently brushing his chin. “You’re all done.”
He nodded.
“Come on.” She put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him up. “You look exhausted.”
She helped him to his room and lay him down on the bed. To Steve, nothing had ever felt so good as that bed. He was so tired, he wanted to weep with joy.
Julie pulled a blanket over him. “I’m sorry about this, but I’m going to have to have someone wake you every hour, to make sure you don’t have a concussion. But for now, get some sleep.”
“Mm-kay. Thanks, Jules,” Steve said, losing the battle to stay awake.
And maybe he imagined it, but he could have sworn she ran her hand through his hair as she whispered, “You’re welcome, Steve.”
CHAPTER 54
It was dark by the time Julie dashed out to her car and jumped into the driver’s seat. She’d now learned to keep a towel in the passenger seat, and she used it to wipe down her arms and wring her hair. As she did, she looked at Bess’s house in the fading light.
When Russ had asked her to tend to Steve, she had planned on just stitching him up and then heading out. But Bess had been so distraught, and Jack had wanted to go into town to see what was going on, so she’d ended up staying.
She was fairly certain Steve didn’t have a concussion. She’d woken him up every hour, although she was late once because she fell asleep in the chair next to his bed. She shook her head. A week ago she never would have been predicted she’d be taking care of Steve Kane. It was surreal. Everything about being back in Millners Kill was surreal.
And yet, at the same time, it was like no time had passed.
A figure moved in one of the upstairs rooms—Steve’s room. Julie watched his shadow cross from one window to the next. It was good to see that he was awake and able to move around. But her stomach clenched when she pictured his battered face. He didn’t kill Mel. The police knew that. They’d had him in custody at the time of Mel’s death. Yet they’d still done that to him.
Steve’s light turned out, but she knew he wasn’t going to bed. A few more crank calls had come in while she was there. Steve was heading downstairs to sleep in his grandfather’s old chair, with a bat next to him. In case someone tried to hurt his grandmother.
Julie placed the key in the ignition and turned it on, but she didn’t make a move to leave. Since Steve had gotten back in town, he’d saved three lives. And each time, his own life had been at risk. Were those the actions of a murderer? Was he just trying to make up for past actions? And what about the new murders? Who was responsible for those? It couldn’t be Steve.
Was it possible there were two murderers at large? Had Steve murdered her sister, and someone else murdered Elise and Mel?
In medical school, her professors had hammered home Occam’s razor when diagnosing patients: that the explanation requiring the fewest assumptions was the most likely. So what was more likely: that there were currently two murderers in town, one current and one from the past? Or that there was only one murderer, both then and now?
She pictured Steve’s eyes, felt the heat of his hand as she’d held it when she checked his pulse. Butterflies raced through her stomach. She leaned forward and rested her chin on the steering wheel. God damn it.
CHAPTER 55
Declan sat at one of the back tables in the faculty lounge of the elementary school and rubbed his hands over his face. Two bodies and one kidnapping attempt in as many days, plus the bridge had been completely washed out. And just before it all began, Steve returned to town.
Declan had listened to the 911 tape about the diner, but the voice was muffled, and he was pretty sure whoever it was had tried to disguise his voice. All he could say for certain was that the caller was male. So there was no help there.
He’d been going over and over the two murders and the attempted kidnapping. He knew in his gut they were all connected. It was too big a stretch to believe that a town as small as this one could have multiple murderers at work at the same time.
But he couldn’t find anything concrete that actually linked them. The three victims were all di
fferent ages and ethnicities. They lived in different parts of town. They were grabbed differently as well. Elise had apparently been grabbed on the way home from work. Mel was attacked in his diner. And Micah was taken from his bed.
And these murders all started when Steve came back to town. That was a coincidence that couldn’t be overlooked. Somehow, this all had to tie to Steve. But how?
The front door banged outside the office. Declan looked up as Russ, water running off his poncho, appeared in the doorway, two large boxes in his arms.
Declan smiled. “Any problems?”
Russ placed the boxes on the table closest to the door. “No. Luckily, the town going crazy distracted Dee long enough for me to slip these out of the station. Although I did have to swing by the station three times until I had those conditions.”
Declan walked over and read the label on one of the boxes. Case File 12098: Simone Granger (Box 1of 2). He glanced at Russ. “You sure you’re okay with this? You could get in a lot of trouble if anyone realizes you’ve grabbed them.”
Russ pulled off his poncho, shook it, and hung it on the rack by the door. “I’m sure. You think these latest murders are related to Simone’s, and so do I. So hopefully these files will tell us something.”
Declan flipped the lid off the first box. “Did you get a chance to send out those fingerprints?”
Russ shook his head. “No. We’re still on snail mail, remember?”
Declan groaned. He’d forgotten about that. The state had automatic fingerprint machines, but in a place like Millners Kill, that kind of equipment was viewed as an extravagance. Small departments like this had to make a card and send it to the state via the United States post office. The state would then scan it into SAFIS and see if they got a hit. But there was no mail service with the bridge out, and even if there were, there was no guarantee they’d get a hit back quickly.
“But I marked it priority,” Russ said. “As soon as we can get mail out the door, it’ll be on its way.”
Declan reached into the first box and pulled out a stack of papers with a sigh—tonight’s reading. “All right then. Let’s get to work.”
