by R. D. Brady
“Chief? Chief?” A voice rose above the din. Everyone turned as Sheila Tidley marched toward Keith.
Declan turned too, dread coursing through him. Sheila was the owner and operator of the Millners Kill Gazette. Normally, the most exciting thing they had to report on was the annual spelling bee. But Sheila was obsessed with the murders; she had been updating her website almost hourly before the power went off.
Keith turned. “Yes, Ms. Tidley?”
Sheila held up a piece of paper. “I just received an anonymous report that Dee Pearson was killed in front of the police department this morning. Do you have any comment?”
Keith’s mouth dropped open. He looked like a fish dropped onto dry land.
The room erupted. Keith tried to say something, but the crowd drowned him out.
Oh, shit. Declan looked around frantically for Jack. He spotted him in the same position against the wall, near the flagpole on the other side of the gym. Declan hastened toward him, but the crowd seemed to swell. He started pushing people out of his way.
A deputy grabbed a bullhorn and handed it to Keith, who climbed back onto the stage. “Calm down!” Keith shouted. “Everyone calm down.”
Sheila shook off the deputy who tried to grab her arm. She strode up to the edge of the stage. “Chief? Comment?”
“We have no report of any additional murders. We will investigate and release a report shortly.”
The room erupted in shouts again.
Declan finally reached Jack’s side. Jack stared at the stage, his eyes large. Declan grabbed Jack by the arm, pulled him out the door, and into the hallway.
Jack turned to him. “Is it true?”
Declan looked around—they were alone for now. He nodded wearily. “Yes. Russ and I found her this morning. We were trying to keep it quiet to avoid just this reaction.”
“Oh my God.”
Declan gave Jack’s arm a little shake. “Jack, I need you to call Steve. Get him and your grandmother out of their house. “
“The cell phone towers are down.”
God damn it. Frustration rolled through him. “Your grandmother has an old rotary, doesn’t she?”
Jack nodded.
“Good. Try the office. They have a landline.”
Jack stared at him for a moment before giving himself a shake. “But where can I send them? My apartment’s the only other place I can think of, and I don’t know how much safer that’ll be—people will know to look for them there.”
Declan paused for a moment, trying to come up with some place for them to hide. He thought about bringing Steve to the jail for safekeeping but he didn’t trust anyone in Millners Kill’s police force except for Russ. “Send your grandmother to my sister’s,” he said.
He wanted to send Steve there too, but his sister would lose it—she would surely balk at housing Millners Kill’s most famous murderer, especially now that she believed he was killing again. And Declan was pretty sure Steve wouldn’t want his grandmother to be anywhere near him anyway, not if there was a chance of any violence. Declan wouldn’t place his sister and her family in that position either.
“And tell Steve to go to my dad’s place,” he added. “There’s no one there now. The key is under the frog in the back garden.”
Jack ran his hands through his hair, scanning the hall. “Okay, good. That’s good. What are you going to do?”
Declan glanced back at the gymnasium. The crowd could be easily heard through the doors. “See if I can calm any of this down.”
CHAPTER 68
Steve stretched, trying to relieve the ache in his shoulders and back. He’d showered after coming in, and now he could smell the meatloaf his grandmother had put in the oven. He smiled as he made his way back downstairs. Apart from the guys driving by in the car and the Parkinson’s patient with a shotgun, it had been a quiet day. He’d actually expected it to be much worse.
The phone rang when he reached the bottom step.
“I’ll get it,” Bess yelled from the kitchen.
“No you won’t,” Steve called back. He and his grandmother had been having races to see who could get the phone. Neither of them wanted the other to hear the venom in some of the callers’ voices.
“Hello,” Steve said, his voice hard.
“Steve, it’s Jack.” Jack sounded breathless and more than a little scared.
Steve saw his grandmother watching him. “It’s Jack.”
She nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.
He waited until she was out of earshot. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been another murder.”
“What? Who?”
“Dee Pearson.”
“From the police station?”
“Yeah. And she was murdered right in front of the station. But there’s more. I just came from the meeting. Keith made it pretty clear he thinks you’re responsible for the murders. And he basically just told everyone that they can do whatever they feel is necessary to protect themselves from you.”
Steve closed his eyes. That man is going to get me killed.
“You need to get out of there,” Jack said.
Steve’s gaze flew to the kitchen door. “I can’t leave Grandma.”
Jack’s words rushed out. “I know. I’m leaving now. When I get there, I’ll take Grandma over to Declan’s sister’s house. She’s only a few blocks away. And she could probably use help with the kids. I’m sure they’re bouncing off the walls. You can go to Declan’s dad’s. There’s no one there now.”
Steve knew that was Declan’s idea. “Okay. Now I just need to figure out how to convince her.”
“Well, do it fast. The mood of the people at the meeting was ugly. And it’s going to get uglier.”
Steve pictured Dee. He didn’t know her well, but he was sure she didn’t deserve this. “How was Dee killed?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got to get moving to beat the crowd out of the parking lot.”
“Okay. And Jack? Take care of yourself.”
“I will. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Be careful, Steve.”
“Yeah.”
Steve hung up the phone and headed to the living room. His grandmother was heading up the stairs. Steve opened his mouth to call to her and then stopped himself. He needed a minute.
Pictures of his mom’s high school graduation still hung on the wall, along with Jack’s. Steve’s wasn’t there, of course. He’d graduated in prison. But other mementos around the room spoke to him. His grandfather’s baseball from when Mickey Mantle hit a home run. Pictures of him from baby to fifteen. Jack’s many awards.
And now all this was in danger because of him.
He shook his head. No—it wasn’t because of him. It was because whoever had killed Simone had never been caught. That monster was the one to blame.
Steve squared his shoulders and headed for the kitchen. And now because of that monster, I have to convince Grandma to leave the house she was born in for her own safety.
CHAPTER 69
Steve was practically climbing the walls by the time Jack burst in the door a half hour later. “Sorry. Roads are a mess and the parking lot was a huge traffic jam.”
Steve swallowed down the urge to yell at Jack. He knew his brother had gotten here as fast as he could. But he had already seen a few cars drive by the house. None had stopped or even really slowed down too much. But he’d also seen that same pickup he’d seen drive by a few times before.
Bess placed her knitting down next to her chair. “Jack, honey, do you want some tea?”
Steve grabbed her coat. “No time, Grandma. Declan’s sister is expecting you.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t—”
Jack shook his head. “I think Sylvia is really looking for a break from the kids.”
Bess let out a sigh and let Steve help her with her coat. “Okay, but I don’t understand why you can’t come, Steve.”
“I’ll be by later,” Steve said, not looking at her.
&nb
sp; His grandmother nodded. “Well, I suppose it’ll be all right.” She turned for the door and then back. “Oh, I forgot the cookies. Let me go—”
Steve wanted to scream. He needed her away from here. He needed her safe.
“I’ll grab them.” He nodded at Jack, who ushered their grandmother out of the house.
Steve sprinted for the kitchen. He spied the red cookie tin next to the stove, grabbed it, and hurried back to the door. Jack was standing there, shifting from foot to foot. “Everything okay?”
Steve nodded and handed Jack the tin. “Yup. You two should get going.”
“I’ll be back for you in—”
“No. I’m going to walk over to Declan’s dad’s place. It’s not that far, and with the way the roads are, it’ll probably be faster.”
“You sure?”
Steve looked into his brother’s eyes and imagined Jack getting caught between Steve and the guys in the pickup. He struggled to shut out the violent image. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “I’ll check on you later.”
“That won’t be necessary. Just take care of Grandma.”
"Yeah, we'll see about that," Jack said before turning and heading down the porch stairs.
Steve watched Jack get into the car and pull out of the drive. Then he grabbed his jacket and the backpack he had filled with some clothes.
As he headed for the door, he stared for a moment at the baseball bat lying against the stairs. He wanted to bring it, but he decided he’d better not: carrying around a bat wouldn’t exactly encourage people to believe he wasn’t up to anything.
Although the time to convince anyone he was innocent was probably long gone.
He left through the front door and locked it behind him, slipping the keys into his pocket. He pulled up his hood and glanced around. Jack’s car was just disappearing around the corner.
He tightened the backpack on his shoulders and headed down the porch steps. Another car drove by slowly, and Steve could feel their eyes on him. And he thought, for just a moment, that maybe he should go back for the bat.
CHAPTER 70
Declan had spent the last hour trying to get people from the meeting calmed down and back home. He’d assured person after person that everything was being done in the investigation and that the safest action for everyone was to stay off the streets.
Now he pushed through the doors of the gymnasium and out into the hall. With a sigh he saw that a group of about a dozen people was gathered near the front entrance.
Wendy Mayes, the waitress from Mel’s diner, was holding center court. Dark lines of mascara ran down her face as she wrung her hands. As Declan got closer, her words carried. “He could have killed us all. I told Mel to fire him.”
A friend rubbed her shoulders, nodding. “I bet that’s what happened. Mel told him he was fired and he killed him.”
Declan narrowed his eyes as he drew nearer.
“Oh my God, this is all my fault!” Wendy said. “Why did Mel hire him? I warned him. I told him that man killed once, he’d kill again.”
The crowd around Wendy nodded in agreement, and a few men whispered to each other in a way Declan didn’t like. He struggled to hide his disgust. He knew he should feel compassion, but he’d just about had it with everyone telling him what a monster Steve was.
He walked up to the group. “Everybody, we’re going to need you to head home. We need everyone off the streets so that if there’s an emergency the emergency vehicles can get through.”
“But what about Steve Kane? What if he’s at my home?” Wendy squealed.
Declan forced himself not to roll his eyes at her theatrics. “Then go stay with a friend.”
“What if he’s at her house?”
Declan struggled not to yell at the woman. “Well, pick whichever friend’s home you feel a murderer will be least likely to go to, and head there. Now let’s go.”
He started waving his hands toward the exits, and the group reluctantly broke up. Declan followed them out and stood at the top of the steps until the last of the cars had disappeared from the lot.
He wished he felt better now that the meeting had broken up, but he didn’t. If Keith’s intent had been to calm down the town with this meeting, he had failed horribly. In fact, he’d done just the opposite. People had been scared to death. A few fights had even broken out in the parking lot when people were leaving. People’s nerves were stretched thin.
Declan rubbed a hand over his face. He hoped that with everyone off the streets things would calm down.
But he had a sinking feeling that it was only going to get worse.
CHAPTER 71
Steve made his way past the elementary school. Declan’s dad’s place was only a few more blocks away.
A couple of cars had passed him on his walk over, but none of them had taken much of an interest in him. With his hood up and his head down, Steve hoped none of them even recognized him.
The pressure that had begun to build in him since Jack’s call now began to lessen. Gran was safe; that was the main thing. And he was going to be all right, too. He let out a shaky breath. A couple more blocks—no problem.
He turned past the high school and glanced up as a pickup turned onto the road in front of him. He ducked his head down quickly, but he’d gotten enough of a look to know it was the same F150 he’d seen driving in front of his grandmother’s.
He kept his pace unhurried, hoping they hadn’t really gotten a good look at him. The muffler rattled as it made its way slowly past. From the corner of his eye, Steve watched the truck’s progress. He felt the eyes of the cab’s occupants on him.
Don’t go borrowing trouble, he warned himself, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed.
The truck passed, and Steve let out a shaky breath. Okay. All I have to do—
The trucks tires squealed as the driver made a sharp turn behind Steve. Steve glanced over his shoulder in time to see the truck hopping the curb behind him.
Heart in his chest, Steve sprinted down the sidewalk.
The truck barreled along behind him, sending garbage cans flying. Steve ducked down a driveway and vaulted over the home’s back fence. He heard the truck brake to a stop, then the slam of car doors.
Shit. He didn’t stop to look back. He could hear at least two sets of footfalls behind him. He sprinted across the yard and jumped over the fence at the back. He burst across that lawn, down the driveway, across the next street, and into another yard.
But the yard was encased by a six-foot-tall privacy fence. He ran for it, leaped, and scrambled up. He had just gotten one leg over when a hundred-pound Rottweiler charged at him from the other side of the fence, barking madly. With a yell, Steve slipped and fell backward, landing on the ground hard. But he didn’t have time to catch his breath; his pursuers were practically on top of him.
He got to his feet just before the first man caught up to him. Steve spun out of the way, swiping the guy’s legs with his foot as he did. The man fell hard.
But the second guy wrapped his arms around Steve from behind. Steve threw his head back, catching the guy in the nose, but the guy didn’t let go.
The first guy was back on his feet now. He punched Steve repeatedly in the stomach as the pickup screeched to a stop in the drive. The third guy stepped out with a smirk and ran over. He kicked Steve in the groin.
Then Steve lost count of the kicks and the punches as he was tossed to the ground. He put his hands over his head and just prayed it would end soon.
CHAPTER 72
Julie drove slowly through the streets. She hadn’t liked the tone of the town meeting—at all—so she had driven past Steve’s house just to check that everything was okay there. All was quiet. Now she was driving around the neighborhood, looking for what, she didn’t know—until she saw it.
Down a side street she saw a man streak across the road; two other men appeared a second later, apparently giving chase. A pickup roared down the street, pulling into t
he same driveway. She couldn’t tell from that distance who they were, but she had a pretty good idea.
She turned the wheel, sped down the street, and slammed on the brakes when she reached the spot where the men had crossed. In the driveway, three men were kicking and stomping on the fourth man. A dog barked non-stop from behind the fence.
Julie grabbed her gun and stepped out of the car. “Get away from him!” she yelled.
The men either didn’t hear her or didn’t think she was a threat, because they continued their assault.
She took a step forward and fired a shot at the lawn a few feet to their left.
The three men leaped back. “What the hell?”
Julie got her first good look at them: Hank Meyers, Andy Hanover, and Sean Tibbets. They were all way too old for this. She looked at the person on the ground and was not at all surprised to see that it was Steve.
She tightened her grip on the gun. “Get away from him,” she ordered again.
Steve rolled to his side, and Julie struggled not blanch at the sight of his bloodied face.
“Do you know who he is?” Andy said.
“I know exactly who he is,” Julie answered. Her gaze flicked between Steve and the men. Steve had gotten to his knees.
“You should be thanking us,” Hank sneered.
Thanking them. Her anger boiled. As if somehow beating up Steve, or even killing him, would balance the scales. As if these ignorant idiots weren’t just getting some fun out of teaming up against one man.
Julie took a step forward. “Get. Away. From. Him.”
Andy nudged Hank. “She’s not going to shoot us.”
Julie narrowed her eyes. With a grunt she aimed for two inches in front of his shoe.
Hank shrieked as the bullet landed right where she intended.
“Steve, get over here,” Julie ordered, not taking her eyes from the men.
Steve got from his knees to his feet, holding his side. His face was bloodied and his clothes were wet and muddy. The telltale red of new bruises was along his cheekbone, mixing in with the older bruises, and she was pretty sure the same sight was now along his rib cage. With a little wobble, he took a step toward her.
