Runs Deep

by R. D. Brady

  Julie didn’t question the jolt of concern that flashed through her at Steve’s condition or the increase in anger that accompanied it.

  “Get in the car,” she ordered. “You drive.” She stood with her legs braced and both hands on the gun, her gaze not leaving the men.

  Steve staggered toward the street where Julie’s car was. Julie prayed he could make it that far. Because there was zero chance she could hold these guys back while also helping Steve walk.

  Steve made it to the car, but he hesitated at the driver’s door. And then Julie realized why: he’d never driven a car. He’d been locked up before he’d ever had a chance.

  “Get in the car, Steve,” she said again.

  “She’s not going to shoot us.” Hank stepped forward.

  Julie glared at him. “Hank, don’t tempt me.”

  He stopped. “You’ve always been a bitch.”

  “And you’ve always been a Neanderthal. Now toss your keys into the bushes.”

  Hank spluttered. “I’m not—”

  Julie turned away from the men and aimed for the pickup truck.

  “Okay, okay! They’re going.” Hank rummaged in his pockets and then tossed the keys.

  Steve gunned the engine and rolled down the window. “Julie, let’s go.”

  Julie walked backward toward the car. “You guys just stay there until we’re gone. Then you can go look for your keys.”

  Steve opened the door from inside. Julie backed in, feeling the men’s hate. “Go.”

  Steve peeled out before she had the door closed. She fell against him with a grunt and struggled to right herself. She looked through the rear window and saw the men looking for their keys.

  “Turn right on Tulip,” she said.

  Steve nodded, making the turn. He glanced over at Julie. “Thanks.”

  She met his gaze and gave him an abrupt nod. Then, staring out the window, she pictured her parents and Simone. What am I doing?

  CHAPTER 73

  Declan held the card with the fingerprint from the diner. He had it right here in his hands—the identity of the killer—but with the internet and power out, he couldn’t access any of the programs that could identify it. Damn it. And with the meeting and Dee this morning, Russ hadn’t had a chance to check for the fingerprint card yet.

  Russ slumped into the seat across from him. He’d stepped outside to take a call on the radio. Now he didn’t look happy.

  Declan raised an eyebrow.

  Russ shook his head. “A couple of yahoos attacked Steve a couple of blocks from his grandmother’s house.”

  Declan straightened. “He okay?”

  Russ nodded, and a smile crept across his face. “Yeah. Julie Granger showed up. Held the guys at gunpoint until she and Steve could escape.”

  Declan sank back into his seat. “Huh. Never would have called that.”

  Russ stayed silent.

  Declan glanced over. “I’m guessing you’re not as surprised.”

  He shrugged.

  “Come on. Spill.”

  “Back when we were kids, Steve and Julie were always together. I mean, always. I figured they’d be one of those couples who could say at their sixtieth wedding anniversary that they met when they were five and just knew.”

  And it hit Declan just how much had been taken from Steve. He wanted that future for Steve—a wife, kids, grandkids. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Yeah, but with Simone…”

  Russ was silent for moment. “I don’t know that Julie ever really believed Steve killed her sister. I mean, her parents did, but… I don’t know. And you should see them together. It’s electric. I’m just saying… I’m not surprised she was around.”

  They both fell silent then. Declan felt a sense of contentment at the thought of Steve having someone in his corner.

  “What’s that?” Russ asked, looking at the evidence card in Declan’s hand.

  “Fingerprint from the scene.”

  Russ winced. “Damn, sorry. With everything happening I forgot about that. I’ll go dig up Steve’s card.”

  Russ’s radio squawked. He grimaced and answered. “Nash here.”

  “Nash, where the hell are you?” Keith bellowed.

  “Over at the school. The last people just pulled out a little bit ago.”

  “Well then you should be gone too. People are getting into accidents all over the place. You need to be out in the streets, not playing baby detective with Reed.”

  Declan raised an eyebrow, and Russ shook his head. “Will do, Chief.”

  Russ placed his radio back on his belt, and for the first time, Declan saw a look of annoyance on the young officer’s face. Russ seemed to be one of those guys who let everything roll off their back, but apparently, the chief was pushing even him just a little too far.

  “Russ, what do you think of the chief?”

  Russ shrugged. “I think he’s my boss.”

  Declan debated for a minute, and then told him about the missing clothes and the statement from Dee.

  Russ stared at him. “You think the chief manufactured the evidence? And then killed Dee to keep his secret?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Declan said. “I mean, the Granger case has kept him in office. But those clothes going missing… I can’t see why he’d take them unless he’d planted them.”

  “Or he thought they’d exonerate Steve,” Russ said.

  “Yeah, that too.” Declan fell silent. “But I can’t see why else to kill Dee. Other than that she was the only one who could point the finger at him.”

  “Maybe. But I think you might trying to link the cases too hard. Maybe Dee was just a crime of opportunity.”

  Declan nodded, knowing Russ was probably right. Dee’s death had served a purpose—it had focused everyone on Steve. The real killer could now walk around scot-free and no one would pay any attention.

  Declan sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Well, I think the priority needs to be getting the fingerprint card. Then we’ll have some proof to defend Steve. And maybe if we’re lucky it will help us figure something else out.”

  Russ heaved himself out of his chair. “Okay. I’ll see if I can get into the station and grab it without anyone noticing.”

  “See if you can hurry it up.”

  “You’re worried things are going to boil over?”

  Declan shook his head, thinking about the graffiti on Bess’s house and the attack on Steve. “I’m worried they already have.”

  CHAPTER 74

  Declan paced back and forth in the school’s office. Russ had just called on the radio; he was on his way over with Steve’s old fingerprint card. Declan had pinched two magnifying glasses from one of the science classes to help them.

  He had never studied fingerprints. He knew you needed about twelve points to line up for something to be considered a match, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that. Fingerprints looked so much alike, at least to him. He doubted he’d be capable of identifying a match. But he didn’t need to prove a match; he just needed to identify that the fingerprint wasn’t a match to Steve.

  He looked at the ridges and swirls from the prints at the diner. Doubt and uncertainty crept through him. It looked like a thousand other prints he’d seen. He closed his eyes. He was going to fail Steve again.

  Taking a breath, he released his doubts. No. If this didn’t pan out, he’d find another way to prove Steve was innocent. He crossed the room to the desk and turned on the lamp. Taking out the magnifying glass, he looked over every inch of the card. At what he thought was the pointer finger, he stopped and peered closer. What is that?

  There was a thin line running through the print. It wasn’t perfectly straight, but it was close. An old injury, maybe?

  This could be useful, he thought. A clear identifying mark like that would make it easier to prove that Steve’s fingerprint wasn’t a match.

  The door to the office burst open and Russ bustled in. He was out of breath as he pulled a book from his
coat, wrapped in plastic. “Here you go.”

  Declan took the book from Russ and flipped through the pages until he found the print card for Steve. Russ took off his coat, then pulled a chair up to the desk and slumped into it. “Well?”

  “Give me a minute.” Declan gripped the card and let out a breath. He decided to go straight to the index finger where he’d found the thin line. That would be the easiest place to start. He held the card under the lamp and peered at it through the magnifying glass.

  He went still, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

  Russ leaned forward. “Declan?”

  Declan grabbed the print from Mel’s diner and examined it again, then shifted back to Steve’s fingerprint card. His heart began to pound. No, it’s not possible.

  He stared at the two fingerprint cards, looking back and forth between them. His mind refused to believe what was right in front of him. All this time. How could I have been wrong?

  Russ grabbed his shoulder. “Declan, what’s going on?”

  Declan looked up at him, feeling a complete sense of disconnect. “The cards—they match.” He swallowed. “Steve killed Mel.”

  CHAPTER 75

  Steve pulled carefully into the driveway of Declan’s dad’s house. He put the car in park and let out a breath. “That was my first time driving.”

  “You did pretty good,” Julie said with a smile.

  Steve’s heart fluttered a little. “Thanks for saving me.”

  Julie shrugged as she got out of the car. “No big deal.”

  Steve got out and looked at her over the roof of the car. “I don’t know about that.”

  Julie gestured toward the house. “Do you have a key?”

  “No, but Declan’s dad leaves one under a frog in the back.” He headed to the back of the house.

  “A frog?” Julie asked, following him.

  The little frog sat in the garden behind the house, on a lily pad, grinning up at them. Steve tilted the frog back and swiped the key hidden there. “Got it.”

  They headed to the back door. Steve unlocked it and held it open for Julie.

  “Thanks,” she said as she passed.

  Steve caught the scent of lavender. He walked in behind her and immediately locked the door behind him.

  Declan’s dad’s kitchen hadn’t changed much from when Steve was younger. Declan’s parents had gotten divorced before Steve was born, but both lived nearby. Declan had lived with his mom, but he’d brought Steve here a bunch of times when he was younger.

  Now that Steve was older, he saw the differences between Declan’s mom’s house and his dad’s. There were no soft touches here—just strong colors, wood paneling, and functional furniture. And if he remembered correctly, there was a wood stove in the living room. “Um, I’ll go see about getting a fire started.”

  “Okay,” Julie said. She followed Steve into the living room. She roamed around the room, looking at pictures on the wall, while Steve placed some kindling and firewood into the stove.

  “Is this Declan?” Julie asked.

  Steve looked over his shoulder and grinned. Steve knew the picture. Declan was dressed as a lion for Halloween. “Yeah. He was six.”

  Lighting a match from the box on top of the stove, Steve got the fire started. It caught quickly.

  “He was cute.” Julie continued her inspection as the fire began to glow. “Hey, is that you?”

  Steve stood up and walked over. He studied the photo. A twenty-year-old Declan stood leaning on a rake while a seven-year-old Steve sat in a giant pile of leaves. Steve laughed. “I remember that day. Declan made this giant pile of leaves and we took turns jumping in it.”

  Steve suddenly realized that Julie was really close. He took a step back, even though he really didn’t want to. Even though the fire was just getting started, he suddenly felt warm. He slid off his jacket and went to place it on the back of the couch. As he did, something silver fell from his jacket pocket.

  “What’s that?” Julie asked.

  Steve knelt down and picked it up with a frown. “It’s… Mel’s St. Christopher’s medal.” He stared at it. There was a fleck of blood on it. Mel never took this off. What was it doing in his pocket?

  Julie took a step back. “Steve… why do you have that?”

  “Huh?” He looked up at her.

  Julie’s hands were in front of her, her eyes wide. “Why do you have that?” she repeated. Her voice was shaking.

  He looked from the medal to Julie and realized what she was thinking. He stood up. “Jules, it’s not what you—”

  Moving faster than Steve would have thought possible, Julie grabbed a lamp off the table next to her and swung it—hard.

  It collided with Steve’s temple. A starburst of pain exploded across his head. He pitched forward. The carpet rushed toward him. It wasn’t me, he thought. And then he slipped into darkness.

  CHAPTER 76

  Russ grabbed the cards from Declan’s hands. “What do you mean, they match?”

  Declan pushed back from the desk while Russ pulled the light and the magnifying glass over to him. Declan felt numb. “The pointer on the right hand.”

  Russ studied one card and then the other. “I don’t see—the imperfection?”

  Declan nodded. “It’s on both cards, in the same exact position. It must be an old scar.”

  Russ’s mouth fell open. “So it was Steve?”

  Declan nodded slowly.

  “But how did he kill Mel? He was locked up.”

  Declan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he messed around with the temperature in the diner, heating it up to keep Mel’s body from cooling at a normal rate. Or more likely I messed up. I was foolish to believe I could do the job of an actual medical examiner. The time has to be off.”

  “But Steve saved Micah. He saved that woman and her child. Is there any chance Steve left this when he found the body?”

  Declan shook his head. “No. Steve never touched the counter, at least not when he discovered Mel. And this was a light blood trace, not obvious. He must have overlooked it when he wiped everything else down.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Declan felt numb. “Yeah. I don’t know how, but Steve killed Mel.”

  Declan stared around the office as if answers were going to appear miraculously from the office supplies. He knew he should be moving. He should be finding Steve and bringing him in. But he couldn’t get his body to move—or his mind, for that matter. Shock was taking hold. No, not just shock. Sadness. All these years, he’d had faith in Steve. And he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

  A shudder ran through him. Steve killed Mel. He killed them all. He’s not the poor innocent boy who was wrongly convicted. He’s a stone cold killer.

  Russ stood up, his eyes wide. “Julie. Steve’s with Julie.”

  Declan felt his breath catch in his throat. Oh my God. He jumped to his feet and grabbed his jacket from the rack as he sprinted for the door. “They’re at my father’s house.”

  CHAPTER 77

  Julie’s heart pounded as she stared down at Steve’s unconscious form. He had Mel’s necklace. Mel never took that off. She began to shake. She had a vision of Steve stabbing Mel, angrily, viciously. Followed by an image of Steve covered in Simone’s blood.

  It was him. All this time, it was him.

  She made a wide arc around Steve as she ran to the kitchen and scooped her car keys off the counter. Then she sprinted out the back door, stumbled down the steps and around the house.

  Stupid. I am so stupid. She was weaving like a drunk, but she couldn’t walk straight—she couldn’t think straight. He did it. He killed them all.

  She yanked the car door open and all but fell into her seat. Her hands were shaking so hard, it took her three tries to get the key in the ignition. She felt hot and a bead of sweat rolled down her back. She kept glancing up at the house, expecting Steve to vault out the door at any moment. Finally, the engine flared to life. She slammed the car into reverse, p
eeled out of the driveway, then shifted into drive and slammed on the gas.

  Oh my God. Oh my God. Julie took a corner too fast and her heart leaped into her throat as she barely missed a Honda parked on the street.

  Calm down. You need to calm down, she warned herself. But she couldn’t stop the tremors that wracked her body. She also couldn’t seem to slow down. She’d been wrong. All these years, everyone had been right. It had been Steve all along.

  Tears clouded her vision. She swiped them away, picturing Simone. Seeing her parents crouched over her sister’s lifeless body.

  “I’m so sorry, Simone,” she whispered.

  Oh, God. She felt nauseous as she thought about how tenderly she’d bandaged him up after the police had brutalized him. And then she had saved him when those men had tried to hurt him. I should have let them kill him.

  But I helped him go free. Her stomach rolled. Whoever he kills next, that’s on me.

  In ten years, she’d been unable to accept the truth. But there was no hiding from it now. She raced through the streets, not paying any attention to where she was going. She was in shock, just driving without thinking. When she finally blinked and got her bearings, she realized that she had driven all the way to the far side of the island. And she was driving way too fast.

  She tapped the brakes, knowing she needed to turn around. She hydroplaned a little, and the back of her car swung out. Heart racing, she jerked the steering wheel to the right. But she jerked too hard. The car began to spin.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Julie mumbled, trying to bring the car under control. A wave of water flew up as she careened into a deep pool of standing water. The water stopped her spin with a jerk, but it also doused the engine.

  Julie turned the ignition off. She said a little prayer and then turned the key. Nothing. “Oh, come on,” she pleaded.