by Mary Burton
Working her neck from side to side again she glanced back at the letters Rachel had left with her. Beside them were Annie’s lyrics.
She’d gone over the letters again and again and her first instinct had been that the letters were authentic. The shapes of the letters were consistent: a deeply grooved looping O. A flourish and tail on the A’s. Spacing between the letters, words, and lines were consistent.
Initially she’d thought this job was a slam dunk, but as she moved through the letters doubts bothered her. She couldn’t voice the niggling worries that kept her from calling Rachel with a confirmation.
She paced back and forth staring at the letters. “What is it about you, Annie, that is such a puzzle? Who were you?”
Picking up her phone, she called Rachel. The call went to voice mail and she left a quick promise to call tomorrow.
As she closed the phone, a loud bang outside had Lexis turning toward her door. She wasn’t expecting clients or guests this late at night. Naturally suspicious, she reached for the loaded thirty-eight she kept in the top drawer of her desk.
She moved to the door and looked through the peephole. No one was outside. She shoved out a breath and wondered if the raccoons had gotten into her garbage again. She’d just bought those new cans that were supposed to be critter-proof and it annoyed her that the same lingering pest problem had returned.
Gun at her side, she moved out the front door around the side of the house toward the cans. She was tempted to shoot the damn animal, which last week had ripped through her trash bags and spread debris around her land. But as she moved toward the cans, she realized that they were undisturbed. She hesitated, raising her gun again. If it wasn’t the raccoons, then what the hell had made that noise?
As she turned to retreat back toward the house she heard the rustle of leaves and then a swish through the air. Milliseconds later a blunt hard object smashed into her gun hand. The pain paralyzed her arm and her fingers twitched. The gun fell to the ground. Grabbing her hand, she tensed, ready to fight when a second blow caught her on the side of her head. Stunned, her cry sounded distant, more animal than human. She’d never felt such pain.
Lexis staggered and dropped to her knees.
Another blow caught Lexis in the shoulder.
Vision blurring, she glanced up at her attacker’s face and found it covered with a hockey mask and dark hoodie. She ticked through the people that might want her dead. The list wasn’t long but one was all it took. “Why are you doing this? I’ve got money. I’ll get it for you. Or you can take my car.”
A heavy silence lingered in the air and then her answer came in the form of another blow, which crashed against her knee. Her body crumpled within itself. Vision blurred to near black and her thoughts scrambled toward oblivion.
“You should have stayed out of my business,” a now-distant voice rasped. “Too nosy.”
Pain garbled and short-circuited basic thought. Lexis could not find the words for another question.
Another blow struck her across the shoulder. Pain fired. In the past, she’d always been able to see herself clear of any problem, but this one wouldn’t get fixed. She was gonna die.
Baby stood over the woman, savoring the frenzied panic in her eyes. Rational thought vanished, prompting another blow and then another. It was hard to stop. Energy zinged up through the rod into Baby’s arm with each blow.
Breathless and arms aching, Baby swiped a trembling bloodstained hand over the mask. “You should have kept your damn nose out of my business.”
Baby savored the rush of power. Such a thin line separated life and death.
Remembering the purpose for the visit, Baby turned from the body and entered the house, moving straight toward the lit desk where the letters lay strewn on the table.
Annie’s neat handwriting glowed under the examiner’s light. Lexis had written in the margins of her copies. Authentic. Match. Correct. And then a series of question marks on subsequent letters as if a puzzle plagued her.
What was the puzzle? What about the Annie letters had bothered Lexis? Mother would know. She always knew a lot more than she’d ever told. Mother’s lack of faith in Baby had been a constant source of anger and resentment.
A quick swipe of the hand and the papers were scooped up and crammed in the oversized jacket pockets.
“So much trouble for a bunch of damn letters. So much trouble.”
Out the door, Baby glanced at the crumpled, bloody body. Thoughts of Rachel swirled. She’d been quick, lucky tonight. Baby had underestimated her, thinking she’d be as easy as the other one. But Rachel had moved fast, pivoting out of the way and then screaming all to bloody hell. But failures were lessons not to be wasted but absorbed. Regret was for fools. And that was why Lexis Hanover’s first blows had been quick and crushing. Not enough to kill, but enough to send crippling pain through her body. The fun rested with the screams, the struggles and the knowing that blinked in the victim’s eyes as death approached.
Mother would be glad to have the letters back but would be angry that Baby had tried and failed to kill Rachel.
Baby didn’t want to tell Mother about Rachel and see the disappointment in her eyes.
Baby moved away from the cabin. The idea of keeping Rachel’s attack a secret initially weighed heavily. But as the seconds and minutes passed, Baby grew accustomed to the burden. The secret grew lighter and became more treasure than worry.
Mother kept secrets. And now so did Baby.
Rachel had gotten away. She’d been clever. But Baby would be smarter and faster the next time.
December 1
Sugar,
Or should I say Dirty Boy. You have dark, dark demons driving you. They scare me. They thrill me. And I have to say your darling Annie understands you better than anyone. And you are smart never to forget that.
A.
Chapter Nine
Sunday, October 16, 9 AM
No doubt Rachel Wainwright had a list of folks who’d like to do her harm, Deke thought as he parked the car in front of the diner. But the list of people who would actually try to kill her had to be much smaller.
He stared at the diner where Margaret Miller worked. She’d been so angry with Rachel at the vigil she’d thrown a punch. But had she been mad enough to return and attempt murder?
Out of the car, he moved up the brick sidewalk and through the front door of the Blue Note diner. It wasn’t an upscale place but the parking lot remained full around the clock. Bells jingled overhead and he found himself about sixth in line for a table. He moved past the line to the greeter, a tall redhead with pale skin and eyes lined with dark makeup. He showed her his badge. “I’m looking for Margaret Miller.”
“She’s working right now.”
“I’d like her to take a break, if you don’t mind.”
“Is this super important? Sunday breakfast is our busiest time.”
He summoned a smile he suspected did not look that friendly. “It’s important.”
She scrunched up her mouth in disapproval. “Give me a minute.” She left her station and vanished into the crowded restaurant.
Minutes later a harried Margaret Miller pushed through the restaurant. “What’s this about?”
Aware that the line of patrons now watched his every move he showed Margaret his badge. “My name is Detective Morgan and I’m with Nashville homicide. Can we talk?”
She smoothed a stray strand of hair flat and shrugged. “Sure. There’s a room in the back.”
“Lead the way.”
He followed her through the restaurant and kitchen into a back room equipped with a small table and four chairs. An overflowing ashtray set on the edge of the table.
From her apron pocket she pulled out a rumpled pack of cigarettes and a green plastic lighter. She quickly knocked a cigarette free and lit it. “What’s this about, Detective Morgan?”
“Rachel Wainwright.”
“I thought as much. This about the punch I landed on her smartass jaw
the other night?” She arched a brow. “I thought she wasn’t going to press charges.”
“She’s not.”
She inhaled deeply and slowly released the smoke. “Then what’s this about? If I ain’t in trouble I got to get back to work. I’m losing money standing here.”
He stepped to the side, blocking her exit. “Where were you last night?”
A thin trail of smoke drifted past narrowed eyes. “What’s it to you?”
Margaret Miller wasn’t the befuddled, damaged creature he’d first imagined. “You can answer me now and I can be polite or you can answer my less polite questions at the station. Doesn’t make the least bit of difference to me.”
She frowned, determination festering. “You can’t arrest me. I ain’t broken a law.”
“Tell me where you were last night.”
“I didn’t get off work until eight p.m. and then I went home, watched a movie, and ate cake. It was my mother’s birthday on Friday and I had leftovers with cake.”
“That so?”
She nodded, her gaze not as resolute. “She always loved her birthdays. We always celebrated by going to the movies and eating cake. So that’s what I did.”
“Must have been an emotional day for you. All those memories.”
“Sure. It’s never easy. She was my best friend, the last one I could trust. She and I understood the pain of losing Annie.”
“Did anyone see you at home?”
“Last night, no.” She took another puff and then snuffed out the cigarette. “A lady came by the house on Friday. She’s with a movie company. Asked me about Annie. Said she wanted to make a movie of her life.”
“What was her name?”
“Don’t remember. Her card is back at the house. Lexis something.”
He scribbled the name. “What time did she come by?”
“About nine. Why all the questions?”
He closed his notebook. On the streets he could smell a lie a mile off. He watched and waited for Margaret’s tell. “Rachel Wainwright was attacked last night.”
Margaret arched a brow. “And you think I did it?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She fiddled with her name tag and then adjusted her collar. “I didn’t hurt nobody.”
“But you don’t have an alibi.”
“I shouldn’t have to prove it. I think I already proved that if I’ve a beef with ol’ Ms. Wainwright, I’ll have it out right in public like I did for the television cameras. I’ve been upfront with her.”
“Got a stick in your gut that she’s trying to free Jeb. And seeing as it was your mother’s birthday yesterday it could make the perfect storm. You might have had a few drinks. You got madder and madder and then like that—” He snapped his fingers. “You got up, drove across town, and waited for her outside her building.”
Gray eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t hurt her.”
“It would solve a lot of your problems. Without Rachel, few people would champion Jeb’s cause.”
“I don’t need to hurt her to see that justice remains served. That man killed my sister and he left her body in the woods where animals scavenged her flesh until she was nothing but bones. Those tests are gonna prove that he’s the killer and that cops like your daddy were right all along.”
“You sound pretty sure.”
“I am sure. You should be sure too. Your daddy was one of the best policemen in this state. No one tougher or smarter than Buddy Morgan. You’ll have to go a long way to fill his shoes.”
Deke’s stony expression shrouded traces of doubt. “There are several surveillance cameras around Ms. Wainwright’s building. I’ll be checking them today.”
Disgust deepened the lines on Margaret’s face. “Why would you want to help someone like her? She’s out to ruin your daddy’s good name.”
“She’s not going to do that.”
“She’s saying he screwed up. The case that made his career is a lie. She’s saying your daddy was a liar.”
Irritation snapped at his insides. “That’s not what she’s saying.”
“Really? What do you think the media will do to his memory if they find out he screwed up the case that made his career?”
He slid his hand into his pocket and rattled his change. “I’m leaving to check those surveillance cameras now, Ms. Miller. Let’s hope I don’t see you on them.”
Deke strode out of the diner annoyed and irritated with himself. He’d seen a different side to Rachel last night and her gumption didn’t annoy him like it had. He’d also seen a different side of Margaret today. Her devotion to her late sister bordered on fanatical.
Deke was halfway to his car when his phone rang. It was his partner KC. “We’ve another victim that was beaten to death like Dixie Simmons.”
Tension crawled up his back as he glanced back at the diner. “Give me the address.”
KC rattled off street numbers. It took Deke twenty minutes to cut through the city and to find the log cabin–style house located at the end of a dirt road. A collection of cop cars, blue lights flashing, crowded the top of the circular driveway.
KC stood outside the yellow crime-scene tape, his badge hanging from the breast pocket of his blue blazer. His white shirt looked rumpled and his khakis a size too small. When he spotted Deke he motioned him over.
Deke observed the home’s open front door and the collection of forensic techs on the right side of the house. “The victim is on the side of the house?”
“She is. A client came by this morning for a scheduled meeting and found the door open. Looked around the side of the house and found her.”
Deke pulled plastic gloves from his pocket. “Where is the client?”
“In the squad car. She’s a mess.”
Deke glanced toward the car and saw the woman in the front seat, face buried in her hands. The female officer beside her leaned in as she spoke. Judging by the witness’s tears, the officer’s words had little effect.
He’d give the witness time and let the storm of hysteria pass. “What did the victim do for a living?”
KC glanced at his notebook. “Ms. Lexis Hanover, aged forty-seven, was an adjunct math professor at Vanderbilt University and she owned her own private detective agency. According to her website she did insurance fraud, small claims cases, and surveillance. She’s had her license for ten years.”
“Did you say Lexis?”
“I did.”
Lexis. A memory elbowed its way forward. Lexis, like the movie person who’d visited Margaret. Could be chance.
Annie. Dixie. Rachel. Lexis. Names that did not fully connect. “My brother Rick saw Rachel Wainwright on the campus of Vanderbilt recently. She was visiting a woman who is a private investigator and a math teacher.”
“This gal’s got math degree diplomas hanging on her walls.” KC shook his head. “What are the chances of that being a coincidence?”
“None.” Annoyed, he loosened his tie. “Let me have a look at the body.”
“Around the side of the house near the trash cans.”
Deke ducked under the crime-scene tape, the crisp fall leaves crunching under his feet as he moved toward the body, which lay facedown. Even from ten feet away he could see the blood and destruction.
Brad Holcombe looked up from a sketchpad. “Detective Morgan.”
Deke kept his gaze on the body. “Is Georgia here?”
“She’s working the inside of the house.”
Good. Deke didn’t like the idea of Georgia around this body. He never would have said it out loud because Georgia hated coddling and babying. But he and his brothers rarely apologized for protecting her. All the boys could still remember the day their parents had brought their screaming pink baby sister home. She’d been so tiny. Protecting her had been as natural as breathing.
However, their wishes meant squat to Georgia. She wanted a forensics career and never once shied from a difficult crime scene. And she was damn good at what she did. Deta
iled. Thorough. Tenacious. They’d wanted a desk job for her, but she’d jumped knee deep into the family business.
“What can you tell me about the murder?” Deke asked.
“She was struck at least seven times. Each blow did maximum damage and was excruciating. Her kneecaps are broken, her elbow is shattered and the killing blows struck the right side of her head.”
Deke studied the mangled bloody mess that had been Lexis.
“We also found a thirty-eight.” Brad pointed to a tented yellow number that sat beside the handgun. “It hasn’t been fired so I think the first blow was to her hand. That would have sent shock waves up her arm and she’d have dropped the gun.”
“So when she came outside she was expecting trouble or was she the kind of gal who always figured trouble was around the corner?”
“Hard to say.”
“Do we have any idea what she was investigating?”
“Haven’t dug that far yet.”
Deke squatted by the body. Lexis had been in fair shape. She’d brought her gun with her, so how had the killer gotten the upper hand? “Were there any signs of struggle?”
“The medical examiner will know better.”
He studied the surrounding woods. “The killer would not have happened by out here. He would have come with a single purpose.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna have a look inside.” Deke rounded the side of the house and climbed the three steps to the rustic porch. Inside the smell of burned coffee hovered. He found Georgia standing next to a simple plank desk with a state-of-the-art laptop. On a side table there was a high-tech scanner as well as several cameras. They’d all have to be searched for images that might explain how Lexis Hanover had caught the eye of the killer.
Georgia glanced up, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Deke. Looks like your victim was a fairly successful PI.”
“I never crossed paths with her.”
