Send Me a Hero

by Rita Herron

  Nathan kissed her hand. “Remember, I’m here with you.”

  When Scroggins saw Veronica and Nathan at his door, he tried to shut it.

  “No, you don’t.” Nathan wedged the door open with his foot. “We have some unfinished business, Scroggins.”

  “I told you to leave the past alone,” Scroggins said, glaring at him and then Veronica.

  “I don’t give a damn what you said,” Nathan barked. “I want some answers.” He nudged Veronica into the doorway. “And I think you owe Ms. Miller the truth.”

  Beads of perspiration exploded on Scroggins’s forehead, and Nathan thought for a moment the man was going to have a heart attack. Scroggins pressed his hand over his chest and heaved for air.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Nathan said more calmly. “So why don’t we have a little chat, Scroggins.”

  Scroggins dragged a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. Finally he waved them into his den. Nathan was struck again by the plush surroundings. “You sure did well for yourself when you retired,” Nathan said casually. He met Scroggins’s gaze. “Must have had some investments on the side.”

  Scroggins glared at him and settled his round body into a chair, then picked up a glass of whiskey and downed it.

  Veronica seated herself in a chair. She knotted her hands in her lap as her gaze swept the surroundings. Several photos of the Jones family caught Nathan’s eye. He focused on an eight-by-ten of Scroggins accepting some kind of award. The senator was congratulating him. So…they were close.

  Scroggins was probably in the senator’s pocket.

  “I want to know everything you know about the Millers’ deaths,” Nathan said.

  Scroggins gestured toward Veronica. “Is that what you want, little Missy?”

  “My name is Veronica, Mr. Scroggins. And yes, I want to know. Everything.”

  Scroggins winced at her irritated tone, then rubbed his balding spot. “Well, there ain’t much to tell that ain’t already been said. I got a call, disturbing the peace. Raced over to your place.”

  “How long did it take you to get there?” Nathan asked.

  Scroggins thought for a minute. “I’d say about fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes?” Nathan asked incredulously. “Then someone else could have been there and left?”

  “I know that,” Scroggins said. “But there wasn’t any evidence to prove it. Believe me, I looked.”

  “So, you deemed it a murder-suicide?” Veronica asked.

  “Wasn’t nothing else I could do.”

  Nathan kept one eye on Scroggins while glancing around the room. “You wouldn’t be covering up for someone, would you?”

  Scroggins bolted up from the chair. “What the hell are you implying?”

  “That someone paid you to keep quiet,” Nathan growled.

  “I would never cover up murder,” Scroggins snarled back.

  Nathan raised his brows in question. He saw Veronica shift uncomfortably. “What would you cover up?” she asked.

  Scroggins’s long pause only confirmed his guilt.

  “Answer her,” Nathan said. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure the lieutenant brings you in for questioning. And you know how reporters in a small town can make that look.”

  Scroggins dropped into his chair, looking defeated. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. “The report on your parents was accurate,” Scroggins said. He looked at Veronica with such remorse that Nathan found it hard to believe he wasn’t telling the truth. “I really did try to find out who killed them. But there wasn’t any evidence. And once reporters got wind of the fact that you were holding the bloody knife…well…”

  “You let them believe it was a murder-suicide to protect me?”

  Veronica’s face paled. He hadn’t considered the fact that Scroggins had protected Veronica.

  “I knew you were too little to do such a thing. But the media thought it was a great story, and I’ve seen the way they do things before. They can’t convict you through the paper, but they can ruin your life.” Scroggins exhaled loudly. “I figured you’d been through enough already. If I couldn’t find the killer, least I could do was let you off the hook from those leeches. And if the killer was still around, I was afraid he’d come after you.”

  Veronica dabbed at her eyes, and Nathan fought the temptation to comfort her. She straightened her shoulders, and once again he admired her fortitude. “Thank you, Mr. Scroggins,” she said. “I appreciate what you did.”

  “You realize Veronica’s life may be in danger now,” Nathan said. “She may have seen the real murderer. If there’s anything you can tell us that will help, we need to know.”

  Scroggins folded his fingers in his lap. “I did cover up something, but I didn’t think it was connected to the murder. I ain’t proud of it, but I didn’t see any harm at the time.”

  “What?”

  “I think I know the person who might have burned Miller’s files.”

  Veronica’s eyes widened. “Who? Why would someone do that?”

  “That’s just it. It didn’t have anything to do with your parents’ death.”

  “Explain, Scroggins,” Nathan said.

  “I had a theory but I never could prove it. This little teenager in the town got pregnant. She’d been to see your daddy, Ms. Miller.”

  “For what?”

  “A paternity suit?” Nathan guessed.

  Scroggins nodded.

  Nathan snapped his fingers. “Let me guess—Susan Pritchard?”

  Scroggins poured himself another drink. “She was just a young little thing. Turned out files didn’t even need to be burned.”

  “Why is that?” Nathan asked.

  “Little gal died in a car wreck a few days later. No one would ever have known about the baby.”

  “And who do you think burned the files, the baby’s father?” Veronica asked.

  Scroggins leaned on his knees. “Seems logical.”

  “Who was the father?” Nathan asked, losing his patience.

  “You’d have to ask the girl’s parents.”

  “Come on, you have an idea,” Nathan said.

  Scroggins looked down at the floor. “My best guess—it was our next senator—Gerald Jones.”

  “I WONDER if Eli knew,” Veronica said, once they’d settled back in the car.

  “Probably,” Nathan said in disgust. “If not, I’d say the odds were his mother did. Alma Jones struck me as the type who’d take care of her family at all costs.”

  Veronica shivered. “Do you think she’d murder for them?”

  “Who knows? I’d like to talk with the Pritchards next though.”

  Ten minutes later they arrived at a wooden clapboard house situated on an old country road. The house needed a paint job, and various car parts as well as an old Mustang jacked up for repairs littered the front yard.

  “Far cry from the Jones’s,” Nathan said under his breath.

  “You think that’s why Gerald wouldn’t marry her?” Veronica asked.

  “Eighteen-year-old boy, son of a politician in the middle of a campaign, with his own goals set for office—yeah, I think that’s why.”

  “That’s awful,” Veronica said. “How could Eli raise a son so shallow?”

  Nathan clutched her hand in his as they made their way up the overgrown drive. “That’s the life of a politician, remember?”

  “But Eli wasn’t that way,” she said.

  Nathan studied her. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

  “Well, he is my godfather. He wrote me all those years and helped finance my college.”

  “Like I said, I have a feeling Alma Jones took care of Gerald, and Eli.”

  Nathan knocked on the door. They heard a dog barking, then the door screeched open. A small, frail-looking woman wearing a black knit shawl peered at them though the mesh of the screened door. “Who is it?”

  “Mrs. Pritchard, my name is Detective Dawson, and this is Veronica Mill
er. We’d like to talk to you.”

  “’Bout what?” The woman wrapped the shawl tightly around her. “Has my husband been selling moonshine again?”

  Nathan smothered a laugh. “No, ma’am. I’ll explain if you’ll just let us come in.”

  The older woman took a minute to decide. “You got five minutes, buddy boy,” she said, pointing to a raggedy blue couch. Nathan and Veronica sat down, and Nathan explained briefly who he and Veronica were, skipping the details about the threats on Veronica, but focusing on the fact that she couldn’t remember her parents and was trying to piece together the past.

  “We thought you might help us.” Nathan lowered his voice in sympathy. “I understand you lost your daughter twenty years ago, and that she was pregnant.”

  The old woman’s gray eyes grew angry. “Who told you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nathan said. “But it is important to us to find out the truth. Ms. Miller may be in danger.” The lady’s eyes softened as she looked at Veronica. She started to cry. “We still miss our Susan. Joe didn’t even know about the baby.”

  Veronica patted her hand. “I’m sorry you lost her, especially at such a young age.”

  “That’s right. You understand about loss, don’t you, hon?” The old woman smiled at Veronica, and Nathan decided to let her continue.

  “We think my father’s files might have had something to do with my parents’ murder. But the files were burned.”

  “What’s that got to do with my Susan?” she asked.

  Veronica’s voice softened with concern. “We suspect whoever burned the files did so because Susan went to see my father.”

  “Yes, she did,” the old woman said, folding her hands together. “Susan wanted to keep the baby, but the father wanted to pay her to have an abortion.”

  “So Susan went to see Mr. Miller?” Nathan asked.

  “Yes, she planned to bring a paternity suit against the father.”

  “Mrs. Pritchard, I know this is hard for you, but it’s important.” Veronica continued to pat the old woman’s hand. “Would you tell me who the baby’s father was?”

  A worried look knitted her brows. “I reckon so. That woman can’t hurt us anymore. We’ve done lost everything.” She dabbed at her moist eyes.

  “Who are you talking about?” Veronica asked.

  “Alma Jones. Why, that was the meanest woman to ever walk the face of this earth. She killed my Susan and my grandbaby.”

  “I don’t understand,” Veronica said.

  “See, her grandson was the baby’s father.”

  Nathan glanced at Veronica and saw her face tighten. “But Gerald, he was one of them ladies’ men. Thought he was God’s gift to every woman in a skirt, strung our little girl along.”

  “Then she got pregnant, and he abandoned her?” Nathan asked.

  “Shore did,” the old woman said. “And if that weren’t bad enough, his grandmama come over here offering to bribe Susan. Wanted to pay her to have an abortion and leave town.”

  “But you said she killed Susan?” Veronica asked.

  Mrs. Pritchard’s face crumpled. “Susan was so upset and depressed about the way Gerald done her. Told her she was a tramp and he’d never had any intentions of marrying a poor little country girl like her. Said she was dumb as dirt for even thinkin’ such a thing. Broke her heart.

  “Then that woman came over here one night and kept badgering her. Susan got so upset, she got in the car and took off, driving like a maniac.”

  “That’s the night she had the accident?” Nathan asked.

  “Yes. ’Cause she was so upset,” the old woman said bitterly. “See, Alma Jones killed her. And I won’t never forget it.”

  A few minutes later, Nathan and Veronica climbed in the car to go to her apartment. “That was a terrible thing for Mrs. Jones and Gerald to do to that girl,” Veronica said. “And I can’t help but wonder…”

  “Eli might not have known,” Nathan said, reading her thoughts. “Alma Jones could have hidden the whole thing from him.”

  Veronica sighed, and Nathan ran his hand along the seat and threaded it through the back of her hair. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” She leaned against him. “I’m glad you’re here.” But Veronica couldn’t stop thinking about the young pregnant girl and how Alma and Gerald had been so callous toward her. She wondered if Eli had known. After all, when he’d warned her not to date Gerald, she’d sensed he didn’t want anyone to destroy his son’s reputation and career. To what lengths would Eli go?

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Veronica entered her apartment, thoughts of Gerald, Eli and Alma tormented her. She’d forgotten she’d left the newspaper clippings she’d received in the mail scattered across the coffee table. Nathan immediately zeroed in on them and sat down to study them. Veronica retreated to the kitchen to put the takeout Mexican food they’d bought on a tray. Part of her felt shameful; another part wondered what he thought as he looked at the pictures. He’d said he didn’t think she killed her parents, but did he think she was unstable or strange? And what would happen once he solved the case?

  Since she’d met Nathan, she’d started dreaming of a future and a family—like the one she’d lost as a child. But each time she thought of having a baby of her own, fears bombarded her. Since she couldn’t remember her own mother, how would she know how to be a good one herself?

  Poor Susan Pritchard hadn’t gotten the chance to find out. How many other women had found themselves in the same position with Gerald and been paid off to keep quiet or have an abortion? And if Eli had known, what kind of a man did that make him? When she’d first moved to Oakland, she’d dreamed of becoming a part of Eli’s family, but now she wasn’t sure it was the kind of family she wanted to belong to.

  “Both Eli and his mother were at your parents’ funeral,” Nathan said, holding up one of the articles.

  “They were friends.”

  “You know, I got a different feeling from Alma Jones.” Nathan grabbed a nacho and dipped it in salsa. “I’m not sure she considered your father a friend.”

  “Why not?” Veronica cut the quesadillas in half and bit into one.

  “Eli’s mother said she visited your father to tell him she was taking her business to another attorney.”

  “But why? I thought Dad was the only lawyer in Oakland.”

  Nathan ate his quesadilla, suddenly quiet. Veronica sensed he was hiding something. “What is it, Nathan? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Nathan’s gaze met hers. “I don’t know if there’s any truth to it.”

  “To what?”

  When he looked away, Veronica braced herself for bad news.

  “Mrs. Jones suggested your father might have been…um, less than honest.”

  “My father?” She bolted off the sofa so quickly she almost knocked over the coffee table. Nathan’s glass skidded sideways and he caught it, his fingers folding tightly around the rim.

  “I don’t believe it,” Veronica said angrily. “I’ve heard a lot of accusations and gossip over the past few years, but I don’t believe for a minute my dad was a crook.”

  “I didn’t say it was true,” he clarified. “I only said that was what Mrs. Jones implied.”

  “And I suppose she implied someone killed him because of his dishonesty.”

  Nathan nodded.

  “Well, she’s wrong.” Veronica crossed her arms and paced across the room. “If anybody was shady, it would have been her. After all, look how she treated that Pritchard girl.”

  “I agree,” he said calmly. “Although I found a couple of excerpts in the papers that suggest the same theory.”

  “Nosy reporters,” Veronica said. “They’d do anything for a story. I wonder why they didn’t catch wind of that Pritchard girl’s accident and splatter the fact that she was pregnant all over the papers.”

  “You’re right,” Nathan said. “I imagine somebody got paid off along the way.”

  She stared out the w
indow at the fading sunlight as it formed shadows on the lawn and sidewalk. Just like in her nightmares, she thought she saw the dark shadow of a man lurking behind every tree. She was more certain every day that the visions in her dreams were visions of the man who’d killed her parents. And if she could just remember that night and see his face, she could make him pay for destroying her life and murdering her family. Did Eli’s family have something to do with it?

  “Veronica?” Nathan’s calm voice broke into her thoughts. She pivoted and saw him watching her, concern darkening his eyes. “I have a theory. You want to hear?”

  She nodded.

  “Suppose Susan goes to your father for help. She wants to file a paternity suit. Mrs. Jones and Gerald wanted to hide the fact that Susan Pritchard was pregnant.”

  “And?”

  “Then Gerald or Alma go to your dad to try and talk him out of it.”

  “Or to buy him off,” Veronica said, her heart pounding at the scenario. It made perfect sense.

  “Right. And suppose your father wouldn’t go along. They were worried about Gerald’s reputation and about Eli’s campaign.”

  Veronica sank into the chair, her heart racing. “Then Gerald or Alma killed my father to keep him quiet.” Veronica hesitated. “But why kill my mom?”

  “She must have come in and seen the whole thing. So they killed your mom and made it look like a murder-suicide.”

  “Oh, no,” Veronica muttered under her breath. “Do you think Eli knew?”

  Nathan shook his head. “I doubt it. His mother said he was out of town the day your parents were killed. When he got word, he rushed back.” He hesitated. “Of course, they could have lied about him being out of town. It’s been so long ago I’m not sure if we can find out for sure.”

  “He came to see me at the hospital.” Veronica felt a chill creep up her spine. “He couldn’t have known, Nathan. He just couldn’t have. He’s been so kind to me.”

  Nathan started to go to her, but the phone rang and Veronica picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Veronica, darling, it’s Eli.”

  “Eli.” Veronica’s legs folded beneath her. Nathan helped her sit down.

  “Yes. Tessa said she enjoyed having lunch with you.”