by Debra Webb
Mitch paused in the doorway of Dixon’s office. The grim line of his mouth and the solemn look in his eyes told her that whatever he had to say, it wasn’t good.
“What’s happened?” Alex stood, needing to feel more in control.
“Stella’s dead.”
Alex grasped the edge of the desk to stay vertical.
“How?” she managed to choke out.
Mitch scrubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand. The same exact spot where pain pounded between her eyes as well. He let go a weary breath then locked his gaze back on hers.
“Her car ran off the road at Buncombe Crossing. I have to go up there. They’re recovering the vehicle now.”
Alex rounded the desk. “I’m going with you.”
He looked ready to protest, but changed his mind when faced with the determination in her eyes. “All right,” he acquiesced.
When she would have brushed past him to go out the door, he blocked her path. “Tell me what it’ll take to make you believe what’s happening between us is real.”
Alex didn’t look at him. If she did, she’d give in and she just wasn’t ready to take that risk again so soon. “We’ll talk about that when this case is solved.”
He lowered his arm and Alex moved past him.
When this case was over she’d be going back to Chicago. Whatever was or wasn’t between them would only be a bittersweet memory then. Her heart squeezed at the thought, but she ignored it. She had to.
THE AMBULANCE was just leaving when Alex and Mitch arrived on the scene. A couple of tow trucks, the police and a reporter from the local paper were milling around the narrow shoulder of the road and looking down thirty feet into a deep, wooded ravine.
The officer directing traffic had kept the curious bystanders to a minimum, but a few lingered fifty or so feet away.
“How’s it going, Hayden?” A Tennessee state trooper stopped making notes long enough to shake Mitch’s hand.
“What have you got so far?”
Alex studied the straining tow truck that was attempting to drag the car from its deep grave. The winch’s occasional grind and groan of protest punctuated the slow retrieval.
“The guys who removed the bodies from the wreckage spotted a few beer bottles, considering last night was Friday night, it’s likely the two ladies were drinking. We won’t know for sure for a day or so.”
“Two ladies?” Alex asked.
He nodded. “A Lorraine Bradford was a passenger in the vehicle.”
I got Lorraine here to go with me. Stella’s wicked grin flashed in Alex’s mind. She felt sick to her stomach.
The winch squealed with the tension of lifting the car the last few feet. The trooper, Mitch and Alex moved instinctively in that direction.
Alex walked around the tow truck to the vehicle once it was pulled up onto the road. She peeked in the open window and noted the empty beer bottles the medics had spotted. Blood was splattered on the dash, the windshield and the upholstery of the front seat. The damage to the windshield indicated that neither of the occupants had been wearing a seat belt.
Alex closed her eyes and shook her head slowly from side to side. The memory of the vibrant waitress haunted her.
“That would be my guess.”
The trooper’s comment dragged Alex from her disturbing thoughts. He and Mitch were studying the rear end of the blue sedan. Alex slowly made her way to where they stood.
The trooper squatted near the bashed-in trunk. “Looks like the other vehicle might have been black. An SUV or pickup truck judging by the impact points.”
Mitch turned to Alex. “It looks like someone rammed into Stella several times, forcing her off the road.”
Alex stared at the car she’d ridden in just last night. “Everybody liked Stella. Why would anyone want to do that?”
She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud until Mitch responded.
“Who knew that you were at the club with Stella last night?”
Alex looked from Mitch to Stella’s car. She was supposed to have been in that car with Stella. Would have been if Mitch hadn’t dragged her away from the club. Without answering Mitch’s question, Alex wandered back to the driver’s side of the car. The image of Stella sitting behind that wheel and laughing enthusiastically evolved before her eyes.
Stella was dead.
And it was Alex’s fault.
“Yo, Sheriff, Peg’s trying to reach you.”
Alex glanced back to where Mitch stood. Roy and Willis had just gotten out of their Raleigh County Sheriff’s Department cruiser and were headed in his direction.
“Too bad about Stella and—”
Roy stopped midsentence when Alex stepped into his line of sight. He looked startled, but quickly recovered. “Ms. Preston,” he acknowledged with a dip of his head.
“Yeah,” Willis continued where Roy left off before spotting Alex. “She was the best waitress the diner had.”
Roy flicked an uneasy glance in Alex’s direction then turned his attention back to Mitch. “Don’t forget to call Peg,” he reminded. “Come on, Willis, we gotta get going.”
Alex watched the two drive away. Every instinct warned her that Roy knew a great deal more than he’d told her last night. Seeing her after he’d let a few things slip last night must have shaken him. One way or another Alex had to find a way to get some more one-on-one time with him. Phillip Malloy was savvy at keeping secrets, he was a politician after all, and he’d had fifteen years of experience. But Roy, he was a different story. He was the key to solving this mystery, Alex was sure of it.
“I APPRECIATE IT. Will do.” Mitch hung up, ending the call he’d made to the medical examiner’s office. He wanted the preliminary autopsy report as soon as possible. Stella’s car would be gone over by the techs to try and determine the make of the automobile that had forced her off the road. The paint would identify the automobile manufacturer. They already knew the vehicle was either an SUV or a truck, something with a high profile and black in color.
Mitch’s attention shifted to Alex. She sat in front of his desk studying the trooper’s accident report and the identification of the victims.
She looked up, her gaze seeking out his. “Lorraine had long dark hair.”
Mitch nodded. “I know.” Lorraine had been Stella’s roommate, the woman he’d spoken to last night. She’d obviously decided to catch up with her friend when her date didn’t show.
Alex lowered her gaze to the report once more. “Whoever did this thought I was in the car with Stella.” She looked at Mitch. “If I hadn’t called her—”
“Don’t do this.” He rounded his desk and sat down next to her in the vacant visitor’s chair. “This isn’t your fault.”
Alex blinked, her eyes bright with emotion. “I should have anticipated this possibility. I knew better than to involve anyone else.”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and wanting more than anything to take her hand, but knowing that he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. She was still wary of him.
“I think you should seriously consider at this point that you have an old enemy who has decided to settle the score. This case is pointing more and more in your direction.”
She tossed the report aside, her anger flaring. “This is not about me. It’s about my investigation into Marija’s disappearance. If it were only about me why would he have killed Jasna?”
“You don’t know that Jasna didn’t kill herself,” he offered, though his gut feeling told him otherwise. He had no proof at this point.
“Come on, Mitch, you know I’m right.”
Every instinct told him that she was. But the evidence didn’t add up.
Peg stuck her head in the door, interrupting his troubling thoughts. “It’s Talkington for you,” she said. “He’s been trying to get you all morning.”
Mitch had tried to call him back as soon as he and Alex returned to the office, but Talkington had been in some dead zone where cell phone service wasn’
t available. Mitch stood, reached across his desk and grabbed the receiver, then stabbed the blinking button for line one.
“Hayden.”
“You’re a hard man to track down.”
“What’ve you got?” Mitch wasn’t interested in exchanging pleasantries at the moment.
“A lot,” Talkington mused. “First, I’ve got the final report on Jasna Bukovak. Detective Wells wasn’t too keen on sharing, but I did a little arm twisting.”
“Let’s hear it.” Mitch stilled, his senses edging to a higher state of alert.
“She definitely did not off herself. She had help,” Talkington began. “Mixed in with all that soap under her nails was a trace of human flesh and since her body bore no such scratches, we know it isn’t hers. Also lucky for us, the dumb bastard who sliced her was stupid enough to wash his hands, and obviously the scratches, afterward. We’ve got two different types of blood in the wastewater retrieved from the S-trap. One was the girl’s, the other…who knows. There’s also inconsistency in the depth of the wounds on her wrists to consider. One was shallow, the other deep, savagely so. Hell, the guy almost cut her hand off with that one. Even without the other evidence, it isn’t likely she’d have done that to herself.”
Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” Talkington agreed.
Alex stared expectantly at him, but Mitch wanted to hear it all before he broke the news to her. She’d been right all along. On some level he’d known it, but…dammit…it seemed so unbelievable.
“Moving on to the sister, we can scratch Mayrija off Gill’s kill list.”
Mitch frowned. This was the one he’d been more sure of. “What do you mean?”
“The M.O.’s almost identical, whoever did her knew exactly what to do to make it look like Gill did it. But there was one very large inconsistency. She was shot once in the back of the head, execution-style with a small caliber handgun. A twenty-two. Looks like your cute little P.I. was right about Gill.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Talkington added, “Marija was pregnant. Second trimester, fifteen or sixteen weeks.”
Mitch didn’t really hear the rest of what Talkington had to say. He was too stunned. Alex had been right about all of it. He thanked the TBI agent and replaced the receiver in its cradle.
“I take it I was right about a few things,” Alex said after reading his expression of disbelief.
“You were right about everything,” he said, his voice oddly quiet. If Alex was right, then all the murders were connected. Miller, the Bukovak sisters and Stella and her roommate. And Alex would be next if Mitch couldn’t stop the killer.
She tilted her head to study him more closely. “What did he say?”
Mitch rested his hip on the edge of his desk. “Jasna was murdered.” He released a heavy breath. “Marija was pregnant, and she wasn’t one of Gill’s victims. Someone just wanted it to look that way. She was shot in the back of the head with a twenty-two.”
Alex leveled a determined gaze on his. “He killed Miller and Saylor…Stella and Lorraine, too.”
Mitch nodded. “Maybe.”
She swore, a surprisingly scorching remark. “I can’t believe you don’t see the connection. He killed Marija because she was pregnant and threatened his lifestyle. When Jasna and I started digging around, he tried to kill us both. Miller probably just got in the way. Saylor definitely did. Stella and Lorraine are dead because he thought I was in that car.”
Mitch gritted his teeth against the anger that rose inside him despite the evidence mounting. “By him I assume you mean Phillip.”
Alex stood, her hands braced at her waist. “It has to be him. He had motive and he had means.” She hesitated, then added, “Besides, he’s done it before.”
Mitch stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“Fifteen years ago when Malloy was teaching law at Ole Miss, he had an affair with one of his students. When she got pregnant he tried to force her to take care of the problem. She was afraid so she took the money and ran.” Alex stared up at him with fierce determination. “This time he had a great deal more to lose or maybe Marija didn’t cooperate, so he went too far.”
Mitch closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He opened them once more and looked straight at her. “How did you get this information?” How could he not have known something like that about his own uncle?
“That’s not important right now. You’ll have to trust me when I say that my source is accurate.” She hesitated, then went on, “Have you been covering for your uncle?”
He couldn’t quite read what he saw in her eyes now. Something between uncertainty and hope.
Mitch shook his head. “Of course not.” He searched her eyes. “How could you think that?”
“Blood is thicker than water.”
“I’d do most anything to protect my family,” he admitted. “But not that.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I didn’t remember it until last night, and then I wasn’t sure if I was remembering it correctly. But Ethan verified it this morning.”
As hard as it proved to swallow that reality, Mitch had to consider that the Colby Agency had likely meticulously verified their information.
“That still doesn’t make him a killer,” Mitch countered, his conviction waning a bit.
“Agreed. But it does make him a suspect.” She pinned Mitch with an expectant gaze. “If he’s innocent he has nothing to fear from submitting to the DNA testing.”
She was right. If Phillip wasn’t his uncle he wouldn’t even hesitate. He’d sworn to uphold the law, and family or no, Mitch had to do his duty.
“All right. But I have to do this my way.”
“What are we waiting for?”
PHILLIP STARED OUT the window for a long moment after Mitch told him what he knew. It grieved Mitch to the bone to have to do this. But Alex was right. Phillip had to be eliminated as a suspect. And this was the only way. The Bukovak girl lived in his house for six months, and if Alex was right about the rest, he had a great deal to lose if an illicit affair became public. The bottom line was that it was in Phillip’s best interest to clear his name.
“One mistake in a lifetime of hard work,” Phillip said, his usually booming voice now quaking. He turned back to Mitch. “I’m a stronger man now than I was fifteen years ago.” He shook his head. “It was a mistake. Is everything I’ve worked for going to be taken away from me because of one mistake? I swear, Mitch, I didn’t harm Marija. I treated her like my own daughter.”
Mitch could see his pain. Every instinct told him that Phillip was telling the truth, but could Mitch trust his instincts in the matter? Was he allowing his heart to lead him as Alex had suggested?
“I’m not accusing you, Phillip,” Mitch said solemnly. “I’m just advising you of the best course of action to protect yourself. If you’re innocent you have nothing to worry about.”
Phillip turned back to the window that overlooked his vast property. “Set it up.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
Mitch wondered why that assurance sounded so hollow in light of the pain he’d just dealt his uncle by making him relive a time in his past he’d obviously just as soon not remember.
“One last thing.”
Phillip didn’t turn around, but Mitch heard his sigh of defeat.
“And what is that?”
“I’ll need to take a look at your truck.” Phillip owned a brand-new four-wheel drive, extended cab, black truck.
“Well you can’t. At least not right now,” he added, his back still turned to Mitch.
Mitch’s gut tightened. “Why is that?”
“I lent it to Roy.”
Mitch felt a twinge of relief. “Ask him to bring it by the office when he returns it.”
“Fine.”
There was nothing else to say. Mitch stepped out of the study, closing the door behind him. Alex halted her p
acing midstep at the sound of the door, she swung around to face Mitch.
“What did he say?”
“He told me to set it up.”
Alex looked startled. “He did?”
“Are you surprised?” Mitch tamped down his ire. “I told you he was innocent.”
“He could always skip town before the test,” she suggested offhandedly.
Mitch gritted his teeth and snagged her by the elbow. “Let’s go.”
“What is she doing here?” a furious voice called out from the open front door.
He resisted the urge to cringe. Mitch had hoped to be out of here before Nadine returned home from her weekly bridge game. “We’re on our way out,” Mitch assured her as he ushered Alex toward the door.
“I don’t want her in my home!” Nadine shrieked. “I thought I made that clear before. She wants to destroy this family and I won’t stand for it.” Nadine shook her head, fury blazing in her eyes. “You bring her in my home again, Mitch Hayden, and I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“I’m—” he started an apology but Alex cut him off.
“Were you aware that your husband impregnated a young woman once before? How can you be so sure he didn’t this time?”
Mitch swore. “Don’t say another word.” He nudged Alex toward the door.
She dug in her heels, stalling at the open door and staring at Nadine. “Don’t you want to know the truth? Or maybe you’re covering up the fact that you knew what was going on all along?”
Nadine’s eyes glazed with hatred. “My husband is innocent,” she said, seething. “And you, you’re going to wish you’d never set foot in this town.”
Chapter Twelve
Alex spent the entire afternoon going over her casebook. Or what was left of it. She shoved a fistful of hair behind her ear and blew out a disgusted breath. Nothing connected. But everything in her head…every cell of intuition told her that the answer somehow lay with Phillip Malloy.
Though his unexpected agreement to submit to DNA testing had thrown her for a bit of a loop, she wasn’t convinced of his innocence. He was the center…it all started with him.
