Pills, on the other hand, were her personal demons. During her recovery, those white devils had called to her, promising oblivion from the memories and the pain. The surgeries that saved her life and ended all her dreams had done more to hurt her mental well-being than the attack itself.
Cupping the glass between her curved hands, she rotated it. She could lie to herself all she wanted, but the truth was, the man who had invaded her home and tried to kill her had altered her life course and left her with nothing but a gnawing emptiness. Her panicked reaction at the Wagners’ was just a sign that she would never be the cop she once was. Warmth filled her face. She had all but handed Fontaine the key to her weakness. That Sheriff Benoit knew enough about Lila’s past to tell Fontaine made her want to throw up.
What a damn mess.
Coming back as a law officer had been a mistake. All during her recovery, she’d fought for the right to wear a badge again. Don’t let the attacker win, was her mantra. He might have waylaid her plans, but he wouldn’t take her livelihood. But the memories, still so fresh and raw, had proved too much. And the narcotics, a convenient and plentiful abyss. Until she woke one day, bleeding from a new wound on her abdomen, a wound she couldn’t explain or remember how she got.
It scared her sober.
She had to leave Chicago. Cecil and her former sergeant agreed to the change, in part because her attacker, the serial killer they’d been after, was still out there, waiting to finish the job. It would infuriate him that Lila had survived. Six hours away didn’t seem like far enough, but it was all she was comfortable with.
Maybe leaving Chicago also meant leaving the profession she’d loved. That cut deeper than the knife blade.
Lifting the slick glass tugged on her still-sore abdomen, sending ripples of fire down her leg and around her back. Wincing, she set the cup down and breathed through the pain. An urgent voice in the back of her mind broke through the barriers, cajoling her to give in. It would ease the suffering. Give her a chance to forget about her humiliation. It couldn’t be that hard to find someone with access to those circular pieces of heaven.
A shot glass clinked on the tabletop, jolting her and shutting down that evil voice. She glared at the tiny cup as it was joined by a bottle of bourbon.
“That pussy water won’t fix what ails you.”
Her gaze traveled up the denim-clad arm and locked with whiskey-colored eyes. The gray-bearded man dipped his head.
“I’m not looking for company.”
He sucked on the toothpick dangling between his lips. “Maybe so, but perhaps you would listen to some advice.”
Lila leaned forward and scooted the glass and bottle toward her uninvited visitor. “Advice is the last thing on earth I’d ever want from man who can’t take a hint.”
Smiling, he removed the toothpick, studying it. “It appears she picked someone to do this job who has more balls than the ones already working for her.” Those whiskey eyes flicked back to Lila. “Chicago, right?”
Grinding her molars, she kept her face neutral.
“Most of the transplants we get from there are gangbanger wannabes. Always bringing their shit here, thinking we’re backwoods and ignorant.” He set the toothpick in the shot glass. “Until we prove them wrong.”
Bracing his hands on the tabletop, he bent forward. “You being new here and all, I’ll let your sass slide. And leave you with this little tidbit. Trust is a two-edged blade, and not all are who they seem.”
The spell he was weaving around her was broken as the bar door squeaked open. Looking to his right, he grunted. Pushing off the table, he grabbed up his bottle and glass.
“Those behind that one especially shouldn’t be trusted.” With that parting shot, he walked away to his table at the back of the bar.
Lila glanced over as Deputy Meyer drifted in her direction, his attention on the man who had left her. What did the old man mean by “those behind” Deputy Meyer?
“Deputy Dayne, what are you doing here?” Meyer asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Taking a break.” She placed a boot on the edge of a chair and pushed it out. “Rest your feet.”
“I’m fine.”
“Hey, Brent.”
“Afternoon, Marnie.” He focused on Lila. “What did he say to you before he walked away?”
“I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.”
“That’s the ex-sheriff, Dayne. Everything he does or says is the business of this department when he’s undermining it.”
So, that was Sheehan. Interesting. That man right there was all the reason she needed to remain an LEO, even a flawed one.
Lila lifted her glass of fizzy water, grateful that the pain was dulled, and threw back a mouthful. Slapping the empty tumbler on the table, she rose. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Anytime,” Marnie said.
Hitching her duty belt higher, she strode past Meyer. “Back to work.”
As she held the door open for her fellow deputy, she chanced a look at the far table. Sheehan lifted his full shot glass to her. Putting her back to the man, she let the door smack shut.
*
Sitting on the courthouse steps, Bentley between her legs, Elizabeth watched the world creep by. The Wagners’ grief at the sight of their murdered daughter still rang in Elizabeth’s ears. She tangled her hands in Bentley’s silky coat and buried her face in her companion’s neck, receiving an affectionate nuzzle against her cheek.
“I want this day to be over.”
Bentley whined.
Tires crunching autumn’s leftover debris brought Elizabeth’s head up. The dark blue sedan parked, and the driver remained in their vehicle. She braced her forearms on her thighs and waited.
A few minutes passed, and then Deputy Dayne exited her car. She strolled up the sidewalk, her hands buried deep in her jacket pockets.
Bentley shifted her position to watch Dayne. Elizabeth straightened her spine as her deputy came to a stop before her. They studied each other a moment, letting the sounds of the end of day traffic take place instead of words.
Dayne jiggled her uniform jacket, looking away. “He tell you what I did?”
“He mentioned it, yes.”
“Am I in trouble?” Her gaze swung back.
“Should you be?”
The deputy’s shoulders slumped.
Elizabeth patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”
Once Dayne was seated, Bentley traded loyalties, plopping her chin on Dayne’s leg. The younger woman’s hand hovered over Bentley’s head, and then she hesitantly stroked the dog.
“I got Bentley a year before I divorced. She liked my ex-husband, they both got along, but her loyalties have always been to me. She’s an old soul.” Elizabeth clasped her hands. “My ex is Rafe’s older brother. There’s some resentment that flows through my ex-brother-in-law regarding his feelings on how his brother abandoned me.”
“Did he abandon you?”
Smiling, she shook her head. “Joel is a Delta Force operative.” She looked toward the street. “His marriage was to his job. I grew up and moved on. There was no abandonment.”
After a few moments of silence, Dayne said, “The man I thought I loved abandoned me.”
That was a piece of her soul Elizabeth wasn’t prepared to hear. She gripped the younger woman’s arm.
“Men can be real pricks sometimes.”
“Amen.” Dayne sighed. “What happened with the Wagners?”
“Jane Doe number two is Maya Wagner. Doe number one was her cousin Regan Flynn.”
“I noticed similarities in the two.”
Elizabeth soaked in that bit of information. “Regan was a drug addict, like her mother before her. Maya may have been too, but we won’t know for sure until the toxicology report is in. Maya died when her neck was broken. Regan’s cause of death is still undetermined.”
Dayne bowed her head and focused on petting Bentley.
“Deputy Dayne. Lila, I need to know.
Are you prepared to continue in your duties? Or is this it?”
A leaf fluttered down from above and settled on the step below their feet. It teetered on the breeze, then flipped over and off it went.
“I came to Juniper to start over fresh. I also came to ensure my safety from a serial killer who failed to add me to his menagerie of corpses.” Lila lifted her head. “My failures will come to head as I navigate this. I nearly died, and doing so again scares the hell out of me.” She looked at Elizabeth. “But I want to continue my duties.”
Giving her a weak smile, Elizabeth gripped Lila’s shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Bentley huffed, earning a smile from Lila.
“Hungry?”
“Actually, I’m starving. Again.”
“Come on.” Elizabeth stood, dusting off her rear.
“I met your sister,” Lila said as they walked the department hallway.
“Something else, isn’t she?”
“I’d say so.” They came to the office. “I had a run-in with Sheehan too.”
Elizabeth looked at the younger woman. “He try to screw with your head?”
“Something like that.”
“Be very careful around him, Lila. He didn’t get to where he is without reason. If he so much as smells a weak link, he’ll hound it until he achieves whatever goal he has in mind.”
“And what of your suspicions about Fitzgerald’s loyalties?”
“I’m pulling at the thread little by little. He’s a good cop—he just has to realize it.”
“Let’s just hope you’re not being naïve about him.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I’ll eat to that.”
Chapter Eighteen
The constant tick of the clock was joined by the soft turn of a page. A solitary lamp held the dark of the December evening at bay. Elizabeth read the autopsies, along with Lundquist’s test results and each of the deputies’ detailed reports from both crime scenes.
Bentley lay on her chair, tucked in a ball, snoring away.
Pausing in her reading, Elizabeth gazed at her dog. Maybe it was time to call it a night.
She’d seen Fitzgerald off as he started his shift. He had insisted that he could not recall any moments in his memory where Sheehan had used his authority to cover up a crime. Elizabeth asked him to think harder.
Later, she chastised Fontaine for wanting to honor his shift, ordering him home, and she had Lundquist take Rafe’s rotation, since he’d had an easy day. Then she’d sent Meyer and Dayne home. Frankly, there wasn’t much Elizabeth could do now, as exhaustion was setting in.
Gathering the reports together, she tucked them into their respective files. A sharp rap on her doorframe brought her to a halt. Bentley bolted to her feet and stared at the intruder. Clasping her hands, Elizabeth settled them on top of the reports.
“Ma.”
The Kauffmann matriarch wore a Native American print coat over a plaid button-down and faded jeans, her graying hair pulled up in a messy knot at the top of her head. She shuffled farther inside the office, glancing at Bentley. “Keeping late hours, I see.”
“The nature of the job.”
“The former sheriff didn’t feel no such desire.” The piercing hazel eyes swung back to Elizabeth.
“I am not he, and he not me.”
Settling in a chair opposite of the desk, Ma made herself comfortable. “No, you’re not, Ellie.”
Apparently, this was not going to be a quick conversation. Sitting back in her chair, Elizabeth gestured for Ma to move it along.
“Karl sends his apologizes for the bruise.”
“Water under the bridge.”
Ma acquiesced with a head bob. “When we spoke yesterday, you insisted I come to you with a more substantial allegation to back up my belief that Daniel was murdered.”
“You have not once said anything about him being murdered. It has always been he was forced off the road.”
“But if that were true, would it not be murder?”
“That depends on the law. I’m not a lawyer.”
Drumming her fingers on the armrest, Ma tilted her head. “You found another body today?”
While her group did a fine job of keeping the news low-key, it did not stop someone from leaking it. Elizabeth had to believe that leak came from the hospital, as people were coming and going there and probably paid too close attention to what they shouldn’t have. Midafternoon, she got a call from the newspaper and then a reporter from the local news station. While she did her best to downplay any hysterics the reporters could exploit—the newspaper journalist being one of Juniper’s own—it didn’t stop the news station reporter from rousing up some excitement. The whole of Eckardt County now knew that there had been a double homicide.
“That second body was found on the property of a particular family. True?”
Elizabeth had been brought up in the art of not saying. If you kept your mouth shut, people were not apt to learn what was true or false, whether you were guilty or innocent. The art served her well.
“By not answering me, you confirm my suspicions.” Ma sat upright. “Ellie, dear, I don’t have to tell you about the long-standing problems between Pratt Meyer and my Henry, and now myself.”
“I don’t see how Sophie’s family property has anything to do with your and Pratt’s feud.”
Her gaze narrowing, Ma leaned forward, pointing a finger. “I know you know about what happened there with Danny.”
“What is it that I’d know?”
Ma chuckled, shaking that pointed finger. “Ben was never the loyal type. Let that be a reminder to you.”
Elizabeth rotated her shoulders. “Stop beating around the bush and get to the point.”
“My point is, Pratt Meyer is not the upstanding savior of this town as he wants us all to believe. He’s got a deal with the devil, and he’ll do anything to keep his throne.”
“By having your son run off the road and killed? To what end?”
“To remind us all not to interfere.”
“With what?”
At this, Ma sat back, going silent.
Frustration warring with patience, Elizabeth rocked forward and rested her hands on the desktop once more. “I need viable evidence to prove what you’re alluding to is enough to stir that pot. Do you have anything for me other than conjecture?”
Lips pursed in a stern line, Ma huffed.
“Well, then, this conversation is over. As I said yesterday, if you have actual concrete evidence to prove to me that Daniel’s accident was more than that, bring it, and I will investigate it fully. Until then, I can’t disprove what those who came before me have said.”
After a moment of stinging silence, Ma stood. “I dare say that perhaps you got into the wrong line of work, Elizabeth.”
“Perhaps I did. But as of this instance, I am the sheriff, and as such, I will do my duties to the best of my abilities until the voters of this county say otherwise.”
A cruel smile played up the corners of Ma’s mouth. “There are two things that every sheriff has learned while doing this job. The first is that they always come in the first day with high hopes of being better than the previous sheriff. The second is that reality strips them of that optimism. Eckardt County is what it is, Elizabeth, and no one will change that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that.”
Elizabeth didn’t move until she heard the distinct suction of the closing door echo through the hallway.
“Bentley, I do believe that woman needs a harder look-see.”
*
The mild night beckoned. Clad in a hoodie, sweats, and thick wool socks, Lila sat on the front porch steps nursing a steaming cup of herbal tea. As she sipped, she listened to the night sounds, tensing as the occasional vehicle passed.
This unease was problematic. The sheriff might not have judged her for her actions today, but Lila couldn’t forgive herself. The Wagners were harmless—how would she react when actua
lly faced with a life-threatening situation? Fontaine was justified in his distrust. At this point she didn’t trust herself.
Placing the warm mug against her chin, she inhaled the scent of lemon and mint. A former patrol partner had turned her onto the tea. When faced with a difficult night or matter, Lila steeped the brew and let the combo do whatever magic it held. The tea soothed her. No one could tell her otherwise.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
The million-dollar question.
Squeaking brakes carried on the silent night. A pickup truck with a heavy-duty cow kicker parked along the curb, the headlights turned down to the low setting. Seconds passed and the engine quieted. Lila’s grip on the mug tightened, her right hand inching down to her side, settling on the Glock lying next to her thigh. The driver’s side door groaned open. Through the dimmed lighting, Lila made out the striking figure.
Viking.
Lundquist shut the truck’s door, and rounded the front, his long body slashing through the light beams. He approached at a snail’s pace.
Her hand remaining on the Glock, she sipped her tea.
“I come in peace.” His gruff voice danced over her nerves.
“Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”
Lundquist halted at the base of the steps, placing one booted foot on the bottom stair. He carried that whole country boy persona well. “It’s quiet for the time being. We didn’t get a chance to regroup today.”
Their conversation at Maya Wagner’s scene trickled through Lila’s brain. “No, we didn’t.” She set the mug down beside the Glock, then pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands, tucking them against her body. “At this point, the blood sample results are just confirmation to what Fontaine and the sheriff learned today.”
“In a way, yes.” There was a hitch in his tone.
The Killer in Me Page 13
