All Good Deeds (A Lucy Kendall Thriller) (Lucy Kendall #1) (The Lucy Kendall Series)

by Stacy Green

  Shock flickered across his face, and then panic. He tried to get up, gasped, still clutching his arm. His eyes were wild now, darting past me, searching for someone to help. There wouldn’t be anyone. I’d chosen this parking garage well.

  “You’re killing me. Like you killed Cody.”

  “I am.”

  I expected him to beg. Cry. I could deal with those things because I believed he didn’t deserve them. Didn’t have the right to plead for anything. He didn’t listen to his victim’s plea.

  “I deserve to die.”

  The iron case around my heart weakened. “You don’t believe that.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve always known it. Me and my brother…we never had a chance. Least, that’s what he said. I always believed him. And I did…” he gasped again, “I did try to be good. But I never could manage it. Every time I thought I’d beaten it, the urge came back worse than before.”

  “It’s impossible.” Shut up. Don’t try to be a human now. Don’t make me feel for you.

  His skin paled, tinged with the blue of a corpse.

  “So I should be put down. Like a rabid dog.” He’d gone into my mind, yanked out my own words. Maybe we were the same, just with different addictions. My addiction was my twisted need to make things right, to squash some of the torment that kept me up at night.

  I’m killing him for myself too.

  Another breath, this one more labored. “No more trying to fight it. No more worrying about getting caught. Maybe I’ll see Cody in hell too.”

  He closed his eyes and said nothing more, nursing his breathing.

  My own breath grew unsteady. My heartbeat ramped up until my head hurt. A voice I usually kept locked up roared in my head.

  What gives you the right? How can you do this? This man is dying. You’re a killer. A screwed-up mind seeking solace, just like all the other murderers on death row.

  “I’m doing what any parent would.” I spoke out loud to no one. Brian was beyond listening. His eyes rolled back in his head, saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth. “Every parent of an abused child would kill the person responsible if they thought they could get away with it. I’m doing that for them. For all the Josies of the world.”

  Brian groaned, then mumbled something I couldn’t understand. The color had drained from his face like someone turning a colored photograph into a black and white one. He coughed, once, hard. His body began to shake, most likely a seizure, and his eyes flew open. They were filled with a terror I would never forget. He reached for me, his hand flailing for some kind of human contact. He was going into the void. Did he see darkness? Was it slithering over him like an immovable veil?

  The reaper I feared more than anything had come right in front of me, and I wanted to shake Brian Harrison, make him tell me what he saw in those last moments.

  I gave him my gloved hand. I’d have to burn these.

  His gaze locked with mine, his grip tight enough to cut off circulation. A final shudder, and then stillness. His unseeing eyes still seemed focused on me, accusing in their opacity. There was no sense of peace, no feeling that his soul had left. Just utter stillness.

  He’s nothing now.

  I pulled my hand free of his and ran to the car.

  24

  I shouldn’t have just shown up at Kelly’s door, but she didn’t seem surprised. I must have looked terrible; she ushered me right in and put the teapot on to boil. Her little place smelled of orange tea, and the scent made me feel less like crawling out of my skin.

  “I thought I might see you again tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you couldn’t walk away until it was done this time.” Kelly sat the cup of tea in front of me. Chin on her hand, she looked young and sweet. Innocent. But her mind and body knew horrors because of someone like Brian Harrison.

  I did the right thing. Killing Brian Harrison is for Kelly and Josie and kids like them. His terrified eyes flashed in my vision once more, and I rubbed my temples as if to extricate the memory.

  I didn’t give her any details. She didn’t need any more sinister images to keep her awake at night. “He thought he was at peace with death. Like it was the best thing. I think that’s what threw me.”

  “You watched a man die. At your hands. If you didn’t feel something, I’d be worried about you.”

  But I didn’t feel anything for him at first. What does that say about me? I couldn’t bring myself to ask her.

  I took a drink of the steaming tea, wincing as it burned my throat. I took another drink and let it burn my lips. “It’s not that I didn’t fully understand the consequences of my decisions. Seeing them in action, watching the life literally leave his eyes. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Because you can’t. Human life is vibrant–an energy. Even if that energy is dark and twisted and needs to be extinguished, it’s a tangible force. Watching its destruction makes us all realize how fragile we are. And when you’re the wrecking ball…” her voice trailed off.

  “It’s the nothingness, Kel.” My voice was barely audible. “Whenever life ends, it just quits. We literally cease to exist. Every single one of us. It’s not even blackness. It’s literally nothing.” The pulverizing fear rushed me, yanking the breath out of my shaking body. “I bring the nothingness to people.”

  The cold, stark reality of what I’d become seeped into my bones. I may be a nice person. I’m loyal, a good friend, I help families, help children. I want to make this world a better place, truly. But I’m a killer, just like Chris said. I’d convinced myself I didn’t belong on murderer’s row because I was doing a good service, and so I really wasn’t the same. For the past few months, until the day Chris barged into my life, I really believed I was at peace with my decision.

  But that’s wrong. Being at peace with it would make me a true monster, and I don’t want to become a monster. Accept the decision and consequences, fine. Continue on the path I’ve chosen because I believe I’m helping, all right. But never at peace. That’s a reprieve I don’t deserve, and a punishment I’ll take.

  “Are you going to be okay?” The gentle pressure of Kelly’s hand on my shoulder soothed me.

  “Yeah. I just need to process. You know me.”

  She smiled. “Better than anyone, I think.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, but I kept seeing Brian’s eyes, dead and accusatory. Then his face morphed into the five other men I’d killed and to the one I should have killed, my sister’s abuser, and finally to my own cold, dead face. I needed to talk about something else. Kelly beat me to it, however.

  “So I’ve got some good news on Slimy Steve, your Chetter’s scumbag. My contact at the police department told me about an electronics scam they’re working on. Some guy is stealing tablets and laptops, filing the serial numbers off, and selling them in an online action. Guess who one of the prime suspects is?”

  “Steve,” I said. “Are they building a decent case against him?”

  “My contact thinks so. Apparently it’s quite a network. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and they’ll take him off the streets for you.”

  That would be a blessing. I didn’t want to think about tracking anyone else right now. “I hope so. Listen, I need to tell you Justin’s story from this morning.”

  Kelly sat in stunned silence as I told her everything Justin had confessed. Part of the reason I’d put off telling her was because I knew how much it had to hurt her to hear. She knew what it was like to have a parent use her for his own sick means. I hated having to dump it all on her, but she was the only person in my life I fully trusted. And if I didn’t get the words out I would explode.

  “Jesus Christ,” she finally said. “That poor kid.”

  “I’m sorry to dump this on you.”

  “I can handle it.” She squirmed in her seat, looking queasy.

  “And I should have listened to you. You were right about Justin.”

  “Stop worrying about what you should have done and do s
omething now.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Hopelessness slid over me. “There are plenty of things I want to do, but they all have consequences, and I don’t know which sucks less.”

  Kelly sighed. “What’s the first thing you want to do?”

  The answer required no thinking. “I want to confront Justin’s mother. I want to make her admit everything she did to him and force her to tell me if she took Kailey. Then I’d like to drop a cup of cyanide down her throat.”

  “Let’s save that second part for later,” Kelly said. “Why not confront her, especially if she did take Kailey?”

  “She thinks she’s got the upper hand. That Justin’s shaking in his boots. If she found out he confided in someone else–in me, particularly–she might bolt. If she has Kailey…”

  “Yeah, okay. Plan B?” She paused. “And what’s Todd got to say about all of this?”

  “Justin says he’s not taking him seriously. That’s why he came to me.” I rubbed my temples, trying to squash the images still tormenting me. “Her bakery and house are in Fishtown. She could easily be hiding Kailey in either one of those places, but try to find out if she’s got any other property.”

  “You need to get into her house. That’s where she’d have her,” Kelly said. “Even if she doesn’t have any employees, keeping the kid at her business is a big risk. You’ve got deliveries, customers. Easier to be discovered.”

  “You’re right, of course,” I said. “Justin doesn’t know her schedule, but we’re planning on heading to her house tonight. If she steps out the door, we’re going in.”

  Kelly was silent.

  “What?”

  “Well, I believe him. But I don’t like the idea of you going off with him and doing this. I mean, you’ve gone from thinking he’s the devil to being alone with him.”

  “I don’t have much choice if I want to find Kailey.”

  “Can’t you go to Todd? Tell him you believe Justin? And what about Chris? Aren’t you supposed to be getting into his head? Have you just abandoned the idea he could be the guy?”

  I stared into my tea. “Todd will tell me to back off, and Justin doesn’t want him to know he’d spoken to me. As for Chris…” I hesitated, knowing Kelly wasn’t going to like this part. “I really need his help getting into Martha Beckett’s house. Justin’s young and skittish. Going into his mother’s home is going to be really tough on him. I need a backup.”

  “You’re taking both of them?” Kelly’s voice went shrill. “Are you nuts? What if Chris is the guy? Or what if they both flake out and get you caught?”

  She had a point, and I was too worn out to shuffle through my mental file of Chris’s possible motives. “You know what? I’ve got his address. I’m going to pay him a surprise visit and flat out ask him.”

  Kelly coughed, nearly spitting out her tea. “What?”

  “Kailey is running out of time. Martha Beckett looks like a better suspect than Chris. The only way to rule him out is to lay everything I know on him and hope I can make a judgment call.”

  “And what if he lies, and you run into big trouble? Like, I don’t know, his attacking you?” She wiped her mouth with a napkin, hands shaking.

  “If Chris gets out of line, I’ll wing it.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.”

  To be honest, I’m not sure my mind’s been fully put together for a long time. I’ve never been one to believe in any kind of fate, but it’s hard not to look back at my life and wonder. Why did Chris come into it when he did? Is he part of some larger plan–a notion I really don’t believe in–that I’m not understanding? Maybe Chris showed up so I could see myself for who and what I really am.

  I see it now.

  But the more likely explanation is that I’m just making excuses for my bad choices. “You’re probably right. But I’m done dancing with him.”

  25

  My ballsy plan might be for nothing if Chris wasn’t home. I was out of my element. My routine was to follow, to observe, to research, and then judge. Impulsivity was not a part of the Lucy Kendall justice system. But sometimes improvisation is a necessary evil.

  As usual, Center City teemed with nightlife. College kids and singles huddled outside the popular bars, laughing and flirting. One of my favorite cheese shops boasted a wine tasting sign, and I longed to go inside, find a corner, and drink until I passed out.

  I ignored the normal people and drove straight to Chris’s condominium, located in one of the newer buildings in the area. I wondered if he even had a trust fund or his uncle just bankrolled him.

  “Lucy?” His voiced cracked over the speaker, and I secretly smiled with glee at taking him off guard for once. “What are you doing here? Did something happen with the little girl?”

  “Her name is Kailey. And I need to talk to you right away.”

  I half-expected him to refuse, but he hit the buzzer, and I found myself on the elevator to the third floor. My stomach twisted into hard knots, and my jaw ached from grinding my teeth. I wrapped my coat more tightly around me, as if it would protect me from whatever shitstorm I was about to insert myself into. I pocketed the nerves and knocked on Chris’s door, a pristine white slab of wood with a gold number three in the middle, just above the peephole.

  “Hey.” He looked as casual as I’d ever seen him, wearing black track pants and a white, fitted long sleeved shirt. The black glasses had returned. His sandy hair was tousled, adding to his rugged look. “Come in, but my place is kind of messy. I don’t get a lot of visitors.”

  “Thanks.” I quickly took stock of my surroundings. Messy was the wrong adjective, unless you counted too much stuff on the counters and the sweatshirt hanging off the back of a kitchen chair. Chris’s condo was an open floor plan, with lots of neutral furniture and a nice granite bar. Artwork hung on a couple of walls, and I think there were some family pictures on a side table, but I barely registered them.

  “So what’s going on?”

  My heart jumped around against my ribs. My mouth went dry.

  “Did you know Jenna Richardson is your father’s last victim?” The words came out before I considered them.

  Chris sank onto a bar stool. His coloring actually went from normal to pallid in about two seconds. A single tremor wracked his lean frame. “The girl in the barn?”

  Empathy for what he must have gone through swelled through me. “Yes, Jenna is the girl you found in the barn. Kailey looks a lot like her. Didn’t you see the resemblance?”

  “I don’t remember the girl in the barn’s face. I just remember her being chained. Dirty. And crying.” He looked at the floor. His shoulders were rigid as he took a long breath.

  “And you were following Justin. And me.” I kept pushing. “Were you actually following Justin? Or were you coveting Kailey?”

  “What?” His head shot up, surprise replacing his pale shock.

  “You see what this looks like, right? You had a childhood trauma–the kind that can significantly alter a personality. Kailey looks like your father’s last victim. You were young enough then you may have seen more than just what happened in the barn. Do you follow?”

  His thick eyebrows knitted together, forming deep lines across his forehead. “You think I took Kailey? Because of what I was exposed to, I’m somehow following in my father’s footsteps?”

  “It’s possible,” I said. “I think you decided to follow Justin because he was released. And then you saw Jenna. Maybe you snapped.”

  “I didn’t follow Justin because he got released.” He slid off the barstool, hands in his hair. His shirt slid up to reveal the toned muscles of his stomach. I purposely looked away.

  “So you lied about that too.” I bottled my anger and fought to keep my tone even. “If you want me to trust you, tell me everything right now. And that includes why you even stepped into my life. Because I gotta tell you, it really looks like you’re using us all as pawns while you hide an innocent child.”

  Chris held up his hands. “Fin
e, fine. I guess it’s time I laid it all out anyway.” He sighed and paced. “My uncle was close to the prosecuting attorney in Justin’s case,” Chris said. “It was a big deal in our house. I was finishing up school and getting ready for paramedic training. And I kept hearing my uncle say the same things you did about Justin. That he was likely to repeat the behavior if he got out. My aunt always felt he deserved a second chance. And your name came up several times during the trial.”

  “It did?”

  He shot me a keen glance. “You were there at the trial every day. And you visited Justin a few times. The district attorney always talked about how personal you took it. He used to be afraid you would never be able to fully separate yourself from your cases.”

  I swallowed hard but made no other comment. “Go on.”

  “So when talk of his release came up, you can imagine my uncle,” Chris said. “He was beside himself, and so was the D.A. We all followed the case. And I saw you again, on television.” His eyes softened a bit as he looked at me.” You looked so different than you did ten years ago. Not aged, but seasoned. Hardened. I read what you said in court, that you disagreed with the psychologist’s assessment and you felt Justin would repeat. And I felt bad when the judge blew you off.”

  I didn’t like to remember that day. The judge was irritated with me, calling me a crusader and an emotional liability. I’d almost gotten a contempt of court charge. “He said that while he appreciated my extensive experience with child protective services, I wasn’t qualified to make judgments on an adult’s mental health. He only granted me a chance to speak at the request of the victim’s family.”

  “Did you really think they’d let him out?”

  I shook my head. “No. Sometimes. Late at night, you know? When I would try to sleep. I’d get that gut feeling, and then I’d talk myself out of it.”

  “My uncle cried.”

  “That’s the day I snapped,” I said. “I couldn’t believe it. I walked out of the courthouse and away from everyone. I walked for hours until I realized I had blisters on my feet. By the time I finally got home, I’d made my decision.”