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

by Stacy Green

  “See you later,” Chris finally said. He headed for the door. I followed Chris, trying to put myself in his shoes. He had to be burning right now, all twisted in pain and betrayal and anger. I wished I could think of something to say that would actually make a difference.

  “I almost forgot,” Todd said as we reached the door. “I spoke with Brian Harrison yesterday morning.”

  My stomach cartwheeled. I’d known this was coming. “What did he have to say?”

  “He’s got an alibi for Kailey’s disappearance,” Todd said.

  “At least you know for sure.” I waited for the blade to fall. Chris leaned against the door, eyes on Todd’s scuffed hardwood floor, but I could see the set of his jaw. He knew it was coming too.

  “Harrison had some interesting things to say, though,” Todd said. “Seems his brother died a few months ago from a suspected overdose. But Brian doesn’t believe it. He says his brother was murdered by the woman he was dating at the time.”

  I made my eyes go wide and hoped my pounding heart wasn’t audible. “Sounds like he’s in denial.”

  Todd cocked his head to the side. “I thought that as well, but here’s the crazy part. He claims the woman showed up at Kailey’s school the day after she disappeared. And she matches your description.”

  We stared at each other. My insides rolled and tried to crawl up my throat. I could handle this. Harrison had no physical evidence, and he was dead now too. Of course, when Todd discovered that, I’d have a whole new barrel of rotten to deal with. But until then, I’d keep calm and focus on Kailey. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Todd shook his head. “He swore up and down the same woman at the school was the woman his brother dated, and he believes she killed his brother.”

  “Poor guy,” I said. “I’m sorry he’s so deluded.”

  “His brother was a junkie, right?” Chris cut in.

  “Heroin,” Todd said. “But Brian Harrison claims the brother had been clean for a while.”

  “You know how many ODs I see from addicts who’ve been clean for a few weeks?” Chris said. “The body is so shocked it can’t handle the drug, the heart goes into cardiac arrest. That’s one of the most common times to overdose.”

  “I’m aware.” Todd eyes remained on me. “I just found Harrison’s insistance on the redheaded female killer very interesting, especially since Lucy’s the one who showed up at the school that day.”

  I needed to get out of there. My ability to act like I wasn’t freaking out had worn down to a nub. “Well, I can safely say he’s off his rocker. But at least we know he didn’t take Kailey. That’s all that matters.”

  “For now,” Todd agreed. “For now.”

  29

  “Shit.” I dropped into the passenger seat.

  Chris peeled out onto the street. “You knew it was coming. But there’s no real evidence against you, is there?”

  “Not since I took Cody Harrison’s computer.” My palms felt clammy. I rubbed them against my jeans until the skin burned. “But Brian Harrison molested one of the girls Kailey walked home with. And God knows how many others.”

  I let the words hang between us and stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Chris’s gaze. Gooseflesh spread over my arms, and I again felt like my sense of self was being stripped.

  “You killed Brian Harrison, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Christ.”

  “You knew this about me.” I still couldn’t look at him. “This is who I am. So don’t act surprised.”

  “No,” he said. “This is who you choose to be.”

  He said nothing more, and I stewed. I couldn’t tell him how much I hated myself sometimes, how much I worried nothing I did would ever make any difference, that my actions were doing nothing but destroying me. I wanted to tell him all of these things. Maybe I even wanted to tell him I was thinking about quitting. I’d chosen the wrong path for justice. But I never said a word until we drove by Jenna Richardson’s apartment building.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want to talk to Jenna.” He pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine while I scrambled to think of the right words to stop him.

  “Listen, don’t do that to her. She’s already had to relive this with Todd, and her kid is missing.”

  “I know. And feel free to call me a selfish asshole. But I need to talk to her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to.” His voice cracked, and he stared at me, pleading. I couldn’t imagine his pain. He must feel abandoned, angry, betrayed…the list of adjectives was endless. But Jenna Richardson was suffering too. I should keep telling him no, make him listen to me the way I had in Martha’s basement, but the truth is, I simply couldn’t. I couldn’t contribute to the burning torment.

  “Please.”

  His desperate, almost childish plea made something click in my head, and I saw the resemblance between him and Justin. The thing that bound them together was more than mutual suffering: it was the loss of childhood innocence, of never being able to see the world through the rainbow glasses a kid should be allowed to wear. And I recognized it because the very same darkness resided in my own heart. I just harnessed mine differently.

  “All right,” I said. “But if she won’t let us in, then don’t push it. Give her that much.”

  His answer was a mere grunt.

  I prayed Jenna Richardson didn’t answer the door.

  Jenna Richardson tried to shut the door in our faces, but Chris stuck his foot in the door. “I’m Chris Weston. Ted Weston’s son. I found you in the barn.”

  She staggered back, hands out in front of her like a trapped animal ready to fight whatever monster had it cornered. Then she saw me.

  “Why would you bring him here?”

  “I’m sorry, Jenna, but he came all on his own. I’m just trying to make sure he uses common sense.”

  “I’ve told Detective Beckett everything I can from that night.” I saw her senses snap back into place, almost heard the connection pop in her brain. She glared at Chris with white-hot hatred. “He thought you might have taken my daughter.”

  She lunged at Chris before either of us could react, her small fists pummeling him. I tried to step between them, the 5-foot-7-inch woman defending a 6-foot man, and one of Jenna’s fists landed square on my lip.

  “Damn.” Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked away the dancing stars.

  Chris had her by the wrists. “I’m cleared. He talked to my boss–I was on duty. I didn’t take Kailey!”

  She looked at me, and rubbing my swelling lower lip, I nodded.

  Jenna yanked away from Chris. “Then why are you here?”

  Good question. I licked my lip and tasted blood.

  “I found some things out, and I really need to talk to you,” Chris said.

  “This isn’t about Kailey?”

  Chris hesitated, and I hoped he had enough sense not to say anything about Mary being Martha and all the other immensely screwed up things we’d found out tonight.

  “No. I’m sorry. I know this is shitty timing. But I really need to talk to you.” He glanced at me. “And she’s bleeding.”

  “Sorry about that,” Jenna said. “I’ll get you some ice. But you’re not staying long. I don’t need to relive that time right now.”

  Her apartment no longer smelled like pumpkin spice. It had been replaced by the staleness that comes with despair. The scent is a special mixture that permeates a home touched by tragedy, getting in the clothes and furniture and embedding into the carpet. The stagnancy was heightened by the warm temperature. Jenna’s appearance matched the atmosphere: gray yoga pants and a wrinkled blue, long sleeved Philly Fitness sweatshirt two sizes too big and sporting a coffee stain. The only color on her face was in the circles beneath her eyes. Her hair was greasy. I didn’t blame her.

  She handed me a baggie full of ice wrapped in a towel, and I pressed it to my lip. The tingly cold hurt and reli
eved at the same time.

  “Why should I tell you anything?” Jenna glared at Chris.

  “You shouldn’t, but I’m desperate. I’ve spent years trying to remember what happened in that barn, and when I heard you were the girl…I know I’m an asshole. But I’m begging you. Just a few questions.”

  She bit her lip so hard blood came to the surface. “Five minutes.”

  “Do you remember me?”

  “I remember a child’s voice. I guess it was yours.”

  She closed her eyes, presumably finding her happy place. Mine was the memory of my sister letting me crawl in her bed during a thunderstorm and telling me nursery rhymes until I fell asleep. “I’ve built a new life, and I don’t want people finding out. And Kailey, when she comes home, I don’t want her to hear about it.”

  “It won’t leave this room,” Chris said. “I didn’t know everything my father did until tonight.”

  “I suppose the detective told you?” Her bloodshot eyes blazed, and I realized Todd could get into deep shit for sharing her personal information with us.

  “No,” I said. “I’ve got a friend who specializes in information. She dug it up.”

  Jenna sank onto the couch, the oversized cushions making her look even more petite. “The day you found me, your father had been gone for only fifteen minutes. I know this because I counted. It was the only way to keep sane. And he had a routine. Morning, when the sun shined between the barn cracks, and night, when the coyotes made too much noise. He never came in between.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I heard the door open, and I wet myself. I couldn’t take any more. And then I heard a kid scream. It was the most awful and wonderful sound I’d ever heard.”

  “Did you hear anyone else?” Chris asked.

  “Someone–an adult, I thought–shouted at you to get out of the barn. You were screaming about me.”

  “Did the person you heard sound surprised to see you?” Chris choked. “Or afraid because I’d found you?”

  “I don’t remember,” Jenna said. “I was injured and exhausted. Next thing I heard were tires spinning out. And then suddenly the police were there.”

  Chris raked his hand through his hair, looking as though he wanted to shake the memories out of Jenna.

  “Jenna, have you ever had any hypnosis or anything else to jog your memory?” I asked.

  “No. I remember plenty.”

  “Not enough,” Chris said.

  I shot him a disapproving look. “Is it possible someone besides Ted Weston was involved?”

  “I only heard his voice. But sometimes…” she looked away from me and stared blankly into the kitchen. “Sometimes he used things other than his penis in me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Did you ever hear laughter? A woman?”

  Jenna grimaced, her upper lip curling into her nose. Her eyes were wet. “I heard laughter every time he attacked me. Sometimes it was close, other times it sounded far away. But I tried to go far away into my mind, so what I remember is sketchy.”

  “Chris,” I said, “she’s not going to give you the answers you’re looking for. There’s a reason why things worked out the way they did.” And that reason was Martha herself. How manipulative had she been to get her husband to take the fall?

  He took out his phone. “Look at these, please, and then I promise you, we’ll leave. Do you recognize anything?”

  Eyeing him warily, she took the phone and started scrolling through the pictures. Suddenly, her whole body went still. She was the trapped animal again. “That’s my ring. Where did you get this?”

  “Illegally obtained,” Chris said. “But I promise, you’ll have the full story soon. We’re just making sure the case is solid.”

  “What case?” Jenna looked between the two of us. “Ted Weston’s in prison for what he did.”

  “But my mother isn’t,” Chris said. “And she may know about you. And Kailey.”

  Whatever energy Jenna had left evaporated. Drained right from her skin until it was pale as a corpse. Her shock resonated throughout the apartment, temporarily freezing us all. Then she was on her feet, pacing. “Does she have my daughter?”

  “We don’t know,” I said.

  Jenna’s hands went into her hair, as if she were trying to smash the images out of her head. “It can’t be. This can’t be happening to Kailey. My baby.”

  “Detective Beckett’s aware of this information,” I said. “He’s doing everything he can to track Chris’s mother down. And we may be wrong.”

  Jenna went limp. “Please leave.”

  “I’ll find Kailey.” Chris took the phone, put it in his pocket, and looked down at Jenna with determination. “I will find her.”

  30

  “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. And Todd’s going to have your ass for mentioning that to her.” We were almost to my building in Northern Liberties. Neither of us had spoken since leaving Jenna’s, and I was glad. My brain needed some time to decompress and figure out the next move. Trouble was, I couldn’t connect the various live wires of information in my head. I was too distracted by the pain of the man sitting next to me, too worried about the lost little girl I was beginning to feel we would never find. The lack of control over my thoughts and emotions only added to my mental clusterfuck.

  It was hard to believe that just a few short hours ago, I’d accosted Chris, demanding to know if he was involved in Kailey’s kidnapping.

  “This is my place.”

  He parked the Audi, but I didn’t make any move to get out. I knew I should say something to him, but what? Females are supposed to be nurturing and compassionate. My mother once said it was our job to make life less harsh and more beautiful. A nice word can go a long way, she’d lecture. Ironic coming from a person who could tear an individual down with a few well-placed verbal barbs. Still, I couldn’t disagree. In the end, woman are the fairer sex, and if anyone can soften the misery of life’s shitstorm, it should be us, right? My problem was I’d only ever been able to do that with kids.

  “You ever have a moment when the bottom falls out?” Chris said. He stared ahead, slumped in his seat. I had no idea how to help him or even what to say. “Like you think you’re just getting a handle on your life, whatever’s left of it, and then suddenly everything has disintegrated?”

  “When you want to crawl under the bed and hide?” I said softly. “Or maybe end your own suffering because you just don’t see how anything could be right again?”

  The car idled, its exhaust trailing into the street and glowing like misty fog beneath the streetlight. It drifted up, twisting into a cyclone-like shape, and then faded away as quickly as it had emerged.

  “Is that what happened to you when you heard Justin was released?”

  “No. I had that realization much earlier in life. When my sister died.”

  “What happened to her?”

  I’d rather have told him about the first time I’d killed a man. But sharing my darkest moment seemed only fair after tonight. “Lily was four years older than me. My father left when I was a baby, and my mother didn’t like to be alone. So there was always a man in our lives. I didn’t mind, but my sister resented it. The last boyfriend, she really hated. He was around for four years. He liked Lily a lot.”

  “He molested her.”

  “Between the ages of twelve and fifteen. And she kept her mouth shut, because mom was happy, and there was nothing worse than mom being unhappy. She’s good at making you feel like it’s your fault. But finally, Lily decided to tell mom. And she didn’t believe her.” I tasted the bitterness as strongly as I had when I’d heard my mother yelling at Lily. “Ostracized her for telling such terrible lies. I believed her. I told her I’d help her, and she made me promise to never let him touch me.”

  “Did you keep your promise?”

  “With a vengeance.” A smiled played on my lips. “The one time he tried to touch me, I took a baseball bat to his hea
d. Put him in the hospital for three days and earned myself a juvenile record.”

  The day I found Lily is as fresh as any memory. Late October, just like now. But the temperature was unseasonably warm, and I’d gone without a jacket. Walking home, I’d basked in the sunshine and looked for shapes in the fat, low-hanging clouds. One particular cloud looked like an angel, I’d told my friend.

  “Lily skipped school the day after our mother blew her off. When I came home, the house was quiet. Like heavy quiet, when you’re listening for someone’s breathing. I went to Lily’s room, but she wasn’t there. The bathroom door was closed. I stared at it, and somehow I knew what I’d find.” Blazing with fresh pain, the images flash through my head. I’d replayed that day so many times, and yet the pain never ebbed. “She’d cut her wrists–with his razors, of course. I didn’t scream or throw up, or even cry. I just stood there thinking it wasn’t happening but knowing it was because I could smell the coppery blood and her bowels.” A hollow ache consumed my already tired body. “Her hair–it was the prettiest, silkiest blond–was fixed in curls, the way my mother liked it. They used to fight over that. Her eyes were like glass. Opaque and vacant. She was gone. My life as I knew it was gone.” I blew out a hard breath as if that would dull the hurt.

  “I called my mother. She said to make sure Lily had on clean underwear before the paramedics came. Presentation always mattered most to her.” An acrid taste came with the words. “I hated her for a long time for that.”

  “Do you still hate her?”

  I honestly didn’t know how to answer. “Some days. Some days I want to get right in her face and call her out for not listening to Lily, for every cruel, manipulative thing she’s ever said. It’s a special fantasy of mine. Nose-to-nose, her cowering away from me with the same kind of fear I imagine Lily felt every time that bastard came for her. For once, I would do the talking. Tell her how her manipulation makes me feel, how her need for attention from men and her thirst for control ruined our family and that I hate her with everything I have. But other days I just feel sorry for her.”