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

by Stacy Green

  “I can’t say the same for my mother.” He cleared his throat. “I resented her for leaving me with my uncle for a while, but not because I missed her. I think I felt that way because it was how I was supposed to feel, you know? Kids whose parents choose their personal lives over them are supposed to be full of angst. But I got bored with that. And I always had the creeping fear that I didn’t understand my mother at all. That more had happened at that farm than I allowed myself to remember.” His hand, resting on the gearshift, clenched into a white fist.

  “You were really young.” I laid my fingers on his trembling hand. He relaxed but still held the shift too tightly. “Kids that age compartmentalize. The mind’s got a way of protecting itself. Your mind scrubbed away as much of your misery as it could. It did you a favor.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Your aunt and uncle are good to you–that’s obvious from the way you speak about them. You grew up in a nice area of town, safe. Yeah, you had the occasional nightmare about Mother Mary, but your mind protected you from the worst and let you grow up relatively normal.”

  “A sociopath.”

  I suddenly didn’t like that word. It made me feel twisted and dark, like some sort of infection was creeping through me. “That needs to stop,” I said. “You’re not a sociopath. That’s an excuse you’ve used to justify some of your feelings. Or lack of. But no sociopath cares as much about people as you do. Look what you just promised Jenna.”

  “I promised her for myself.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “To absolve myself of guilt.”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

  He suddenly took my hand, his skin hot and clammy. Twisting in his seat, he leaned close to me, disrupting my personal safe space, and stared at me with incandescent eyes. “I need you to promise me you won’t stop looking for Kailey.”

  Between the street light and the glowing dash lights, an eerie sort of aura framed Chris. He looked on the verge of either breaking down sobbing or attacking me. Maybe both.

  “I won’t give up until Kailey’s found. One way or the other.” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “dead”.

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  A heady sense of dread swept over me, cooling my toes and worming its way up my body until my heart felt like it was pumping ice. “If Mary doesn’t come home, if Todd can’t find her, promise me you won’t give up searching for her. And Kailey.”

  “The police–Todd,” I clarified. “He’s already got an unmarked unit watching the house. He’s got his own grudge, and now that he knows everything, it’s going to be damn hard for her to hide unless she goes completely off the grid. And she’s probably developed a false security after all these years. Todd will find her.”

  “Or she’s been preparing for a moment like this. She’ll sniff out the cops and take off.”

  I didn’t want to agree. “If the police can’t find her, I don’t know that I can. As good as my computer specialist is, she’s limited. Police aren’t. They can even call in the FBI if they want.”

  “I want you to find her.”

  I’m pretty sure I actually saw my life-altering moment as it happened, almost like I was peering in the car’s window and spying on myself. The transition seeped into the car and surrounded me, its grip as strong as my fear of death. My throat dried up. My lungs struggled for air. And my brain screamed to flee. But that wasn’t an option, and even if I ran now, Chris would keep coming at me until I gave him an answer.

  “You’re really asking me to kill her.”

  “Administer Lucy Kendall justice.”

  I dragged my fingernails over my forehead as if I could claw my way out of my head. “This isn’t how I work.”

  “What?”

  “Mother Mary–she’s a pig. She deserves to be brought to justice. But I…I choose people. I keep a mental list. It’s neat and tidy.”

  “So add her to the list.”

  It wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t allow it to be that easy. I worked mostly alone. Kelly gave me information, and I had a chemist in my back pocket, but that was it. Chris wasn’t going to be a sideliner in this endeavor. The decision to end someone is very personal. And it’s mine alone. Agreeing to act as nothing more than a hit woman was not part of my system. And after watching Brian Harrison die, I honestly wasn’t sure I could do it again.

  “Chris.”

  He jerked toward me, and for a moment I thought he was going to grab my shoulders. “She took Kailey. What do you think she’s doing to her? What do you think she did to those other girls?”

  “I know what she did. That’s not the reason.”

  “Is it control? Because you don’t take requests?”

  No, it was because I was afraid that every time I killed someone, it got easier. I became less human. Another twist of the seeping infection. “Something like that.”

  Chris drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. I still felt stuck in the game changer, standing on the precipice of something I wanted no part of. Yet I knew I couldn’t turn back.

  “Then I’ll do it.” He said.

  “What?”

  “You let me in your circle. Help me find her. Guide me. I’ll kill her myself.”

  His tone was so hard, so full of venom, that I knew he meant it. Every one of us can be pushed to the edge. And those of us who decide to take matters into our own hands all have a defining moment–the time when we snapped. Mine had been Justin’s release into society and the free ride of anonymity. I’d never thought myself capable of hurting another human being until that day.

  “Chris, I killed a man earlier. I knew he hadn’t taken Kailey. But he’d molested one of her friends, and I killed him. With cyanide.”

  “I know. And you’ve done that before.”

  “But I had to stay with him.” Revulsion pounded at my chest. “I had to watch him die. And until that moment, I didn’t grasp the severity of my decision. Of the piece of my soul or humanity or whatever you want to call it, that I’ve forfeited.” And I’d made that decision, based my entire moral code on a truth that turned out to be a lie: Justin wasn’t a sexual predator that had been released to attack again. “Are you sure you really want to do the same thing? And to the woman who gave birth to you, no matter how diabolical she is? Because even if it’s by my hand, it’s at your request. And you’re one step closer to being just like me. Is that what you really want?”

  “I want her dead. You kill her or I will.”

  I couldn’t let him do it. I wouldn’t let him do it. There’s still hope for Chris. He didn’t deserve to be a statistic. I had already sinned too deeply to change my fate.

  “I’ll do it,” I said. “On one condition.”

  “What?”

  I reached for his face, grazing the scruff on his chin. “Don’t let Mother Mary destroy you.”

  “How do I do that?” His eyes watered.

  “I don’t know. But we’ll find a way.”

  31

  Five days since Kailey went missing. Sleep deprived and anxious, I sat next to Kelly in her cramped office and tried not to lose my patience. Or faith. She’d spent the last hour making phone calls, using up every source she had with the Philadelphia P.D., trying to find out some details about the Weston case that might lead us to Martha’s whereabouts. Nothing we found could be used in trial, but that was the least of my concerns. Chris had promised Jenna he’d find her daughter, and then I’d quite possibly made a deal with the devil by agreeing to help him bring his mother to justice.

  “I can’t believe you brought him here.” Kelly still fumed. She glanced behind her where Chris leaned in the doorway. He’d shown up on my doorstep this morning, just as I was heading over to Kelly’s. I should have told him to go home, but his red-rimmed eyes and pale skin made him look especially pathetic. I’d had to beg her to let him stand in the doorway.

  “At least I called first.”

  “If he screws us, Luce.�
�

  “He won’t.” I prayed my instinct was right.

  “I’m not going to turn you guys in,” Chris said. “Lucy told you everything.”

  “Big deal.” Kelly swiveled in her cheap office chair. “You don’t have anything invested, do you? So you want to kill your mother. But you haven’t done anything yet. Yet you know our dirty deeds. All you have to do is say we suckered you into it. And we don’t have shit to keep you quiet.”

  Grim-faced, Chris took out his wallet. He handed Kelly a wrinkled paper with some numbers on it. “I figured you might say that. When they adopted me, my uncle set up a trust fund. I’d like to say I’m too noble to use it, but I supplement my paramedic salary with it. I like living in Center City and driving a nice car. I like a good lifestyle. There’s almost a million dollars in there, and that’s all the information you need to get into my account.”

  Kelly and I both stared at him.

  “You’re right. I’ve done nothing like what you two have. If I had, I’d give you something to hang me with so we could be even. But this is the best I’ve got, and believe me, I’d rather not lose my trust fund.” He looked at Kelly. “I’m sure, with that information, you could take everything I have.”

  Kelly studied the paper. “I’ll have to validate the account number, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  She glanced at me, and I shrugged. My head was still spinning over the million-dollar trust fund.

  Kelly put the information in her desk drawer. “Just so you know, I don’t have to steal your money to ruin your life.”

  A grudging smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Point taken.”

  I breathed a sigh of what should have been relief, but anxiety continued to restrict my lungs like a vice. “Have you found out anything, Kel?”

  “Nothing different than what Todd said this morning: Chris’s father is refusing visitors. The district attorney is going to force him, but that takes time. Red tape and all. But they can’t make him talk. Todd’s staked out your mom’s house. So far, she hasn’t come back. And there’s no chance of a search warrant without your matching DNA, and even then, it will be tough. All that proves is she had another kid.”

  “We need to figure out where she’s gone,” I said.

  “Police are watching her store,” Kelly said. “Place hasn’t opened today.”

  “She could be anywhere,” Chris said. “If she masterminded taking Kailey, then she had a contingency plan.”

  “You guys really think she took Kailey?” Kelly asked. “You have no real evidence other than this theory.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But right now, I’ve got nothing else to go on. And you have to admit, it’s a pretty good theory. It’s no coincidence Kailey is the one who went missing right after her mother’s former captor drove by her apartment.”

  Kelly looked unconvinced. “All right. So what about her contingency plan?”

  “Todd said they flagged Martha Beckett’s passport,” I said, “They couldn’t find one for Mary Weston.”

  “If they couldn’t get a search warrant, how can they flag her passport?” Chris asked.

  “Easy. She’s wanted for questioning in the disappearance of a child,” I said, inwardly smiling at his naivety. “Police could even say Justin named her as an accomplice. It’s a lie, but it would be enough. Don’t be fooled. Police break rules all the time. As long as what they’re doing doesn’t affect a court outcome, they’ll go for it.”

  “Great system.”

  I could have laughed. “Don’t get me started.”

  “Call Justin,” Kelly said. “See if he knows of any other place his parents may have owned. Or somewhere his mother could have gone, like a special place. Anything he may have mentioned.”

  “You don’t think Todd’s already done that?” I asked. “I’m sure he’s picked that kid’s brain clean.”

  “Right.” She raked her fingers through her short hair until it stood on end, not unlike a porcupine. “What about you?” She directed the question at Chris. “Do you have any memory of any place with your parents other than the farm?”

  “Every memory I have of my parents is there,” he said. “I was never allowed in the barn, but I remember the house. To a kid, it seemed like a giant, crumbling mansion. I used to imagine it was haunted. I never had any friends, but sometimes my dad would play hide and seek with me. Mother Mary always got pissed because she was restoring the house on her own. She worried I’d knock over paint or do something else to ruin her project.”

  “She’s a monster.” That’s why I couldn’t allow myself to lose respect for my choice to end lives. I couldn’t be lumped into the same pot as someone like Martha Beckett.

  “I remember one time,” Chris continued, “probably not too long before Dad’s arrest. I fell down the stairs – they were spiral, and I was running too fast. Fell the last five steps and cut my chin on the jagged woodwork. She’d been working on the trim.” He traced the faint scar along his chin. “That’s how I got this. At first she was pissed, because I was stupid, and I’d torn off the old trim. Then she realized I was cut pretty bad and had to go to the doctor. She was nice to me there.”

  “For show?”

  “Of course. But when you’re a little kid and your mother acts like you’re a pain in her ass, you’ll take any affection you can get.”

  “She loved the house.” Kelly was tapping away on her keyboard. “I wonder…”

  Chris and I crowded behind her chair waiting to see what exactly she wondered. A Pennsylvania real estate site popped up, and soon we were looking at a rambling farmhouse. It was painted a cheery yellow, with black shutters. Planters hung from the front porch, and the chimney smoked. A hint of snow on the brown grass showed the picture had to have been taken before last spring. We hadn’t had any snow yet.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my pulse quickened.

  “That’s my house.” Chris sounded strangled.

  “I know. It was bought at auction two months ago.” Kelly typed some more, searching property records on the public site I never could figure out how to manage.

  “By who?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  Tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. Chris’s heavy, uneven breathing next to me. The rushing of my own heart. I could barely hear my own thoughts.

  “M. Alan Lee.” Kelly had the answer. “Do you know that name?”

  Chris staggered back. “Alan is my middle name, and Lee was Mary’s maiden name.”

  32

  Like a man on a suicide mission, Chris weaved through mid-afternoon traffic, jumping onto Interstate 76 and driving fast enough for a huge ticket. He’d barely given me time to stop at my place and pick up my hidden supplies. Mousecop watched me rush around the apartment with a look of disdain on his face, licking his paws and sitting next to his almost full food bowl.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “We have to be objective here. If she’s got Kailey, we get her first. If we can safely rescue her and still take care of your mother, and come up with a plausible story for the cops, then we will. But you may have to accept letting them arrest her.”

  His answer was a brisk nod. “But we at least try it our way.”

  Our way. The man probably never did an illegal thing in his life before he met me. Let alone made the decision to take another’s life. You don’t make those decisions rashly. I’d been fantasizing about the idea long before Justin’s release, rationalizing the action. And I now know the consequences of going down this road: I’m a killer. If there truly is a God, I don’t expect him to give me a pass because I took out the scum of the earth. After all, eye for an eye is an old world male-dominated religious belief. God himself–or herself, for that matter–never condoned vigilantism that I know of.

  Even worse, I had put my own freedom at stake. But after all the kids I’d seen slip through the system’s gaping cracks while filthy creeps bent our bureaucracy to their best advantage, I chose the dar
k path. I was willing to sacrifice for what I believed was right. That didn’t come without a mountain of punishment. And dumping a glass of cyanide on an unsuspecting man, no matter how evil his acts, took its toll on a person.

  The drive to Lancaster County had the glass-covered features of a dream; our mission seemed surreal, while the landscape shined with the stark reality of the coming winter. The heavily populated areas gradually turned to fields of harvested corn, their brown, short stalks looking piteous. Crumpled and withered, the stalks blended together, whipping past until I saw nothing but decay. Houses thinned out, replaced by farmland and long stretches of winter-brown fields. I wished it were summer. The ugly scenery was a perfect accompaniment.

  Chris plugged the address into his GPS, and like every piece of modern technology, it wasn’t without its kinks. The route took us the long way around Lancaster, bypassing the city but getting us stuck on a two-lane road behind a grain truck and an Amish carriage.

  I snapped a picture of the Amish family with my smartphone. The kids smiled and waved while their bearded driver looked irritated. I suppose they did get tired of being a tourist attraction.

  “I think I could be Amish.” I stuck the phone back in my bag.

  Chris snorted. “Says the girl with the most expensive smartphone on the market.”

  “Okay, giving up stuff would be tough. Probably impossible. But if I’d been born into it, I think I would have stayed. There’s something safe and beautiful in their simplicity.”

  “Simplicity is an illusion. Everyone has problems. And most of the time, the ones we expect have it easy are dealing with the worst shit.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, so I shut up and gripped the door handle as he yanked the car into the right lane and passed yet another semi.

  “You can’t kill your mother if you’re dead.”

  The sunshine had given way to thick, gray clouds that looked full enough to burst. Rain might work to our advantage, however.

  The grating female drone on the GPS announced we needed to turn in a quarter of a mile, and Chris barely slowed down enough to make it.