Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery)

by Sandra Carrington-Smith

  “Yes. That’s mighty sad. Two young lives snuffed

  senselessly like that. Do you have other questions for

  me, Lackey?”

  “No…this is it. Thank you, Doc.”

  Tom hung up the phone and opened Tracey’s photo

  on his computer. His heart hurt when he looked at her;

  so young, so beautiful, and now she was gone. So was

  her baby. How could Tom find a way to break the news

  to Tracey’s parents? He decided to talk to Kathy first,

  and to see if she could provide a few key strategies to

  sensibly deliver this new horrible update. But first he

  had to go find Brad Johnson, and get some answers. He

  looked at his watch – nine o’ clock in the morning. Brad

  was surely at work by now. Tom picked up his car keys

  and his sunglasses and headed out to the parking lot.

  With the temperature already in the mid-eighties at such

  an early hour, there was no doubt in Tom’s mind that

  Raleigh was in for a scorcher of a day.

  He drove to the warehouse and parked in the gravel

  lot. When he stepped through the main door, the same

  two women he had seen before were sitting at their

  desks, and the younger one – Shirley, he remembered –

  greeted him warmly.

  “Good morning Lieutenant. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, thank you; I hope you are. I’m here to see

  Brad Johnson.”

  “He is in the warehouse. Would you like me to call

  him?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He waited for a few moments, and he was surprised

  when Brad Johnson walked through the door. He

  expected someone burlier and rougher than the college

  kid who stood just a few feet away. He had short blond

  hair and his skin was lightly tanned; he was over six feet

  tall and quite handsome, even in overalls. He hardly

  looked like a drug addict, but Tom knew that there were

  many types of drugs out there, and many types of users.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hello, Mr. Johnson,” Tom said amicably while

  extending his hand. “Yes, I would like to ask you some

  questions.”

  “I am working right now.”

  “It’s okay, Bradley. You can take your lunch right

  now.” The voice of the older woman sounded like nails

  scratching a chalkboard. That voice—where had he

  heard it before…?

  Brad nodded, shooting a nasty glance toward the

  woman sitting at her desk. She responded with a

  satisfied grin and toyed with the silver charm hanging

  from the necklace she wore around her neck. The charm

  moved to expose a large mole on her chest that almost

  made Brad gag.

  “Okay. I’ll take my lunch now. Where would you

  like to talk, Lieutenant?”

  “What about my car?” Tom replied quickly. “You

  can bring your lunch if you want.”

  Brad shook his head and followed Tom outside.

  “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

  They walked out, but as Tom turned around he saw

  a smile creeping up on the old woman’s lips. The

  moment she saw him looking at her, the smile morphed

  into a scowl and she buried her head in the papers in

  front of her.

  Tom and Brad Johnson stepped outside and walked

  silently to the car. Tom started the engine to get some

  cool air into the vehicle and pulled out his notebook

  from his pocket.

  “Mr. Johnson, I need to ask you a few questions

  about Ms. Newman.”

  Brad simply nodded, but he fidgeted in his seat.

  “How long have you known Tracey Newman?”

  “I don’t know. About a year…a year and a half,

  maybe.”

  “Was there a romantic involvement between you

  and Ms. Newman?”

  Brad hesitated.

  “Were you involved with Ms. Newman?” Tom

  repeated the question.

  “Yes. We were seeing each other from time to time.”

  “From time to time? Do you mean that you weren’t

  a couple?”

  “We were, but we were an open couple. Both of us

  could date other people.”

  “Were you dating other people, Mr. Johnson? While

  you were seeing Ms. Newman, I mean.”

  “No. I wasn’t. I was seeing someone when I first

  met Tracey, but it wasn’t serious.”

  “Do you use drugs, Mr. Johnson?”

  Brad was suddenly nervous, and he shook his head

  without responding.

  “Do you use drugs, Mr. Johnson?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Are you sure, Sir? Would you be willing to

  undergo a drug test?”

  “Is this about me or about Tracey, Lieutenant?

  Unless I am being charged with something, I would

  prefer to keep my life private.”

  Tom raised his hands, palms facing Brad Johnson.

  “Of course, Mr. Johnson. But you see, my questions are

  perfectly justified, since we received a phone call

  informing us that you killed Ms. Newman because she

  provided drugs to you.”

  “Why would I want to kill her if she was my

  dealer?”

  “Hmmm…good question. Let’s see…could it be

  that you were afraid she would tell people at your place

  of employment? I understand the company has a very

  strict drug policy. Or maybe she refused to continue her

  dirty deed? Did you know that Ms. Newman was

  pregnant, Mr. Johnson?”

  Brad’s eyes almost exploded from his face. “What?

  Tracey was pregnant?”

  “That’s what I said. She was a little over three

  months along.”

  Brad whistled. “I wonder if she got pregnant from

  the guy she worked for.”

  Tom was surprised. “What guy?”

  “His name was Don, I think. He is married, too.”

  “Is he a doctor at the hospital?”

  “No. I think he is one of the administrators.”

  “Have you ever seen him, Mr. Johnson?”

  “No, but Tracey seemed to be really taken by him. I

  know she wanted him to leave his wife for her.”

  Tom scribbled the name ‘Don’ on his notepad,

  immediately thinking of Donald Russet, the man he met

  at the hospital. “Do you know anything about him?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “Okay, Mr. Johnson. I am still waiting for an answer

  to my question.”

  “What question was that?”

  “Would you be willing to take a drug test? Someone

  seems to think that Tracey was stealing pills for you,

  and that you killed her to stop her from saying

  anything.”

  Brad shook his head, and a sad look descended on

  his face. “I wouldn’t hurt Tracey, Lieutenant. We

  weren’t exclusive as a couple, but I loved her as a

  friend. Look, I have used drugs in the past – I still do

  occasionally – and Tracey helped me get them

  sometimes, but even if I lost my job because someone

  found out, it would still be no motivation to kill her. No

  job is worth someone’s life.”

  Tom looked at Brad’s face attentively and his gut

  feeling was that the yo
ung man was being sincere. “Tell

  me Brad…I can call you Brad, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why does the old woman you work with not like

  you? I noticed she smirked when you walked outside

  with me.” He didn’t want to tell Brad that he was pretty

  sure she was also the same person who called him the

  night before accusing Brad of killing Tracey.

  “I’m not sure. She’s never liked me very much,

  since I started working here. I tried to be nice to her, but

  it didn’t make any difference. I think she is just one of

  those people who doesn’t like anybody and enjoys

  seeing others suffering. A bitter old hag, if you pardon

  my French.”

  Tom made a mental note to interview the woman.

  Of course, he couldn’t prove she was the person who

  called, since the call was placed from a public phone,

  but he could maybe fib a little and squeeze some

  information from her. He was about to wrap things up

  with Brad when his mobile phone rang.

  “Lackey.”

  “Lackey, it’s Parker. Tracey’s buddy, Shannon

  Brinkley, tried to commit suicide. She is at Memorial

  right now – they are trying to revive her. I’m in the

  waiting area right now.”

  “Shit, Parker! I will be there as soon as possible.

  Don’t leave before I get there.”

  He clicked the off button of his phone and turned

  toward Brad. “I need to go right now. Police business. I

  will be in touch soon. Meanwhile, if you can think of

  anything, call me. Here is my card.” He handed Brad

  one of his business cards and as soon as the young man

  got out of the car he turned on his lights and siren and

  sped down the road. Why would Shannon try to commit

  suicide? Was she just overwhelmed because of her

  violent girlfriend, or was there more to her decision?

  The case was getting more and more confusing by the

  day. With so many characters in the picture -- each of

  them with a different motive to kill Tracey – Tom

  wondered for a moment if the killer would ever be

  brought to justice.

  #

  When Tom arrived at the hospital, Shannon had

  been revived and admitted to ICU. Parker met him at the

  main entrance and led him through the maze of different

  departments until they reached the critical care unit. A

  nurse tried to stop them at the entrance to Shannon’s

  room, but one quick look at their badges made her recoil

  like a snake being threatened with a rake.

  Shannon was almost unrecognizable under all the

  tubing, and Tom felt a weight on his heart when he

  noticed the light bruise still on her eye and an additional

  large bruise on her shoulder near the scar she showed

  him the other night – when she dropped the sleeve of

  her robe to expose the scar, that bruise wasn’t there. He

  instantly felt a surge of anger rise from the pit of his

  stomach, and he cursed under his breath. The goddamn

  linebacker hit her again. Tom would have loved to be

  alone in a room with that woman for a few minutes, and

  his intentions were far from romantic.

  Shannon’s skin looked gray, and even her dark hair

  appeared to have lost its luster; it hung as limp and

  heavy around her shoulders as an illfitting frame set

  around a tragic picture.

  “What happened?” He asked Parker who stood by

  the entrance to the room.

  Parker shook his head. “It’s still fuzzy. Her

  roommate found her collapsed in the bathroom by the

  bathtub. The docs are thinking overdose, but they are

  still waiting for the toxicology report before they can

  confirm.”

  “By ‘roommate’ you mean Mary Townsend?” His

  tone was suddenly harsh.

  “Yes, big football-player-looking thing. She said she

  got home from work and found Shannon in the

  bathroom of their apartment.”

  “Mary Townsend is Shannon Brinkley’s lover.

  Abusive lover, I should say. The poor girl fighting for

  her life in that bed has enough bruises to prove it,

  including a new one she didn’t have a few nights ago.

  Do you think she had anything to do with Shannon’s

  alleged ‘suicide’?”

  Parker paused to consider the possibility. “Well, she

  seemed pretty tore up, but I guess anything is possible.

  We did find a suicide note, though.”

  “Oh yeah? What did it say?”

  “That’s where it gets tricky, Lackey. In her note,

  Shannon asked Tracey for forgiveness and she said she

  couldn’t live with that burden.”

  “What burden?”

  “She didn’t say. Could she have killed Tracey?”

  That possibility never occurred to Tom before, but

  of course, as Parker mentioned a few moments ago,

  anything was potentially viable. “Why would Shannon

  have killed her though? What could her motive be?”

  Parker shook his head. “Beats me. You never know

  what type of skeletons people have in their closets.”

  “No kidding. I talked to Brad Johnson today—the

  guy Tracey dated on and off—and he told me that

  Tracey was having an affair with a married man at the

  hospital where she worked. Since we know she was

  pregnant, and he certainly didn’t want that bit of happy

  news to leak to his wife, that makes him a person of

  interest. Brad Johnson is a junkie, and Tracey was

  feeding him pills from the hospital; he surely didn’t

  want to lose his job at the warehouse if that came out,

  since they have a strict no-drug policy. Mary Townsend

  hated Tracey because she suspected that Tracey and

  Shannon had a tryst and knew that Tracey had asked

  Shannon to get rid of her. And let’s not forget the stalker

  Tracey was doing her best to avoid. All these people had

  perfectly good reasons to want Tracey Newman dead.”

  “Damn! From the picture Tracey looks like an

  angel.” Parker said after he processed the list of Tracey’s

  enemies.

  “And maybe she was. We don’t know. Maybe all

  these people were simply taking advantage of her.

  Shannon Brinkley was the person who knew her best,

  and could have shed some light on the whole murky

  bottom, but she is currently on a respirator and unable to

  talk.”

  “Shouldn’t we interview Ms. Townsend? Maybe she

  knows something.”

  “Yeah, and we also need to let Tracey’s parents

  know they lost more than just a daughter – they also lost

  a grandchild.”

  Parker ‘s eyes darkened with sadness. “Do you want

  to tell her family yourself, or do you want me to?”

  “It’s okay. I’ll do it after I ask Kathy some advice on

  how to approach a grieving family to deliver even more

  bad news. Her degree in psychology is coming very

  handy.”

  “Good thinking, Lackey. We’ll get to the bottom of

  this.” In an unprecedented gesture, parker patted Tom’s

  back as a sign of encouragement.
/>
  “Yeah…I know we will. It’s just that with so many

  paths to walk it is easy to miss something along the way.

  Where is the Townsend woman now?”

  “I think she mentioned she was heading back home

  to shower and change.”

  “Good. I will catch her there if I hurry.”

  “Do you want me to come along?”

  “Suit yourself. Nothing much we can do here.”

  They headed out toward their respective cars. Tom

  waited at the exit from the parking lot for Parker to

  catch up, and as soon as he saw his car coming, he sped

  toward the beltline heading to Tracey’s apartment. Mary

  Townsend was responsible for injuring Shannon before;

  did she try to kill her this time? Maybe she found out

  that Shannon told on her and her anger escalated. Or

  could it be that Shannon had discovered something that

  had to do with Tracey’s death and the killer tried to

  silence her? Or, even worse, could Shannon have killed

  her best friend and was now unable to live with the

  guilt? Many questions, and not enough answers; many

  tiles and no connecting pieces. As he drove along,

  something else floated to the edge of his consciousness:

  When Brad had exited his car yesterday Tom noticed he

  was wearing Redwing steel-toed boots! Shannon knew

  Brad, and he probably had regular access to the

  apartment. Tom hoped to find the killer before any more

  innocent lives were taken.

  #

  Tracey was running through the forest. She turned

  around several times to see if the man was catching up

  to her, and she tripped on a root hidden under a bed of

  leaves. The man was getting closer – she could hear his

  labored breathing and his footsteps approaching. He was

  going to kill her. By now, Tracey had no doubt of it. She

  tripped on one more root, and her ankle was cut by a

  line of thorns near the ground, but she ignored the pain

  and continued running. Someone else called her name –

  a woman’s voice -- but the voice was too far for her to

  make out whom it belonged to. She saw something

  through the trees, and focused on what appeared to be a

  light shining through the foliage, but the man was upon

  her now. When he got close enough, he leaped and

  landed on top of her, slamming her to the ground. As

  Tracey fell, her baby slid out from inside of her and lay

  on the ground, the tiny face barely formed contorted in a

  silent scream. The baby died a few moments later, a tiny

  hand touching his mother’s lifeless body as he left this