little head into her hand so forcibly that he caused the
cup full of pens resting near her arm to fall. The sound
of the pens scattering on the desk scared him enough to
make him jump out and seek shelter under the bed skirt.
“Oh Petey…look at the mess we made. Let’s pick
them up before Mommy or Daddy get in here.”
She picked up the pens and colored pencils she saw
on the desk and got down on her hands and knees to
look on the floor for some she knew were missing. She
was taken by her task that she didn’t notice Lily in the
background, resting against the door.
“Alexis, I came by to say goodbye.”
Alexis turned around a bit surprised. “I didn’t know
you were here, Lily. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore
you – Petey made me spill all the pens on the desk.”
Alexis stood up and placed the orange pencil back into
the cup before Lily’s words had an impact; when she
finally processed the message, she looked up at her
friend wide-eyed. “What do you mean you came to say
goodbye? Where are you going?”
“Where I should have gone a long time ago, Alexis.
I am going home.”
“But where’s home? Will you come back?”
“I’m afraid not. Or maybe I will someday, but we
probably won’t see each other any more.”
Alexis’s eyes filled with tears. She already lost one
sister, and now she was ready to lose the best friend she
ever had. “But why, Lily? Aren’t you happy here?”
Lily smiled, but her eyes betrayed a shadow of
sadness. “It’s not that, Alexis. I am happy when I am
with you, but this is not where I belong. My place is
very far away from here, but I couldn’t go back until I
fixed something that was broken.”
“What did you have to fix, Lily?”
“A broken spirit that was left in chains. I had to wait
until the chains were loosened and the spirit could fly
free.”
“I don’t understand, Lily. Whose spirit was it?”
“It doesn’t matter any more. It is fixed now and she
will never feel the weight of the chains she was
carrying.”
“Was it Tracey?”
“No, but Tracey is fine by the way. She knows that
her killer is going to be brought to justice and for that
she is grateful; she is ready to go home too.”
Alexis was crying openly now, her heart shattering
while she wrapped her arms around herself in a gesture
of comfort.
“How can I live without you, Lily?”
“You will be fine. Maybe you can ask Mom to adopt
or at least foster a child nobody wants. That way you
will gain a sister or brother, and that child will finally
feel the love of a family.”
“Mom and Dad wouldn’t do that.”
“You don’t know that, Alexis. Maybe you can
suggest it to them yourself, and you might be positively
surprised by their answer.”
“But I don’t want a new sister or brother! I want
you…”
“I live in every little girl and boy who’s not wanted.
If you give your love to them, you will offer that love to
me, and even if I am far away I will be able to feel it and
send you back my own.”
Lily’s image began to lose density at the edges and
soon Alexis could see through her. Her heart ached but
something inside of her told her that no matter how
badly she wanted Lily to stay, she had to let her go.
“I will always love you Lily! You are the best friend
a girl could ever dream of, and to me you are like…
like…”
“A sister?”
“Yes! Just like a sister!”
“Then continue to see me that way, Alexis, and
know that I will always love you and watch over you.”
A spitting sound made Alexis turn her head to see
Petey looking twice his size, his kitten fur sticking out
to scare away the intruder.
“Oh, Petey, you don’t have to be scared. It’s just
Lily.”
She picked Petey up and hugged him tight, her hand
gently wrapped around his underside. When she looked
back up, Lily was gone. She sat back at her desk, put
Petey down and buried her head into her folded arms
while she allowed tears to flow free. When Petey rubbed
against her head and purred, she raised her head and
then scooped him up and kissed him gently.
With Petey still in her arms, she opened the door
and headed to the bathroom to wash her face; as she
walked out into the hallway she felt a light breeze
brushing against her, followed by a giggling sound. In
spite of her pain, she smiled – Lily had finally made it
home.
#
Rose dried her eyes as she parked her car in front of
the grocery store. She was exhausted but her heart was
soaring. She finally felt free – free from the past, and
free from the guilt that kept her soul is bondage for a
long time. There was one final thing she had to do
before going home, and she knew that she wouldn’t be
completely at peace until she did. She knew the police
had tried to contact Tracey’s father without much luck,
but Rose knew where to find him. After his latest
marriage had catapulted into a disaster, Frank Newman
had decided to say goodbye to the outside world. He had
come to see her once before he left for the mountains,
and asked for forgiveness for all the wrong turns in their
marriage. Rose didn’t want to hear his words of
repentance, her wounded ego still enshrouded in a cloak
of self-righteousness, and she asked him to leave.
Before he left her doorstep to disappear forever, he left
one number no one else knew, and begged her to keep
him informed about what went on in Tracey’s life. Of
course she never did, her anger blinding her from seeing
him as a father who loved his child despite his faults.
Now that her anger toward herself was allowed to
dissipate, her anger toward Frank was following right
along. He wasn’t the best husband, but he loved Tracey,
and he had the right to come visit her grave. She dug the
number from the small pocket in her purse and noticed
that her hands were shaking when she dialed the
number. She closed her eyes and swallowed when he
answered. The conversation was strained at first, but the
moment that Rose mentioned what happened to Tracey,
a long silence was followed by cleansing tears. If love
wasn’t enough to unite them in this life, loss had come
to join their hands in a lifelong marriage of parental
grief. They spoke for a long time, and Frank asked if it
was okay for him to visit the grave soon.
“You don’t have to ask, Frank. Tracey was your
child too, and I am sure she would love for you go by
her grave. Please, do stop by the house when you do,
and I’ll fix lunch. It’s time to let bygones be bygones.”
Chapter 21
�
�I believe what you’re telling us Ms. Brinkley, and I
really appreciate your willingness to help, but we
already have a suspect in custody.”
The detective standing in front of Shannon
Brinkley’s bed had a patronizing tone, which drove her
mad. He was short and stout, wearing an illfitting suit
that didn’t flatter his figure at all, and his face seemed
unnaturally pasted to the collar of his shirt, as if
someone had forgotten to draw a proper neck. His lips
were curved upward toward his cheeks, fostering an
involuntary smile that made him look like a clown
without make-up – Shannon never liked clowns, and she
liked this man even less. She asked for Lieutenant
Lackey when she first spoke with the guard on duty, but
this man was sent to talk to her instead, and he wouldn’t
give her any information on how she could get in touch
with the detective in charge of Tracey’s case. She
thought of calling Mary to ask her for the number she
knew was at the apartment, but she wasn’t ready to see
Mary yet; it was as though the time she was asleep had
granted her clarity, and she was now ready to stand up
for herself and move forward. She shook her head and
lay back on her pillow. Even if she felt better, she was
still weak and it didn’t take much to tire her.
“No, I don’t think you understand, Sir. I said that I
know who killed Tracey Newman.”
“So do we, Ms. Brinkley. Bradley Johnson was
taken into custody for the murder of Tracey Newman.”
Shannon sat up on the bed automatically, any
remnant of the fatigue she felt a few seconds ago
devoured by the words spewed from the clown’s mouth.
“Whoa! Wait a minute…Brad is a junkie, and God
help me if I say this, he was probably not a good
boyfriend for Tracey, but he is no killer!”
“I assume that you didn’t get to read the papers in
here, Ms. Brinkley. Mr. Johnson was arrested after a
bloody shirt was found in his trunk. The blood was
positively identified as Ms. Newman’s.”
Confusion registered in Shannon’s eyes. “What?
But that’s not possible…”
“Why would you say that, Ms. Brinkley? Can you
offer Mr. Johnson an alibi?”
“I can’t, but I know who can.”
The detective narrowed his eyes and cocked his
head on the side. “Oh? And who’s this person?”
“Erin Winthrow. Brad was with her the night of the
murder.”
“If you are correct, Ms. Brinkley, why didn’t Ms.
Winthrow come forth to help him, or why didn’t he
mention her name himself?”
“It’s not Ms. Winthrow, Detective; it’s Mrs.
Winthrow. She is a woman married to a prominent
figure in town, and she has small children. I’m sure she
has reasons to not wish to be identified publicly, and
Brad would not betray her this way.”
“Even if his life is at stake? I would imagine that
anyone with an alibi would be quick to deliver any name
that can save him.”
“Not if that someone is in love, and Brad is in love
with her.”
The detective looked at Shannon intently as if trying
to detect anything on her face that wouldn’t support her
statements.
“If Brad had a bloody shirt in his trunk, somebody
put it in there, and I know exactly who.”
“Okay, let’s hear it…”
“Yvonne Fowler is a woman who worked with
Brad, Detective. She is also the mother of a man who
was obsessed with Tracey, and she hated Brad because
she felt that Tracey left her son for him.”
The detective’s attention was piqued, and he sat on
the chair adjacent to the bed with his shoulders slouched
toward Shannon. Confident that he was willing to listen
now, she continued. “As you know, someone tried to kill
me…”
“Wasn’t that attempted suicide?”
Shannon shook her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t
kill myself, Detective. Someone tried to kill me, and that
someone is Eduardo Carlos—though he goes by the
nickname Yago—Yvonne’s boyfriend.”
“Why would this Mr. Carlos want you dead, Ms.
Brinkley?”
“I am not completely sure, but it might be connected
to the fact that earlier that day I found something which
was possibly connected to Tracey’s murder – a pair of
work boots splattered with blood that were hidden inside
my storage unit.”
The detective arched his brow. “Yes, I have read
about those boots in the case file, but how do you think
they got in there?”
Shannon sighed. “My roommate is Jack Little’s
sister and Yvonne Fowler’s daughter. They could have
picked up a key from my apartment when they came to
visit. The same day that I was fed an overdose of drugs,
Eduardo Carlos came by the apartment with the excuse
that his car was overheating. I offered him a drink while
he waited for the car to cool off and he accepted. I
poured drinks for both of us, but I got up to use the
restroom at some point during the conversation, and
shortly after I went back and finished my drink, I started
falling asleep. I’m afraid I am unable to tell you what
happened next because I lost consciousness.”
The detective was deathly silent, and although he
didn’t give any signs of either believing or disbelieving
Shannon’s story, he seemed to be considering it at least.
“Where do Mr. Carlos and his girlfriend live, Ms.
Brinkley?”
“I don’t know where he lives, but Yvonne Fowler
lives at 1420 Wintry Lane. My roommate shared her
address once while we drove by the neighborhood.”
“I will send a car to check it out, Ms. Brinkley.
Thank you for your cooperation.”
He put his small notebook into the inside pocket of
his jacket and prepared to leave when Shannon called
asked: “I am not trying to pry into business that doesn’t
concern me, but why can’t I speak to Lieutenant
Lackey?”
“He and his partner have been away on an
investigation I assume. They haven’t been in the past
couple of days.”
“So you don’t know when they will be back?”
“I’m afraid not, Miss, but I will be happy to record
your statement.”
He left and Shannon closed her eyes. This detective
didn’t inspire any trust, and she wondered if any of her
words had made a difference, but she was too tired to
worry about it now. She tried to clear her mind and to
rest her eyes for a few minutes, but before she knew it
she was asleep.
Meanwhile, Detective Quince got into his car and
scanned the notes he had taken in Shannon’s room, his
mind considering the possibility that Shannon Brinkley
was right. If she was, an innocent man was awaiting
someone else’s trial. And suddenly, Lackey’s and
Parker’s
absences seemed strange too; of course, their
job allowed for them to go off on different tangents as
they followed a lead, but in all the years she knew them,
they never did that without at least notifying the desk.
Maybe the Brinkley woman was still hallucinating from
her long sleep, but Quince had also learned long ago to
trust his gut instinct. He picked up the radio and called
in. “This is Quince. I need a patrol car to meet me at
1420 Wintry Lane to check out a suspect. I will let you
know if I need additional back-up.”
He sped out of the hospital’s parking lot and headed
toward the beltline. He was probably chasing a white
fly, but experience taught him that no lead was ever to
be ignored.
#
Yvonne Fowler cocked the gun and pointed it at
Parker who was still laying face down on the floor. Tom
tried to distract her.
“Why do you want to shoot him? He hasn’t done
anything to you. He is not even working on this case. If
you want to shoot someone, shoot me and let him go.”
Parker wanted to turn his head to look at Tom, his
heart swelling from the senseless sacrifice his friend was
willing to make, but knowing that a gun was ready to
spit lead on his head froze him on the spot. For a
moment, he thought of something his father always told
him when he was little and they lived in the country. If
you see a dead possum, son, shoot him anyway, because
those varmints only pretend to be dead sometimes, so
predators will leave them alone.
Parker wanted to play the opossum game, but he
doubted Yvonne Fowler would buy it – she was crazy,
but not stupid. If anything, the idea of being an opossum
made him want to laugh, and he knew that hysteria was
quickly setting in. In the face of death one can laugh or
cry, but what’s the fun in going out holding on to a
Kleenex?
In his prone position, Parker didn’t see a shadow
moving behind Yvonne and Yago, but Tom did. Tom
kept his face impassive, and his resolve to buy time
multiplied exponentially.
“I’m serious, Yvonne. Take me. I am the person in
charge of this case and I am the one who would be
arresting you. I’m sure Parker is willing to negotiate
with you and offer you silence in exchange for
freedom.”
Yvonne burst into mad laughter. “You can’t be
serious, Lieutenant. Really? Do you actually expect me
Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery) Page 30
