Everywhere She Turns

by Debra Webb

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  3021 Appleton Street, 7:30 PM

  CJ scanned the living room ceiling again. She’d done this about ten times already. She’d pulled the kitchen table in here and stood on it to inspect the light fixture in case Shelley had gotten more high-tech equipment. She’d checked the smoke detector.

  Nothing.

  Dammit.

  There had to be a camera for the living room. If Shelley and Carter had argued in here, where the TV was, there had to be a camera. Maybe they had been in the bedroom and the television remote just happened to be in there, too, but that didn’t make sense.

  It had to have happened here.

  She bounded up the stairs again and checked the floor over the living room. Nothing, except a small section of wood floor that had once been removed and then put back into place to add the wiring for the living room light. She’d taken the crow-bar and pulled those boards up. Nothing but dust and the wiring for the light fixture.

  Slowly, inch by inch, foot by foot, she checked what had once been her parents’ bedroom floor.

  This was ridiculous. She had to hurry. When Braddock got out of that meeting with the chief, he would come looking for her. He’d told her to stay put at the precinct, but she couldn’t. She had to know if there was another camera and VCR.

  Jenkins had followed her here. He’d probably already informed Braddock what she was up to. Time was likely shorter than she knew.

  She trudged back downstairs. Checked the doors again, since dusk was falling. Front and back were locked. She’d shoved a piece of furniture in front of each to give her warning if anyone tried to break in.

  Cost had probably been released by now. Tyrone, to her knowledge, had not been found. He was wanted for questioning. Braddock told her that Tyrone had his sources within HPD. Someone had no doubt given him a heads-up hours ago.

  As bad as she felt for Lusk, CJ couldn’t help regretting that she hadn’t been able to go through with her meeting with Tyrone. She’d called his cell half a dozen times. The idea of going over to his house had even crossed her mind. But he wasn’t there. The King was in hiding. But if this was ever going to be over, CJ needed whatever information he had.

  She dropped on the sofa and heaved a disgusted sigh. She was getting nowhere here.

  Cost’s attorney had scheduled a polygraph to back up her client’s statement. CJ didn’t need a polygraph to know Cost hadn’t killed anyone. Carter didn’t have it in him. Of course, drug abuse could make a person do things he or she wouldn’t ordinarily do. Still, she couldn’t get right with that scenario.

  Tyrone was her prime suspect. He would kill his own mother if she got in his way. The whole E. Noon/No One theory was in all probability his way of casting doubt on his guilt. To the powers that be, killing on the west side of the parkway was one thing. But to kill a member of the medical community was another. Lusk’s murder would receive far more media attention.

  But why had he killed Lusk? All the evidence discovered so far had nothing to do with Tyrone and everything to do with Cost. Maybe, considering he’d known about Carter and Shelley, he’d intended to make Cost look like the killer all along. Braddock had suggested that scenario. Cooper wasn’t buying it. She felt there was something more going on. Something that hadn’t been revealed just yet.

  Braddock just wanted it to be Tyrone.

  Maybe CJ did, too.

  Two more weeks and she had to be back in Baltimore. Shelley’s memorial service needed to be arranged. It would seriously help if people would stop dying.

  A rap on the door jerked her attention in that direction. She pushed up, walked soundlessly to the window to see who was at the door. No one knew she was here. She’d hidden her rental in the alley.

  Edward.

  Relief sagged her shoulders. She really did need to get a handle on her nerves. She was a mess.

  She pushed the chair out of the way and opened the door. “Edward, how did you know I was here?” He stood on her porch looking regal as ever and sporting a brown shopping bag, the kind with handles.

  “Certainly not because you’re answering your cell phone,” he chastised gently.

  She patted her pockets. Where was her phone? “I’m sorry. It’s around here somewhere. Probably still on silent.” She’d had to silence it at the precinct. “Come in.” She ushered him inside. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Dinner.” He turned the bag so she could see the Panera Bread logo. “Since you forget to eat far too often, I felt confident that it was a safe wager you hadn’t eaten this evening.”

  The relief she’d felt at seeing Edward at her door flooded her twofold. “You always take such good care of me.” She glanced around the room. She’d made quite the mess. “Sorry for the disorder.”

  “You’re looking for another camera?”

  She’d told him already about Cost’s interrogation. “It’s probably a waste of time, but I had to try.”

  “Of course you did.” He set the bag on the coffee table, and this time he did the ushering. “Eat. The summer salad is your favorite.” He smiled as he settled next to her. “Strawberries and pecans included.”

  “You’d make the perfect husband,” she teased. “Thoughtful.” He blushed. “Always ready to defend my honor. And even though you didn’t prepare this yourself”—she dug into the bag—“you’re an amazing cook.”

  “Chef,” he reminded.

  “Sorry.” She sent him a sidelong glance. “Chef.”

  The dressing was light yet creamy. Had her taste buds exploding. “Hmmm.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed.

  “Edward.” She turned to him. “Do you remember the first day we met?”

  He thought a half a second, smiled. “I do. You were trying to drag Shelley into the children’s section of the library. She clearly was not pleased.”

  Fragments of the memory whispered through CJ’s mind and she smiled. “She wanted to . . .” She frowned. “I can’t remember. But she wanted to be someplace else . . .”

  “The park.”

  “That’s it.” She shook her head. “How can you remember that? I think maybe I blocked it from my mind because she pitched such a fit. Everyone in the library was staring.”

  “When I promised to buy the two of you ice cream, Shelley had a change of heart.”

  Now she remembered. “You walked with us to the ice cream shop where the Medical Plaza is now.”

  “I did. You interrogated me the entire distance.”

  Another smile tugged at her lips. “You were a stranger. A girl couldn’t be too careful.”

  “Yes, we discussed that issue over scoops of triple chocolate chip.”

  “Whenever we needed anything, you were there.” CJ let the flood of memories she’d been holding back wash over her. “Every August before school started, packages of clothes would be delivered to our door. You always swore you weren’t the one who sent them, but I knew better.”

  “Then you grew up and I had to resort to gift cards.”

  There was a question she’d thought of asking him many times, but she’d never worked up the nerve, or maybe the time had never been right.

  “Edward, are Shelley and I the reason you never married? I’d hate to think we prevented you from having a full life of your own.” God knows they’d kept him busy fixing their problems.

  He set his salad bowl and fork aside. “CJ.” He touched her cheek so very gently. She leaned into the touch. “You and Shelley were and still are my family. You, in particular, have made my life abundantly full. Don’t ever think for a moment that you and your sister have been anything but a treasured part of my existence.”

  CJ reached over, hugged him. She didn’t care that her salad bowl tilted precariously in her lap.

  They finished their dinner in silence. The blissful feeling faded and her thoughts returned to the investigation. She needed to find any other tapes that might be here. If Nash disappeared or destroyed the tape he had in his possession, they
might never know the truth. But then, maybe the tape showed nothing relevant except the confrontation with Cost.

  Edward set his bowl aside once more; this time it was empty. She placed hers beside his. She’d devoured every crisp, tart bite.

  “I have no plans this evening,” he announced as he stood. “I’d like very much to help you search.”

  She started to say no, but a fresh set of eyes could prove useful. “That would be great.” She hesitated. “If you’re sure.” She pushed her weary body off the sofa.

  “I’m absolutely positive.”

  “I’ve basically torn the upstairs apart,” she confessed. “Including any suspicious-looking spots in the floor. If there’s another camera, it has to be somewhere down here.”

  “You said Dr. Cost mentioned the television remote,” Edward noted. “That would mean the most likely place was in this room.”

  “True.” CJ propped her hands on her hips. “But I’ve searched every square inch of the walls and there are no holes that would provide the necessary view for the camera lens.”

  He surveyed the room. “What about the bookshelves?” He nodded toward the pair of bookshelves that flanked the century-old coal fireplace.

  “I pulled everything off the shelves. Didn’t find anything.”

  He walked the length of the room. Considered the options. “What about the furniture? The television?”

  “I checked the television.” It was one of the old floor models from the seventies. It was a miracle it still worked. “I even removed the back panel.” Probably didn’t work anymore.

  He carefully surveyed the sofa. She tried not to look guilty considering what she’d done on that sofa. Edward moved to the chairs in the room, checked those as well.

  Then he took a moment, turning around slowly to consider the room. “Perhaps the VCR is in the crawl space under the floor.”

  “Already thought of that. It’s not.”

  “What about the fireplace?” He started in that direction. “Did you inspect it closely?”

  “I looked, but it’s a disaster. I don’t see how an electronic device could survive in there.”

  “Well.” He crouched down. “We’ll see.”

  CJ was reasonably sure the fallen bricks and mortar piled atop the coal basket had been there a few decades. “I’ll get a trash bag.”

  Edward started to pick through the rubble. “That would be a good idea.”

  When she returned from the kitchen with a trash bag he was inspecting a black box.

  “You found it!” She dropped to her knees next to him. The VCR was dusty as hell.

  “It was under that plastic container.” He nodded to the pile of discarded rubble.

  Shelley had taken a plastic storage container, cut out a portion of one long side, and used the container to protect the VCR from debris. She’d had it well camouflaged.

  “How was it plugged in?” She wouldn’t have thought to look there for another obvious reason: no power supply.

  Edward pointed to an extension cord amid the remainder of the rubble. “It was hidden behind the screen, looped into the bookcase.” He bent down, peered into the bottom shelf. “There has to be an access to power there.”

  CJ lifted up on the bottom shelf. It moved. “What the . . . ?” She’d missed that, too. A hole had been drilled in the floor beneath that shelf and an extension cord run through the hole from the crawl space.

  “It’s probably plugged into an exterior outlet.”

  CJ wasn’t aware they even had an exterior outlet. “This is crazy.” How had she missed that extension cord? Probably because it had been dark and damp under the floor. She’d scurried around like a mole and then gotten the hell out.

  She inspected the VCR. “Will it turn on? Is there a tape inside?” Her heart started that frantic pounding.

  He pushed the power button. A red light blinked to life. Then he pressed the eject button. Her chest constricted as the grinding sound echoed in the silence. The door opened, but there was no tape.

  “Damn.” She sat back on the floor. “All this searching.” She glanced around the room. “And nothing.”

  “At least you know Cost was telling the truth.” He settled on the floor near her feet. “There’s no wire leading to the camera.” He turned the VCR over and inspected the back. “Ah. Wireless.”

  “But the camera is in here somewhere.” She scrambled up and started her search again. Finding the camera likely wouldn’t help, but it was something she needed to do. She hadn’t worked this hard to settle for half what she’d been looking for.

  “There’s likely a distance limitation,” Edward offered. “So it would probably be close by.”

  Then she knew. Her gaze locked onto the flue cover about four feet above the fireplace opening. The decorative metal cover had been there for as long as she could remember. She dragged a chair over and climbed up to get a closer look. The flowers on the pressed metal disk were faded. The center of one was missing. A hole had been drilled in its place.

  Using her short nails, she tugged until the cover came free. In the circular opening was the small camera. State of the art, just like the one she’d found upstairs.

  And Edward was right. No wires.

  “Damn.”

  “It’s not a total loss,” he offered gently. “You know there was a second camera. Perhaps you’ll find more tapes hidden somewhere in the house.”

  But not the tape.

  She admitted defeat. She was exhausted. “I think I’ll just clean up this mess and call it a night.”

  “I’ll help.”

  She started to argue, but when she looked around the room, she surrendered to another glaring fact: this was too much for her to do alone.

  An hour later, less than half the time it would have taken her alone, the house was set back to rights.

  “Thank you so much.” She swiped her forehead. “I’m not sure I would have made it without your help.”

  He dusted his hands together. “That’s what families do. They help each other.”

  She hugged him tight. He was the one part of her life that hadn’t let her down. “Okay.” She drew back. “I’ve successfully ruined your clothes.” She gestured to his soiled shirt and trousers. “It’s a good thing it’s dark. I’m certain no one has ever seen Professor Edward Abbott looking quite like this.”

  He chuckled. “My gardener, perhaps.”

  That was right. Edward was an avid gardener in addition to his many other talents. “Come. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “You’re not staying here, are you?”

  “Probably not. I just need a shower and then—”

  “You’ll come to my home.” He paused at the door, faced her. “CJ, it’s not safe for you to stay here. That awful Nash is still out there. He could show up here, and with you alone . . .”

  “All right.” She was no fool. He was right. “Will you stay while I take a shower? Then I’ll check in with Braddock and we’ll go.”

  “Hurry along, then. I’ll see to the dishes in the meanwhile.”

  She started to argue but knew it wouldn’t do any good. She backed toward the stairs. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  CJ bounded up the stairs, picked an outfit from Shelley’s closet, and hurried to the bathroom. She twisted the knobs to start the water running. It always took the water forever to get warm.

  Catching a glimpse of her reflection, she made a sound of disbelief. And she’d thought Edward looked a fright. She could easily have been mistaken for one of the poor homeless folks who lived under the Governor’s Drive bridge.

  She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the tub. The water felt amazing. The scent of Shelley’s preferred shampoo filled her senses as she washed the grime from her hair.

  No! It stings my eyes!

  Memories of attempting to wash Shelley’s hair when she was a kid bombarded CJ. Their mother had always bought the cheapest shampoo available. Never the good stuff that promised no more tears
. Shelly rarely stayed still enough to prevent getting shampoo in her eyes. But CJ tried.

  Tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks as if she’d gotten shampoo in her eyes. Her sister was gone. All CJ had left were the memories, and far too many of those were painful.

  She washed her skin and rinsed her hair one last time. A quick shave and she felt tremendously better.

  As soon as she’d dried her body, she wiggled into Shelley’s tight jeans. Tugged the tee over her head and pitched the dirty clothes and wet towels into the tub. She’d have to deal with that later.

  She hesitated at the door. Sniffed. Smelled like . . .

  Smoke.

  “Oh, God!” She twisted the knob, flung the door open. Smoke greeted her in the hall. “Edward!”

  No answer. Just the distinct crackle of wood burning.

  She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled along the hall and down the stairs. The smoke was thicker there. The flames leaped and clawed at the kitchen walls. “Edward!” She coughed. Pulled her T-shirt up over her mouth and nose.

  Go! You have to find him!

  The living room was thick with smoke.

  Sirens blared in the distance. Someone had already called 911. Good, because her cell phone was God only knew where.

  “Dr. Patterson!”

  Jenkins.

  “Edward!” She tried to see. It was impossible. “He’s in here somewhere! Help me!”

  She coughed. Crawled deeper into the room.

  “I’ve got him!” Jenkins shouted.

  Through the haze she caught a glimpse of blue—Edward’s shirt. Jenkins was dragging him from between the coffee table and the sofa.

  CJ scrambled to her feet. “Is he okay?” A coughing jag followed the words.

  “Let’s just get out of here.”

  CJ grabbed Edward’s legs, helped Jenkins haul him onto the porch. She paused long enough to get a breath while Jenkins dragged him away from the house.

  CJ rushed past him and opened the gate.

  By the time they reached the sidewalk, the fire truck, sirens screaming, was skidding to a stop on the street. Then another and another.