Guilty

by Karen Fenech

  Ryan hailed the first responding officers and received a status report. They had searched the shelter and determined that Gaines had, in fact, been there, as confirmed by a witness, but was gone.

  The shelter was currently under lockdown with only law enforcement going in or out. A search of the surrounding area, and a canvass of the houses on the street was underway.

  Executive Director Scott Logan met Ryan as soon as Ryan reached the front door. Ryan had met Logan on one other occasion, at a fundraiser for the shelter that he’d attended in his official capacity for the police department. He followed Logan out of the cold night air and into the entry hall that was not much warmer. Light streamed from open doorways where men and women sat on cots, sipping from paper cups. Conversations buzzed around him. Officers walked the floors, and hunkered down beside the people, asking about what they’d seen.

  Ryan turned to Logan. “Mr. Logan, walk me through what you saw tonight.”

  Logan was dressed casually in jeans and a shirt that looked hastily donned, with one end of the shirt tail hanging over his belt. He smoothed a tuft of hair that stood out on one side of his head and led the way down a hall painted in a bright orange.

  “I didn’t see anything, Chief,” Logan said. “One of my staff went down to the boiler room, and saw James Gaines there. She called 911 then called me at home.”

  “Where is the person who saw Gaines?”

  “In my office. This way.”

  As they walked Ryan asked, “How many people do you have working tonight?”

  “We keep a skeleton staff here at night of two or three people.”

  “And tonight?”

  “Two people, but only one of them came into contact with Gaines. The other staff member was in the office catching up on paperwork.”

  Regardless, Ryan would speak with both employees. “What about others? How many people do you have sleeping here tonight?”

  “I would need to confirm for sure but last I looked we had about ten people.”

  “I would appreciate if you would confirm that and also note if they’d stayed here before this evening.” Ryan wanted to know if anyone staying here may have crossed paths with Gaines at some point in the past and helped him hide here. “I also need a list of your employees and your volunteers.” Ryan’s cops would interview everyone connected with the shelter.

  Logan tapped a finger against his chin and nodded his agreement. “I’ll have my assistant put that together for you.”

  “I’d appreciate if you could ask your assistant to come in now. I’d like that information right away.”

  Logan nodded slowly and made the call. When he’d finished, Ryan said, “How well did you know James Gaines?”

  “Fairly well. He did some odd jobs here. I went to see his defense counsel earlier this week and said that I would act as a character witness for James.” Logan released a slow breath. “I feel terrible about what James did to Sharon but the man is mentally unstable. He needs medical treatment, not punishment. Though I doubt anyone can prevent him from being put to death, I feel I need to speak up.”

  “What did Miss Winston say?”

  “I haven’t received a response from her yet.” He gave Ryan a man-to-man smile and shook his head slowly. “Women.” When Ryan didn’t return Logan’s smile, Logan shrugged. “I suppose she’s been busy.”

  They reached Logan’s office. The door was open. A middle-aged woman sat in a chair opposite a massive desk, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She wore a thick off-white cardigan with her hands tucked into the sleeves.

  Logan entered his office ahead of Ryan and made introductions. “Clara, this is Chief Crosby. Chief, this is Clara Dodd.”

  She gave Ryan a quick nod. Her eyes, beneath sagging lids with deep crease lines, looked frightened.

  Ryan would get her address, and other particulars. Right now all he wanted to know was what she’d seen. “What happened tonight, Mrs. Dodd?”

  She pushed her hands more deeply into the sleeves of the cardigan and drew her shoulders together. “I went down to the boiler room. When I got down there, James Gaines was there.” The woman shuddered and tears filled her eyes.

  “Are you sure it was Gaines?”

  She nodded, her throat working as she appeared to be struggling to speak. “I know him from when he stayed with us and of course since, with his picture on the news.”

  “Did Gaines say anything to you?”

  “No. He looked as surprised to see me. I started screaming and ran back upstairs where everyone was sleeping before he could. I figured he couldn’t kill all of us. I called 911 and then Mr. Logan.”

  “Did you see where Gaines went?”

  She swallowed but her voice came out choked. “No. I didn’t care where he went as long as it was away from me.”

  “What were you doing down there?”

  “I went to fix the boiler.”

  Logan intervened. “We have a leak in our boiler. From time to time it stops working and we need to add water. My staff has been shown how to do this.”

  The woman’s eyes welled with tears. “He could have killed me.”

  Ryan thanked Clara Dodd, left a police woman to stay with their only witness, then said to Logan, “How do I get to the boiler room?”

  “I’ll take you.”

  Logan led Ryan to another hall and from there past a couple of open doors to one that was at the end of the hall. Ryan peered into each room he passed. One held an old television. A couple of worn couches. Another was a large kitchen with several round and square tables and mismatched chairs. No doors other than the one Ryan was standing in, in either room.

  An officer stood by the door leading to the basement.

  “You can wait here, Mr. Logan,” Ryan said.

  Ryan didn’t wait for a response, and descended the steps. Bare bulbs hung from the ceiling rafters lighting his path as he made his way across the large cellar to a door at the end marked Boiler Room. Ryan entered, taking in the place where Gaines was last known to be. One large square concrete room with the boiler it was named for backed in one corner.

  There was a door at the end which Gaines had likely exited from following his discovery by Clara. A forensics team was en route to process the room. To avoid further contaminating the scene, Ryan took gloves from his pocket and twisted the knob. The door opened to a yard with a patch of sparse grass. Yellow tape cordoned off the area and a female officer stood stationed behind the perimeter.

  Ryan twisted the knob from the outside. Locked. How had Gaines accessed the shelter? There was no indication that he had broken in but Ryan would confirm that. He would ask Logan if any keys had gone missing recently, or if an employee may have reported a lost key. Was the shelter locked at night or left open to new arrivals? If so, was it possible that Gaines may have wandered in while the current residents slept and the staff was occupied elsewhere?

  Ryan narrowed his eyes, taking in his surroundings. Bedding was piled against one wall. A can of soup, another of beans, and an open package of instant noodles were visible. One corner of a piece of paper peeked from beneath a pillow. Ryan took a pen from inside his jacket and lifted the pillow. The paper was one of several dirty and obviously discarded flyers. The one on top advertised the opening of a new Thai restaurant.

  Similar papers had been found among Gaines’s things during the Fahey investigation. Ryan used his pen to fan out the flyers. His blood ran cold. On the backs of them, Gaines had scribbled one word over and over: Faith.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Faith. Faith. Faith.

  Gaines’s scribblings flashed in Ryan’s mind. Thinking of them, of the implication of them, had him wanting to take Gaines apart when he found him.

  Ryan left the shelter and drove to Faith’s house. It was still raining lightly. Drops dotted the windshield and the truck’s wipers swished across the glass. It was just after six a.m. She would not have left for work yet. She needed to know what they’d found at the shelter. Un
til Gaines was found and the threat to her was eliminated, Ryan would double up on her protection so there would be two cops with her at all times rather than one.

  All of Gaines’s stuff was now in the hands of the forensics team. Ryan hoped they’d uncover a clue to where Gaines went next.

  Why would Gaines go back to the shelter? What would make him think he’d be safe to hide out there? And in the boiler room where others were sure to find themselves at some point because of the leak? Gaines had been a handy man there and knew of the faulty boiler.

  Gaines’s decision to return there didn’t make sense. And since his escape, Gaines’s actions hadn’t been without thought. He’d eluded them successfully which meant he’d done some planning. Wherever he’d been hiding prior to the shelter, they hadn’t been able to find him. Why leave there to go to the shelter?

  Ryan was missing something. Logan’s assistant had sent the names of the shelter staff and volunteers directly to Galbraith who would coordinate interviews with all of them. That would take time and Gaines had been on the loose too long already. Ryan’s hand fisted around the steering wheel in frustration.

  Faith’s house came into view. Birch’s patrol car was parked by the curb but as Ryan drew nearer he saw that Birch wasn’t in it. Was he at the back of the house?

  Ryan parked behind Birch’s vehicle. The house was in darkness. Had Faith decided to sleep in? She hadn’t had much rest since she’d taken on the Gaines case, or last night with him. But if she had slept in, it would be the first time since Ryan had known her that she’d put herself before her clients.

  He called her cell phone. The phone rang but went unanswered, eventually going to voicemail. At her front door, he rang the bell. Waited. Rang it again. Then again. She didn’t come to the door and as time passed, Ryan noted that Birch hadn’t returned to his car.

  Faith could be sleeping in, or she could be in the shower and unable to hear the phone. Birch could have gone into her house to take a piss. But telling himself that wasn’t doing shit to stop the burn in Ryan’s gut.

  He pulled his weapon with one hand and called Galbraith with the other. Moving to the back of Faith’s house to look for Birch, he said, “I’m at Faith’s. She’s not answering her door and Birch isn’t in his vehicle. Send back up, Frank.”

  Without waiting for a response from Galbraith, or for his back up to arrive, Ryan ran. The woods encroached on the unfenced back yard of Faith’s house. Tall trees loomed. Gun up, Ryan ran beneath the branches. He hadn’t gone far when he saw Birch lying on his back in a muddy patch of ground.

  Even as he bent over Birch to feel for a pulse, he knew he wouldn’t find one. Above Birch’s protective vest, Ryan saw a hole in the man’s throat. Someone had shot Birch dead. Birch’s gun was still holstered. He’d likely not seen it coming. Ryan felt sadness and sorrow at the loss of one of his men.

  Faith. The back door was open. Ignoring all rules of procedure, Ryan ran inside shouting her name.

  “Faith!”

  The house was dim. A small glow came from the kitchen. Ryan followed it. Faith’s laptop hummed on the kitchen table.

  Insides churning, he took the stairs quickly. “Faith!”

  No response.

  Sharon Fahey had been found dead in her bedroom. Cold sweat sprang on Ryan’s

  body and he could now feel each one of his heartbeats. Charging into her room, he saw her bed remained unmade, looking pretty much as it had when he’d left it hours earlier, only this time Faith was not under a mound of covers. The note he’d left her was on top of the blankets by her cell phone.

  No blood. No body. He closed his eyes for an instant taking that in then he was on the move again.

  “Faith!” he shouted.

  He checked the bathroom and the master bedroom, though if she were here she surely would have heard him the way he was shouting loud enough to be heard in the next county. She wasn’t in either room.

  Sirens blared, growing nearer.

  Back downstairs, Ryan wheeled around the living room and stepped on something. He removed his foot and his heart rate jacked up. A syringe was on the floor.

  * * *

  “Just sleep some more,” James said, his tone melodic, crooning. “You’re upset. I took you out of your bed before you got a full night’s rest. You’ll feel better after you sleep more.”

  He patted her arm again. Inwardly she cringed at his touch and her muscles pulled tighter. Had she been able, she would have shrunk away from him. “James, you don’t want to do this. It’s not too late to take me home. We can end this now.”

  He removed his hand. “I can’t do that. It was too late for Mrs. Fahey, but it’s not too late for you. I know what I have to do now.”

  Faith would not have believed she could feel more afraid, but his words ramped up her agitation. She was shaking now and helpless to stop it. Is this how James had been with Sharon Fahey? Had he taken her kindness and made more of it? Become obsessed with her? Had she rejected him and when she did, he turned on her, become enraged and killing her?

  Terrified of doing something that would anger him, she didn’t say anything further. A quiet ensued. The crunch of tires on gravel and the sound of a car engine broke the silence.

  “My friend is here.”

  James’s voice filled with glee and he went outside to meet his friend. Then the friend did exist. Faith’s stomach clenched. It was hard enough to get away from just James. Now she would need to escape from two men.

  But Gaines didn’t return on his own feet. He was slung over the shoulder of the newcomer. Colson. Since James had not returned on his own steam, it was clear Colson was not the friend James had been expecting. Again she wondered if the friend existed at all.

  Ryan had cleared Colson as her attacker and despite her personal dislike of the man, he was a cop.

  Colson looked awful. Unshaven. His face drawn and haggard. His nose was off center, showing a recent break that was likely from his encounter with Ryan.

  He dumped James at her feet. One side of James’s face was covered with blood. More streamed down his temple. Faith closed her eyes, relieved that he was unconscious and no longer a threat. It was over. She opened her eyes. “How did you find me?”

  “I figured sooner or later Gaines would end up at your house. Ryan’s cop wasn’t the only one watching your place.”

  “Was,” she said softly.

  “That’s right.” Colson’s lips tightened. “Another murder to add to Gaines’s list. He killed the cop on duty. Waited until the man left his vehicle for his routine walk around your place. Part of the patrol is to check the back every hour. I’ve watched him do it in the last few days. Gaines must have too. Once the cop got to the back of your house, Gaines killed him. I found the body. I got there too late to stop it.”

  Officer Birch had been working her protection detail tonight. James had not given her a definitive answer about Birch’s fate. Faith felt sick to her stomach that Birch was dead because he’d been protecting her. Sadness, remorse and guilt pressed down on her over the choice she’d made to defend James that had led to Birch’s death. “Officer Birch was a good man,” she said softly.

  “Yeah,” Colson bit out.

  She drew a shaky breath. “I’ve been drugged. I can’t move. I need your help to get out of here.”

  Colson cocked his head. “Don’t like Gaines’s accommodations? His hospitality? Your good buddy not such a buddy after all?”

  Not her buddy. Her client. She hadn’t defended him out of friendship, but out of a sense of justice that everyone was equal under the law. She didn’t defend herself to Colson now. She’d lost faith in herself as well.

  Colson went on, “And now you’re expecting me to save you? After what you’ve been doing to make sure this murderer is back on the streets? Because of you, he’s also a cop killer.”

  Faith stared at Colson. “Detective?”

  Colson’s features tightened into an expression of revulsion. “What makes you thin
k you’re worth saving? I’m going to see to it that you get what you deserve.”

  Faith’s breath hitched. “You’re a cop. Hurting me goes against everything you stand for.”

  “Save it,” he snapped. “You’re not in the courtroom now.”

  Faith licked her dust dry lips. “You’ve been a cop a long time. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Are you so willing to throw away all the good you’ve done for a moment of revenge on me?”

  He sneered. “Not revenge. Justice. I’m going to get the justice for Sharon Fahey that you’ve denied her.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Gaines had been at Faith’s. They’d put a rush on the lab tests. Gaines’s fingerprints were on the syringe. The syringe had contained Ketamine, an anesthetic used on animals but that was also a date-rape drug. Acquiring the Ketamine took planning. Likewise with getting the gun used on Birch. Again, planning. Ryan was back to that.

  Now Faith’s house, not the shelter, was the last place they knew Gaines to have been. Gaines had killed Sharon Fahey in her bedroom but he hadn’t done that with Faith. He’d taken Faith away. Why break his pattern with Faith?

  It didn’t make sense that he would. Gaines had already dealt with Birch. Faith lived alone, unlike Sharon. Less chance of Gaines being interrupted than there had been with Sharon.

  The questions spun in Ryan’s mind as he and his officers combed through the woods behind Faith’s house. Ryan rubbed a hand down his face. She was at Gaines’s mercy—a man who’d already shown he had none. It might already be too late.

  Work the case. Ryan fought off the fear that would paralyze him and went on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Rain dripped from the trees onto the earth that was already wet from previous rainfall. Mud sucked at Ryan’s shoes. He hadn’t taken time to put on a slicker. Water seeped into his jacket and jeans. But the bone deep cold he was feeling was not caused by the rain.