Justice Returns: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 6)

by Rayven T. Hill

  She gave the salad a final toss and covered it with a tea towel, then dug in the cupboard for some paper plates. The fewer dishes to wash, the better.

  The doorbell rang and she hurried to the door and looked through the peephole. Seeing no one, she opened the door a few inches and peeked through the crack.

  A boy wearing a baseball cap stepped out from beside the door. Her mouth fell open as he raised a pistol in one hand and pushed on the door with the other.

  She looked in horror when she realized it wasn’t a boy—it was Jeremy Spencer.

  She stepped back, attempting to close the door. His foot blocked the doorway, and he overpowered her, pushing it open enough to squeeze through.

  He slammed the door closed with his foot, raised the pistol, and glared at her as she took another step back.

  “Hello, Mrs. Lincoln,” he said. His calm voice made her shiver, and she stood frozen.

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  “What … what do you want?” Her voice was hoarse and it quivered when she spoke.

  “I need to talk to you.” He waved the weapon toward the front room. “In there, please.”

  Annie eyed the gun warily. Her heart pounded as she turned and walked into the room, then stopped and turned around to face him.

  “Sit down, Mrs. Lincoln,” he said, waving the gun toward her overstuffed chair.

  She turned uneasily, sat where he indicated, and shrank into the soft cushion. She watched him back up toward the couch, the pistol never wavering in his hand, his eyes on hers. He sat on the edge and smiled.

  “I don’t mean to frighten you, Mrs. Lincoln. I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to talk to you. I surely do.”

  That didn’t ease her mind. “What about?” she asked cautiously.

  “About Mother.”

  “Your mother?”

  “I want to hire you,” he said. “I need you to find out who killed Mother. And Father.”

  Annie relaxed somewhat. Jeremy’s mind was unstable, his manner unorthodox, but his reasoning was sound. She knew his father was murdered in prison, and his mother’s suicide seemed out of character at the time.

  “I know Mother was murdered,” Jeremy continued. “I talked to someone in prison. He said Father was a snitch, but I know he wasn’t.”

  “Did you get the name of the killer?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Nobody seems to remember, but according to prison rumor, whoever killed Father, killed Mother as well.”

  “I … I don’t know if I can help.”

  “I’ll pay you. I don’t have any money right now, but I promise to pay. I surely will.”

  In his eagerness to get the words out, Jeremy’s gun hand lowered. It lay almost on his lap, and she thought of making an attempt to overpower him. She quickly dismissed the idea. If he’d come for help, he had no intentions to harm her. At least, not right now, and any hostile action she made could result in a more dangerous situation.

  “I’m sorry about the way I treated you before,” Jeremy said. His head drooped as if in shame, but he quickly recovered and brought his eyes again toward hers. “I didn’t want to chain you up but I had no choice.”

  “You tried to kill my husband.” She spoke sternly.

  Jeremy didn’t react to her comment in a negative way. “He was trespassing on my land,” he said in an even voice. “I had a right to at the time, but I’m sorry. I truly am.”

  Annie moved her eyes toward the picture window over the couch. Jake should be back soon, and she was uncertain whether or not he or Matty could be in danger.

  “Whatever you think of me doesn’t matter,” Jeremy continued. “Mother was a good woman and she was innocent.” He paused and took a deep breath. “You’re the only one I could turn to. The police don’t care. They surely don’t.”

  “You killed a lot of people, Jeremy,” she said flatly.

  His eyes narrowed and he spoke firmly. “They deserved it.”

  “Nobody deserves to be murdered,” she said quickly, and then wondered why she tried to convince him. It was futile, of course.

  He rested the gun on his knee, the barrel pointing away from her, as if to lessen the threat. “Will you help me?” He was pleading.

  She glanced at the revolver. He caught her eye and looked down at the weapon in his lap. “I don’t have this to convince you to help, it’s only for my protection.”

  “Where’re you staying, Jeremy?”

  He gave a short laugh. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Then how’ll I contact you?” Annie was digging for information, anything she could use against him.

  “I’ll contact you. I have the phone number for Lincoln Investigations,” he said. “Will you help?”

  She sat forward, almost completely relaxed, and looked into his pleading eyes. “I can’t promise right now. I have to discuss it with my husband.”

  “Jake’s a fair man,” Jeremy said. “He’ll understand.”

  She almost laughed at his comment. Yes, Jake was fair, but she wasn’t so sure he would have any inclination to help a serial killer. Especially one who came close to killing him.

  She took a chance, gauging his reaction. “Jeremy, you know I have to report this conversation to the police.”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “They’re already looking for me.” He sighed. “You do what you think is right, and I’ll do what I think is right. We don’t happen to see eye-to-eye on everything, but you’re a fair woman, and I think you’ll agree with me, Mother and Father deserve to rest in peace.”

  “I can agree with you on that, yes,” Annie said.

  He leaned forward. “Then you’ll help?”

  “Call me tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”

  He nodded his head up and down slowly several times, and then rose to his feet. Annie stood back and watched until he left. She closed the door behind him, put on the security chain, went back to the living room, and dropped into her chair, her mind whirling.

  Chapter 12

  Tuesday, 5:14 PM

  JAKE UNLOCKED THE front door of the house, but the security chain stopped it from opening. Annie must’ve put the chain on after he left.

  He rang the bell and she came to the door, peeked past the chain, then opened it, a worried look on her face.

  He stopped, one foot in the doorway, and frowned. “What is it?”

  “I had a visitor. Jeremy.”

  His mouth fell open and it took a moment for the information to sink in. Finally, he asked, “Jeremy Spencer?”

  She nodded.

  Matty pushed past and darted upstairs. Jake stepped inside, never taking his eyes off his wife, a look of unbelief on his face. He followed her into the front room and they sat on the couch, facing each other.

  “Why…? What … what did he want? Are you all right? Did you call the police?”

  Annie forced a weak smile. “I’m all right and I called Hank. He said he’d drop right over.”

  “And?”

  “And,” she said. “Jeremy wants us to investigate the death of his mother and father.”

  “His mother killed herself.”

  “He’s not so sure,” Annie said. “And frankly, neither am I. He said he talked to someone in prison who remembers his father, and according to him, the same person who killed his father, may have also killed his mother.”

  “Why?”

  “Revenge perhaps. But I don’t know who. That’s what we need to find out.”

  Jake looked at her in surprise. “You’re not actually considering it, are you?”

  She looked away. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “But he’s a serial killer, and very dangerous.”

  “I know,” Annie said, looking back at Jake. “But his mother wasn’t.”

  Jake stood and paced. He wasn’t surprised Jeremy turned up in Richmond Hill, but he had no inclination to have a murderer for a client. He found it hard to have any sympathy for Jeremy or either one of his pa
rents.

  The doorbell rang and Jake glanced out the front window. Hank’s car was parked at the curb. He went to the door and opened it.

  Hank face was grim as he stepped in. His usual friendly greeting went forgotten as he followed Jake into the living room and sat in the armchair.

  Jake dropped onto the couch and leaned forward. “This is a crazy situation.”

  Hank agreed. “It’s certainly not normal.” He looked at Annie. “The first priority, of course, is to catch Jeremy. Did he give you any indication where he was hiding out?”

  “I couldn’t get anything from him. I tried.”

  “I’m sure he would be careful about that,” Hank said, as he sat back. “You know the routine. I’m going to have to get a complete report from you. Everything you can remember. Times, what he wore, how he got here, etcetera.”

  “I’ll get that done right away,” Annie said.

  “Did you see how he arrived? Cab, walking, car?”

  Annie shook her head. “I was rather unnerved and I didn’t watch him leave.”

  Hank bobbed his head. “That’s understandable.”

  “He said he would call me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Like I told you on the phone, he wants us to find out what happened to his parents.”

  Hank scratched his head, eyeing her closely. “That’s not illegal if you want to pursue it.”

  “I don’t like the idea,” Jake said. “Jeremy Spencer is a nutcase.”

  Hank leaned forward. “I think you should look into it.”

  Jake frowned. “It could be dangerous.”

  Annie looked at Jake. “I really don’t think there’s any danger from Jeremy. He may be crazy, but I don’t think he would harm us.”

  Jake let out a long breath and opened his mouth to speak.

  Hank interrupted. “It may help us track him down. The more contact you have with him, the better our chances. We can trace his call when he phones you.” He raised his hands, palms out. “But it’s entirely your choice.”

  “Unless we both agree,” Annie said to Jake. “We won’t go ahead with it.”

  Jake hesitated a moment, and then shrugged. “If it’ll help find that little creep, then we’ll do it.”

  “I’ll talk to captain Diego,” Hank said. “I’m sure we can take another look at the evidence.”

  “Do you remember the case, Hank?” Annie asked.

  The cop looked up at the ceiling and squinted. Finally, he drew a deep breath and answered. “I barely remember it. It was quite some time ago. I’d just made detective at the time, but it wasn’t my case. The M.E. ruled it as suicide and homicide never got a look at it. The case was closed and everybody moved on.”

  “Not everybody,” Annie said.

  “What?”

  “Jeremy didn’t move on. He’s positive she didn’t kill herself, and I think the death of his parents helped make him what he is today.”

  “Don’t start feeling sorry for the lunatic,” Jake said.

  Annie frowned at Jake. “I’m not feeling sorry for him. I’m trying to understand him.”

  Hank agreed. “Understanding him is part of it. We know in his twisted mind he likes to kill thieves. That’s been his MO thus far, and if he starts killing again, we know what kind of people he’s targeting.”

  “Hank, that doesn’t narrow it down much. This world is full of thieves and dishonest people.”

  “It’s a start,” Hank said. “We’ll come up with something.”

  Speaking of thieves,” Annie said. “Did you get anything from those car thieves.”

  “Sure did. We separated them, made a deal with one of them, and he told us everything. Turns out they had a few spotters looking for valuable cars.” He turned to Jake. “That’s why you got so lucky. One of the spotters saw you driving around, and voila.”

  Jake chuckled. “It wasn’t luck.”

  “Next you’ll tell me it came from your extensive knowledge of the criminal mind,” Hank said dryly.

  “Something like that.”

  “What about Mr. Culpepper?” Annie asked Hank.

  “Whitney Culpepper is over the moon, the insurance company is pleased, and we have enough info to track down the buyers, so Diego is happy too.”

  “And Diego owes me,” Jake put in.

  “Good luck collecting on that,” Hank said with a chuckle. “He’ll never admit it.”

  “Back to Jeremy,” Annie said. “When can we take a look at the evidence?”

  “There’s not much, but I’ll get at it right away and see what we have.”

  Jake wasn’t overjoyed with the situation, but for the public’s sake, and for Annie’s safety, he would do what he could to find Jeremy. They were involved already, and there was no choice. Besides, he wanted to see that little creep back behind bars again.

  Chapter 13

  Tuesday, 5:51 PM

  HANK FOLLOWED the convoy of four cruisers into the driveway of the old Spencer residence on County Road 12. He didn’t expect to find Jeremy. The killer was smart enough to know that would be too obvious, but they needed to be thorough.

  Dead ahead, the old farmhouse stood dark. The windows were boarded up, weeds now taking over the front yard, and the old barn still stood to his right, a couple hundred feet away, further down the driveway. It was the place where Jeremy’s mother hung herself many years ago.

  Two cars continued on to the barn. The four cops would give it a thorough search, just in case.

  Officers streamed from the cruisers and surrounded the house, their guns drawn. Hank drew his weapon and followed two officers to the front door. A cop pushed on the door and it yawned open.

  The house was dark, boards covering the windows keeping out the early evening sun. Maglites lit the way as the cops searched the building, clearing it room by room.

  Jeremy wasn’t there. No surprise.

  Hank found a light switch and flicked it. No light. The power company would’ve turned off the hydro to the house and barn long ago.

  Officers came in the back door, through the mudroom, then the kitchen, and converged in the large dining room.

  “He’s not here,” a cop said.

  “I can see that, Yappy,” Hank said.

  Hank went out to the front porch, the cops following. The officers who went to the barn were on their way back.

  “Nothing there, Hank,” one of them called, as they climbed from the vehicles.

  “He may show up here eventually,” Hank said, looking around the property. “He was very attached to this place. Never wanted to leave after his mother died and he kept the place up as best he could. His parents, as well as his grandparents, are buried here.”

  “Do you want to post somebody here to watch the house?” Yappy asked.

  “Not right now,” Hank said. “Any officer would be a sitting duck, and I couldn’t leave one staking out the place in a cruiser. That would be a dead giveaway, and Spencer would never show up.” He paused. “I want to give him every opportunity to come back here. Let him feel like this is still his home.” He pointed to two of the officers. “You guys stay here while I take another look around.” He waved his hand. “The rest of you might as well go.”

  ~~*~~

  JEREMY SPENCER came through the trees and approached his property from the side. He stopped short at the tree line, more than annoyed to see a police car parked in his driveway. Another car sat behind it, and he assumed it was a cop’s private vehicle.

  He crouched down and watched, but no police were visible, at least not from his vantage point.

  They had no right to be on his property. He may be a fugitive, but this was still his house, and they were trespassing on his land.

  Right now wasn’t the time to do anything about it. He knew how to use his pistol, but he would be out-gunned and out-manned. No use taking a chance when he had things to do—a mission that couldn’t wait.

  As disturbing as the presence of strangers on his property, was the look o
f the house. The windows were covered with boards—something he’d never authorized. They desecrated it, and he was fuming.

  He crept to the side of the house and peered in the window through a crack between the boards. Two cops stood in his dining room, and by the light of their flashlights, he saw them talking and laughing. Someone else—someone he recognized—was snooping through everything. It was Detective Hank Corning, the cop who’d interrogated him after his arrest.

  He knew why they were here, of course. Annie Lincoln called them as soon as he left her, and they were looking for him. That was somewhat disturbing, not because she’d called the police, but because the police knew he would show up here. Did they know him that well? He would have to double-think his actions from now on. Predictability could get him caught.

  Jeremy watched for a while, curious and disturbed as to what happened to all of his possessions. He had an old, faithful Hyundai, but the police took it from him long ago. He couldn’t drive it now anyway, even if he had it. It was too dangerous. He was tired of riding that old bicycle everywhere he went, pushing it through the trees, and bumping across fields. Maybe he could borrow Uriah’s motorcycle. That would surely do.

  He rose to his feet, turned, and went back into the bush. He would go back the way he came, through the forest, retrieve his bike, then out to the next side road and back to the city.

  He paused a moment where three tall trees made a perfect triangle. Right there, in the center of those three maples—that’s where he’d buried Joey.

  Joey was his first kill. Jeremy was only sixteen years old at the time, Joey a year younger, but the bully deserved it. The teasing and torture he’d taken from the lowlife delinquent and his friends was still a source of the occasional nightmare. He lured Joey into the woods, and with his father’s old 22-caliber revolver, destroyed his tormentor. After he killed Joey, the torture stopped, the other boys hopeless and helpless without their ringleader.

  He could still remember that day as if it were yesterday, fond memories of the events still vivid in his mind—Joey on the ground, bleeding to death, dying, and begging. He stopped the boy’s whining with a second bullet, right below the eye. He’d watched the blood as it pooled under the body, turning the orange and golden leaves to a bright red, and then he buried him deep, deep, deep. Fond memories, indeed.