Will sat back down.
“One of Stephanie’s roommates is a lawyer.” Jimmy shifted his gaze to Andi. “You might remember her—Madeline Starr?”
“Maggie?” Andi asked.
Jimmy nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s her.”
Will looked from Andi to his cousin. “Do you think she’ll remember you?”
“I hope so,” Jimmy said. “She’s the one who got another prisoner freed from death row. I want you to contact her, see if she will take my case.”
“Let me go with you,” Andi said. “I know a softer side of Maggie Starr.”
“Deal.” Will leaned back. He’d gotten to know Maggie when he helped Brad mow the yard at the Hollisters’ east Memphis house. He couldn’t believe this Maggie, the quiet, easygoing college girl five years his senior, was the bulldog attorney.
But if anyone could get Jimmy off of death row, it would be Madeline Starr. He nodded at Andi. “Ready to go?”
“Not quite,” Andi said. “I have something to ask Jimmy.”
9
ANDI WAS GOOD AT READING PEOPLE, and she’d been studying Jimmy’s body language. So far everything he’d said indicated he wasn’t hiding anything. Like now as he sat in front of her, his arms on the table, his gray eyes unguarded.
He was nothing like she had expected. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to knock holes in her belief he was guilty.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“I want to hear you say you didn’t kill my sister.”
He tented his hands and rested his chin on his thumbs. Then he shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t remember.” He sighed. “I don’t think I killed her, but if I did, I’m willing to pay for it.”
Andi stood. At least he was honest, and that made her want to believe that he hadn’t murdered her sister. “We’ll find the truth.”
“And if you didn’t kill her,” Will said, “someone else did, and they need to pay.”
At the door, Andi took one last look at Jimmy. She’d come here believing he’d fabricated the letter; now she wasn’t so sure. But what if he was conning them both? And the guard was helping him.
What if he isn’t? That would mean there was a strong possibility he didn’t kill Steph. Which meant someone had gotten away with her sister’s murder. Either way, she wanted the truth, and if the truth was that Jimmy was innocent, they only had a few days to prove it.
Outside the room, she turned to Will. “Can you get the CO’s address from the front desk?”
“Someone stole that letter, and it had to be someone from here. I know a better way.”
He took out his cell phone and dialed. “Emily, can you get an address for me? Walter Simmons. He’s a corrections officer at Riverbend and should live in the Nashville area.” He held the phone away. “Emily works in the Department of Motor Vehicles and can find anyone.”
After a minute, a grin spread across his face. “Text it to me, and thanks! You’re the best.”
Five minutes later they were back in Will’s Ford Escape, and he was programing the address into his GPS.
“Where does he live?”
“According to this, fifteen minutes away.”
The GPS took them to a middle-class neighborhood and to a ranch-style brick home. She followed Will to the door, and they waited for someone to answer the bell.
“Yes?” The African-American woman who answered the door stood as tall as Will’s six feet.
“I’m Will Kincade, and this is Andi Hollister.” He showed her his badge. “Is Mr. Simmons available?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Oh no, ma’am. Just need to ask him a few questions about a prisoner at Riverbend.”
She hesitated. “He’s asleep. Didn’t get home until nine this morning.”
Andi checked her watch. A little after four. Seven hours, but he probably didn’t get to sleep right away.
“We wouldn’t ask you to disturb him if it wasn’t really important that we see him,” she said. She gave the woman her most winsome smile, the one she used when she was trying to snag an interview.
“Please, it’s very important,” Will added.
The dark brown eyes studied them both. Finally, she nodded. “Would you like to come in while I get him?”
“Thank you,” Will said.
Andi followed him inside to the living room, and the aroma of chocolate mingled with something tomatoey. Mrs. Simmons was making supper. How could anyone sleep through that rich smell? A worn Bible lay open on the coffee table, like she’d been reading it before they interrupted her.
On one wall was a mural of a tree with photos hanging from the branches like painted Christmas ornaments. Family members, Andi assumed. She looked closer and widened her eyes. Not just photos of family members but pictures capturing their baptisms.
It had occurred to Andi that maybe Jimmy and this Walter Simmons had concocted the story to buy Jimmy more time, but this house reflected people with integrity. She turned as footsteps approached from the hallway.
“He’ll be here as soon as he dresses,” his wife said.
Mrs. Simmons’s calm demeanor puzzled Andi. Strangers, especially one who was a police officer, wanting to talk to their husbands would annoy most wives or at least make them nervous.
“I’m sorry we have to disturb him,” Will said.
“He’s off tonight, so he can catch up then,” she replied.
“How long has Mr. Simmons worked at Riverbend?” Andi asked.
She lifted her brown eyes toward the ceiling. “Hmm. Junior was ten, and he’s thirty-eight now.” Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe it’s been twenty-eight years. My, how time flies.”
Andi stared at her. The woman didn’t look a day over forty herself. “You have a thirty-eight-year-old son, Mrs. Simmons?”
“And a forty-year-old daughter, but don’t ever mention that to her. And call me Rose. Most people who call me Mrs. Simmons are prescribing medicine for me.” She turned as a man filled the doorway. “Walter, these are the people who want to talk to you.”
Walter Simmons came toward them with an outstretched hand. “What can I do for you?”
“I talked to you last night.” Will shook the bear paw of a hand. “Jimmy Shelton is my cousin.”
A wide grin spread across Walter’s dark face. “Jimmy is a good man. He never killed anyone. I hope that letter will set him free.”
Will exchanged glances with Andi. “Unfortunately, the letter is gone, and the woman who sent it is dead.”
“What!” Disbelief spread across the older man’s face and then hardened into narrow eyes.
“Do you know who might be responsible for stealing the letter?” Will asked.
“I have an idea, but I’d rather not say until I know for sure. If the person I’m thinking of didn’t do it, his reputation would be ruined.”
“Jimmy said you snapped a picture of the letter,” Andi said.
Walter slipped his cell phone from his back pocket. “It’s not much good. Pretty blurry. My fingers are so big, it’s hard to hit those little bitty buttons.”
Andi looked over Will’s shoulder, and her heart sank. Blurry was an understatement. But the letter did appear to be on blue paper like Jimmy said. “Can you do anything with that?” she asked Will.
He bit his lip. “I don’t know. Mr. Simmons, may I send this to my phone?”
“Sure. I was going to get my granddaughter to do it tonight.”
While Will transferred the photo, Andi turned to the couple. “Mr. Simmons, do you have any vacation time?”
“A couple of weeks.”
If whoever murdered Lacey had someone steal the letter, there was no telling what else they might do if they found out Walter had seen it. She eyed them grimly. “This might be a good time to take it.”
Andi turned to Will when he pulled in beside her car at the TV station. “Thanks for letting me tag along today.”
He put the car in park and opened his
door.
“You don’t have to get out.” Andi checked her watch. Seven fifty-eight. She’d been afraid Mrs. Simmons’s insistence that they stay and have a bowl of homemade soup would make her late for the meeting with Chloe, but she had a good hour to get ready for it. The park on Beale Street was only a few blocks away.
“I’m going to check out your car, then follow you home.”
That was why she hadn’t told Will about the meeting with Chloe. He was like her brother—too protective. She’d thought about it a time or two, but she knew him too well. He’d find a way to keep her from the meeting or would want to go with her, and Chloe had insisted she not bring any cops. No, it was up to Andi to help the girl.
“I’m not going home,” she said. “I have work to do here at the station.” She pointed to a white Prius next to the building. “And Treece is here. We’ll follow each other. And you don’t have to worry about someone breaking into the house, since we have the security system. We’re safe now.”
“At least let me walk you to the door,” Will said and climbed out of the car.
“You don’t have to do this,” she protested when he opened her car door and held out his arm.
“Don’t be so stubborn. It’s dark out here,” he said. “You take too many risks.”
“Risks are the price you pay to make a difference,” she retorted but allowed him to loop his arm in hers. Sometimes, it was nice to have a knight in shining armor. Especially one with Will’s rugged appeal.
At the station door, she turned to him, hoping he didn’t want to come inside and hang around. “What time are you going to Lacey’s house tomorrow? I’d like to meet you.”
“I’m going right now if I can find your brother and get a key. She may have kept a copy of the letter she mailed Jimmy.”
“Well, if you go back tomorrow, I’d like to tag along.”
“Brad won’t like it.”
“I have a meeting with the police director in the morning. What if he okays it?”
“Then I won’t have a choice, and neither will your brother.”
She bumped him with her shoulder. “That’s why I made the appointment.”
He bumped her back. “Why does that not surprise me?”
Andi keyed in the code for the door, and when she turned back around to thank him, her heart stilled. Even though the overhead light cast his face in shadows, she caught yearning in his eyes. She bit her bottom lip, and for a couple of heartbeats, neither of them spoke.
Lights swung into the parking lot, breaking the spell. Will stepped back. “Well, see you tomorrow. I’ll text you the time.”
Andi collected herself. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
Inside the station, she walked to her desk, replaying what just happened. Was it possible that Will was interested in her? It seemed like he’d wanted to kiss her just then. Suddenly her steps became lighter.
“You look mighty happy,” Treece said when Andi passed her desk.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll be finished in about fifteen minutes if you want to wait. We can talk about what you learned in Nashville when we get home.”
She’d texted Treece on the way to Nashville, but nothing since. “Ah . . . I have a meeting at nine.”
“Who with?”
If she told Treece, she might call her brother or Will. “A source.”
Treece eyed her. “Why are you being evasive?”
She never kept secrets from Treece. Not when she’d gone to interview the gang lord or when she’d gone to get the video of the dog, or any of the other times most people would’ve told her she was crazy. Treece understood her.
“A girl called last night after our segment aired. She’s a runaway, and like the others we interviewed, she’s working the streets. But she wants out. I’m going to meet her near Handy Park and go from there.”
Treece’s brown eyes didn’t waver. “I see. And you plan to go by yourself?”
Andi nodded. “She said not to bring cops. That her pimp would find out and kill her.”
“So you’re not telling Brad or Will?”
“No. I’m just going to meet her, and if she’ll come with me, I’ll take her to the apartment. Then I’ll tell them.” She looked away from her friend’s scrutiny. “Look, I know it’s dangerous, but Chloe is expecting me. She wants off the streets, and I can’t ignore it.”
“Chloe, huh? I had a cousin with that name.” Treece rubbed her thumb along her jaw. “What time?”
“She’ll be there at nine. I planned to be there early.” If Treece offered to go with her, she wouldn’t turn her down. It was true that Beale Street was a tourist area, but a lone woman wasn’t safe anywhere at night anymore. No one would probably bother two women, though.
Her friend heaved an audible sigh. “You know I’m not going to let you go alone.”
“Kind of hoped you wouldn’t.” She rummaged in her purse for the Lortabs she’d put in an ibuprofen bottle. It might be a long night. Once she found it, she shook out two of the pills.
Treece eyed the bottle. “Glad to see you’re changing meds. Those Lortabs you were taking were pretty strong.”
“They’re not that strong—besides, the doctor gave them to me.” She brushed away the guilt that pinged her conscience. “And I’d never get addicted anyway—don’t have the addictive personality.”
Heat rose in her chest as her friend pinned her with a frown.
“Stronger people than you have become addicted to pain pills. You start out taking only one and then you’re taking two and pretty soon two doesn’t do it . . . It happens before you realize it.”
At nine forty-five, there was still no sign of Chloe—if that was even her name. In fact, there was little activity on Beale Street, probably normal for a Wednesday night. Andi pulled her jacket tighter against the April night and swallowed hard when the full moon disappeared behind a cloud.
She bunched her muscles tight, then released them to fight the anxiety surging through her. Her mouth was dry, but she curbed the impulse to pop another pill. That would only bring another sermon from Treece.
Treece shivered and rubbed her arms. “What was I thinking? Handy Park at night? So help me, Andi Hollister, if you get me killed, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Come on. She’ll walk by, and we’ll hustle her in my car. What can go wrong?” If only her insides would quit shaking.
“Are you kidding? A, she’s a no-show. B, two women on the wrong end of Beale Street after dark is not smart. How did I let you talk me into this?”
“First of all, you offered. And she wants out, and if I can help her, I will.”
The tapping of high heels came from up the street.
“Shh. She’s coming.”
“Somebody’s coming,” Treece muttered.
“Andi, are you here?” The disembodied voice sounded like a teenager’s.
“Over here.” Andi stepped out of the shadows so Chloe could see her and caught her breath. She’d expected a teenager, but not this kid.
Her jaw tightened. She would nail the lowlife who prostituted this young girl no taller than Andi’s five-four and who couldn’t be over fifteen, if that. She grabbed the girl’s hand. “Let’s get in my car where we can talk.”
“Wait! No! Who’s that with you?”
“My friend. Now come on.”
“I told you, don’t bring anybody. Is she a cop?”
Treece stepped forward. “No, and you’re coming with us.”
She turned wild eyes toward Treece, then looked over her shoulder. “I gotta go. He’ll kill me.”
“I’ll get you protection,” Andi said. She understood the girl was afraid, but she’d gotten the courage to call her earlier and ask for help, and Andi wasn’t going to let her change her mind now.
Tires squealed, and a dark SUV roared down the street. The girl broke away from them, kicking off her heels as she ran.
“Call 911!” Andi yelled.
She tackled the teenager, and they
both hit the ground as bullets sprayed the wall. Treece fell, her phone clattering to the sidewalk. Hot fire seared the top of Andi’s arm. The teenager rolled on top of Andi as the car sped away.
Dead silence fell in the wake. Andi shifted under the weight of the girl, wincing at the burning pain in her arm. But at least she was alive. She wasn’t so sure about anyone else. “Treece, are you okay?”
No answer. Andi tamped down the bile rising in her throat and slipped out from under Chloe. She turned the girl over and felt for a pulse, her fingers slippery from the girl’s blood. Barely there, but she was alive.
Andi turned to Treece, who was struggling to sit up, her skin ashen. “Treece!”
“How’s the girl?”
“She’s alive. Are you hurt?”
Her friend pressed her arm to her body. “I think I broke my arm when I dove for the pavement.”
“I’m so sorry about this.”
“You should be.”
Andi’s heart plummeted until a thin smile curled her friend’s lips.
“I offered, remember?”
The teenager groaned. Andi shifted and cradled the girl in her arms. “It’s going to be okay, Chloe. Help is almost here. What’s your last name?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Suddenly, her eyes popped open, fear clouding them. “Don’t let him find me.”
“Who is he?” Andi asked.
The girl’s head rolled back, and she slumped in Andi’s arms.
10
WILL STEPPED OUT OF HIS CAR and grabbed a light jacket as a cold wind blew down Beale Street. He scanned the area for Andi. He’d barely had time to brief Brad about the trip to Nashville when she called and asked him to come to Handy Park. He certainly hadn’t expected to find a crime scene with a half dozen policemen milling around. A uniformed cop double-timed it toward him.
“Andi Hollister is right over here,” the officer said. “She wouldn’t let me call her brother.”
“What happened?”
“Drive-by shooting. Teenage girl took a bullet to the chest. A bullet grazed Andi’s arm. And her friend Treece Rogers has a possible broken arm.”
“Andi was shot?” His heart nearly stopped. How could all this possibly have happened when he left her only two hours ago? How did anyone get into this much trouble that fast? And what were Andi and Treece doing on East Beale? He’d left her at the TV station.
Justice Delayed Page 8
