A Necessary Evil

by Christina Kaye

  “Okay, thank you.”

  When they made it down the stairs and rounded the corner, Mollie saw the two detectives standing in the kitchen with her mother, who was pouring them cups of coffee and beaming with joy.

  “There she is,” Kitty said as she handed the men their drinks. “You see? She’s safe and sound.”

  “Mollie,” the good-looking, younger detective said with a nod. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. A little sore and very tired, but I’m fine.”

  “I know you’re exhausted,” the other, older detective said. “But would you mind if we talked for just a few minutes? After that, we’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “Alone,” he said.

  There was an awkward moment of silence as everyone looked to Kitty for her reaction.

  “Why don’t you guys go sit in the living room,” Kitty suggested with her arm extended. “Laurel, you can sit with me here at the kitchen table and let them talk.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Shemar Moore said.

  The detectives sat on the couch, and Mollie took the arm chair next to the fireplace. She really didn’t want to be doing this, but she knew she had no choice in the matter, so she smiled politely, even though she really wanted to throw them out on their ears.

  “I’m Detective Jamison, and this is my partner Detective Howard.” The detective pointed his thumb at his partner. “We won’t keep you long. Just a few quick questions and we’ll leave you to get some rest.”

  Mollie nodded.

  “Good. Now, the main thing I want to know is…how did you wind up getting away from Collin McAllister?”

  So, Collin was his name. This was the first time Mollie had thought of him as anything other than “the crazy man,” and it unsettled her. Somehow hearing his name made him sound like an actual human being, not the monster she knew him to be. But once she got over that, she thought about the detective’s question. He wanted to know how she escaped. Didn’t he know already? Why would he be asking her this? There had to be a reason. Perhaps Pops had told him something different. She remembered hearing her grandfather instructing Bruno to take Collin to Trifecta. Apparently, Pops was planning on punishing this Collin in his own way. Mad as she was at her grandfather, she wasn’t about to help the cops catch him. But what if she said the wrong thing?

  “I don’t know,” she finally said. “It’s all a big blur.”

  Detective Jamison looked at his partner with raised eyebrows, then back at Mollie. “It’s all a blur?”

  Mollie shrugged. Of course, they didn’t believe her, but perhaps if she played up her trauma and feigned amnesia, at least they wouldn’t be able to force her to say anything else. Not even the hardest-boiled detective would interrogate a traumatized nineteen-year-old girl who had been kidnapped and held hostage for nearly two days.

  “You can’t tell us how you got from the bunker to your house?”

  She shook her head and kept her eyes on her twitching feet.

  Detective Jamison sighed. “Look, Mollie. I know you love your grandpa. But protecting him means you’re allowing him to work outside the law. I know you want this guy brought to justice as much as we do. Maybe even more. But we can’t do that if you won’t tell us what you know.”

  “Like I said,” Mollie lifted her eyes and stared at the older detective, “I don’t remember anything.”

  “It’s pointless,” Howard said. “She’s going to protect her grandfather. She’s not going to tell us anything. Let’s just go. We’ll find him.”

  Detective Jamison nodded and glared at Mollie. “He’s right, you know. We will find him. Both Collin and your grandfather. And if your grandfather has done anything to harm that man, evil as he is, I will have no choice but to arrest him. Do you want me to arrest your grandfather?”

  Mollie didn’t answer. Just then, Kitty appeared around the corner.

  “Detective Jamison, I think you should leave.”

  The detectives looked at each other again, and Mollie felt a twinge of pride at her mother’s loyalty and protectiveness. She stifled a smile.

  They stood and headed toward the front door. But as Howard reached for the doorknob, Jamison turned around and looked at Kitty, who was now standing behind Mollie’s chair with her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

  “I’m not stupid, Kitty. I’ve known what your father is about for almost forty years now.”

  “You two used to be best friends,” Kitty said.

  “Yeah. That was before he…never mind. Just know this. If I find out you helped him get away with this in any way, I will slap the cuffs on you and haul you down to the station myself. Are we clear?”

  “As a bell, Detective.”

  Mollie could see the detective’s veins throbbing at his temples. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then quietly turned, exited the house, and slammed the door behind him.

  Kitty looked down at Mollie after a few seconds of silence. “Do you know what Pops is up to?”

  “No,” Mollie said. “But whatever it is, more power to him.”

  Chapter 21

  Kurt

  He was exhausted by the time his Camaro pulled into the driveway around one in the morning. He felt as though he was walking through quicksand as he trudged down the sidewalk to his front door. The last thirty-six hours had been grueling, and Kurt hadn’t slept a wink. He was so exhausted, he could barely get the key in the lock, but he eventually managed and pushed the door open with his boot.

  It took a couple tries, but he got the light flipped on. Kurt studied his humble abode. To the right was his galley kitchen where the dishes were starting to pile up. Just ahead was his living room, where he’d dumped a load of clean clothes on the brown suede couch a few days prior. Kurt had spent so little time at home over the last two years, he didn’t even bother to try to keep the house perfectly clean. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anyone to impress.

  There was his little sister Luanne, of course. But she lived in Georgetown and rarely drove over to Lexington to visit. She was a general practice lawyer and had three boys between the ages of twelve and twenty-two, so as a single working mother, she rarely had time for her brother. His father had died three years ago, and his mother followed within a year. He had very few friends, save the other detectives on the squad and a few of the older uniforms he’d worked with before earning his badge. But he couldn’t blame his loneliness on them. They tried to get him to hang out all the time, but Kurt just wasn’t a social butterfly. He preferred to stay home on his off days and listen to classic rock and read Ken Follett books.

  Then there was his love life, which was nonexistent. Ever since his brief, childless marriage to Donna Davidson had ended bitterly after only two years back in the late eighties, Kurt had dated a string of women. Most of them wanted children. Kurt didn’t. He’d even had a vasectomy right after his divorce. After he saw what Addie’s death had done to his parents, he couldn’t imagine brining a child into the world. Not when there were people like Julian McAllister who were capable of doing unspeakable things to them. He couldn’t envision losing a child, so he figured best not to have any in the first place.

  His most recent girlfriend, Anna, the one who had recommended holistic medicine for his back, was probably the best one he’d ever had. She cooked for him, cleaned for him, and was more patient with him than he deserved. Ultimately, though, she grew frustrated with his refusal to eat a vegan diet, meditate, or do yoga. Kurt never understood any of that new age mumbo jumbo and thought it was for hippies or millennials, or whatever they’re calling kids of this generation. So, she’d packed up her bags and left one day when he was at work. He’d come home to an empty house and a Post-it on the fridge that read “Sorry. I just can’t.”

  With the ghosts of girlfriends past floating around, the house felt emptier and lonelier than usual. But God, he was tired, so he didn’t really care. He just wanted to lie down, clear his min
d, and get some much-needed sleep.

  Kurt kicked off his boots by the couch and began shedding his suit as he walked down the short hallway toward his bedroom. He was in his boxers by the time he shuffled into the room and flung himself face down on the bed. After a few seconds of deep relaxation breathing—a habit that annoyingly still hung on long after Anna’s departure—he rolled over, pulled the blankets up to his chin, and lay there staring at the popcorn ceiling.

  His thoughts turned immediately to Frankie, Mollie, and Collin. He tried to push them from his mind, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he continued to obsess over things that were beyond his control. And Frankie was definitely beyond his control. Again. History was repeating itself, and Kurt felt powerless to stop it. He knew Frankie had Collin McAllister holed up somewhere on one of his properties, or God only knew where else, and if he didn’t find them soon, Collin would suffer the same fate his father had at the hands of the same man.

  Kurt could still recall the day he learned exactly what his best friend was capable of. He hadn’t really believed Frankie that day on his porch when he’d sworn to take care of the bastard who had killed Addie. Everyone talked that way when someone they loved was brutally murdered. Everyone said they were going to kill the person who took their loved one away from them. So, when Frankie had stood there on Kurt’s front porch and vowed to get revenge, Kurt had assumed he was blowing smoke.

  Then came the morning Kurt was leaving for Army basic training. He was in his room packing his duffle bag when his mother had come to the door and told him Frankie was there to visit. Kurt had assumed Frankie was there to see his blood brother off, but when Frankie bounced into his room, full of nervous energy, looking like a cat who ate a canary, he knew there was more to it.

  “What’s up, bro?” Kurt had asked.

  At first, Frankie didn’t respond. He just kept nervously pacing Kurt’s room, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “Frankie, man. What’s going on? You’re making me nervous.”

  Frankie stopped, turned to face Kurt, and smiled. “I did it, man. I did it.”

  At first, Kurt didn’t attach any significance to this statement. “What did you do?”

  “I got him.”

  “Got who?”

  “Him. That psycho who killed Addie.”

  “How do you know who killed my sister?”

  Frankie looked down at the floor. “I have my ways.”

  “Well, if you know who killed Addie, we have to tell the police.”

  Kurt started for the door, but Frankie blocked him with his body so forcefully, Kurt stumbled backward. When Kurt asked him what the hell he was doing, Frankie said it didn’t matter. And besides, if they let the police arrest the man, he’d probably get away with it. Kurt had insisted Frankie was wrong, but his friend wouldn’t listen to him. He just kept saying it was “too late.”

  Kurt swallowed hard. His chest tightened, and his stomach felt heavy. “Frankie, what did you do?”

  Frankie looked up, and Kurt felt a chill run down his spine. There was something very dark in Frankie’s eyes. A darkness Kurt had never seen before. “Like I said. I got him.”

  “What on earth did you do to him?”

  “I did what I had to do, Kurt. That sick sonofabitch will never hurt another girl.”

  The world spun around Kurt. Was his best friend really confessing to what he thought he was confessing to? Had Frankie murdered Addie’s killer? Kurt had always known his friend had a dark side to him. But murder? Surely not. There was no way his best friend in the whole world could have killed anybody in cold blood. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

  “Tell me you’re joking,” Kurt begged.

  “I’m dead serious.”

  “Frankie…you could go to prison if anyone finds out.”

  “Don’t worry about it. No one’s going to find out. No one knows but you and me. Surely you’re not going to tell on me. Are you, brother?”

  Kurt didn’t respond at first. He stood in his bedroom with his fists clenched at his sides. His heart and his mind both raced. For the first time in his life, Kurt was morally conflicted. Here was his best friend confessing to murder. Murder! And Kurt had no idea what to do. If he said nothing and got on the airplane to basic training, Frankie would remain free, but Kurt’s conscience would be forever weighed down with the knowledge that he’d helped someone get away with killing another human being.

  But this was Frankie. The same boy he’d grown up with. The same boy who’d played with him and Addie near the river every day after school and on weekends. His blood brother. Could he really take away Frankie’s freedom, and maybe even his life?

  Kurt slowly unclenched his fists and let out a deep sigh. “Of course, I won’t tell anyone. But I’m not okay with what you did. You know I want to be a cop one day. You killed someone, Frankie. No one deserves to die more than this man, whoever he was. But it’s not right.”

  “Do you know what he did to her?” Frankie asked.

  “Yeah, I know. He killed her. But that still doesn’t mean it’s okay to—”

  “Wake up, man!” Frankie shouted as he took two long strides closer to Kurt. He was breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon. “He didn’t just kill your sister. He beat her. He raped her. He—”

  “Shut up, Frankie!” He shoved Frankie so hard he slammed into the dresser behind him. “Just shut up! You think I want to hear this?”

  “It’s true, Kurt. The things he did to her. My old man heard it from the coroner. Now, you tell me that son of a bitch didn’t deserve to die.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right!”

  “Like hell it doesn’t. She was your sister, man. She was my girlfriend. One of us had to step up and do something.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Kurt brushed past Frankie and grabbed his duffle bag. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late.”

  Frankie’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a deep breath. “Come on, buddy. Don’t leave mad. I know you don’t approve, but—”

  “You’re damn right I don’t approve.”

  “Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” Frankie begged.

  “I already said I won’t tell anyone. But I can’t be a part of this. I’m going to do my time in the Army, join the police force, and try to forget all about this.”

  “What are you saying, Kurt?”

  Kurt pulled his duffle bag up over his shoulder and shook his head. “I don’t know you anymore, Frankie. And I’m not sure I want to be friends with someone who’s capable of doing what you did. No matter how much he deserved it.”

  He turned around and opened the door. Just as he crossed the threshold, Frankie called out after him, “Screw you, Kurt.”

  Kurt turned around and looked Frankie right in the eye without blinking. “Yeah. Screw you too. And don’t ever let me hear you mention Addie’s name again. You’ve lost the right.”

  As Kurt thought back on what it felt like to walk away from someone he had considered a brother for nearly nineteen years, he found himself blinking back tears for the first time in a long time. It had hurt like hell to walk away, knowing he’d lost his best friend. And it hurt like hell today knowing he’d soon have to arrest him. There was no way around it. He’d turned a blind eye nearly forty years ago, but now he was police. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t shove his head in the sand like an ostrich and pretend he didn’t know what Frankie was planning to do to Collin McAllister.

  Kurt rolled over onto his side. He was physically beat, but his mind was racing a million miles a minute. Even though he and Frankie had barely spoken since that day in his room all those years ago, he still had a soft spot for his former best friend. There was no way he could let him get away with murder. Not again. It was time for Frankie to face the music. Kurt just had to figure out where he’d taken Collin before it was too late. But he was no use to anyone if he didn’t get some shuteye first.

  He opened the dr
awer to his nightstand, pulled out the orange prescription bottle, opened the lid, and shook an Ambien out onto his palm. After dry-swallowing the pill, he lay back on his pillow and tried to force his mind to slow down.

  It didn’t take long for the sleeping pill to take effect. Within fifteen minutes, Kurt’s eyelids were heavy, and his thoughts were beginning to blur together. Just a few hours of sleep. Then I’ll find Frankie. This time, I’ll do something about it. This time, Frankie is going to face the music.

  Chapter 22

  Collin

  His wrists were raw and sore from the rope that held him to the metal framed chair, and his shoulder was throbbing something fierce. Franklin Cartwright’s goons had not let him lie down through the night, so he’d been forced to sleep sitting upright. When he opened his eyes and tried to lift his heavy head, his neck was stiff, and a sharp pain shot up his spine to the base of his skull. The light coming in through the windows high above him was bright and blinding, and he had to squint his eyes. So, it was morning. Collin wondered how much sleep he’d gotten. Probably not much. It was hard to sleep sitting straight up in a chair.

  He scanned his surroundings now that the light from the window illuminated the warehouse. At least, he assumed it was a warehouse. The ceilings were high, probably twenty or more feet, and the walls looked like they were made of steel rebar and rusty metal sheeting. Brown water dripped from holes in the ceiling and collected in puddles on the concrete floor. In the far right-hand corner sat several brown barrels with the universal symbol for toxic chemicals on the fronts. The only windows—he counted four—were near the ceiling, and there was no way he could reach them, even if he managed to free himself from his restraints. His stomach sank with this realization.

  The rope that bound him to the chair was thick, and thousands of sharp, tiny hairs were poking into his skin. His feet were spread apart, and each was tied to a chair leg with the same strong rope. He could barely even wiggle his toes. The red bandana was shoved into his mouth, and it was soaking wet. His jaw was sore from having been gagged for many hours. There was no way for him to escape. His only hope—and he laughed to himself when he realized this—was if that detective Franklin had been talking to on the phone found him before the crazy old man finished whatever he had planned.