Witness to Murder

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “Your parents,” he said.

  “Brody Jordan, I’d like to introduce you to my father, Iver, and my mother, Yewande.”

  “Pleased to meet them.” He gazed up into Hallie’s glowing face. “Their daughter does them proud.”

  “Oh, you.” She colored. “Check out the man in the background. He was the pilot who died in the crash with them.”

  Brody studied the picture. An indistinct figure, a tall, lanky man stood with one hand on his hip, the other on the nose of the plane, and one ankle crossed over the other with the toe of his shoe planted against the ground. Though the picture was grainy, a miniscule strip of white betrayed the man was grinning.

  “I remember him now.” Hallie tapped the picture. “Mr. O’Halloran. He was a three-month intern, checking out the mission field to see if it was the Lord’s will that he come permanently. Full of the ‘old Irish mischief,’ he was. At least that’s the way he put it.” She chuckled. “But as I recall, he wasn’t always happy-go-lucky. Sometimes he was serious and thoughtful. Mom said he missed people back in the States. I’m going to see if I can find any immediate relatives. Maybe one of them has an inkling why Cheryl Drayton would have one of my mother’s bracelets.”

  “Excellent thinking.”

  She gathered up the newsletters. “There’s lots more memorabilia here, but it’ll have to wait. I have a ton of work to do in order to free up my schedule to head for Alicia’s service tomorrow. I have a good feeling we’ll discover something important.” Cradling the fliers, she charged out of the office.

  Brody leaned back in his chair. Which investigation did she mean? The bracelet or the murder? The way things were going, Damon wasn’t any closer to being off the hook, and the leads were dwindling to nothing. Unless something truly startling came to light, Damon’s lawyer would have a tough row to hoe in order to create reasonable doubt in the minds of jurors. He didn’t blame Hallie for thinking Damon was guilty. If he didn’t know the kid, he’d think so, too.

  FIFTEEN

  Hallie sneaked a peek at Brody’s somber profile in the driver’s seat as they headed up I-94 on the first leg of their five-and-a-half-hour journey to Thief River Falls. Dawn had brushed the car’s interior a ruddy gold.

  “Damon did all right in the interview,” she said.

  Brody’s upper lip curled. “Damon’s something like Dennis Rodman, a stellar player but prone to controversial antics on and off the court. He didn’t do himself any favors with that crack about the brain-dead public.”

  “To tell you the truth, I about choked on my Dr. Pepper over that one. Otherwise, he was fairly well-mannered, even when Vince needled him about his fights with Alicia.”

  “Good thing old Vinnie didn’t say anything inflammatory about Alicia’s character, or the kid would’ve blown a gasket.”

  “He really loved her, didn’t he.” Hallie shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t kill her.”

  “I know. I loved my wife, even long after the divorce, but there were lots of times I could have cheerfully throttled her.”

  Hallie wrinkled her nose. “People say that kind of thing, but there’s very few who actually followed through. From the comments you’ve let drop, I take it she’s the one who left.”

  Brody hummed an affirmative. “It took me a while to figure out that she hadn’t married me. She married my potential for fame and fortune. Growing up in an affluent home, she’d never lacked anything as far as material possessions, and she wanted it to stay that way. Plus, I was her ticket to what she saw as the fast life of glamour as a pro ball player’s wife. I wrecked my knee, and her dreams with it, in my senior year.”

  “Pretty shallow dreams, if you ask me.” Hallie laid a hand on his arm. The muscles beneath her fingers were relaxed. Evidently, he wasn’t still bothered about his losses. That spoke of maturity and healing. He must not have nightmares about his past. Lucky him. “Did you get together in college, or were you high school sweethearts?”

  “I met her my first day on the practice field at Penn State. She was, get this, a cheerleader.” They both laughed. “Two years ahead of me in school, she was sophisticated, cool, beautiful. Her hooks were into me before I even knew what happened, and I sure was a sucker for those enormous hazel eyes. I’d daydream about the beautiful babies we’d have together, only she wasn’t eager to start a family. And she was right about that, as long as we were in school. Now, I think she never would have wanted kids to play havoc with her figure.”

  Hallie snorted. “A few stretch marks are nothing compared to the joy of a new life.”

  “My philosophy exactly.” His dimple appeared.

  She socked him in the shoulder. “Says you. You wouldn’t have to live with them.”

  “I’d adore each one as a badge of honor on my wife and the mother of my children.”

  Blinking her eyes, Hallie looked away. Whoever got this guy would nab herself a gem. “Funny he isn’t taken already.”

  “What did you say?”

  Hallie sucked in a breath. Had she spoken that last thought out loud? Evidently so. Heat crept up her neck. “I was just wondering why you haven’t remarried. I mean, since you want a family and all.”

  The dimple disappeared. “Believe me, for several years after the divorce I wouldn’t have wished myself on anybody. Sure, I managed to graduate with a degree, but I’d lost what I thought really mattered—my game and my wife—and the bottle was my big solution to the pain. I barely hung on to a gig as a radio announcer. The station owner was a Christian, and he relentlessly invited me to church. I know he was praying for me, too.”

  He stared ahead in silence, a muscle in his neck twitching, as if reliving an emotional time. Then his shoulders eased back, and he shook his head. “Remember how I told you I’d had a DUI. That was my lowest point. I narrowly avoided killing myself and a carload of teenagers. If by sheer fluke I hadn’t hit the ditch on the wrong side of the road at the last instant, it would have been a head-on collision. And next time I wouldn’t be so lucky. I knew it like I knew my name. But there was no way I could beat the bottle on my own. When my boss visited me in the hospital and asked if he could pray with me, I threw myself at the foot of the cross, and I haven’t left since. Jesus delivered me from the bottle, not some program, though I have nothing against those if they point people to the ultimate solution. Now I’m waiting on God for the right Mrs. Jordan.”

  He shot her a pointed stare. “So what about you?”

  Huh? She blinked at him. Was that some sort of offhand marriage proposal? He was teasing her. A laugh stuttered between her lips.

  His color deepened. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant was, why aren’t you all wrapped up in marital bliss with a couple of children to liven up your life?”

  “Good question. I used to scold myself for being too picky, but now I think I’ve held off because I haven’t felt whole enough in myself for that level of union with another person.”

  “Good answer. Are you getting closer to readiness?”

  Was she? “I hope so, but I’m not sure. There are still some things…”

  Hallie watched cropland interrupted by groves of trees and farm sites slide past her window. Not entirely. What held her back? Questions about a bracelet that she hadn’t known existed eight days ago? No, her search for answers about Alicia’s armband was only a catalyst for an inner exploration that had needed to happen for a long time.

  The memories of her early years were emerging from the fog, but one big, dark splotch still kept her from making peace with the way the most innocent era of her life had come to an abrupt end. Maybe it was time to put the horror in perspective. If she talked about what happened, could that be a positive first step? A man who’d conquered his own personal tragedy might have a good pair of ears, but did she have the courage to speak?

  Her fingers tightened around the armrest on the passenger door. “They found out my parents were dead. No one had told me yet, but they knew, and they came.�
�

  “Who came?”

  “The orishas.” Her words came out a strained whisper. She cleared her throat. “Just people dressed up like them. I know that now, but I was too young and terrified to realize that at the time. A mob struck our compound in the night and set fire to the buildings. I remember…” She reached for her bottle of water in the cup holder and took several sips.

  “We don’t have to go there if you don’t want.” Brody’s tone was gentle.

  “I do want.” She spoke fiercely. “It’s just that I don’t want to stir up the nightmares.”

  “So talking about it brings on bad dreams?”

  “Yes…no! I don’t know.” She went stiff with realization. “I haven’t asked myself that question, because I never talk about it. Sometimes I start thinking about that night, and then I stop myself. When I don’t turn off the memories quickly enough, I have the nightmares. But you know,” she smacked her knees with her palms, “I’m tired of being afraid of something that happened over twenty years ago. I’m going to talk about it, and if I dream, I dream.”

  “Go for it!” Brody sent her an approving grin.

  “That’s my cheerleader!” A gust of cleansing laughter left Hallie’s chest. She was going to do this. She set the water bottle into the holder and allowed her thoughts to drift back in time.

  “African nights can be so black, and clear, and peaceful. I had a window in my second floor bedroom that I liked to keep uncovered so I could look out until I fell asleep. This night was an ebony blanket of stars when I went to bed believing all was well in my world. I woke up from a sound sleep with the smell of smoke in my nostrils and the sound of my playmates’ screams in my ears. One of the workers raced into my room and grabbed me out of my bed. He wasn’t gentle, but I don’t suppose he had time to be. I had bruises the next day.

  “My memories from that moment on are fragments of sensory impressions. The darting of flames. Heat on my skin. The stink of burning wood and scorched brick. And the screams!” A shudder rolled through Hallie. “The children that I’d grown up with—my friends—were crying for help. I begged to go get them, but the worker rushed me outside to a waiting jeep. We raced off in a spray of gravel, and all I could think was that I’d failed my parents by not helping the others. With the screams growing fainter in my ears, I looked back, and that’s when I saw the orishas whirling in their robes by the light of the blaze. The picture is seared into my brain.”

  Drained, Hallie slumped back against her seat. “It’s irrational, I know, but I still battle the sense that I disappointed my mother and father by not stopping to save the other children. Later, after that horrible night, and all I wanted was my mommy and daddy, I was told my parents wouldn’t be coming for me—ever.” She lifted her head and glared toward Brody. “The whole village knew of my parents’ deaths the afternoon before the raid, but the orphanage workers had opted not to tell me until after I’d had a good night’s rest. Right!”

  She settled against the seat and closed her eyes against the prickle of tears. A drop slid down one cheek, and she swiped it away. A big, warm hand closed around the fingers damp from the tear.

  “You’re no disappointment, Hallie Berglund. To anyone. I have no doubt that when your mom and dad hug you in heaven, you’ll find out that they’re so proud of you they could bust.”

  “I hope you’re right, Brody Jordan.” A great lethargy drew her toward sleep, and she didn’t resist.

  Brody glanced at Hallie sleeping on the passenger side. She hadn’t even stirred when they went through the stop and go lights in St. Cloud. They’d traveled northwest on Highway 10 for two hours now, and she continued breathing deep and steady with her long lashes feathered against her high cheekbones. She needed the rest. She’d been under many days of strain, both personal and professional.

  He had to give her, and that aunt and uncle of hers, a lot of credit that she turned out a Godly, stable woman after such a traumatic departure from Africa at a tender age. Lots of people grew up into unresolved messes with fewer losses in their lives than hers, though it sounded like repression had been one of her coping tools. Finding that bracelet had stirred her to face her fears. In that respect, Alicia’s tragedy had worked for good in Hallie.

  Now if they could find out the truth about the murder for both Alicia and Damon’s sakes, resolution might be found for everyone. It would take a miracle, though. But if God could arrange that Hallie would choose him, of all the unlikely people, to honor with her private pain, Brody had to believe he would help the two of them find the answers they sought.

  He touched a strand of the dark hair spread against the headrest of the passenger seat. She’d worn her hair loose today. He liked it a bit tousled and not so controlled. Maybe as she let loose some of the hidden things inside of her, he’d see a little more of the free spirit he sometimes glimpsed. Now that was something to look forward to.

  A good-sized town loomed ahead. Brody slowed the car and then pulled over at a convenience store and gas station.

  Hallie groaned and lifted her head, eyes blinking for focus. “Where are we?”

  “Detroit Lakes. I’m making a pit stop to use the facilities and grab a sandwich.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They got out of the vehicle and stretched. Their gazes met, and they laughed at their mirror actions. A few minutes later, they got back on the road, heading north on Highway 59.

  “Feeling refreshed?” Brody said.

  “Yeah, I am. Like some sort of long-term oppression has eased off. I didn’t dream at all.”

  “You looked peaceful as a babe.”

  She smiled at him. “Since I’m all rested up, I’ll take the wheel for the drive home.”

  “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  “And thanks for listening to my strange history.”

  “Unusual, for sure, but interesting. And I’m sorry those things happened.”

  “Me, too.”

  He glanced at her sideways. “Um, do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

  “Shoot!”

  “Why did the orisha-worshippers attack as soon as your parents were dead?”

  Her gaze darkened. “They were scared spitless of my dad. With him out of the way, they didn’t waste the chance to eliminate the Christian influence in an area they used to control. At least, that’s how I’ve figured it out since then. As a kid, I was just confused by the whole deal.”

  Brody shook his head. “I hadn’t pictured your father as an intimidating man.”

  She laughed. “He was a teddy bear. To me, especially. I worded that wrong. It wasn’t really my dad they were scared of, but this Jesus he preached to anyone who would listen.”

  Hallie angled toward him and stretched her arm over the back of the seat. “You see, my parents didn’t just look after orphaned children, they built a church that drew converts by the dozens. That’s when the fanatical followers of the old ways started to hate us. Sometimes, they opposed us openly. I actually saw my father face down an irate priest who barged into one of our services shaking his rattles and yelling curses. My father calmly spoke the name of Jesus and quoted scripture from Revelation about the fate of the devil. Finally the priest clapped his hands over his ears and ran away shrieking. I was only five at the time, but that moment erased all question forever about which god is truly God.”

  “That’s amazing,” Brody said. “Even when your parents died, you didn’t rethink that? Most people blame God when tragedy happens.”

  “That’s just a misguided way of acknowledging him as the Supreme Being. Tragedy happens because people do terrible things to each other or just because this world is so messed up. God’s the only hope for either of those things to change.”

  “No argument from me.”

  The remainder of the trip passed in discussing their game plan once they reached Thief River Falls. They needed to make the most of every minute during this one-day dash.

  As soon as they drove into town, Brody gui
ded the car toward the neighborhood where the Draytons lived, while Hallie navigated from an Internet-generated map. The well-kept rambler and split-level homes spoke of solid middle-class affluence—not doctor or lawyer scale, but not financial suffering, either. They cruised past the brown-and-white rambler with the Draytons’ number on it. No cars sat in front of the double garage.

  Brody consulted his watch. “Hard to say if James and Cheryl are home. They might be at the funeral parlor by now. We’ve only got about a half hour to do a whirlwind canvas of the neighbors, and then we need to head for the service ourselves.” He turned a corner.

  “Hey!” Hallie pointed toward the green-and-gold car that was pulling out of the Draytons’ alley in front of them. “I saw a Papa Morelli’s vehicle in front of Alicia’s house the day she was killed.”

  Brody narrowed his gaze and fell in behind the car. “Change of plan. We’re following this dude. If he leads us to a legitimate pizza parlor, we’ll laugh at ourselves and go back to our original plan. We’ve seen this type of vehicle too often. Remember that close call when we were returning from our walk to Cossetta’s?”

  “It’s not as if pizza delivery vehicles are uncommon.” Her words were cautious, but the tone broadcast excitement. “I’m getting the license plate number.” She dug in her purse and took out paper and pen as Brody stayed several car lengths behind.

  The delivery car proceeded at a sedate pace through several turns and brought them into a busy commercial area. A good way ahead a light turned yellow. Brody tapped the gas to creep closer to the delivery car, and then the brakes to prepare to stop. But the driver in the pizza car gunned his vehicle and shot through the light as it flared red.

  Brody smacked the steering wheel. “That’s the second time someone’s pulled that trick on me in recent history. You were the other one.”