“Ainsley?” I whispered.
No response, not even the barest twitch. Shock tingled down my spine. I figured she must be dead. That was some rotten luck, landing on the rocks like she had. Poor kid. She’d been a lot of fun to hang out with. Moonlight glimmered on the thin strand of silver around her neck. The attached silver cross pendant dangled off center of her cleavage. Without thinking, I reached for the necklace, unclasping the lock tangled in the wet, matted hair at the nape of her broken neck. I’d always admired the simple elegance of this necklace Ainsley wore all the time. I glanced down at her twisted, limp hand. The braided friendship bracelet Violet had made for her was there as well.
I took that too.
It was worthless, but I’d always had this silly longing to own one. The bracelets were all the rage right now between girlfriends, sisters, cousins, and mothers and daughters. But had Violet ever thought to make me one? No. And I deserved one more than the slutty Ainsley. I was her sister. That should mean something.
I gripped my prizes in my fist and turned away. Nobody would ever know I’d been here. Later, if anyone thought of the missing jewelry, they’d assume the river had washed it away.
What an exciting night this had turned out to be. My only annoyance was that my clothes were wet and dirty. If I’d been smart, I would have taken them off before getting in the water, like Violet and Ainsley. Which gave me an idea. Their dry, clean clothes should be around nearby. But getting rid of the filched clothes after I returned to the house could be a problem later. Best to keep on what I had and wash it out in the bathroom before throwing it in the laundry. Less risky.
Violet was going to be in so much trouble. Epic trouble. Possibly the put-her-away-for-life kind of trouble.
Two steps toward shore, and a faint moan wafted over the running water. Was it possible? I whirled around and leaned over Ainsley, mere inches from her pale, wet face. Her eyelids flickered with a beating pulse. Maybe she’d survive . . . maybe she wouldn’t. That was Violet’s problem, not mine.
I straightened, half turning to leave.
Ainsley’s eyes opened to small slits, pewter-gray irises blinking. Did she recognize me? Her full lips wobbled, and a lone rivulet of water ran down her cheek. Whether it was tears or river water dripping from her scalp, I had no idea.
This was not good. Had she seen me take her necklace and bracelet? How would I explain my presence here to everyone?
I couldn’t take a chance that she lingered and lived. For all I knew, Violet was already home, waking the parents and returning with help. That would be just like my sister. Causing a major problem and then twisting circumstances so it would end up all my fault.
I couldn’t let that happen. I ran back to shore and searched, quickly surveying broken bits of rock. It needed to be at least as round and heavy as a baseball, though jagged edges were preferred. Bending over, I scooped one up and considered its weight and shape in the palm of my right hand. This should do.
I returned to Ainsley’s side and lifted the rock up high. Her eyes widened enough so that the glossy white of her eyeballs framed the pewter disks.
This is all on Violet.
My rock-laden hand whooshed down, a bird of prey diving in for the kill.
Chapter 36
BOONE
Present day
Delaney Henderson walked into the office, high heels pummeling staccato indentations in the old linoleum, whipping her long blonde hair like a weapon.
Trouble. It vibrated from her like a bad aura, infecting everyone in its wake. Her eyes darted from Josh’s empty desk to me.
“May I help you?” I asked.
She hesitated, her red purse swinging against her legs, and then brushed past my desk to Dan’s door. “This is a matter for Chief Thornell.”
“He’s not in.”
This time Delaney didn’t hesitate. She turned the doorknob and walked in—only to reappear in the doorway moments later.
“He really isn’t here,” she said, stating the obvious.
I pointed at the two folding metal chairs in front of my desk. “The chief and Normal’s only other investigator are out for the afternoon. Again, may I help you, Miss Henderson?”
Delaney sat abruptly, clasping the red purse in her lap. We eyed one another uneasily.
“Detective Kimbrel. So you remembered my name after all these years?”
“Of course. What can I do for you?” My tone was polite . . . but barely so.
Her fingers twitched on the purse clasp, and then she flicked it open, withdrawing a manila envelope and pushing it across my desk.
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like whatever was in that envelope. “What’s this?”
She nudged it farther toward me. “A bracelet. I believe you’ll recognize its importance when you see it.”
Bracelet? My thoughts tumbled over one another, racing to attach meaning to such an object. I turned the envelope upside down, and a small chunk of twisted leather plopped onto my office ledger, looking like a shriveled-up spider. A dead thing that could do no harm, yet it filled me with an unknown dread.
I quirked a brow at Delaney.
“Don’t you see? It belonged to Ainsley Dalfred. It’s the friendship bracelet Violet made her. She wore it all the time. All. The. Time.”
And now I knew her game. Long ago, the Dalfreds had mentioned that Ainsley had always worn a cross necklace and this bracelet. It had been noted in the written interview as an interesting detail, should either ever appear one day.
That day had arrived. I leaned back in my chair, feigning innocence, the bracelet between us exuding danger. “What are you saying exactly?”
She rolled her eyes at me. Actually rolled her eyes. Easy to see why Hyacinth couldn’t stand her stepdaughter.
“It belonged to a dead girl.” She spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable, as if I were an imbecile. “A murdered girl.”
“And how did you come into possession of this . . . thing?” I studied her face, the wholesome freckles that dotted a patrician nose, the sun-streaked highlights in her honey-colored hair, the wide, expressive eyes. Somehow, they didn’t combine to form an attractive woman, although they should have. Her face was a little too long, her chin a little too pointed, and the eyes a shade too calculating.
“I found it—”
“Around the wrist of the victim years ago? Are you here to confess?”
Outrage exploded from her eyes, and she jumped up so quickly that the chair clattered to the floor. She stuffed the bracelet back in the envelope with stiff, angry flicks of her wrist and fingers. “Of course not. How dare you! I came here trying to help in an investigation, and you accuse me of murder? I should have waited to speak with the police chief. You’re clearly incompetent.”
I met her gaze with dispassionate calm and spoke with an authority honed by years of police experience. No way I’d allow this woman to walk out of here with physical evidence in hand. “Sit down, Miss Henderson.”
I opened a drawer, pulling out a small evidence container and an ID tag. Without glancing at Delaney, as though assuming she’d obey the command, I picked up a pen and scribbled on the blank tag.
“Humph.” Muttering, she righted the chair and sat down with another huff.
I held out a hand and nodded at the envelope in her lap. “I’ll take that.”
She all but threw it at me.
“Let’s start over, shall we? How did you come to be in possession of this item?”
“I found it in my sister’s room. You’ll remember Violet, of course.”
The little snoop. “Naturally. When and how did you obtain it from her room?”
“I was cleaning. Violet’s terribly messy. As if I don’t already have enough to do, what with working full time from home and looking after our father.”
“I see. And how did you know the significance of this particular piece of jewelry?” The missing necklace and bracelet was a detail we’d never released to the public.
Her mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water, gasping for air. “I-I just assumed . . . I mean, Ainsley’s dead, and my sister had this hidden in a drawer in her room. Ainsley used to wear this all the time. Violet made it for her, you know. And there was the necklace, too, of course, that Ainsley always wore. It had a silver cross pendant with a diamond chip in the middle. Violet has that, too, the necklace. I saw it with my own eyes. Only now it’s missing.”
The pen clasped between my thumb and fingers trembled from the rage simmering within me. “You say you were cleaning and found this bracelet hidden in a drawer.”
Delaney lifted her chin a fraction. “Okay. I wasn’t cleaning. I’m not one to snoop or invade someone’s privacy—”
Like hell she wasn’t.
“But I’ve been worried about Violet ever since she came home from the mental hospital. She has nightmares, forgets things, acts strange . . . I’m afraid to even leave her in the house alone with Dad. Violet almost started a kitchen fire only the second day she was home. I barely got back in time to keep the house from going up in flames. So I went through her room, searching for . . . oh, I don’t know what exactly. I guess clues to explain why she’s so secretive, so full of guilt that she can’t sleep at night.”
Delaney stopped her rambling, reached back in her purse, and pulled out a prescription pill bottle. “I also found this in her room, and other medications too. Violet’s on antidepressants and antianxiety and sleeping pills.”
What a cruel woman. Throwing my Violet to the wolves like this. I sealed the evidence in the official police envelope and wrote the date and time on the tag. “What do your sister’s medications have to do with anything?”
“Clearly, it shows she’s unstable. A possible threat to herself and others. I’m worried about her, Detective. I’ve told her that if she needed help, it might be best to go back to the hospital. Or confess to y’all about her role in Ainsley’s death. Might make her feel better to get this off her chest and finally begin to heal and move on with her life.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re only concerned with her well-being.” I tapped the weighted envelope on my battered desk, struggling to maintain my temper.
“Of course.” She met my gaze, straight-on sociopathic style, before fluttering her eyes demurely. “Okay, there’s more, Detective.” A tinny laugh escaped past her lipstick-stained mouth. “I am worried. I’m afraid Violet will kill me too. Just like she did Ainsley.”
“Why? What would be her motive?”
“Money. Isn’t that always the reason? Not that I’d presume to know the mind of a murderer.”
That trilling laugh again.
“My family doesn’t have much, but the house and land are worth something. And then there’s Dad’s social security disability and some money saved in the bank.”
“You really think your sister would kill you for so little?”
“It’s not easy for me to admit, but yes, I do. Just last week I woke up in the middle of the night, and Violet stood over me with the strangest expression on her face.” Delaney shuddered. “Her eyes lacked all human warmth. It was chilling.”
I didn’t buy her story for a damn minute.
“You can ask our dad too,” she threw in for good measure. “He’s so afraid of Violet that he’s taken to locking himself in his bedroom every night.”
Parker Henderson had always been a chickenshit, unless it came to beating up on helpless women and children. I ignored Delaney’s claim on that one. “By all accounts, Violet and Ainsley were best friends. So what’s your theory on why Violet allegedly killed her?”
“Lovers’ quarrel.”
“I see. Do you have any other evidence to substantiate these claims?”
“Isn’t this enough? You have the bracelet Ainsley wore the night she was murdered. And it was in the possession of the last person to have seen her alive. It’s all there—motive and opportunity.”
Delaney had watched too many police shows. “If you could find that necklace, it would really be helpful.” I shoved one of my business cards toward her. “Call me right away if you do.”
“Are you sure the bracelet isn’t enough to go ahead and arrest her?”
“Maybe. But the necklace would be more incriminating.” I needed that necklace. If someone else got to it first, Violet was in serious trouble. True, both jewelry items were only circumstantial evidence, but they would weigh heavy on jurors should the case go to trial. The prosecution would be sure to claim they were being kept as trophies by the killer.
“I’ll try to get that necklace, then. This is disappointing, Detective Kimbrel.”
Her gaze drifted once more to Dan Thornell’s door. I couldn’t have Delaney going to him or Josh with this matter.
“Tell you what,” I said, leaning toward her conspiratorially. “I’ll do what I can. Soon as the death certificate arrives from the department of public health, I’ll arrest Violet on suspicion of murder. It should be any day now. In the meantime, you keep looking for that necklace. It’ll strengthen the case against your sister.”
She frowned, clearly unhappy I hadn’t immediately rushed off to handcuff Violet and lock her in jail. I couldn’t have an unhappy Delaney.
“Can’t tell you how helpful this is.” I held up the envelope and gave it a little shake. “Don’t know if you remember, but I was the original detective on the Dalfred case. I’ve waited eleven years to solve this. No one wants to arrest Violet more than I do. No one. So you call me at once if you need me or find anything, and I’ll contact you soon as I can move in for the arrest. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” She dropped my card in her purse and rose. “Let me know if I can help speed things up with the necessary paperwork from the state. A well-timed television appearance by me, crying over this stupid death certificate technicality, would surely spur them to action.”
Technicality, my ass. I’d fabricated a quick lie, and it wasn’t even a good one. Flimsy as it was, that lie bought me a little time to stave off possible disaster for me and my daughter. If she went to the news media, my career was toast.
“Don’t go yet,” I urged. “Give me a couple of days, and I’ll make sure to set things right.”
“Hurry. I, that is, we—Dad and I—don’t feel safe in our own home. The sooner Violet is put away, the better. And whether that means the loony bin or prison, I don’t much give a flip.”
With that, Delaney marched out the door. I eased up from my desk, feeling as though I’d aged ten years in ten minutes, and then strolled to the window, which possessed a scenic overlook of the visitor parking lot. After watching her drive away, I returned to my desk and tucked the small evidence envelope inside my pants pocket. Soon as I got home I’d have to find a safe place to hide it.
How had Delaney ended up with that bracelet? Had Violet taken it from Ainsley after she’d died?
Maybe after the two had argued, Ainsley had taken off the bracelet and returned it to Violet. But Violet hadn’t been holding anything in her hands that night we’d found her, and she’d been naked—so it wasn’t as though she’d concealed it in a pocket either. And the necklace? If Ainsley had worn it swimming the night she’d died, I didn’t recall seeing it.
Delaney knew something, had seen something.
That now made two people who might have witnessed Ainsley’s murder that night, Delaney and Gerald Stedmyer. My fingers tapped a nervous beat against the envelope in my pocket. This wouldn’t do. Not at all.
With shaking hands, I pulled up the contact list on my cell phone and made the one call I’d never wanted to make.
Chapter 37
BOONE
Present day
I’m afraid she’s going to kill me, Delaney had said. Dad’s afraid too.
I’d thought Delaney was lying when she’d spoken those words four days ago, but perhaps she was right, whether she recognized the real danger or not. Twigs cracked as I shuffled my old feet in the dirt. They were unaccustomed to s
tanding for long periods. Surveillance was a job more suited for younger detectives. I kept the field glasses trained on the deck as I spied on my daughter from the safety of the woods located on the side of the Henderson property.
“Damn it,” I muttered.
“What’s Violet doing up there? Let me see.”
I lowered my binoculars and stared at the stranger beside me.
Well, not really a stranger; I knew her body intimately. But so much time had passed. The woman beside me was still beautiful, even if wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes and forehead. Her hair was bobbed now, streaked with caramel highlights. And her skin was more olive than I remembered, as if the years spent in Portugal had baked an exotic hue over her curvaceous body.
Hyacinth.
She took the binoculars and focused on our daughter.
“She’s tearing up floorboards on the deck.” An indulgent smile flitted across the corners of her mouth. “Or rather, she’s trying to. Why? Oh, Boone, look at her now. She looks so sad.”
Even from our position, tucked inconspicuously within a copse of pine and oak, I saw what she meant. Violet sat on the balcony, head resting against the old rusted rails enclosing the deck. It looked like she was in prison, caged behind bars.
“I want to see my baby! Let me go ahead,” Hy pleaded. “Delaney’s not home.”
“But Parker is. The light’s still on in the den, and he’s lying on the sofa. It’s getting late. We’ll just wait here until we see him retire to his room. Shouldn’t be too long.”
Hyacinth snorted. “Even if he saw me and told others, no one would believe that crazy old drunk.”
“I’m not taking any chances. I have a career here, a family to think of. Not everyone can just pick up and run away from their responsibilities.”
Hy was unrepentant. “And I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Thanks to me, Violet can leave this horrible town and live a comfortable life with me overseas, where no one knows her past.”
“You haven’t seen her in years. You can wait another forty minutes or so.”
Bright, accusing eyes slammed into mine. “You should have called me the minute she came home.”
Cold Waters (Normal, Alabama Book 1) Page 24
