Biloxi Blue (The Biloxi Series Book 2)

by Jerri Ledford

  Jack stepped close to the group, interrupting their football discussion and flashed his badge. He made eye contact with the man that had been speaking. “Chief Roe, Biloxi PD. Who’s in charge?”

  The linebacker flipped his thumb back toward another knot of people. This group looked more focused on the scene. One man in particular, gestured frequently as he spoke. The other three men in the group seemed to be paying close attention to whatever it was he was saying.

  “Chief O’Reilly.” The linebacker never broke eye contact with Jack. He also didn’t give any indication that he was going to be any more helpful than spitting out a single name.

  Jack didn’t take it personally. In situations like this, people tended to give out the most basic information and nothing more. No one wanted their words to come back to them in the future. Especially since when they did, it was usually not in a good way. Words could be twisted to mean all kinds of things they were never supposed to mean.

  Jack’s big strides carried him around the trucks and an ambulance that still sat off to one side. He watched people as he walked, but glanced down frequently. Hoses snaked across the ground. He knew from experience that it would take one misstep for him to trip over a hose and wind up face down in the mud before he even knew what happened.

  “Jack?” Conner’s voice was so soft that he wasn’t even sure he had actually heard it. He stopped and turned slowly in the direction he thought it had come from If she wasn’t there, he would probably look like he was losing his mind.

  But there she was. Sitting in the open doorway on the back of the ambulance he’d just walked past.

  “Conner?” He crossed the short distance between them before she could even respond. He took in her appearance as he approached her. Her face was streaked with black and gray muck. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. And she held the cup of an oxygen mask in her hand several inches from her face.

  When he was close enough, he wrapped her in a tight hug. “You’re okay.” The statement lifted the burden of guilt from his shoulders.

  He took a deep breath. “Are you okay?” Looking closer, the mess on the side of Conner’s face wasn’t all soot and mud. A large, angry bruise covered the skin from her right cheek all the way to her chin.

  Conner’s hand went to her face. Her fingers gingerly explored the bruise. “I’m okay.”

  It was then that Jack noticed the messenger bag she clutched in her lap with her left hand.

  “What happened?” The relief Jack had first felt at finding Conner alive slowed his brain. His detective instincts kicked in. She was okay, now he needed to know what happened.

  One question at a time.

  “We were talking with Tiffany about Beth Martin.” Conner’s voice was a sharp rasp. All hints of her stoner personality were gone. “She was telling us about the night that Beth died. When she called Tiffany. Then Tiffany got something in the mail from Beth today. Evidence. Then we heard someone on the roof. Next thing I know, there’s a fire and Kate and I--.”

  “Kate was here? “Jack’s blood pressure shot up so fast his vision narrowed. He took a deep breath and fisted his hands.

  What was Kate doing here? And at this time of night?

  The last Jack had seen of her, she was at the crime scene. He assumed she’d waited on him and Caleb to finish talking so he could take her home. Was that not what happened?

  Conner opened her mouth to speak.

  Jack cut her off again. “Where is she?”

  Conner’s eyes told the story that her voice could not. She didn’t know.

  Jack opened his mouth to say something more, but the only word he could form was, “Kate.” He spun around, looking for someone in charge. Someone with answers.

  He spotted Chief O’Reilly and left Conner sitting in the back of the ambulance. When Jack approached the burly man was having an animated conversation with another man.

  “I’m Jack Roe, Chief of Biloxi PD.” Jack didn’t care that he was interrupting the conversation. He needed to find Kate. “One of my Homicide detectives, Kate Giveans, was in that building. Where is she?”

  Chief O’Reilly gave Jack a long, hard stare. “We had two victims,” he finally said. “Medics are dealing with both of them. We haven’t swept the building for bodies yet.”

  Bodies?

  Jack refused to entertain that thought. “Two?” He questioned. Didn’t Conner say she was there with Kate and someone named Tiffany?

  “Two.” Chief O’Reilly confirmed. He turned away from the man he’d been speaking with and keyed the mic on his radio. “Medics, report on vics.”

  A voice crackled through the radio. “Vic one, unconscious. In transport to Biloxi Regional. Vic two, Conner Antosz. Alert, lucid. Transport pending.”

  Kate? Was she the one in the ambulance? “ID on the first vic?” Jack’s jaw barely moved as he demanded answers. He focused on Chief O’Reilly and the radio he spoke into. The rest of the scene faded from his awareness.

  Chief O’Reilly relayed the question.

  “Hang on.” The medic's voice came through the speaker again.

  The night stood still. The lights from the emergency vehicles bounced in slow motion, a kaleidoscope of color that made Jack nauseous.

  The radio hissed. “Vic one IDed as Tiffany Joyner.”

  The air was sucked out of Jack’s lungs. Where was Kate?

  Chief O’Reilly must have seen Jack’s reaction. “We haven’t swept the building yet,” he repeated. The fire chief’s voice faded into an unintelligible drone.

  Kate.

  Her face filled Jack’s vision.

  Kate.

  The day he proposed. The light in her eyes.

  Kate.

  The last time he saw her. Angry.

  Jack’s knees threatened to buckle. Chief O’Reilly grabbed his shoulder. Led him to the rear bumper of a fire truck. “You better sit down,” he said.

  Though Jack could barely hear the words, he nodded. It was minutes before the world started coming back. Loud. Bright. Overwhelming.

  Kate.

  A firefighter rushed up, panting under the weight of his gear. “Chief.” He stood, helmet under his arm and waited.

  When Chief O’Reilly turned to him, the man said, “We found a body inside.”

  Kate.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Pain jostled Kate awake. Her lungs felt seared. She couldn’t catch a full breath. She coughed and it felt as if someone had sandblasted her airways. She forced open her eyelids and pain thundered through her head, forced her to slam them shut again. She tried to be still, willing the assault on her senses to end, but she couldn’t make the movements stop. Even breathing hurt. She tried taking small, short breaths.

  Without opening her eyes, Kate tried to piece together images that flitted through her foggy brain. The dress. Caleb. The charity ball. Conner. Fire.

  At once images flooded her consciousness. The rush to get out of the burning building.

  Conner. Tiffany.

  Were they okay?

  Kate tried to force her eyes open again and again pain seared through her brain. She fought it back and tried to keep herself from coughing.

  “Easy, Cher.” The deep voice seemed to rumble from behind her back.

  Kate opened her eyes just a slit. Pain flared, but she pushed it back. All she could see was darkness. Everything smelled acrid, like smoke.

  Then she felt like she was falling. Her back slammed into something soft, but the movement was sharp enough to make her teeth clack together. White-hot tendrils of pain bored into her brain. She groaned and tried to roll over.

  “Be still, Cher.” That voice again. She thought she recognized it, but her thoughts felt thick. She couldn’t remember why she knew the voice. She couldn’t make sense of any of this. Fear danced around the edges of her consciousness.

  She had no idea why she should be scared.

  Kate forced her eyes open and looked in the direction the voice had come from. A tall man with broad
shoulders and chest that narrowed into a small waist approached her, holding something in his hand.

  “Caleb...” Kate's voice come out as a harsh, gritty growl. She tried to clear her throat and pain shot through the muscles at the base of her tongue and ping-ponged down into her chest where it bloomed into the rest of her body. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  “I tole you be still.” Caleb sat the mug on the bedside table and leaned over her to release her hands. The Cajun inflection in his voice was slight but Kate heard it in the lazy tongue and not quite articulated words.

  He pushed the mug toward her. “Drink this.”

  Kate shook her head and pushed the mug of steaming liquid away. “Water,” she croaked and immediately regretted it as fire slid down her throat again.

  Caleb's brows knit together and his pale gray eyes flashed. His lips pressed into a thin line and he drilled Kate with a hard stare.

  “You gonna have to learn to listen,” he said, his jaw clenched tight. He pushed the mug at her again. “I said drink.”

  Kate stared back at him, unmoving. Even in her muddled, pain filled brain she knew it was a bad idea to drink whatever he offered. But it was Caleb. Why should she distrust him? His voice. Something was wrong with his words. She’d never heard that strong Cajun accent before. Kate fought to make sense of her thoughts.

  Before she even registered that he’d moved, Caleb grabbed her face in one large hand. His thumb dug into the muscles on one side of her face and his fingers on the other side. He squeezed, trying to force Kate's jaws open as he pressed the warm cup against her lips.

  She pursed her lips tightly and tried to shake her head.

  Anger flashed in Caleb's eyes. He released her jaw and fisted a hand full of hair at the back of her neck. He yanked hard, tipping her head so far back she cried out in pain. He shoved the lip of the cup into her open mouth, pressing the ceramic against her teeth and poured the scalding liquid into her throat.

  Her already raw throat felt as if it caught fire. The liquid scorched its way into her stomach. Kate fought, trying to scramble away, but her muscles were sore and weak and he had a solid grip on her hair. Every movement caused her scalp to feel as if it would separate from her skull.

  She pushed at the smooth ceramic of the cup with her tongue, trying to force it from her mouth. To push the liquid out. He pressed the cup harder, grinding it against her teeth, pinching her lip between the cup and her teeth in one spot. She tasted the metallic buzz of blood in the liquid that washed over her tongue.

  When Caleb finally released her, the cup was empty, but Kate was soaked down the front and the bedclothes were damp. She was wondering how much of the liquid she had swallowed when his meaty hand slammed into her face rocking her head hard to one side. Kate tasted blood even before she could register what happened.

  “You gon’ learn, girl.” Caleb said as light glinting through the window shined off his head. “You do as I say. You ain't the one's in charge around here.”

  Kate lifted a hand to where the blow had slit her lip and raked the back of her hand across the cut. She glared at Caleb, trying to calm the chaos in her head. Her thoughts whirled in a vortex of questions but as she grasped at each one it slipped away from her. Ethereal. Here then gone.

  “That spirit won't done you no good, Cher.” Caleb stood by the bed, his gaze locked on hers, his piercing gray eyes violating her soul. “You bes' learn whose da man in dis relationship.”

  Kate heard the words in slow motion. She concentrated on each one, trying to make sense of them, but her brain felt mushy. Her head heavy. It lolled to one side and Kate fought to straighten it back up. She was too weak. Too weak to even sit up anymore.

  She toppled to one side and watched helplessly as the man brushed her hair back from her face. Someone else walked into the room. She knew that person too. They were talking but the words buzzed around her head like angry bees.

  She fought against the darkness that tried to consume her, but lost. Her eyelids slid shut as the image of Jack filled her brain.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Frankie settled into his Caleb persona and then stepped out of his car into the chaos and flashing lights around Conner's warehouse. Men and women in fire retardant gear scrambled back and forth between the building and the fire trucks. Some carrying hoses, others working the gears for the ladders that extended toward the roof of the warehouse, or scrambling up and down those ladders. Voices shouting directions and information echoed off buildings.

  Frankie had passed an ambulance on the way in, its sirens blaring. A woman sat in the back of the remaining ambulance, talking to a man with a shaved and tattooed head. Frankie recognized her as being one of the women Kate had helped out of the building. He should worry, but she had been out cold when he took Kate. They all had.

  He picked his way over hoses and around groups of first responders until he spotted Jack, sitting on the back of the firetruck talking to a man he assumed was the fire chief.

  As he walked up to the group, Frankie heard a firefighter over the noise of the hoses. “We found a body inside.” Frankie had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. This was going so much better than he had planned. When he’d hit the woman that started the fire, he hadn’t been thinking out how it would play out. That stupid broad had put Kate in danger. She’d made it harder for him. He just wanted her out of the way.

  Anger had taken over. She was trying to kill Kate. Now, it seemed like she was put there to make it easier for him to take Kate away from all of this.

  He walked up beside Jack. “I just heard,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  Jack turned a vacant gaze in his direction, but said nothing for a few moments. When he did, his voice was dull and lifeless. “Kate’s missing.”

  “What?” Frankie had heard Jack the first time; he just wanted to see that look in Jack’s eyes and hear the emptiness in his voice again.

  Jack turned back to where two men were carrying a woman’s body toward them. They placed her on the damp ground and Jack rushed forward. A burly man grabbed him around the chest and held him away from the knot of first responders that worked around the woman.

  Euphoria pushed out Frankie’s chest as he did a quick visual inspection of the woman. She was about Kate’s size, but charred and blistered skin made her face unrecognizable. The small tufts of long blonde hair on the back of her head that hadn’t been burned away by the fire were pure perfection. Frankie felt as if God were smiling down on him.

  “Let the medic do his work,” Frankie heard the man struggling to hold Jack back say.

  The medic stood and shook his head. “She's gone,” he said to the man holding Jack back.

  Jack broke free and dropped to his knees. His hands searched out the woman’s face then his head dropped. Frankie could see Jack’s shoulders shaking, and a shiver of pleasure ran up his spine as he considered the grief that must be ripping Jack apart.

  Frankie stepped forward under the guise of consoling Jack, but what he wanted was a close-up of Jack’s anguish. He wanted to see the effects of Jack assuming Kate was dead. It didn’t matter that Jack would eventually learn it wasn’t Kate. Frankie still wanted this memory to look back on. He would relish it, along with his imagination of how Jack would react when he found out Kate was gone and he would never see her again. He would grieve a second time. Only it would be worse. Much worse. Frankie intended to have Kate far enough from here by daylight that she would never be found. Besides, Jack would be in jail within the hour, charged with the murder of Chief Darnow. It was all Frankie could do to contain his delight.

  Jack pushed up to his feet and turned just as Caleb reached the spot where he knelt. He grabbed Caleb and shook his head. “It's not her.”

  For show, Frankie tried to push past Jack. To see the body up close for himself.

  Jack gripped his shoulders tight and shook. “Caleb. It's not Kate!”

  “How do you know?” Frankie filled his voice
with anguish, but what he felt was irritation. Why did Jack think this was not Kate? Was he in denial that she could be dead?

  “This.” Jack reached down and lifted the woman’s left hand. Even though the skin was charred, Frankie could see a diamond wedding set. And the diamond was huge. Much bigger than the one in the engagement ring Kate had been wearing until he picked her up for the fundraiser. Heat crawled up Frankie’s throat. He hadn’t even considered there might be another way to identify the woman.

  Frankie nodded slowly, trying to make it appear as if he was digesting the information. What he was doing was thinking through his options. He had to figure out how to keep Jack believing this woman was Kate. Just for a little while longer.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but the man with the shaved head approached the group. He looked Hispanic, and in contrast with the tattooed head, he was dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, all covered in soot. He stepped between Frankie and Jack.

  “Chief Roe, can I have a word with you?” The man threw a glance over his shoulder in Frankie’s direction. “Privately.”

  Frankie balled his hands into fists to keep from punching the guy in the back of the head. Whatever he wanted, his timing was terrible.

  Jack glanced over the man’s shoulder at Frankie then nodded without breaking Frankie’s gaze. “Stay here.” Jack said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Frankie saw two cruisers roll into the melee in the parking lot and nearly laughed when two men he recognized climbed out and headed toward Jack, purpose in their stride and hands on their guns.

  No Jack. You won’t be back anytime soon.

  FORTY

  Jack followed the stocky man in front of him, but his mind was on where Kate might be. Why wasn’t she here? Conner said she pulled her and Tiffany from the burning building. She wouldn’t leave. Not unless she had a compelling reason to do so.