by Brenda Novak
“I’m not sure this is appropriate,” Joe said while everyone was taking their seats. Jack had run through everything with me after talking with Carver and my mind was still spinning about the killer. “Maybe it would be best to let this go. I’m sorry I interrupted your honeymoon. But I agree with Father Fernando. I think Leon’s death is the result of an assault committed by a tourist. We’ve had a lot of problems with drunks lately.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Jack said. “I’m happy to hand the reins over to you. But I’d appreciate you giving me the floor for a few minutes. As sworn officers of the law, it’s our duty to uphold the law, no matter how much we agree or disagree with it. And the very core of our integrity would be compromised if we knew of a wrong committed and stood back and let it happen. Don’t you agree?”
Joe swallowed once and then nodded in agreement. “I didn’t know,” he said. “If I had I wouldn’t have asked her your help.”
“I came to that conclusion myself,” Jack said. And then he turned to the congregation. He stood at the front of the nave, facing the pews. I sat off to the side, wondering if we were going to have to make a quick getaway.
“I want to thank everyone for indulging me this evening. My wife and I have truly enjoyed the hospitality of your community. It’s a community that takes care of its own, works hard, and supports itself on the means it has. It’s very impressive what you’ve built and how you’ve thrived.
“You can all imagine my surprise when Joe asked my wife and I to help yesterday when one of your own was murdered.” Jack put an emphasis on the word and paused to let it soak in. “The teachings of the church are very clear about cardinal sins.”
There was some uncomfortable shifting in the pews and the tension skyrocketed.
“I did a little research into your community, and I discovered that the entire south side of the island is actually owned by Sunshine Inc., which is headquartered over on the mainland. I noticed it the other day when I was driving around that it’s the only undeveloped land on the island, and the beach is closed to tourists.
“And then I started digging a little more and discovered early last year Sunshine, Inc. decided it was time to develop that area of land and the plans were drawn for three high rise resorts right there on the beach. When the hotels were filled to capacity it would double the size of the island instantly. And all of a sudden the community you know and love is no longer yours. You’re working harder and longer hours, and the view is obstructed by ugly buildings and too many people.
“And then last summer Father Fernando went to the mainland on the community’s behalf and asked if the land could be purchased to prevent the building of the high rise. And Sunshine, being respectful of the church and Father Fernando, agreed and offered to sell the property for just over eight million dollars. The problem was no one on this island had eight million dollars. And even combining your resourced you fell several million short.”
“We don’t need a history lesson, young man,” Father Fernando called out from the lectern where he’d been standing quietly. “We all know the outcome of my meeting with Sunshine. You’re wasting our time here when we should be morning the man in the casket behind you.”
“Where could you possibly come up with that amount of money?” Jack asked, ignoring Father Fernando and keeping eye contact with the crowd. “And then I started doing deeper background checks and discovered Maria Stein had spent several weeks on the mainland last year.”
He paused to look at Maria who was seated on the front pew. Her children and grandchildren surrounded her, and though her back was stiff as a board there was a smile of satisfaction on her face. I couldn’t say I blamed her.
“At first I thought it was because she’d suffered from pneumonia and she was being treated. But come to find out she’d found papers from a bank she didn’t recognize and a key. And the law here gives you the right as his wife to have access to Leon’s personal accounts and storage units even if your name isn’t on them.”
“Get to the good stuff, boy,” she called out. “I’m ready to wake my husband.”
“You’ve waited a long time for him to die, huh?” Jack asked. “You should’ve conspired to have him killed much sooner.”
Her children gasped in outrage, but her gaze stayed steady on Jack’s.
“What did you find in the storage unit your husband had rented?” he asked her.
“Paintings, letters, photographs,” she said. “Horror. Cruelty. Brutality.”
“But you already knew who he was. Had known since the moment he’d forced you the first time.”
Her lips pursed together and tears filled her eyes. She nodded her head and didn’t waver. “He delighted in telling me. And when my girls came of age I sent them to boarding school until they were too old for him to have any interest in. He deserved to die.” She said the last words on a whisper.
Jack nodded and I could see the compassion and respect in his gaze for this woman. A woman who’d shown years of patience and had sacrificed her own life and happiness for something better for her children and the place she loved. All because she’d had the misfortune of being married to a monster.
There were sniffles in the audience and I saw more than one person dab their eyes at her words. These were the people who loved her. Loved her enough to sin against the church that was their foundation and ask forgiveness later.
“How did you find out about the reward money?”
“He never told me his real name,” she said. “I knew what he did and where he was and the acts he committed. But never his name. And when I walked inside that locked storage room it was like a shrine to the man he was. He had newspaper clippings and flyers and letters written by government officials trying to find him. His reward was higher than all the others because he killed the most.” She shook her head and looked away. “Do you know how it sickens me that I shared a home and a bed with that monster for more than seventy years?”
“You did what you had to do to survive,” Jack said. “No one blames you for that. It was a clever plan. And I would’ve never figured it out if anything else had made sense. But everything was too perfect. Everyone’s alibi’s and stories were the same. And I kept thinking that one of your priests might be dirty. It was the only thing that made sense. That he might forsake everything and lie, or commit the crime himself. But not all three would condemn their souls to hell.
“So there was only one other alternative. You all devised a plan to get rid of Leon. You did it for Maria, so she would be vindicated after all these years and know peace in her last years. And you did it for your entire community. Because the reward money from killing and turning in Friedrich Durst would keep your island yours and the way it’s always been. You protected your priests from compromising their vows.
“I couldn’t believe how many people came to Mass on a Saturday afternoon. And then I started checking the attendance of prior Saturdays. Service was well attended, but never that well attended. And then I remembered pieces of conversation about confession. Everyone was irritated in their statements that Leon took so long in his confession, because the lines were long that day. Because you all knew Leon was going to die and needed to confess the knowledge.”
Jack looked at Father Fernando, and the old man had taken a seat by Maria. He took her hand and patted it gently.
“And your priests were bound by the rules of confession. Your secret was safe with them. And when they found Leon’s body they could say truthfully that they didn’t see anyone in the courtyard or know who killed him. Because the killer didn’t go to confession that day. Isn’t that right, Doctor Hizumi?”
I’d only seen a picture of Lee Hizumi, but he looked very much like his son, Will. He sat a couple rows back from Maria next to a pretty woman I assumed was Joe’s sister.
“Who would know better how to kill?” Jack asked. “Than the man’s own doctor. You knew he’d had open-heart surgery. And you knew the best way to deliver the blow. Maria had taken
the officer’s dagger from the storage unit, so it was symbolic to use it.
“And Leon never left the church on his bicycle, despite the statements some of you gave to the contrary. The timeline was just too tight for what had to be accomplished. He was ushered right out the back doors and directly into the courtyard where he was told to meet someone. You killed him and left.
“He never even rode his bike to services that day. He played dominoes every day at the café. He’d leave his bike there and walk to Mass. And then he’d walk back to the café for more dominoes until it was time to leave for dinner. The only thing you didn’t anticipate was that Father DeCosta would be so quick to call Joe before you could tell him. And you sure didn’t plan on Joe bringing us in on the matter.”
“So what?” Will asked, sitting next to his father. “What can you do?”
“Not a thing,” Jack asked. “You’ll probably be overrun with several government officials from several countries wanting to verify Leon’s identity. And if all goes according to plan, you’ll get the reward money and be able to pay off Sunshine, Inc. This isn’t my battle to fight. It’s not me Leon or any of you have to answer to.
“A life was taken. And I don’t care whose life it was, how horrible he was, or if he deserved it. Taking a life is something that weighs on the soul forever. And no amount of prayers or confessions will make you forget it. Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife and I are going to salvage what’s left of our trip.”
Epilogue
It was a bittersweet exit from the island. Sometimes the bad guys did get away with it. And sometimes the really bad guys got what they deserved. Jack and I agreed on both accounts.
We watched the island get smaller as the boat took us toward the mainland so we could catch an early flight. It was still dark and the water was choppy. Jack sat still and silent next to me. He hadn’t said much of anything since the gathering at the church the day before, but he took my hand and squeezed it.
“Some honeymoon, huh?” I said over the engine.
“Very memorable. What do you say we extend it for another couple of weeks?”
“You can do that?”
“Honey, I have so much vacation time saved up we could honeymoon until you walked like John Wayne.”
“Very romantic, Lawson.”
“Thank you. The department is in good hands, and I’m not quite ready to share you with everyone once we get back home. We didn’t get the relaxing vacation we’d hoped for.”
“Parts of it were very relaxing,” I said, winking. “You don’t owe me anything, Jack. I didn’t miss out on anything. And with the exception of the dead man and the dozens of people that conspired to kill him, it was the most perfect trip I’ve ever had.”
Jack laughed softly and squeezed my hand again. “It is what it is. And it was never ours to begin with. I’ve accepted that. It’s always the ethical cases that are the toughest. And I get questions from cops all the time. Why isn’t it okay to kill the child molester ourselves instead of making a clean arrest? And I know the cops that ask those questions will never last. They don’t have the spine for the job or the strength of character it takes to do what we’re sworn to do. I don’t have to agree with the law or my own wishes to uphold it.”
Jack might have accepted the outcome of Doctor Hizumi getting away with murder, but I knew it would be one of those things that weighed heavy on his heart for the rest of his life.
I squeezed his hand and held on tight. “Where do you want to go?” I asked on impulse.
I wasn’t ready for our time together to be over either—to go back to the funeral home and serving the dead. To the erratic and sometimes long hours.
“How about a cabin in the mountains?” he said. “And this time I say we lock ourselves in until it’s time to fly back home. The only adventures I want are the ones happening in our bedroom.”
“You make a convincing argument, Sheriff Lawson. You can count me in.”
“I always do, Doc. I always do.”
He twined his fingers with mine and I leaned against him for the rest of the ride. Our adventures were just beginning.
About Liliana Hart
Liliana Hart spent five years teaching music in the public education system. She molded America’s youth, busted kids for smoking pot in the restrooms, and broke up illicit affairs behind the stage on a regular basis. She finally decided to hang up her hat and let someone else have all the fun. (Liliana’s Addison Holmes Mystery Series, about a small town teacher who gets into a whole lot of trouble, is somewhat autobiographical, but she won’t confess to which parts).
Liliana began reading romance novels with all her new found free time, and when she ran out of things to read, she decided to write her own novels. The result was a 150,000 word thriller—a dazzling adventure—where the heroine was a thirty-year-old virgin assassin (Yes, you read that right). She couldn’t imagine why people weren’t knocking down her door to read it, but she persevered and began writing a second book. She finally got the hang of things, and eventually learned that losing one’s virginity wasn’t all that romantic after all. All of her books involve some kind of suspense (she just can't help herself), laughter, and a lot of steamy sex.
Since self-publishing in June of 2011, she's sold more than 2 million ebooks all over the world, hit both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists, and been nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award. Liliana is addicted to reading, kickboxing, and Bones. She lives in a big, rambling house in Texas with a couple of cats to keep her company. She loves to get emails from readers.
You can find Liliana here:
http://www.lilianahart.com/index.html
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Before Evil
by Alex Kava
Chapter 1
Warren County, Virginia
He stood in the shadows watching. This part had always come naturally to him. He could blend in anywhere whether it was a forest with dying autumn leaves or a busy sidewalk café. He was a chameleon ready to change colors, shed his skin if necessary. He could change his hairstyle, wear a suit and tie as easily as a barista apron. He could be thin or fat, grow old, perfect an accent and even pretend to be blind. Last month for three days he was a war vet with a limp.
A chameleon playing charades.
Of course with each change came a new name. This week he was using Stucky. Last week it was Casey. He’d seen both on several gas stations in the Midwest. Nothing wrong with gas station names.
He wouldn’t even be here right now tromping through pine needles if this guy hasn’t been such a hothead, stopping him and getting in his face. Stucky had planned on being in Florida by now and this idiot had delayed his trip, hell-bent on humiliating him, intimidating him.
It would be so easy to gut him and be on his way. Hang him from a tree like a deer. Slit his belly open while he was still looking at him. Watch his insides slide out and fall to ground.
But he decided to wait. There was something about the guy that intrigued him. Something familiar that convinced him to follow the bastard instead of simply killing him. At least for a few days.
He kept his vehicle hidden from view, too. It was parked on an old dirt path in-between a grove of trees. No one else probably would have noticed the road. Lone Wolf certainly hadn’t. That’s what he called his new prey. Actually he was using Loner for short. He should be calling him Loser but something told him this guy might be more interesting. Or maybe it was just him hoping this wasn’t a waste of time.
Either way, Loner was a generous nickname considering what the guy had done. For now he’d let the bastard live but he expected his generosity to pay off. However, two days of stalking had proven mostly boring.
Until now.
Loner was parked at the end of a long driveway. A line of pine trees hid his vehicle from the occupants of a double-wide trailer. He’d b
een there for about an hour. Loner had done this the day before then drove twenty miles to stop at a liquor store in another county before driving home.
Boring.
But this time when Loner started up his vehicle he actually turned into the driveway. Stucky waited thinking he must just be turning around. He couldn’t see much of the property from where he stood up in the trees. He’d been more focused on Loner than the residents. By the time he realized the asshole had driven onto the property and all the way to the double-wide, Stucky was scrambling for a better view.
He hurried along the treeline only able to get a glimpse – bit and pieces between the trees. He was too far away. Still, he kept his eyes focused where he expected the property to be. He rushed through the forest, anxious to see. Branches slapped in his face. Vines snagged his pant-legs. Leaves crunched underfoot. And he still saw nothing.
Finally he decided to hike back to his vehicle. He’d drive by. Find another spot.
Damn it! It was taking forever.
He glanced at his watch. Okay, not forever. It had only been fifteen minutes since he watched Loner turn into the driveway. Fifteen more minutes to get to his own SUV. He needed to slow down. Play it cool. See but not be seen.
He found a place in a muddy field to turn around.
Tick-tock. Ten more minutes to navigate the dirt-patch road.
He could hear clumps being kicked up and hitting the tirewells. Again, he tried to slow down. Almost to the main road when suddenly a vehicle zoomed past.
Loner.
He recognized the silhouette behind the wheel even if it was in a flash.
Stucky hit the brakes. Watched Loner’s taillights blink on, only for a second before they disappeared around a curve. Then he was gone.
