Death at First Sight

by Lena Gregory

  Cass hit the brakes, hoping whoever it was—oh please, not Jay—would back off. Her bag tumbled off the seat, spilling its contents across the floor. Ugh . . .

  The car stayed on her bumper. Tears threatened, but she forced them back, scared they would impair her vision. She kept her eyes glued to the road. Okay. Think. She was only a few miles from the police station. She could keep going and hope for the best. Or . . . maybe she was just being paranoid. It was probably just some jerk trying to pass her.

  “All right . . .” There was no shoulder where she was now, but in a minute the road would widen a bit, and there would be room for her to pull to the side and let him pass. She prayed fervently as the residential neighborhood opened up into farmland and the road widened. She eased to the side of the road, only slowing a little to allow the other car to pass—not that he couldn’t have used the deserted oncoming lane to go around—but, whatever.

  He inched out past her, and the pressure on her chest eased a bit. He pulled around to the side of her. She held her breath but didn’t dare take her eyes from the road ahead. Her tires skimmed along the dirt at the edge of the road, kicking up trails of what looked like smoke. Bee was going to kill her when he saw how filthy the car was. Maybe she could run through the car wash on her way home.

  The other car kept pace at her flank, and she risked a quick glance to the side. She recognized Jay’s truck instantly. He rode beside her for only a brief moment, then started to angle in front of her. He cut it too short. Too late, she realized he wasn’t cutting in front of her to pass. He was angling toward her to stop her.

  Cass pulled the wheel hard to the right, sending her car careening into the field.

  Jay’s truck easily kept pace.

  She finally came to a stop, slammed the shifter into park, and struggled desperately to control her breathing.

  Jay stopped, his truck angled to block her path.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. Pressure sat like an anvil on her chest.

  Jay jumped out of the truck and ran around to her door.

  Even with her head reeling, she quickly hit the lock button.

  “You have to listen to me, Cass. I don’t know what she’s telling you, but it’s not true. Open the window.” He grabbed the door handle and rattled it, kicking the door in frustration when it wouldn’t open. “Can you hear me through the window?”

  She stared dumbly at him and nodded. The sound was muffled, but she could pretty much make out the words.

  “Okay.” He pressed his palms to the window and leaned close. “I’m going to step back from the car a minute. I want you to crack the window a little bit. Just enough that you can hear me but not enough for me to get my fingers in. Okay? Can you do that?”

  She held his gaze, terrified to turn away.

  He backed away with his hands in the air in an I surrender gesture.

  She did what he asked. She opened the window the slightest bit, then waited for him to return. Tears streaked down her cheeks. There was no stopping them now. Terror gripped her throat. Did he have the gun with him? His hands were empty, but that didn’t mean anything.

  He approached the car. Leaned close to the window. “I didn’t kill anyone, Cass. I’m telling you. I’m being framed. I think Ellie killed them, and she’s trying to throw the blame on me.”

  Yeah, right.

  “You have to believe me. I’m the victim here, Cass.” His eyes were wild with something. Fear?

  The harsh whisper blurted out before she could stop it. “Where were you, then?”

  “What?” He pressed his ear to the crack. “I couldn’t hear you.”

  She took a deep breath, searching for calm. “Where were you when Marge was killed?”

  She studied his profile. It didn’t seem as if his expression changed. “I was with my lady friend at the hotel. Ellie and I had a huge blowout. I needed comfort, someone who understood it wasn’t my fault. You know?”

  Sure. It made perfect sense. Nothing was ever Jay’s fault.

  She nodded and tried to paste an understanding, compassionate look on her face. It probably looked more like a grimace, since that was how it felt. “Okay. Then, why not talk to the sheriff about it? Explain what happened?”

  “Are you kidding me? What are you, stupid? Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said?” His semi-calm façade exploded in a fit of rage. He pounded on the window, kicked the door . . . “My mother-in-law is dead, my wife thinks I killed her, and my alibi turned up on the beach with a bullet in her head.”

  Even Cass had to concede, it didn’t look good.

  With one last kick to the headlight on his way past, Jay stormed to the back of his truck. He flung open the hatchback and reached inside.

  Cass pulled in a deep breath. Held it. She stepped on the brake and eased the car gently into reverse. Please, don’t be stuck. Please, don’t be stuck.

  Jay pulled a crowbar from the back of the truck and ran back toward her. She waited until he was almost on her, then hit the accelerator. The car lurched and shot backward across the field and onto the road. Thankfully, no one was coming. Jay ran after her. She shifted into drive and hit the gas. The tires chirped but caught and launched her forward. Jay threw the crowbar, hitting the back window. It shattered.

  In her rearview mirror, he bent over to grab the crowbar and ran to the truck. He’d never make it in time. She floored it, flying past the farms as the darkness began to creep toward a sickly gray.

  Cass struggled to breathe. Pain radiated through her head, tunneling her vision. She fought the urge to pass out. If she didn’t stop hyperventilating, she was going to lose the battle. She tried desperately to control her breathing. When her vision got hazy, she swiped at the tears she hadn’t realized were falling.

  She glanced in the mirror. Nothing. Where is he? Was he back there? Following her? Would he give up and go back to the house after Ellie? She had to warn Bee. She eased off the gas for a second and glanced down to the floor. Still too dark.

  She flipped on the overhead light, casting enough light to see her cell phone. The air rushed out of her lungs in a whoosh of relief. She looked all around her. Nothing. No sign of Jay or anyone else. She quickly hit the brake, without pulling over, and reached for the phone.

  Holding it in her hand brought instant relief. A lifeline. She dialed Bee’s number as she drove. When he answered groggily, obviously half-asleep, the pressure on her chest relaxed a little.

  “Bee. You and Ellie have to get out of there.”

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “I just had a run-in with Jay, and I’m afraid he’s on his way back there.”

  Dead silence greeted her.

  “Bee?” She pulled the phone away from her ear to check the connection. “Bee, are you there?”

  “Yes. I’m here. Don’t worry about it. If Jay shows up here, I’ll take care of it.”

  “What are you going to do? Please, just get out of there. And don’t forget to take Beast.”

  “Look, Cass. I didn’t want to worry you, but when you called and said there was a problem I brought protection.”

  She frowned at the thought of what a condom was going to do against Jay Callahan. “What are you talking about?”

  “I brought my gun.”

  She swallowed any further argument. Bee had a gun? Since when?

  “See. I knew you’d bug out.”

  Cass pulled into the police station parking lot, shifted into park, and turned the car off. She forced her grip from the wheel and bent to gather the contents of her purse. What was Bee doing with a gun? Sure, lots of people owned guns, and it sort of made sense he’d bring it with him if he thought there might be danger. Ugh . . . Frustration pounded through her chest and her head. Even if he did own a gun, Bee was no killer. Right? It had to be Jay.

  The stress was getting to be too much
. She stared at the building a moment longer before climbing out of the car and starting forward with a determined stride. She scanned the parking lot as she walked, with an occasional glance back over her shoulder. No sign of Jay. She jogged up the front steps. Maybe she should have called Tank? Had him come to the house?

  No. She couldn’t do that. Ellie would bolt for sure, and then Jay might get her. She opened the door and strode purposely toward the receptionist.

  The tired-looking woman looked up from whatever she was writing. “May I help you?”

  “Yes.” Cass’s hands shook as she clutched her bag in front of her. “I need to see Officer Lawrence. It’s urgent.”

  “Name?”

  “Cass Donovan.”

  “Have a seat.” She gestured toward a row of molded plastic chairs bolted to the floor across the room.

  Cass sat while the woman spoke quietly into the phone. She’d simply tell Tank everything she’d learned so far and let him take it from there. He could pick up Jay and question him. Ellie would have to talk to them at some point, but Tank would be gentle with her. Hopefully she’d have calmed down by then.

  “Miss Donovan?”

  Cass looked up. The receptionist was staring at her.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  She offered a weak smile. “Would you follow me, please?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Cass stood and followed the woman down a long corridor.

  They stopped in front of an office door with an opaque window. The plaque on the front read SHERIFF OTIS LANGDON.

  “No. You don’t understand. I have to talk to Officer Lawrence.”

  The woman shoved open the door. Chief Langdon sat back in his desk chair. “Well, well, well. Come to confess?”

  Cass bit her lip and resisted the urge to turn and run. She thanked the receptionist and stepped calmly into the office. The door closed behind her with a very final-sounding thump. She stood, rooted to the ground, unable to move forward—or any other direction, for that matter.

  Chief Langdon sighed. “What is it, Ms. Donovan? I don’t have all day.” He tapped his pen repeatedly against the desk, the pounding in her head keeping time with the rhythm.

  “I . . . um . . .”

  “Spit it out already. What’s the problem?”

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “I know who killed Ms. Hawkins.”

  Now she had his full attention. He looked at her and stilled. “So do I.”

  “No. You’re wrong. It wasn’t me.”

  He lifted a brow but remained quiet.

  Cass moved to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. It was either that or her legs were going to give out, leaving her sprawled on the floor. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Okay. Enlighten me. Who was it?” He wiped a hand across the back of his neck.

  “Jay Callahan.”

  Langdon relaxed. He rested his elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together, and leaned his chin on them. “Talk.”

  She relayed the entire story. Jay’s midnight phone call, meeting him at the lighthouse, the visit from Ellie saying she was sure he did it. The abuse Ellie had suffered at his hands for years.

  At that, Chief Langdon clenched his teeth and lowered his hands. Of course, everyone knew, but hearing the details was difficult.

  She told him about Jay’s affair with the woman who ended up dead, the only chance he had at an alibi.

  Chief Langdon slowly nodded.

  “Then, when I was on my way here, he ran me off the road.” Relief washed through her. It was almost over. She could see the acceptance slowly creeping into the chief’s eyes. “He tried to convince me it wasn’t him, then shattered my back window with a crowbar.”

  Chief Langdon chewed on the inside of his cheek for a minute. “Where is he now?”

  Cass blew out a breath. He believed her. Her shoulders slumped with relief. “I don’t know. Bee’s at my house with Ellie, but I have no idea where Jay went.”

  He studied her for another long moment, pursed his lips, and stood. “All right. Wait here. I’ll issue an APB on Jay. I’ll have him picked up before he can leave the island.” He stood, hiked up his belt, and strode from the room.

  Relief washed over her. It was done. Maybe she should insist on an apology. She peered out the open door at the chief talking to someone, face red with anger, hands gesturing wildly. Then again . . . maybe not.

  Cass stood and stretched her back. She paced the room, waiting for him to return. Books lined a wall of shelves, and she scanned the titles. From what she could tell, they were all law books of one sort or another. A black-and-white photo in a silver frame sat in one corner of a shelf. She looked closer. Her dad? The shock of seeing him there stole her breath for a minute. Then she remembered he’d been friends with Otis Langdon at one time. She studied the picture more closely.

  They were at the beach. Her father stood to one side. A much younger Chief Langdon stood with his arm casually draped around a smiling woman. A young woman who looked surprisingly like Ellie Callahan, but with more steel in her spine.

  Cass’s breath caught in her throat. Oh . . . oh no. It was the smile that threw her. She’d never once seen Marge Hawkins smile. Cass glanced over her shoulder toward the door, then leaned closer to the photo. Marge looked up at Langdon, adoration in her eyes and her smile.

  Fear ratcheted up Cass’s heart rate. An image flashed into her mind. Chief Langdon standing next to her car, left hand poised over his ticket pad, gold pen hovering . . .

  The breath shot from her lungs. It was him.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to get out of there. She opened her eyes and turned to flee. Fear slammed through her and held her immobilized.

  Langdon stood blocking the door. One look at her face was all it would have taken him to know she’d figured it out. He eased the door closed gently behind him without turning around.

  26

  “It was you.” Cass slapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

  Chief Langdon stood, stony faced. “I thought it was Jay Callahan. Which is it, Cass?”

  She shook her head and snapped her mouth closed. “How could you kill her . . . and then pin it on me?” Her voice was nearing a hysterical pitch, and she fought to get a grip on her emotions.

  A pained look crossed his face. “I’m sorry, Cass. I’m sorry you got caught up in this.”

  Sorry. Is he kidding? “Caught up?” Indignation beat out some of the fear. “I didn’t get caught up. You tried to frame me.”

  “Yeah, well. It was nothing personal. You just happened to be convenient.”

  “Nothing personal? You’ve hated me since I came back here.”

  Langdon shook his head. “I don’t hate you. I simply got tired of listening to Marge complain about you. ‘Cass is harassing my Ellie. She won’t leave her alone. Cass is telling my Ellie to stay with that low-life husband of hers.’ And on, and on, and on . . . A man can only listen to so much.”

  Cass frowned. The gravity of her situation started to settle in. She opened her mouth to ask Now what? but clamped it shut before anything came out. Why push the issue?

  Chief Langdon rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “The way I figure it, Jay is an even better scapegoat than you. Bee knows Jay went after you on your way here.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, seeming more lost in thought than in the here and now. “If your body turns up on the beach by the hotel with a bullet from the same gun, I can pin the whole thing on Jay Callahan.” He lifted his gaze to look at Cass. “That was the one problem I ran into using you as the killer. Not enough people believed you did it. Jay, on the other hand, well . . . not only will everyone believe it, but a bully who’s basically abusing his wife will end up in jail, where he should be.”

  Langdon smiled at her, a sick, but surprisingly and frighteningly sane s
mile. “Don’t worry. I’ll issue a public statement clearing you so at least your memory won’t be tarnished.”

  “Uh . . . thank you?” Cass searched for a way out. There were no windows, except for the one in the only door, and he was standing in front of it. Besides, no one could see through the opaque film anyway. Maybe she could stall. “Umm . . . Why was Marge holding my business card?” Oh. Actually, she really did want to know that.

  “A stroke of genius on my part.”

  “Huh?”

  “I put it in her hand when you called me to the theater.” His sick laughter crawled up her spine. “The fact the other woman had your business card with an appointment for the day she was killed in her pocket when she was found just added another nail to your coffin.”

  So it had been the blonde who came into the shop. A pang of sorrow shot through her. If she had taken the time to do the reading, could she have warned her? Maybe prevented her from being killed?

  “We’re going to walk out of here now,” Langdon said. “I want you to walk right in front of me and get into your car. Understand?”

  Sweat dripped steadily down her back and pooled at the bottom of her spine. “Yeah . . . um . . . I don’t think so.”

  Langdon frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t think so?”

  “Well, I was thinking, and I don’t really feel like going anywhere just yet.”

  “Really.” He pulled out his gun and held it steadily aimed at her chest. “Can I change your mind?”

  Cass’s mouth went dry. She tried to swallow, but it felt sort of like swallowing paste. She licked her lips. The hustle and bustle of the police station was starting to increase. Muffled sounds of laughter and people talking drifted by as they arrived for the workday. Soon the whole station would be buzzing with the usual chaos. Surely someone would come in looking for the chief and find them. If she could stall long enough, maybe she’d have a chance.

  “I don’t understand.” She worked to keep her voice somewhat steady but allowed the slightest tremor to let him know he had the upper hand—in case he didn’t already realize it. “Why would you kill Ms. Hawkins?”