by Debra Webb
Maybe she should just tell him and get it over with.
Inside, she closed and locked the door. She gazed around the kitchen. Signs of the busy single mother who lived here with her two kids were everywhere. Dirty dishes in the sink. The skillet Marie had used for making pancakes sat on the stove. Julie knew what she had to do. If she couldn’t go to work, the least she could do was clean up the house. What woman didn’t like to come home to a clean house?
Keeping busy would ensure she didn’t have to think about a murdered estranged husband or a sexy detective who was all too alive.
9:22 p.m.
Blake walked the block for the fifth time. Marie Morrison wouldn’t be home for hours yet. Her kids were with a sitter. All of which meant Julie Barton was in the house alone and had been all afternoon and evening. Not that it mattered what she was doing except that Blake had imagined all sorts of things. Like her running on the treadmill. He’d watched her at the gym three times a week for months. That toned little body would be glistening with sweat at the end of each session. Then she’d go home and shower. He didn’t have to see her to imagine her stripping off her sweaty clothes and climbing beneath the spray of water. Her hands would smooth the body wash over her skin, her fingers pausing on her breasts to trace the delicate contours. He imagined her touching herself for pleasure on those lonely nights when her husband was out with another woman.
Was it possible she had hired someone to end the cheating? Had she decided that whatever he’d offered in the divorce settlement was inadequate? With his death, would she stand to inherit much more than a meager settlement?
Motive was there, but so far no evidence. According to Lutz, Cannon had nothing so far. Randall was keeping a low profile. What was up with that? Blake would have expected him to be on the news offering rewards to anyone who could find his brother’s killer.
When Blake reached his car once more, another dark, nondescript sedan had parked behind him. He eased into the shadows for the rest of his approach. As he reached the second car, the driver side door opened.
A figure emerged. “It’s me.”
His partner.
Blake exhaled a big breath. “What’re you doing here, Lutz?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Now get in.”
For no other reason than to prevent drawing attention, Blake complied. “I’m off duty. I don’t have to give you my reasons for being on a public street.”
Once he was settled in the passenger seat and the door was closed, Lutz commented, “A public street that just happens to be the one where Austin Barton’s widow is hiding out.”
“She’s not hiding out. She’s avoiding the reporters.”
“FYI, partner,” Lutz announced, “she’s about to become the prime suspect in her lowlife, cheating husband’s murder.”
Whoa! This was the first Blake had heard of this. “How did that happen?”
“Randall Barton, how else?” Lutz picked up a cup of Starbucks from the console and offered it to him.
Noting his partner had a cup as well, Blake accepted it. “There’s still no physical evidence.”
“Nothing except her bloody handprints all over the apartment and her threat that she’d see him in hell.”
“Cannon knows that’s not going to carry much weight with a jury. He needs more.”
“How about Randall Barton’s statement that his brother confided in him that his wife was cheating on him and had threatened to kill him in his sleep if he didn’t give her a divorce with a hefty cash-out.”
A frown tugged at Blake’s brow. “When did he do this?”
“This morning.”
“He’s setting her up.” Blake mentally ran through the possibilities for why Barton would bother. The theory that he’d wanted his younger brother dead kept rising to the top.
“Before I tell you the rest,” Lutz went on, his tone somber, “I need you to tell me the whole truth, Blake.”
Blake glared at him across the darkness. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“What is it between you and the Bartons? Is it about your brother?”
The guy could ask the question twenty different ways and the answer would always be the same. “This has nothing to do with my brother,” he lied. “There’s nothing between me and the Bartons.”
Lutz stayed silent for a moment. “You keep lying to me and I’m going to start believing it’s true.”
Blake dropped his head against the back of the seat. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re going to start believing what’s true?”
“The motive for Austin Barton’s murder.”
That was it. Blake was done here. “What motive is that?”
“Listen to me.” Lutz turned to face Blake in the darkness. “If you hear nothing else I say, here this: Randall Barton says his brother’s wife is having an affair with you. That, my friend, is the motive.”
Chapter Ten
Mobile Police Department
Monday, June 29, 10:23 a.m.
Fifty-three minutes.
Julie had been waiting almost an hour for Lieutenant Cannon. Thirty or so of those minutes she had been sequestered in this little room. This wasn’t like the room where he’d interviewed her before. This one was much smaller and stark white save for the little beige metal table where she sat in the center of the cramped space.
The call had come at eight this morning. Lieutenant Cannon wanted to see her at nine-thirty. She’d arrived on time and had promptly been ignored since. She desperately wished she had grabbed a second cup of coffee on the way. Her stomach rumbled though she felt confident anything she attempted to swallow would come right back up. She shuddered at the notion.
Unable to sit still any longer, Julie stood. She wiped her palms against her hips and considered whether she should step into the corridor and ask someone if she’d been forgotten.
Maybe they’d brought in a suspect. As much as she wished she could, she couldn’t identify anyone. She’d only heard the intruder, she hadn’t seen him. Presumably, the intruder and the killer were one and the same. Julie closed her eyes and pressed her fingers there. Austin was dead.
For the past forty-eight hours, she had felt mostly numb. Now, however, she couldn’t seem to keep her emotions steady. She collapsed back into the metal chair. She vacillated between wanting to burst into tears and wanting to scream in frustration. What happened to Austin was a terrible thing. Just terrible. No one should be murdered. Yet, she couldn’t feel the expected grief. She felt sad as she would for anyone who lost his life. The part that truly troubled her was the anger she felt at not being able to hear him say he was sorry for the way he’d treated her.
She closed her eyes. What difference did it make now? Austin was dead.
She was free.
Her breath caught as the realization sank deeply into her bones. Could she be happy about that? The memory of the fantasies that had invaded her sleep last night made her feel flushed as much with embarrassment as with anything else. Was she wrong to have those feelings when she couldn’t summon any grief for her dead husband?
Julie braced her hands on the table and banished the thoughts. She was confused. Austin had taunted her with his other women until she couldn’t think rationally. What she needed was a good shrink. Marie warned that the trauma of finding Austin’s body would take its toll. There were emotions at play that Julie didn’t understand yet. There were stages of grief. For all she knew, she could still be in a sort of shock.
Still, she was free. She clasped her hands in her lap. No more trying to please him. No more worrying about what she’d done wrong. No more dreading when he came home.
It was over.
The door behind her opened and she jumped, startled.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Mrs. Barton.”
Lieutenant Cannon walked to the other side of the small table and pulled out the chair. Julie reminded herself to breathe. Hopefully they had news about the investigation. The case couldn’t be solved
quickly enough to suit her.
“Do you have a new lead on the case?” She moistened her lips, wishing her voice didn’t sound so shaky and hollow. She had nothing to be nervous about.
“We do.” He nodded as he flipped through the manila folder he’d placed on the table. “Do you have an attorney, Mrs. Barton?”
Trepidation slid through her. “No, sir. I tried to hire one for my divorce, but I couldn’t afford any of them.” No need to mention none would have taken her case anyway. Besides, why did she need a lawyer?
“Would you like to have an attorney before answering my questions?”
“I don’t think I need an attorney.” She shrugged. “I want to help with the investigation.”
“I understand, Mrs. Barton. We do have to remind you that the things you say can and will be held against you. So, if you’d prefer to have an attorney present, I’ll be glad to wait while you call one.”
“No.” She cleared her throat again. “I don’t need one.”
“Very well then. Did the intruder say anything? How can you be sure it was a man?”
Julie thought about the question for a moment. “He didn’t speak. He shook the bathroom door. Twisted the knob. Just before my landlady arrived he sort of body slammed the door, but he never said anything.”
“Why didn’t you mention the intruder to your landlady?”
Julie’s heart stumbled. Why was he asking these questions? “When I came out of the bathroom, there was no one in the apartment. I guess…” She shrugged, her stomach roiling at the memories of that night. “I guess I was afraid I’d imagined… him.”
He closed the folder. “Had you been drinking that night, Mrs. Barton?”
Her throat went dry. “Yes, sir. I was upset so I had wine at the bar. My friend, Marie, brought me home.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Were you drunk, Mrs. Barton?”
Her heart lurched into panic mode. “I… no. I…” She cleared her throat. “I had a couple of glasses…”
“In fact,” he said, his tone firm, “you drank a significant amount and passed out in your friend’s office, didn’t you?”
“I hadn’t been sleeping very well.” She shifted in her chair in a futile effort to get comfortable. “I was tired. I fell asleep. Yes.”
“You and Mr. Barton were having marital problems, were you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You had a very public disagreement on Friday night in your friend’s bar.”
She nodded. “We did.”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Struggling to stay calm, she recounted the way Austin brought his new girlfriend to the bar and picked a fight. Julie kept her final words to Austin to herself. No need to share that part.
The lieutenant listened and then appeared to take a moment to digest what she’d told him. “Did you say,” he opened his folder once more, “that you’d see him in hell before you’d sign the divorce papers without a proper settlement?”
Julie nodded. “Yes, sir, I did. I was angry.”
“Then you drank a bottle of wine and went home, is that correct?”
Wait. “No. It didn’t happen like that. Several hours passed before I went home.” Was he trying to make her look guilty? Maybe she did need an attorney.
“Here’s what I know.” He held her gaze, his face unreadable. “You and your husband argued. You were very unhappy about the prenuptial agreement you signed before you married. You drank too much and then went home and found his body.” When Julie would have defended herself, he held up his hand for her to wait. “You never mentioned an intruder when you spoke with your landlady who stated that it took her multiple attempts to get you to the door. Your bloody hand and finger prints are all over the apartment.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Do you see how this looks, Mrs. Barton?”
Julie’s body started to shake. She tried to keep herself still but she couldn’t. “When I spoke to my landlady I hadn’t found his… body. I didn’t know.”
He smirked. “We have motive,” he held up his thumb, “we have opportunity,” he held up his index finger. “All we need is the murder weapon.”
Dear God. He really was suggesting she had murdered Austin! “I didn’t do it. What about Barbie—the woman Austin left with Friday night? Have you questioned her?”
“She has an airtight alibi. Two witnesses confirmed that Mr. Barton dropped her off at her apartment shortly after midnight.”
How convenient. Fury seared away some of the fear. “I did not kill Austin.”
Cannon opened the folder once more and removed a paper from it. “According to this receipt,” he turned the page toward her and tapped it, “you purchased a Beretta nine millimeter one week ago. Do you know what caliber weapon killed your husband, Mrs. Barton?”
A new kind of terror exploded in her chest. She shook her head in answer to his question.
“Nine millimeter.”
Her heart sank. “It wasn’t me. I’ve never even fired a weapon.” The memory of her hands being swabbed that night nudged her. “Didn’t they check my hands for gun powder or something?”
“They did.” He searched her eyes for a moment. “Where did you hide the gun and the gloves, Mrs. Barton?”
“I didn’t have any gloves or a gun. I never bought that gun!” Someone was framing her!
Cannon pushed the paper closer to her. “Look at the signature. The copy of the driver’s license.”
Julie stared at the paper. The signature looked like hers. The driver’s license was hers. Jesus Christ. “This is impossible.” She looked directly at the lieutenant. “I didn’t buy this gun. I’ve never owned or fired a gun in my entire life.”
“Your brother-in-law said you cheated on Austin first. His brother confided in him that he’d endured your promiscuousness for as long as he could. Austin was concerned that you wanted rid of him without losing access to the Barton money. He suspected you might try to get him out of the way in hopes that his brother would be more generous.”
Randall would never have said those things. “That’s impossible. I spoke to Randall yesterday, he—”
“Came to me immediately after seeing you. He was disturbed by your behavior at the meeting. He believes that perhaps you’re unbalanced.”
Julie stood. Her chair screeched across the floor. “I won’t listen to any more of this. I think I will call an attorney after all.” Would she even be able to get an attorney? Why would Randall say those things? Was the lieutenant twisting his words to confuse her?
“I will find the murder weapon, Mrs. Barton. Until I do, I’ll be watching every move you make.”
Did Detective Duncan believe she had killed her husband? The possibility that he considered her a killer hurt far more than the realization that this man was actively pursuing that avenue. “I thought the detective was watching me because the department was concerned for my safety.”
Cannon’s face changed. His gaze narrowed. “What detective?”
Beneath the table, her fingers knotted together. “Detective Duncan. He’s been watching my friend’s house. He… he said the killer might come after me. I thought that’s why you wanted to see me this morning. I thought there was news.”
Cannon jumped to his feet. “Stay away from Blake Duncan. He’s on administrative leave pending an investigation into his recent behavior.”
“Are you saying you didn’t assign him to watch the house?” Julie felt stunned. What kind of fool was she that she repeatedly allowed men to deceive her?
Cannon snatched up the folder. “Trust me, Mrs. Barton, you’re in enough trouble without getting mixed up with Blake Duncan.”
With the lieutenant’s order not to leave town ringing in her ears, Julie made her way to the exit. A whirlwind of emotions roared through her. She wasn’t sure whether to cry or to scream…
There was something wrong with Julie. Whatever happened in Cannon’s office, she looked s
eriously upset. Blake had a hard time keeping up with her as she drove back to Morrison’s house.
She whipped into the driveway practically on two wheels. What the hell? Blake parked on the street and got out. Had Cannon suggested she was a suspect? According to Lutz, that was where this investigation was headed. He and Julie needed to have a talk very soon.
As if she’d decided the same, she strode up to him. “Still protecting me, Detective Duncan?”
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Barton?” Whatever had happened, the woman was immensely pissed.
“Your lieutenant said he didn’t order you to watch over me.” She planted her hands on her hips. “He said you’re in serious trouble and that I should stay away from you.” Her lower lip trembled. She withdrew her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “So, before I call and tell him you’re here again. Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing watching me? Why were you at the bar the other night? Did you kill Austin?”
Keep your cool. “I did not kill your husband.”
She flinched.
“Yes, it’s true, I wasn’t ordered to watch over you.” He heaved a big breath. “I was worried about you and I decided on my own to make sure you were okay. I knew the department wasn’t going to and you needed a break.”
Despite the anger on her face, a tear broke loose and slid down one cheek. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to reach out and swipe it away.
“Why would you do that?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of tires squealing and a roaring engine cut him off.
Blake turned toward the commotion. Car. Black. Heavy tint on the windows.
As he watched, a window lowered. Steel glinted in the sunlight.
Gun.
“Get down!”
Blake pushed Julie to the ground, his body covering hers.
Gunshots exploded in the air.
Rounds buzzed past his head. He pressed his face to the ground.
Shot after shot rang out… until the ringing in his ears became one long, endless sound.
Blake slowly lifted his head.
They were gone.
