Tagged for Death

by Sherry Harris

  Pellner shook his head. “My wife wanted me to be chief. I like being out on the streets. I’d go nuts sitting behind a desk, handling personnel issues and dealing with the town manager. Representing the city at events. The chief has a gift for that kind of thing.” He looked thoughtful and then gave a short laugh. “Just because my wife wanted me to have the job didn’t mean I did.”

  I hadn’t met one military wife who wasn’t mad as heck when her husband didn’t get the promotion she thought he deserved. You made the sacrifices, moves, deployments, missed anniversaries, birthdays, even births—and then your husband was passed over. It stung. Pellner’s wife could feel the same way.

  “The town manager told me you applied for the chief position. Well, she said Stella’s high-school boyfriend.”

  “You think I’m the only guy Stella dated in high school who’s on the force? Ellington’s a small town.” Pellner looked out of the ambulance and sighed. “I did apply.”

  I started to speak, but Pellner plowed on. “I promised my wife I would.” He looked at me. “I’ll tell you a secret. I withdrew my application without telling her. I didn’t make any promises about that.”

  He knew my secret and now I knew one of his. “You told me not to mess with your family.”

  “Damn right. I’d do that again in a heartbeat. To you or anyone. My family’s off-limits.”

  I thought about the time he’d stepped in front of me at CJ’s house. He’d done it without hesitation. He wasn’t the guy I thought he was. Maybe none of the guys in the police department were. “I’m sorry. I thought . . .” What could I say?

  Scott got a little twinkle in his eye—one I hadn’t seen before, or at least had refused to see. Now his dimple looked cute, not threatening. “Well, I can’t deny the guys at the station had a little fun messing with you. Chief’s a great guy. You should give him another chance.”

  I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have any response.

  “I know he’s been hiding something—something that probably kept your butt out of jail. I’ll keep it between us. Unless you say something, he’ll never know.”

  CJ’s words rang in my ears. I wasn’t about to confirm or deny what Pellner had just said. I’d promised CJ I wouldn’t.

  “Fact is, I need to go free him.” Pellner climbed out of the ambulance. “You kept him out of Billerica. Good job.”

  “Wait,” I called after him. “What about the police corruption in Ellington? The links with the drug ring on base.”

  “Every police department has someone mad at them for something. Citizens think they shouldn’t have been arrested or Uncle Joe didn’t deserve a ticket. All of a sudden, it goes from that to corruption. Rumors about drug abuse.” Pellner shook his head. “The chief runs a clean station. He wouldn’t put up with anything.”

  That sounded like CJ.

  The EMT fiddled with the blood pressure cuff. “Your blood pressure was all over the map. Understandable, given what I just heard. Let’s leave it on a few more minutes. Then you should be good to go.”

  The EMT finally took the blood pressure cuff off. I climbed out of the ambulance. The reenactment was winding down. Soldiers, women, and children all in colonial dress milled around, but they weren’t allowed to get close to the barn or ambulances. Some of the tourists watching pointed toward the scene and snapped pictures.

  Tiffany called out to me from her ambulance. “Sarah, can we talk?”

  CHAPTER 33

  Talking to Tiffany appealed to me about as much as having duct tape reapplied to my lips and ripped off again. But she looked pitiful stretched out on a gurney with an IV stuck in her arm.

  “Okay.”

  “Climb in,” she said. She turned to the EMT. “Can you give us a minute?”

  The woman eyed me, but she jumped out.

  “I’m sorry,” Tiffany said.

  “For?”

  “Dragging you into this mess. For the gunshot calls.”

  “It was you.” I wasn’t surprised. After nearly losing our lives, it seemed kind of insignificant.

  “I’d go down to the range, call you, and fire a round,” Tiffany said. “I thought if I scared you, you’d leave town.”

  “So CJ would be available. How’d you pull the gunshots off after you supposedly died?”

  “Tyler took over. He’d go to the gun range in Billerica. He worked hard to make me think he was on my side—an old friend who just wanted me to be happy.”

  “I saw him with Deena Brown.”

  “He hooked up with her a couple of times. Part of his attempt to convince me we were just friends.”

  I’d seen them together just the other night. No reason to point that out. “How’d they meet?”

  “At West Concord Seafoods.”

  “What changed?”

  “When I miscarried, Tyler lost it.”

  “You grabbed the nearest thing to stanch the flow? Your old fatigues and CJ’s shirt.”

  “I swiped the shirt from your house. The night I slept with CJ. I called Tyler when I was miscarrying. I wanted him to take me to the hospital, but he came up with a crazy plan to get back at CJ. I was stupid enough to go along with it.”

  “Did Tyler kill Jessica?”

  Tiffany started crying. “He got her number off my phone. He’d heard from a friend she’d been calling people back home.” Tiffany wiped her free hand across her eyes.

  “Why’d he kill her?”

  “She was nosing around some of Tyler’s friends. Asking where he was. Where I was.”

  “She died because of a few phone calls?”

  “Jessica found out one branch of Tyler’s family owned a mortuary. She started calling there, wondering if the bones were planted. His cousin blew up. Told Tyler he had to fix it.”

  “He thought killing her was the solution?”

  “It wasn’t only that. Tyler freaked when CJ wasn’t arrested right away. He’d left CJ’s ID by the bones. Gave you the bloody shirts. Tyler thought if CJ was in jail, I’d abandon him and turn to Tyler. Instead, CJ was free. He fixated on Jessica. Saw her as the solution to two problems.”

  Waves of cold, like I’d been plunged into an icy river, passed through me. I couldn’t understand how anyone could view Jessica as a solution to a problem. “Jessica wanted to meet me the day she was killed. She said she had information. Did Tyler set that up?” I asked.

  “He made up some story about you two being in danger. He didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. Just in case.”

  That kind of intrigue probably appealed to Jessica. If only she’d told me. Tyler killed her and stuffed her under the lift. He left the statue so it would look like CJ killed Jessica.

  “Why didn’t he kill me, too?”

  “Because you were nice to him. Friendly. He never wanted to hurt you until he realized you weren’t going to butt out.”

  “You went along with Tyler’s plan to make it look like you were dead.”

  “Willingly, at first. I fought with CJ. He refused to marry me. I wanted to hurt him. The cousin at the funeral home back home helped him get the bones of a Jane Doe about my size. Tyler wanted everyone to think I was dead and for CJ to be blamed.”

  “What about when the DNA results came back?”

  “Tyler thought we’d be long gone by then.”

  “How could you do that to CJ?”

  “I was mad.”

  “When did things change?”

  “I stayed in a motel until most of my cash ran out. Tyler snuck me up to his apartment one night. He isolated me more and more. Took my phone and computer. He started handcuffing and gagging me when he left. After he killed Jessica . . .” Tiffany took a deep, shuddery breath. “I didn’t find out Jessica was dead until Sunday. I tried to leave.”

  Sunday was the night the music had blared from his apartment. I’d thought he was having a party. Tiffany had been fighting for her freedom.

  “After that, he kept me handcuffed all the time.”

  I shook
my head. “Why did Tyler break into CJ’s house? Tyler said he was going to kill me.”

  “He thought it was empty.”

  Part of me wanted to throttle her for all her excuses and “I didn’t know” answers. “Why go? All he took was a couple of pictures of CJ and me from CJ’s nightstand.”

  “He thought if I saw the pictures, if I knew CJ didn’t care about anyone but you, I’d leave with Tyler. He wanted us to head to Mexico. I have no idea what he thought we’d live on. Neither of us has any money.”

  I didn’t know what to say to all of this. It was almost too much for my tired brain and body to take in.

  “I realized I was wrong. About everything. I decided to fess up to the whole mess. Tyler went nuts.” She sighed. “All along, he had planned for us to start a new life—as if I’d go to Mexico.”

  Tiffany was so young. I leaned over and took her hand. She’d tried to do the right thing. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She snatched her hand away. “Don’t be nice to me.” Tiffany’s voice cracked. “There’s more. I didn’t sleep with CJ.”

  I stared at her. “Sure you did.” What mischief was she up to now? One of the bales must have whacked her a little harder than anyone thought. “CJ told me. Apologized a thousand times. I was in your dorm room. Saw the ultrasounds.”

  “Okay, I might have slept with him. But he didn’t, we didn’t, ever have . . . sex.”

  I started to get up. I really didn’t need this, whatever this new game was.

  She grasped my hand. “Listen to me. I might not have the courage to do this later. You and CJ always joked about how soundly he slept. That he could sleep through anything. Especially after a few beers.”

  My stomach started to churn.

  “I was already pregnant. It was Tyler’s. It’s why he went crazy after the miscarriage. I didn’t want to go back to West Virginia and be a coal miner’s wife. You were out of town. CJ left the bowling alley. I went to your house. I stuck my arm through the mail slot. Unlocked the door. I undressed and climbed in bed with him. A few hours later, we woke up. I convinced him we’d had a night of wild passion. It wasn’t hard. We were both naked in your bed.”

  I leaped out of the ambulance, ran to the side of the barn, and vomited.

  My EMT ran over to me. “What’s going on? Maybe you’re concussed. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

  “No. It’s not that. It’s . . . Can you find me a ride home?”

  CHAPTER 34

  Carol picked me up. My Suburban had been found parked behind an office building within walking distance of Hartwell Tavern. I couldn’t get it back, since it was being processed as part of the crime scene.

  “Come home with me,” Carol said as soon as I got in the car. “I’ll fix you something to eat. You must be starved.”

  “Not as hungry as you might think. I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything. Name it.”

  “Can I borrow your car?”

  Carol turned from the road to look at me. I pointed at the road. She swerved missing a tree by inches.

  “I really don’t want to face my apartment yet. Or have to talk to anyone.”

  “That’s why you should come to my place.”

  “I just need some time to think.” I told her what Tiffany had told me about CJ.

  Carol gasped at the news. She drove along in stunned silence. Usually, Carol knew what to say and when. “Okay. We’ll stop at my house. I’ll make you a sandwich at the very least. Brad can take me to the store in the morning. I’ll get the car back then.”

  When we got back to Carol’s house, I ended up going in. Brad and the kids were at the boys’ soccer game. I scarfed down the toasted ham and cheese on focaccia, plus chips. I didn’t decline a big wedge of chocolate cake.

  Carol handed me the keys. “Are you okay?”

  “‘Okay’ would be a stretch.”

  “Why don’t you just take a quick nap?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not ready to close my eyes.”

  “You don’t want to talk about what Tiffany told you?” Tears formed in her eyes. “I can’t believe someone could be that horrible to another person.”

  “Not now.” I gave Carol a hug. “I have a lot to think about.”

  I drove to Great Road and took a right on Bedford Road. I followed it to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. I parked and grabbed a sweatshirt I’d found on the backseat of Carol’s SUV. I pulled on the sweatshirt. My chest now blazed with a Texas longhorn bull. All it needed was Angelo’s quote: “Be the bull.”

  I followed a paved path up the hill to Authors Ridge. Oaks and pines shaded the area. Scattered among the graves were the family plots of Concord’s famed authors: Thoreau, Hawthorne, Emerson, and Alcott. Small stone markers engraved only with their names marked the resting places of Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Alcott. People had placed small stones, pinecones, and flowers on or near the stones. I wished I had brought something with me to leave.

  Nathaniel and Sophia’s great love for one another was well-known. Hawthorne’s wife and daughter, Una, had died and were buried in England. In 2006, a hawthorn tree planted next to their graves fell and damaged Una’s headstone. Hawthorne’s relatives decided to move them back to Concord to reunite the three. A horse-drawn carriage had carried their remains, retracing the path of Nathaniel’s funeral procession 142 years earlier.

  Emerson had a large marble boulder for his marker. A quote engraved on a bronze plaque came from Emerson’s poem “The Problem”: The passive master lent his hand to the vast soul which o’er him planned.

  I wandered a bit more before sitting on the ground with my back against an oak tree. It wasn’t the first time I’d come here to think.

  Scott Pellner wasn’t the jerk I’d made him out to be. Tyler had shared a wall with me, killed Jessica, kidnapped Tiffany, and was happily going to kill us both. How could evil be so close without me even guessing?

  I tried to process what Tiffany had told me. Tiffany’s lies had driven a life-changing wedge between CJ and me. I didn’t know what would happen to us now. I’d thought our love was a great one, like Nathaniel and Sophia’s. We’d been happily married for the most part, hadn’t we? I looked up at the gently swaying branches of the oak. A few buds had started to form, the sky above them a bright blue.

  I remembered CJ saying, “I can’t believe I did this to you. Forgive me.” He’d cried when he told me, but I hadn’t. Just a few days later, I’d moved to the apartment. So easily. So quickly. Maybe things weren’t good in our marriage if I could do that. We might have been too busy to notice. Then I’d gone to Lowell. Now who had betrayed whom?

  Would I tell CJ about Lowell when we talked? We would have to talk and soon. Being here was my way of avoiding him. A robin landed on the branch above me, the first one I’d seen this spring. Nope, I wouldn’t tell him. I’d never tell him. There was no reason.

  A car door slammed at the bottom of the hill. I’d been lucky to be here alone this long on a weekend when lots of tourists were in town. I stood and headed back to the car, undecided if I should be grateful or angry someone had intruded on my peace. At the top of the hill, I looked down. CJ smiled up at me. He ran up the hill and swept me into a kiss.

  “You’re safe,” he said when we broke apart.

  He had figured out where to find me. He knew me so well.

  I put my head against his chest. “I’m safe.”

  Garage Sale Tips

  Tips for Sellers:

  • Make sure to have lots of one-dollar bills and assorted coins available for making change.

  • If possible, keep the money on you. You don’t want to get distracted and have a box of money walk off.

  • Price your items so it is easy to total a sale. Dollar and fifty cent increments are much easier to add.

  • Organize your sale by grouping like items together, clothes in one area, kitchen items in another, and so on.

  • Be sure to have someone on hand to help you with the sale. Sadly, peopl
e will even steal from a garage sale.

  • Be prepared to bargain. It is half the fun for people attending the sale.

  Tips for buyers:

  • When you see something you’ve longed for at a tag or garage sale, don’t act too excited. It ruins your chances to negotiate a great lower price.

  • Look at everything first and then bargain for what you want most.

  • When deciding where to go, closest isn’t always the best. Find the sale that sounds the most interesting and head there first. You might use more gas, but you also might find exactly what you are looking for.

  • Smell whatever it is you are considering buying. You may look ridiculous with your nose stuck in a dresser drawer or a handbag, but better that than taking home something that reeks.

  • Take a backpack. It leaves your hands free to rummage through things.

  Sherry Harris started bargain hunting in the second grade at her best friend’s yard sale. She honed her bartering skills as she moved around the country while her husband served in the Air Force. Sherry uses her love of garage sales, her life as a military spouse, and her time living in Massachusetts as inspiration for the Sarah Winston Garage Sale series. Tagged for Death is the first in the series. She lives with her husband and Westie, Lily, in Northern Virginia.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2014 by Sherry Harris

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.