Smoke and Mirrors

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Smoke and Mirrors Page 10

by Cheryl Bradshaw


  “I believe the killer was trying to send me a message.”

  “Why you? Why not communicate with the paper again if he’s so desperate to reach out?”

  “He wrote to the paper, and nothing came of it. Maybe he thought he’d try a different avenue this time. Did you know Tommy was still seeing Grace every night, even after Caroline said he couldn’t?”

  James looked at me like he was shocked at the news, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.

  “What?” he asked. “How?”

  I relayed what Tommy had told me and then added, “He said he was there every night, including the night of the murders.”

  Another partial “truth,” which may or may not have been true.

  I wondered if he’d buy it.

  James closed his eyes and leaned back on the pillow. “Tommy actually said he was there the night of the murders? Did he see something he hasn’t told anyone about?”

  “I don’t know. You were there too. You didn’t see him?”

  “No, I didn’t. You’re second-guessing what I’ve told you. I don’t like it.”

  “No more smoke and mirrors, James. No more misleading me. Whatever you’re keeping from me and everyone else ... well, I came all this way to help you. I deserve to be given the story in its entirety, and not one with holes in it.”

  “I gave you the story. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off and cool down.”

  I leaned forward, looking him in the eye. “How many more people have to die before you trust me? Tommy? Me? Your father? Grace? Victoria?”

  “Stop it, Sloane.”

  I slid my chair back against the wall and stood. “All right, fine. I’ll stop. Seems there’s nothing more for us to say to each other today. Instead of pressing Tommy for more information, I thought I’d come here and talk to you instead. Until now, you’ve always seemed like a stand-up guy, a man others respect. But you obviously don’t trust me, and you should. I’ve been on your side this entire time, and I almost got myself killed trying to protect you. But, hey, no big deal.”

  I slung my bag over my shoulder, walked to the door, and threw it open.

  “Just ... hang on, Sloane. Wait a minute.”

  “No. I’m done hanging on to half-truths and missing facts.”

  “I do trust you. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t see the same qualities in you that I see in myself.”

  I stood in the doorway, desperate to walk out, but telling myself I’d be an idiot to do so when it seemed he was on the brink of enlightening me.

  “Yeah, well, there’s no use in me trying to solve these murders if I’m missing an important piece to the puzzle,” I said.

  “I never wanted to keep anything from you. It’s complicated, more complicated than you know.”

  “I realized how complicated it must be just this morning when I thought about the kind of person you are. You place a great deal of value on the truth. Hell, you canceled your wedding last year after finding out your fiancée lied to you. Whatever it is, I know it’s heavy. But I’m not leaving this place until the murders are solved, and if that means uncovering whatever you’re keeping from me and everyone else in the process, so be it.”

  “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Actually, I do.”

  Actually, I didn’t. All I really wanted was for him to level with me.

  “Trust me, you don’t,” he said. “Some burdens are best borne alone. It’s better off this way. You can solve the case without it.”

  I glanced back at him. “What am I missing that’s so bad, James? How awful could it be?”

  “Would it help if I told you I’d behave the same way if I were in your position?”

  “It wouldn’t.”

  He sighed. “Everything I’m doing, all of it has been about protecting Grace.”

  James and I stared at one another like two friends engaged in a standoff neither of us wanted to have. Gazing into his eyes, I saw many things—pain, fear, and a pleading desperation I never thought I’d see in a man so refined and sophisticated. Flashes of everything I’d heard and experienced since the plane touched down rushed through my head like explosives detonating at the same time:

  The killer’s quotes.

  The labels the killer had given to Adelaide and James.

  James keeping me away from Grace.

  Grace yanking her shirt over her face when we’d talked.

  Tommy saying he’d do anything for her.

  James acting out of desperation.

  The root of all I wanted to know was in figuring out why James was so desperate. He wasn’t just protecting Grace from the killer. He was protecting her from something else. When it hit me and the moment of clarity came, I realized James had been right.

  Some burdens were best borne alone.

  The moment of full transparency came like a sledgehammer to the face. When Grace had pulled her shirt over her face earlier that morning, I had been so caught up in assuming she was uncomfortable by my presence, what we were discussing, and my concern over what I could do to keep her talking that I’d grossly misinterpreted her actions. She may have used her shirt as a safety blanket, but that wasn’t the only reason she’d covered up.

  James looked at me as if he was aware I had connected the dots and was waiting for me to start talking again to confirm it.

  “You told me Grace found Hugh hovering over her mother and that she escaped out of the bathroom window and ran to Adelaide’s house, where she called you,” I said. “It’s not true, though, is it? That’s not the order of events exactly the way they happened.”

  He took a deep breath and pointed across the room. “If we’re going to have this conversation, you’d better close the door.”

  I did.

  “Maybe it was wrong for me to bring you into the situation and think I could keep you in the dark,” he said. “I’ve thought about talking to you about it a few times.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I thought I was looking out for everyone’s interests—Grace’s, my family’s, and yours.”

  I believed him.

  I walked over to the table, poured myself a glass of water, and downed the entire thing.

  “I saw Grace this morning,” I said. “And you know something? When the sun hit her T-shirt just right, it became a little see-through, and I could have sworn I saw a dark patch on her skin, right below her left shoulder. It was a flash, no more than a moment, and I decided it was nothing more than a shadow reflecting off the sun because of how she was sitting. Now I know I was wrong. I did see something. She has bruises on her body, doesn’t she?”

  He nodded.

  “James,” I said, “what really happened that night?”

  It was Grace who had murdered Hugh, not the killer.

  I didn’t want to believe it, even when it came straight from James’ mouth, but I had to, because it was true.

  “After finding Caroline dead and Hugh hovering over her like he was to blame, Grace and Hugh had argued,” James said. “She ran to the bathroom and locked herself inside, planning to escape out of the window and run to Adelaide’s house.”

  That much I knew.

  “Grace was angry,” he said. “And you have to understand, she thinks differently than we do. In her mind, Hugh killed Caroline, and she was sure of it. Instead of going out the window, she ran back into the bedroom, grabbed the knife, and started swinging.”

  “Hugh fought back, and at some point, she cut his neck. What happened next?”

  “Hugh ran out of the room. She chased him. When they got to the banister at the top of the stairs, he turned around, trying to reason with her. She kept on swinging. He started down the stairs but lost his footing and fell to his death.”

  Things were clearer now and yet still hazy at the same time. “You brought me here to find Caroline’s killer. If Hugh had done it, you wouldn’t have asked for my help. How do you know Hugh didn’t kill Caroline?”

  “I install
ed security cameras at the front and back of Caroline’s property last year. When Hugh walked up to the door that night, inside the house you can hear Caroline screaming for her life and Hugh desperately trying to get the door open to get to her.”

  “Why didn’t you give the video footage to the police?”

  “Grace is on it. There’s a clear video of her running out of the house with blood on her clothes, carrying the knife. What happened to Hugh was bad enough. I didn’t want the police assuming she’d killed Caroline, too.”

  “Why couldn’t she have explained what happened? He fell. It was an accident.”

  “You see it that way, and I see it that way, but there’s no way to be sure how it would have been seen by the police. Hugh fell because he was trying to get away from Grace, which makes her somewhat responsible for his death.”

  Hearing the story now, I understood his need to protect her and his reasons for doing it.

  “Where is the surveillance video now?”

  “I have it, and I am the only one who has watched it.”

  “Didn’t the police find it strange that the footage was gone?”

  He shook his head. “I told them the cameras had been broken for months.”

  And they’d believed him because they had no reason not to.

  “Is there any footage of the killer entering or exiting the house on the video?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve watched it over and over. He didn’t enter through the front or back door. I assume he found a blind spot and went through a window.”

  “What about the bruises found on Caroline’s body?” I asked. “When I asked you before you acted as though you didn’t know where they came from. What about now?”

  “Hugh and Caroline got into a fight recently. He threw her up against the wall and used his arm to try to pin her there so she couldn’t move. She shoved him, trying to get free, and he threw her to the ground. Grace saw it happen and tackled him. He pushed her off of him, bruising her shoulder in the process.”

  “Why did you keep this from me?”

  “I figured if you knew Hugh was responsible for the bruises, you’d assume Hugh had killed Caroline and then fell down the stairs somehow to his death. I wanted to be sure you were invested in finding the real killer.”

  “How do you know about the fight between Caroline and Hugh? Did Caroline tell you?”

  “Grace told me a few weeks ago. Caroline kicked Hugh out after the incident. He left the next morning for a work conference in Sydney, and Caroline told Grace as soon as he returned, she planned on breaking up with him.”

  Grace saw Hugh kneeling over Caroline’s body and assumed he’d killed her mother because her mother told him she wanted the relationship to be over. I thought about what Tommy had said about sneaking through Grace’s window at night. It made sense that he might have dealt with his frustration over not seeing Grace by killing Caroline to get her out of the way, especially after he’d just insisted no one would keep them apart. It was also possible Hugh either caught Tommy in the act or Tommy heard Hugh arrive and hid from view. The theories were plausible, and the best I’d come up with so far. If true, there was one gaping hole: Tommy still didn’t have what he wanted.

  The enlightenment recently bestowed upon me by James had come at a price, one in which I would need to make a decision. Did I keep Grace’s secret as he had done, or did I hold her responsible for her actions even though Hugh’s death was a gray area, one that I was currently trying to reconcile within myself? Hugh had abused her mother, but did that mean he deserved to die for it? Grace’s only objective that night was to avenge her mother. Did that mean she deserved to be put on trial, which could lead to a possible murder sentence?

  I couldn’t decide, which was a decision in itself. Until I was sure I knew everything that had happened the night the murders began, I would keep the matter to myself.

  “Who else knows about what Grace did?” I asked.

  “Adelaide knew, of course,” James said.

  “What about Tommy?”

  “I was telling you the truth earlier. If he was at the house that night, I know nothing of it.”

  “What about your dad and Victoria? What do they know?”

  “Victoria suspects something. I can tell by the questions she asked me after she performed the autopsies. But so far, I haven’t revealed anything to her.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to put her in the same position I just put you. Besides, the more people who know, the harder it is to contain.”

  “Did Adelaide agree you should keep it to yourselves?”

  He nodded. “She was certain it was in Grace’s best interest. Up to the day Adelaide died, I thought I’d made the right choice. Now, I’m not sure. The killer has made it clear he’s coming after us because we lied, because we’ve tried to pin both murders on him. Personally, I don’t understand. He committed murder either way. Why does he care whether he gets the blame for an additional one he didn’t commit? When he’s caught, it won’t make much of a difference, especially now that he has added to the numbers.”

  But the killer did care. He cared a lot.

  “Your dad was in law enforcement for a long time,” I said. “I’m surprised he didn’t notice something wasn’t right.”

  “He’s been too busy grieving and watching out for us to focus on the gaps in the story. Tracking a killer is a lot different when the connection is personal. It muddies things and affects a person’s judgment. He isn’t himself.”

  None of them were.

  “I understand why you didn’t tell me,” I said. “I still don’t like it, but I get it.”

  “And now I am at your mercy. We both are. What will you do now?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I need time to figure everything out. Your focus should be on how this is all affecting Grace. She’s a mess, James. I’m guessing she feels like she can’t talk about it because you and Adelaide probably told her not to discuss it with anyone.”

  “We did. We had to. It’s for her own good.”

  “Is it, though? I’m not sure she can live with the lie. Does she even know Hugh didn’t kill her mother?”

  He nodded. “Not through me. Adelaide was talking to her after Caroline’s funeral and let it slip. Adelaide stupidly thought I’d told Grace, but why would I? It would have been better for her to go through life thinking what she did was justified. Now she’ll go through it feeling even guiltier about it.”

  She’d also go through life trying to convince herself Hugh was a bad person, like she was doing now.

  “I don’t want to see her punished any more than you do,” I said, “but is what you’re doing really the lesser of two evils? She’ll punish herself forever for what she did, whether she takes accountability for it or not.”

  “You’re right, but nothing can undo what’s been done. Why put her through all the public scrutiny? She’s not a murderer. She’s not a bad person. She’s a good girl who made an honest mistake.”

  “The killer knows about the ‘honest mistake,’ though. Aren’t you concerned he’ll come for her next?”

  “We don’t know what he knows. All he’s sure of is that he didn’t kill Hugh.”

  “I know you’re trying to protect her,” I said. “I just don’t think the way you’re going about it is for the best.”

  “If it would make you feel better to remove yourself from this situation, I understand. You can go home, and I’ll take it from here.”

  It felt like I’d just been slugged in the face, like all I’d done so far had been worth nothing. “Don’t talk down to me just because I’m giving you advice you don’t want to hear. I’m invested in this case.”

  “You’ve done plenty for my family already. If you stay, you’re putting yourself in even more danger. When I asked you to come here, I didn’t know more murders would follow.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right about leaving. It isn’t an option, so stop talking to me like it is.”

/>   “If it’s about the money—”

  “It isn’t.”

  He threw his hands in the air.

  “All right. I understand. What’s your next step, and what can I do to help?”

  “I need to speak to Tommy again. I want to find out what else he knows and confirm whether he had something to do with Caroline’s death.”

  “I want to believe he wasn’t responsible. If we can confirm it, maybe I should allow Grace to see him. Maybe it would help. She asks to call him every day, and I always say no, thinking that keeping her in the house and away from everyone is in her best interest. But without anything to distract her, I can see now how that’s a problem.”

  “She’s lucky to have you in her life. You’ve done a good job trying to keep your family together through this. Any idea how long you’ll be in the hospital?”

  “Until tomorrow, at least.”

  “Now that everything is out in the open, will you tell your father?” I asked.

  “I will, but it needs to be in my own way, when the time is right.”

  James’ cell phone rang, signaling the perfect time for me to make my exit, but as soon as the person on the other end of the line began talking, James’ facial expression soured. I was curious, so I stayed.

  When the call ended, I said, “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ll need to hold off on visiting Tommy Walker again.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  James ran a hand across his face. “I’ve just spoken to the police. Tommy’s mum called a few minutes ago. He’s missing.”

  The man popped open the trunk of his vintage Chevrolet Corvair, a car his grandfather had left to him ten years ago after he’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer. The man wanted to feel special, like his grandfather had left his precious car to him because of the special bond they shared. The truth was, the man’s father hadn’t wanted it, and given the man was one of only two grandchildren, the decision wasn’t a hard one to make. Once, the man’s father had even joked about his dad flipping a coin to decide which of his two grandkids would get the car, but since his grandfather was dead now, it was hard to know whether his father had been telling him the truth or not. Either way, the man appreciated the gesture and had taken superb care of the vintage classic. If his grandfather could see him now, he was sure he would have agreed he’d chosen the right grandkid to inherit it.

 

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