by B. J Daniels
He hadn’t gone far on the old gravel pit road when his flashlight picked up the glint of chrome ahead. His heart began to beat harder.
A car was parked behind a small pile of gravel. Approaching the car, Walker tried the driver’s-side door. It swung open. He shone the flashlight beam into the car. The registration was in a plastic sleeve on the back side of the driver’s visor.
Walker read the name—Gillian Sanders—and let out an oath.
NASH TOOK HIS WIFE’S HANDS in his. “Lucinda, I need you to tell me everything. Why did Jonathan Fairbanks come to the house the other night when he thought I was gone?”
She sighed. “Well, the problem is I made this deal with him that I would take the money and leave town, but that was before you and I got involved. He’s really upset that I stayed, let alone married the chief of police. When he heard you were going to Pilot’s Cove, he insisted on seeing me.”
Nash felt his blood boil. “Did Jonathan Fairbanks threaten you?”
“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Luci.” He dragged her into his arms. “You should have come to me right away with this.” He’d known something was wrong and he’d been right. It just hadn’t been what he’d thought. Not in a million years.
He drew back to look into her eyes. He’d been taken with her the first time he saw her, even though she was years too young for him. But there was something about her. A sweetness along with a street-wise strength that had drawn him to her and made him convince himself that age didn’t matter.
“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m telling you the truth.”
“Honey, twenty-five thousand dollars is a lot of money and I know Jonathan Fairbanks. He’s too smart to give money to a blackmailer, even if you had tangible incriminating evidence against him rather than his brother. What’s to keep you from bleeding him dry?” He looked at his wife’s expression. “Don’t tell me you tried to blackmail him again the other night.”
“No, no, no,” she said quickly. “I told you I’ve changed. I handled it myself, but I knew I had to tell you the truth.”
Her story didn’t make sense and yet for some unknown reason, he did believe her. The question was: why had Jonathan paid the blackmail? And what the hell was he going to do about the man? He knew what he wanted to do.
“Rob, there’s more I need to tell you,” she said in a tentative whisper.
He looked at his wife, fear in his heart.
“I’m pregnant with your baby.” She grinned through tears as she put both hands over her belly. Her grin faded when he only stared at her, too shocked to speak. “I was hoping you’d be happy about this.”
A baby. He’d never dreamed he would have children, having never married until so late in life.
Lucinda started to cry. “If you aren’t happy about the baby—”
“Happy?” He let out a whoop, grabbed her and swung her around. “Happy? Lucinda, are you kidding?” He couldn’t quit laughing as he put her down quickly and dropped to his knees in front of her. “The baby’s all right?”
She nodded, still crying.
“Our baby?” he asked.
She grinned. “Our baby.”
He pressed his face to her belly and kissed the slight mound.
“I really want this baby with you, Rob.” She brushed his hair back and bent to kiss his forehead.
He looked up at her. God help him. “All I care about now is you and our baby.” He would protect her any way he had to.
“I love you, Rob, and I want this baby more than anything. You have to believe that.”
He looked into her eyes and made himself a promise that if he were ever to believe anything, it would be that one thing.
“Yes,” he said as he hugged her to him. “I believe you. But maybe you’d better tell me exactly how you handled things with Fairbanks?”
“I told him I had more evidence against his brother in a safety-deposit box and if anything happened to me, you had the key.” She shrugged.
“So you lied?”
“About the safety deposit box and you having the key.”
“Wait a minute. You are still in possession of items from Jack Fairbanks’s stolen car?”
She nodded and went over to her top drawer, dug in the back and brought out a box filled with photos, letters, cards from past birthdays and Christmases. The woman saved everything. She sorted through it until she found a sealed plastic bag. She handed it to him.
“Leon suggested putting it in a plastic bag,” she said.
“That Leon. Smart boy.” Nash felt a start as he stared down at what appeared to be the deceased Jack Fairbanks’s car registration. “I thought you gave this to Jonathan when he gave you the money?”
“I gave him the proof of insurance and some other papers,” she said matter-of-factly. “So I’m thinking we should just throw away the car registration?”
Nash let out a curse as he looked closer at the registration. “Damn, Lucinda, this has got blood all over it.”
She nodded and shrugged. “So did the other papers I gave him.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ANNA WAS MORE THAN relieved when she heard the door to her room open.
“Mr. Collins,” Dr. Brubaker said from the doorway. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. My patient needs her rest.”
Marc didn’t look as if he was finished, but he stormed out, shoving past the doctor.
“Are you all right?” the doctor asked, coming to her bedside. “I’m sorry, I had to leave the hospital. I should have come back sooner.”
His concern brought tears to her eyes.
She shook her head in answer.
He took her hand and sat down as she fought to control the pain. Tyler was gone. Now so was Gillian. Her chest heaved and her whole body began to rack with silent sobs.
She cried for the loss of her friend until she’d exhausted her tears. Dr. Brubaker handed her the box of tissues as she wiped her tears.
“I didn’t kill Gillian,” she said when she could finally speak.
He seemed surprised by her bluntness. “I never thought you did.” He actually sounded as if he meant it.
“You might be the only person in town who believes me.”
“She was a good friend?” he asked.
“My best since college.” Anna smiled through her tears, warmed by her memories. “Gillian was the kind of person who, if you were her friend, would fight your battles for you. She wouldn’t quit on you. Never. It wasn’t in her nature. I always knew I could depend on her. Since I came out of the coma, Gillian has been the only sane, reliable constant in my life.”
He nodded.
“I know what you’re thinking. Marc claims he and Gillian had an affair. Well, I know them both. If it happened, it was only once and I can tell you that Marc caught Gillian at her lowest point. I wouldn’t have blamed Gillian in any case.”
Dr. Brubaker gave her hand a light squeeze before he withdrew. “I can’t see you hurting anyone. Especially a good friend.”
“Do you have any idea how much that means to me?” Tears stung her eyes again. “Do you have children?” She could see him with grandchildren on his lap. He was the kind of grandfather who would read with them and share the cinnamon candies he seemed to love so.
He shook his head. “Gladys couldn’t conceive and by the time we tried to adopt, we were too old. But our house was always full of children. Gladys loved to bake. She kept the cookie jar stocked.” His eyes filmed over with tears and Anna’s heart broke at his loss. He would have made a wonderful grandfather.
“How long has Gladys been gone?”
He smiled. “Too long.” He rose and changed the subject. “I’m glad to see that your fever had left and your lungs sound better. You do realize I can’t keep you in the hospital much longer.”
She knew what he was saying. Once she was released, there was a strong chance she would be arrested.
“Do yo
u know a good lawyer?” she asked.
“Don’t you have someone you can call in Seattle?”
She shook her head. “Isn’t there one in Shadow Lake?”
“I would think you’d want the best criminal attorney money could buy.”
“I’m hoping that won’t be necessary. Anyway, the last thing I want is to look as if I need the best criminal attorney money can buy. I’d feel more comfortable just getting some advice from a local attorney.”
He appeared skeptical. “Well, there is one lawyer in town. But I can tell you right now Billy Blake’s never been involved in a case like this one and he’s Officer Walker’s good friend.”
CHIEF ROB NASH SHUT OFF both the house phone and his cell. He needed this time with his wife to adjust to the fact that he was going to be a father.
He felt like a teenager. A man his age having a baby. One minute he thought himself the biggest fool ever. The next he was thanking God. A baby.
Other men his age had grandchildren.
He looked over at Lucinda. They’d spent the evening talking about baby names. If it was a boy, she wanted to name him Robert Nash, Jr. If it was a girl, Lucinda wanted to name her April.
“You know, like the month. This month,” she’d said. “The happiest month of my life.”
How could Nash argue with that?
Now Lucinda was napping, a half smile on her pretty face. He brushed a strand of blond hair back from her temple. He couldn’t have loved her more than he did at this moment. People would talk. A man his age with a young wife and now a baby. No one would believe it was his baby.
He smiled. Let them talk. Let them speculate until the cows came home. He didn’t care. He was happy. The thought surprised him. He’d pretty much known that Lucinda had married him for all the wrong reasons, but it hadn’t worried him. At least that’s what he’d told himself.
Obviously, he’d been suspicious or he wouldn’t have set her up the other night. His heart pounded as he remembered wanting to kill her and Fairbanks. Not that he didn’t still want to kill Fairbanks. But thank God he hadn’t gone off halfcocked and done something stupid and horribly tragic.
Getting up carefully from the bed not to wake her, he collected his clothes, dressed and left a note for Lucinda in case she stirred before he returned.
He had a lot on his mind. Jonathan Fairbanks, for one. Nash wasn’t sure what to do about him, but he took the clear plastic with Lucinda’s “blackmail” document with him as he left the house.
He’d been shaken ever since he’d seen Jack Fairbanks’s bloody car registration. Just having it in his possession scared him. It incriminated the hell out of his wife as part of a car-theft ring—or worse. The blood on the registration definitely had him thinking “or worse.”
As he drove out of town, he knew what he had to do with the plastic bag containing the evidence. He was a cop. But he was also a husband with a wife who was having his baby.
When he’d checked his messages on his cell, he’d seen that Walker had called four times, each time leaving a message for Nash to call at once. He could only assume that Walker was still working the Anna Collins case even though Nash had told him to leave it be and let the state boys handle it.
Nash reminded himself that he still hadn’t called the state investigative unit. The problem was he feared what would come up during the investigation if he called in the state patrol. He’d handled a murder early on in his career. No reason he couldn’t handle this one. He could keep it low profile. He would make sure the Fairbanks weren’t involved.
He thought about his meeting just that morning with Ruth Fairbanks, their discussion of Anna Collins and Ruth’s request to have Jack’s body exhumed.
Was it possible Jack was alive? Nash glanced over at the plastic bag sitting on the seat. That would mean that Jack had faked his death. If so, Nash had to wonder if it had something to do with what was in this plastic bag.
Nash couldn’t let himself think too long about whose blood might be on the papers. Or how it had gotten there.
The bag and its contents represented a threat to Nash’s wife and baby, to his future and his family’s. That’s all he let himself think about as he drove out of the town as the early evening light began to fade.
A few miles out of town, he pulled off onto one of the pine-tree-lined narrow roads that led to the lake. From the lack of tracks in the wet earth, he knew he would be alone.
Parking at the edge of the water in the dense pines, he cut the engine, picked up the plastic bag and got out. This was a favorite spot for summer keggers. Teens had been holding beer-drinking parties here since he was a teen himself.
The used fire pit was filled with ashes, charred beer cans and several logs that hadn’t burned all the way through. Nash bent down and moved one of the logs aside to get to a dry spot. He placed the plastic bag and its bloody contents beside the log and took out the matches he’d borrowed from the kitchen.
For a moment he hesitated. Never in his life had he destroyed evidence. But then never in his life had he thought he’d be a father.
He struck a match, blocking the slight breeze coming off the lake to keep the flame alive as it touched the plastic bag.
The plastic shriveled back from the heat, wrinkling and blackening. The soiled dry paper of the registration caught fire in a heartbeat and burned to ashes almost as fast. Nash didn’t have a chance to change his mind. He stayed crouched next to the fire pit until nothing lingered but his disappointment in himself.
One thing was clear. He wasn’t going to be able to call in the state CID. Not as long as there was even a chance the Fairbankses were somehow involved and it might lead back to Lucinda.
BILLY BLAKE DIDN’T LOOK MUCH like a lawyer when he showed up the next morning.
He came into Anna’s hospital room wearing a fishing vest and waders, grinning as he described to Dr. Brubaker a fish that got away.
“I’m telling you it was a good two feet long,” he said, holding his hands at least three feet apart.
Anna watched the two, the thirty-something Billy Blake grinning, his face sunburned around squint lines, and the doctor laughing in that easy way of his. She suspected that Billy was one of the boys that the doctor’s wife, Gladys, had plied with cookies.
Anna wanted to stay in this moment, listening to their good-natured banter and Dr. Brubaker’s laughter.
“Why is it that the big ones you catch, Billy, always manage to get away?” the doc joked.
“I was planning to throw this one back anyway. You know me, catch and release Blake.”
“I’ve never known you to throw back a big fish without showing it off at the Watering Hole first, Billy Blake,” the doctor said.
“See how he is?” Billy said to her as he dragged off his fishing hat. Several large flies were pinned to the brim along with a half-dozen lures that twinkled and jingled as he tossed the hat aside and turned his grin on her.
“William Blake, attorney, at your service,” he said holding out his hand. “Call me Billy. Everybody does.”
His hand was warm and dry, deeply tanned up to his wrist, making her suspect he spent most of his time fishing.
“Anna,” she said, adding, “Collins, I guess.” His eyes were a deep warm brown.
Doc excused himself, telling Anna she was in good hands.
Billy Blake instantly turned serious. “Doc told you I haven’t had much opportunity in Shadow Lake to defend anyone in a murder trial, but I can recommend several good criminal lawyers from the Seattle area.”
“I don’t want to hire a high-profile lawyer. It will only make it appear I need one.”
He laughed. “That’s one way to look at it. Of course, the other is that those lawyers get the big bucks because they’re good and I’ve got to tell you, I think you do need a lawyer.”
“Then it’s a good thing I called you.”
Billy shook his head, eyeing her with a smile. “I’ll be happy to give you legal advice, but I can’t let y
ou retain me. I’m close friends with the police officer who’s investigating your case. It’s too fine a line for me to walk. But I’m full of advice and anything you tell me, of course, would be confidential.”
“Okay, I’ll take any advice you can give me.”
“Then I guess you’d better fill me in.”
She told him everything she could remember, along with what Officer Walker, her friend Mary Ellen and finally Marc had told her.
He listened, nodding occasionally, taking no notes.
“I want to cooperate with the police,” she said in conclusion. “I have nothing to hide.” At least she prayed she didn’t. “I want to help them find Gillian’s killer.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “Nice attitude. I commend you on it. But unless you want to spend the rest of your life behind bars, I’d suggest we consider some other options. Did you give Officer Walker permission to look in your car? Open the trunk?”
“No.”
“Illegal search. Could maybe keep that evidence from being allowed during the trial, but believe me the prosecution will find a way around it.”
“Trial?” Her voice sounded unusually high. “You don’t really think I’ll be arrested and stand trial? I didn’t kill Gillian.”
“Has Officer Walker told you how Gillian was killed?”
“No, but he was asking about my gun so I just assumed…”
Billy nodded. “If the victim was killed with your gun and your prints are on it, then yeah, you’ll be arrested. So where is your gun?”
“I don’t know.”
“Last seen?”
She hesitated. “Marc said I took it with me when I left the house to go see Gillian.”
Billy winced. “If you weren’t angry with Gillian, why take your gun?”
She shook her head. “I get the feeling that I thought I might need the thirty-eight to protect myself. It doesn’t look good, does it?”
“Motive, opportunity and a good possibly your gun was the murder weapon with your fingerprints on it? No, it doesn’t look good.”
“But we don’t know that my gun is the murder weapon, right?”
