“I thought it best not to bring too much attention to the fact that PMO is investigating a scene already processed by the sheriff’s department.” Lani started for the backyard shed, expecting him to follow. He did.
“What happens if you find something?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“That guy in the picture… He was the one fucking my wife. Don’t deny it. My girls told me they’d seen him hurting their mother. If it hadn’t been for the deputy who came to the house that night, she might have died then instead of a few nights ago. He killed her, didn’t he? The man in the picture?”
What policeman? This was news to her. “When did that incident occur?”
“Christmas. The guy went off about Santa. The deputy made him go away.”
“What deputy? Did he have a badge or a name tag?” Not that the kids could read, but they could pick out a color, letter, and number.
He smacked his fingertips on his chest. “Why the fuck are you asking me? Your master gunnery sergeant sent me the pictures. The girls told him it was a nice man with a badge. Don’t you people talk?”
Pattison.
Lani mulled over her response, debating on how much information to give the man. “Calm down, Captain, I’m merely trying to ascertain I have the facts in a logical order. We’re still trying to put things together.”
“He’s your fucking boss, isn’t he? The guy who offed himself. I heard about it. You’ve got some nerve coming here. You’re trying to cover shit up.”
The information shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. It proved nothing was much of a secret in a community as small as this one, no matter how hard they’d tried to keep the cases under the radar. People talked.
“Trust me, Captain. I want to find this killer as much, if not more, than you do. I do my job the same as you. I search for the truth, even if I don’t much like what I find. Now I can look in your shed, or we can call the detective in charge—who clearly thinks it’s nothing.” Another nail in Pattison’s coffin. Lani hoped she’d find a few more in the shed. “What’ll it be?”
A sneer lifted his lip. He looked down his nose at her. “I should call your CO and report you.”
Lani tried not to laugh. “For what? Stepping over the line? Trespassing on the locals’ turf? Going outside my jurisdiction? None of which will help you know what’s in your shed.” Although all might help support her request for resignation. God, it was tempting to call Seaberg herself and let Whittaker make an official complaint.
Whittaker ground his teeth. The noise grated on Lani’s nerves. Then a tear trickled from beneath his sunglasses. He flicked it away and motioned toward the backyard. “Over there. I closed the door so nothing would get inside.”
Lani pulled some gloves from her kit as they walked through the wooden gate. “Was it locked?”
“Yeah, I had to use bolt cutters. I don’t know where the hell Gina put the keys. They’d been hanging on a hook inside the garage door. Hell, half the time we never locked it, just put the lock on and made it look like it was locked.”
“Tell me what you found.” Lani pulled out the small digital camera she kept in the kit. Nothing remarkable stood out so far, but she wasn’t taking chances. The brief rain had washed away Whittaker’s earlier footprints. The white shed was metal, double doors—a typical garden shed bolted to a cement slab.
“Blood.” To his credit, Whittaker allowed Lani to take the lead. He touched nothing. “Splattered and smeared. I didn’t take a close look. I called the detective right away. He gaffed me off, said it was rats. See for yourself.” He motioned to the shed.
Lani tucked the camera into the front pocket of her jeans and opened the doors. The shed was packed to the seams with garden tools, kids’ toys, and more power tools than a person would ever need with a yard so small. Built-in wooden shelves bowed under the weight of oil cans, brake fluid, antifreeze, fertilizer, and bug spray. Red liquid glistened over everything under one shelf. It had splashed against the wall and pooled on the cement floor. The source of the spill lay in a tub of used rags wedged into the corner—a busted can of bloodred paint.
Whittaker’s face turned nearly as red when he realized his mistake. “I’m-I’m so sorry. I can’t believe…”
Lani placed her hand on his biceps. “Under the circumstances, I understand completely. Panic and grief does crazy things to our minds. You’ve been through a lot. You’re a man. Grieving, angry, wronged. Pissed at the world and at yourself. You’re human and feeling helpless.”
He sank to the sandy ground outside the shed, dropped his head, and let his grief take control. “She fucked around on me,” he sobbed out. “Carried another man’s baby inside her. Now she’s dead, killed while my girls were in the next room, crying and scared, and all I can think about is that if she were alive, I’d kill her.”
Lani knelt beside him, wrapped her arms around him, and let him cry it out. It was where Greg, Jordan, and Juarez found them. No one said a word. They glanced into the shed and sat down on the ground next to them.
“I feel like my life has been a lie.” Whittaker doffed the sunglasses and palmed the tears from his bloodshot eyes.
“Your kids aren’t a lie,” Greg said.
“No, they aren’t. Thank God they weren’t hurt.” He huffed out a breath. “Where the hell was that deputy the second time around?”
“The second time?” Jordan asked.
“What…” Greg’s eyes turned cold, deadly. “From the photo I sent. He was here at Christmas.”
“Yeah, the girls said he made the man leave. The one who hurt Gina.”
Lani read the fuck on their faces. Greg would be kicking himself for months over this one. It wasn’t his fault the girls left out that detail. They were children, piecing together important information after a traumatic event.
“I need to see where she died,” Whittaker said.
“No,” Juarez said. “No one should have to see that.”
“My girls did. I want to know the nightmare that will haunt them the rest of their lives. I can’t help them if I don’t know.”
Greg patted his knee. “Then let’s go.” It’d give the men a chance for another look inside too.
Lani saw Juarez pull Jordan back and let Greg move ahead with Whittaker. “There’s no previous report on this house,” she heard him tell Jordan. “Pattison didn’t respond to the call through official channels.”
He also hadn’t bothered to share the information with anyone else. A domestic violence incident between Kenyon and Regina Whittaker would have helped set a precedent, seal Kenyon’s fate. If they’d known, they might have reached Kenyon before he’d taken his own life.
Jordan nodded his understanding, and the two went on.
Lani held back. She’d seen it once; that was enough. But the new info was enough to make her take a second look at the shed. If there had been anything in there, Whittaker’s call alerted Pattison to that possibility. What was to stop him from covering it up? The freshness of the spill suggested it was recent.
She put on new gloves and dug a little deeper, taking photos before and after she moved objects around. And there, shoved under a rolling metal tool cabinet, was a cell phone, fully charged. Lani snapped another picture, then reached for it.
Pain lanced through her skull. Starbursts lit her eyes. She grappled for a handhold too late. Paint and fluids squished beneath her cheek when she landed on the floor. The last thing she heard was the crackle of sand beneath a footstep, followed by Mita’s frantic barking.
Mita’s shrill, incessant barking pierced through the quiet inside the house. Her behavior was too much like the night before to ignore. Greg sprinted for the front door. Jordan and Juarez were at his heels, weapons drawn. Somewhere in the background, he heard Whittaker ask if he should call . He was outside before he heard the answer.
Mita jumped from the front seat to the back, frantic to get out of the car, snarling, barking, mad, and out of con
trol. Spittle covered the windows inside Lani’s car. It was clear the dog had seen something that had upset her, something at the opposite end of the house.
“Where’s Lani?” Jordan asked.
“Around back. I’ll go this way, you go the other; Juarez, take it from the back door.” Greg drew his weapon and ducked behind the bushes against the house, crouching low in the debris. A dark smudge scuffed the stucco under the dried leaves—blood where Kenyon had hidden, blood Pattison claimed not to have found. Greg scurried to the gate, eased it open, and crept inside.
Lani lay sprawled half in, half out of the shed. She struggled to get on her hands and knees but couldn’t manage to get them under her. Greg scanned the yard. Finding no one, he darted forward, skidding to a stop next to her.
“Hold on. Hold on. Easy.” His breath caught at the dark red splotch over one side of her face. Instantly he realized his mistake. It was paint, not blood. The breath he’d been holding whooshed out.
“Someone whacked me on the head.” She pressed her fingers to the base of her skull and winced.
“Found footprints running across the vacant lot behind the place,” Jordan said. “Looks like someone jumped the fence and took off.”
“Let’s go.” Juarez took off at a dead run, Jordan right behind.
Lani patted the floor, her fingers smearing the goo. “I found a cell phone. Where… Gone… My camera too.”
Greg helped her sit up.
“Here.” Whittaker pressed an ice pack against her head.
Greg kept the ice and eased her shoulders against the side of the shed. Panic raced his heart. He could feel the bump through the pack, or imagined he could. Paint and other crap from the floor covered her cheek, hair, and torso. He was half tempted to rip her filthy shirt off and give her his. He still might and damn the consequences.
“Mita. She was barking.”
He felt her pulse thrumming along her neck. Her words came out breathy. How long since she’d passed out? Would she do so again? He needed to get her to the hospital.
“We heard her too.” Greg tucked her under his arm. “She was going nuts like she did last night. The interior of your car is probably trashed.”
“She saw someone.”
“And I’d be willing to bet it’s the same someone who set her off last night.” He ran a roster of names in his head. Pattison was one of them, but was he the right one?
“Do I even want to know what happened last night?” Whittaker asked.
“No,” they muttered.
“The best place for you right now is with your girls,” Greg told him. As far away from all this as he could get.
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll be locking up the house on my way out. I appreciate you coming out. Looks like I was right after all.” He snorted. “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Lani struggled to sit on her own.
Greg held her gently in place. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“I have a roast in the oven,” she halfheartedly muttered.
“It’ll be fine. Besides, I like my meat well done.”
Lani drew a breath, shook her head, and winced. “I can’t even manage to come back with a smart-ass remark for that.”
“Good.” He patted her hip. “I’m going to carry you to the car.”
She pressed her hand to his heart. “Let me try to walk first.”
“Okay, I’ll be right here to catch you.”
Greg waited to make sure she had her footing, then grabbed her evidence kit and cupped her elbow. Each step was stronger, surer. He’d still feel better if she went to the hospital, but Lani was a big girl and wouldn’t be stupid.
“At least Mita’s quiet now,” she said.
The threat was gone. Greg wondered if Jordan and Juarez were having any luck.
Mita greeted them with tail a-wag and slapped a flurry of kisses on Lani’s chin when Greg opened the door before Lani could sit in the passenger seat.
“Good girl.” Lani brushed a shaky hand down the dog’s back. “Very good girl.”
Greg squatted down. “Lock the door and keep your weapon unholstered. I’m going to check on Jordan and Juarez.”
After she nodded, Greg kissed her forehead and trotted away.
Lani dug her fingers into Mita’s fur. The dog had commandeered her lap, and Lani was certain that was the only thing keeping her conscious. She’d closed her eyes against a blast of double vision. It did nothing to stop the dizziness. She should have let Greg carry her. Should have agreed to the hospital right away. As soon as he got back…
She couldn’t believe she’d been coldcocked. She’d been too enthralled with what she’d found to pay attention to anything else. She’d trusted the presence of the men inside the house to be all the protection she needed. Hell, she hadn’t thought she needed any protection at all. Now the phone and her camera were gone.
Mita shifted, her tail wagging. Greg had come back. Lani hoped he had good news. Her eyes weren’t so quick to open. She was so tired. Then a tap at the window pulled her back from the darkness.
Lani blinked into the daylight. The sun still played hide-and-seek with the clouds. She preferred that it hide. The light made it impossible to focus. It wasn’t Greg. Who…
“Nerine?”
The woman stood beside the car, clutching the edges of her jacket closed. A laptop strap was slung over one shoulder.
“Hi, Lani. Mind if I sit with you? It’s freezing out here.”
Lani clicked the locks open, and Nerine slipped into the backseat.
Pain shot through Lani’s head when she turned around to face her. She motioned Mita over to the driver’s seat and kept her gun pointed in Nerine’s direction, out of sight behind the seat. She’d been caught unaware before. Not again.
“Are you all right? We’ve been concerned.”
No thread of humor came through Nerine’s attempt at a laugh. “Why would you be?”
“Greg and Jordan went to your house. They found the bed.”
“Well, there is that.” Her gaze clouded over. “I was very upset.”
“Did you take a gun from the safe, Nerine?”
“I did. It’s in my purse. In my car.” Parked behind Lani’s. “In the end, I couldn’t cross that particular line.”
Meaning she’d crossed others?
“So this is where it happened.” Her gaze slid to the Whittaker house. “I wanted to see. Imagine my surprise when I saw you here. Guess it was fate. So many lives ruined because of one man. Who else is here?”
“Greg, Jordan, and Detective Juarez are inside looking around one last time.” Nerine didn’t need to know the three were in foot pursuit across the desert.
“I hope they find something useful.” Nerine patted the laptop case. “You’ll find other things in here as well. It’s Mick’s laptop. His cell phone too.”
“You had them all along?” Lani’s stomach roiled. The effect of keeping herself turned in the seat was taking its toll. Nerine’s image doubled.
“I got them this morning. I thought I could keep everyone distracted enough while I did what I’d planned to do.”
“Which was?”
She sniffed and looked out the window. “Lie in wait. Confront the man responsible. I thought if Greg and Special Agent Beck wanted to see evidence, he would demand to be there too. I could break in to his place and… The reality of the act was so much more than I imagined. He’s the tip of the iceberg if what I’m finding on this is true.” She brushed her hand over the laptop. “Mick deserved death. No doubt in my mind. But so does he. I’ve never been more ashamed.”
“How… What…” Lani couldn’t think straight enough to ask questions.
“Mick kept his special laptop hidden under his filthy workout clothes. He called me Friday night to tell me he’d really fucked up. Judging from the echo in the room and how drunk he was, it wasn’t difficult to figure out where he dropped his phone. I found it behind the toilet in the kids’ bathroom
. I got the answer I was looking for. It was the bonus material I could have lived without.”
The car tilted around Lani. She wedged her forearm into the seat to keep upright. “And that was?”
“The name of Mick’s lover. The man who ruined all our lives. Ron Pattison.” Her face crumpled with her tears. Or was Lani’s messed-up mind playing tricks on her?
“You’ll figure out the rest yourself. I’m too ashamed to talk about it.” She laughed. “And I thought believing he was gay was hard. That’s a sunny day on the beach compared to… Good-bye, Lani. You’ve always been a good friend. Remember, there’s nothing you could have done to fix this. Mick sealed his fate long ago.” She pushed the door open and left. The implication in her words chilled Lani. She couldn’t let Nerine go in her state of mind.
Lani scrambled to chase after her. One step out of the car tumbled her onto the sidewalk. She felt like she was at sea, everything rolled around her. She faded in and out of awareness. Mita’s bark cut through the fog. Shrill, warning, frantic. Danger!
Footsteps crunched on the sand. The handgun was still clutched in her grip. Lani peeled her eyes open to see skinny, jean-clad legs and Nikes. A man, bending over into the backseat of her car. Mita’s barks turned to snarls as she launched herself at the invader.
A man howled and jerked back, the laptop strap in one hand, Mita clamped down on the other. He swung the case around to hit her.
“Halt!” Lani’s shout sent shards of pain through her head.
Lieutenant Cornwall slung the laptop in one direction, Mita in the other. Blood poured from his right hand. Mita latched onto his left forearm. He screamed and fumbled for the weapon at his back. Lani rolled to her side. The world rolled with her. Two of everything constantly moving.
She heard Mita yelp. Saw the handgun pointed her way. Heard words she couldn’t decipher. Her arm refused to lift. Too heavy. Too numb. She aimed through the fog, trying to find a true target.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this, Captain.” Cornwall’s words came out in slow motion.
Lani stared down the barrel of his revolver. The sound of a gunshot split through the pain in her head. Had she fired or him? Her. She could smell the powder. Miss or hit?
Yellow Ribbons Page 19
