She went back to the store and spent the next half hour straightening out the mess Billy had made in only fifteen minutes. When she couldn’t think of anything else to do, she poured herself another cup of coffee, told Billy she was going to the park for some fresh air, and headed out the back door to her car.
She chewed on her lip as she drove. She hadn’t actually lied to Detective Campbell. Everything she’d said was true. It was the things she’d omitted that would have caused him to question her sanity.
Twice on the short drive she almost turned back, but she gripped the wheel and kept driving. Avoidance wasn’t the answer. She couldn’t live this way any longer. Always in limbo, never knowing for certain. She’d sworn she’d never do this again, but she had to find out what had happened.
In less than ten minutes she sat at her usual spot in the park. She tilted her face to the sun. In a couple of months it would be too hot to enjoy, but for now, its rays felt soft and the breeze refreshing. Birds and squirrels chirped and chattered while going about their daily business. Traffic sounds were far enough away that she could ignore them.
She took a deep breath and called, her voice shaky. “I’m waiting, Heather, but not for long. If you want to talk to me, you better come out.”
For one long moment, she let herself believe Heather wouldn’t show, that she was finally safe.
As usual, Heather’s perfume arrived before she did. “You don’t have to be so prissy about it. You haven’t talked to me in months, and now you think I should appear the minute you decide to show up.” Heather sat beside her on the table, tossing her long blond hair and showing off a flawless profile, hidden beneath heavy makeup. Her white linen outfit hugged her hourglass figure and the stones on her sandals matched the colors in her low-cut blouse.
“What’re you drinking? Is that a Coke?” Heather asked.
“No, it’s coffee.”
“I used to like Coke. Why don’t you drink it anymore? I remember the way it fizzed in my mouth. Is the coffee hot? Does it smell good?” Heather leaned over, as if inhaling the aroma.
“Yeah. It smells good.” Although, your perfume drowns it out. “It has special flavoring, hazelnut.”
“What’s that?”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s not what we need to talk about.” Jillian tossed the cup in a trashcan near the table and forced herself to remain calm. “Did you do something with Daddy’s gun?”
“What could I have done to Daddy’s gun? I hate guns.”
“You might hate guns, but you love causing trouble. Besides, you wouldn’t do anything yourself, that’s not your style. You like to whisper things in someone’s ear and let them do your dirty work for you.”
Heather shifted and raised her chin even higher. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I did warn you bad things would happen if you ignored me.”
“So innocent people had to pay the price?” Jillian’s heart raced, but she forced herself to speak calmly. If she made Heather angry, she’d never get the answers she searched for.
“They weren’t innocent. They were both druggies. He was a bum who lived under the freeway. She came into our house to shoot up. She dressed awful and acted like a tramp. Mama wouldn’t have liked them at all.”
Two people? That must be what Detective Campbell tried to keep secret. It was worse than she thought. Her stomach clenched and bile started up her throat. “How dare you use Mama to justify something like this?”
Jillian couldn’t sit still. She popped up and paced in front of the bench, her heart hammering. “You told me kids were using our old house to do drugs, so I had the police run them out. That girl wasn’t bothering you anymore.”
“I couldn’t stand her.” Heather’s face contorted in anger. “She was cheap and tacky and went in my room and made fun of my trophies.”
“So you killed her?” Jillian’s voice quivered and her head reeled. She grabbed the edge of the table for support.
“Stop saying that. I didn’t kill her. I couldn’t kill anyone. I just don’t like druggies and sometimes bad things happen to them.”
“Look, I’ll go by the house and if there’s anything of yours, I’ll put it in storage where it’ll be safe. If bums or druggies start using the house again, tell me, and I’ll take care of it. But you can’t hurt people just because you don’t like the way they dress.”
“I never said I hurt them. Besides, how am I supposed to tell you if you won’t talk to me? I like my things where they are. I don’t want you to move them.” Heather crossed her arms and turned her head away.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to get a message to me. You always have.”
Heather was never going to admit anything, and maybe she was better off not knowing. The hints Heather had dropped today were almost more than she could handle.
“I’ve got to go back to work. Try not to do anything else that sends the police to my door.” Like anything she said would stop Heather from doing exactly what she wanted.
“You think you’re so important because you have a job. You’re no better than I am.”
If I’m not, I might as well give up now. Jillian picked up her car keys and started toward the parking lot. “Goodbye, Heather,” she said over her shoulder.
She didn’t start shaking until she was back at the store.
Billy didn’t like it when Jillian left the store. When she went upstairs and left him in charge, he knew he was helping her, giving her time to rest. He liked the feeling of responsibility, but felt safe because she was close by if a problem came up. When she left the store entirely, he began to get nervous. What if something happened he couldn’t handle? Plenty of rough characters came into the store and Jillian was the only one who could manage them. He paced, constantly watching the front window and chewing on his lower lip.
The tension left his shoulders when her car pulled into the lot. After several minutes, she still hadn’t gotten out and Billy gnawed on his thumbnail. Don’t let it be as bad as last time. He didn’t know what happened when she went to the park, but she always came back upset.
He’d followed her once, locking the store and putting up the Closed sign. He got close enough to hear her voice, but not to understand her words. She sounded angry, but who was she angry with? He hadn’t seen anyone else. They must have been hiding in the woods.
If he knew who it was, maybe he could help.
When she finally came in, he looked up casually. “Hey, J. R., everything okay?”
“Sure. I’m going to run upstairs for a minute, but I’ll be right back. Everything okay here?”
“Fine. No problems. Take your time.” He wanted to help, but he felt so useless. And after everything she’d done for him.
He’d have to go to the park himself. Maybe once he got there, he could figure out what to do. Shit, if he couldn’t handle some of the customers, how was he going to manage someone who frightened J.R.?
Adam didn’t make it back to the office until late afternoon. He’d planned it that way. He didn’t want to call Records until after Mai left for the day. What was an extra hour when it made his life simpler?
“Could you get me everything you have on Jillian Rose Whitmeyer, a white female, approximately five ten or eleven, early thirties, brown and brown. Also, how do I find out who was working the front desk on a certain date?”
“I can get that information for you.” The voice on the other end of the line was smooth and pleasant. Adam didn’t know who it was, but it wasn’t Mai, and that’s all that counted. He rattled off the date and time.
He had the information on the desk sergeant in less than half-an-hour. The info on Jillian took a bit longer. Both reports were unsettling. The desk sergeant on duty was Calvin Marshall, a man he’d known and disliked for twelve years or more.
The sheet on Jillian was even more disturbing. Not for what it said, but for what it didn’t say. Large chunks of time were missing or unaccounted for. Her schooling was confusing at best, and her work hi
story wasn’t exactly stellar. In his experience that meant drugs, with or without a record.
Disappointment surged through him. If she was into drugs, she now had two tie-ins with this case. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Not the news he’d been hoping for. First things first. Follow the gun, and then worry about the next step.
At least he had an excuse to put off confronting Sergeant Marshall. It was time to go home and give Rover his shot.
With Rover fed, dinner in the microwave, and a beer in hand, Adam sat on the back deck watching the last of the sunset. The aroma of steaks on the grill drifted across the fence like morning fog.
The house was a run-down Craftsman he’d picked up for a song before the area known as The Heights began its gentrification. He’d done most of the remodeling himself, only hiring out jobs too big or too complicated to do on his own.
His ex-wife had fought for the house in the divorce but she was only using it for leverage.
She never realized the satisfaction he got from being surrounded by things he’d built himself meant more to him than the stock certificates and savings she’d demanded. Three years later, he’d paid off all her debts and was solvent again. If he never heard of the Home Shopping Network again or saw another UPS truck in front of his house, it would be fine with him.
He spotted the empty bird-feeder on the far side of the lawn. The damn squirrels had been at it again. No matter what he tried, they got the better of him in only a few hours. If he couldn’t out-think an animal that was just a rat with a bushy tail, how could he hope to out-think Calvin Marshall, who was basically a rat with a badge and thirty-plus years’ experience?
Marshall hadn’t been his training officer, but they’d crossed paths plenty in those days. Marshall cut every corner he could find and bent every rule until it called uncle. Adam never saw him actually break one, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t done it. With eighteen months to go until he had his thirty, Marshall made desk sergeant. Then he surprised everyone by refusing to retire.
“What do I have to go home to?” he’d said. “You guys are my family. I’ll stay here another couple of years and keep an eye on you. See that you don’t get into trouble.” It sounded fishy then and downright rancid now. If Marshall had something going on, the whole department would smell. Hard Luck would want to report it to Internal Affairs for investigation, but if they found something, the entire force would suffer. Adam couldn’t let that happen.
The microwave dinged, and he headed inside to his beef enchilada dinner. Rover, finished with his own meal, came over to inspect Adam’s.
“What’s up with you, cat? You used to at least pretend to keep the squirrels off the feeder. If I’m gonna spend this much on your medication, you’ve gotta to do your part.”
He reached over to scratch the cat behind his ear. “Squirrels are bad enough, but if I find a rat in my garage, you’ll be out on your fat, furry keister. I don’t care how old and sick you are.”
Rover twitched his tail but didn’t answer.
Adam took his dinner and a fresh beer out to the deck. He thought about Marshall for as long as he could stand it. Then he thought about Jillian for a while.
He went to bed with a smile, and a warm feeling that went all the way down.
The apartment was dark. The moon shining through the open curtains provided the only light. Jillian sat at her dresser, hairbrush in hand, not moving. The thought of Detective Campbell’s soft eyes and unruly hair made her smile, but only for a moment. How much should she tell? She knew from painful experience what happened if she said too much.
Had her attempt to declare her independence from Heather resulted in the deaths of two people? Or did the fact that they were drug addicts put them in harm’s way? Heather hadn’t admitted to anything, so it might be a coincidence.
She slammed her hands on the dresser and the brush split with a resounding crack. Even if she told everything she knew, even if someone actually believed her, what good would it do? No one could do anything about it.
That wasn’t completely true. She couldn’t change the past, but she might be able to prevent anything else from happening by giving in to all Heather’s demands. But at what cost to herself? Besides, Heather wasn’t trustworthy. Whatever she agreed to now, Heather would always demand more, until Jillian had nothing left to give, and Heather completely took over. Who knew how much damage Heather could do once she had a solid body? Jillian was at a loss as to what she should do, and there wasn’t a soul she could talk to about it.
“No way, Heather,” she finally said, as if saying it aloud gave it more force. “Do your worst. I’m not giving in this time. I’m not talking to you or sharing my life with you. You’re on your own.” If she could out-last her, maybe Heather would finally give up and move on to the next realm, whatever that was.
She fell into bed, exhausted, and tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing, the best thing for everybody.
Billy couldn’t check out the park during the day. He was needed at the store. That didn’t mean he couldn’t check it out at night. Someone was blackmailing Jillian. That was the only explanation. Probably about her past. But she talked about it with anyone who was interested, so how she could be blackmailed?
Maybe someone from the Mafia was threatening her, trying to make her sell guns illegally. He’d seen that in a movie once.
His apartment was in Conroe, about fifteen minutes north of Jillian’s on I-45, but across the county line. It was another five minutes to the park, and he got there about ten o’clock.
“Hello.” His voice cracked, so he started again. “Hello, is anybody there?” His heart hammered so loud he wasn’t sure he could hear an answer.
If only he were smarter, braver, he might know what to do. She’d done so much to help him. She was the only person willing to give him a second chance. Without her encouragement, he’d have slipped back into his old life by now. He had to help her, even if the park did scare him at night.
There weren’t any lights around and he’d forgotten his flashlight so he left his headlights on. They lit up the path, but made the rest of the park even darker. Now he couldn’t see anything. Another bonehead mistake.
He sat on the table where he’d watched her talking to someone he couldn’t see, unsure what to do next. A twig snapped nearby, and he almost wet his pants. The mosquitoes swarmed over him in an instant. Why hadn’t he thought to bring repellent? He was so dumb.
The gun dug into his thigh. Shifting his weight, he pulled the weapon out of his pocket and carefully set it on the table beside him. Now he could reach it quicker. He’d never be allowed a concealed weapon permit, but Jillian had insisted he take the course anyway, so he’d know what he was talking about with the customers. It was a tough course, but he could have passed it with Jillian’s coaching. He called her J. R. at work, that was more professional, but he refused to call her J. R. in private.
She couldn’t sell him a gun, not with his record, but that hadn’t stopped him. Conroe might be Houston’s ugly stepsister, but he knew where to find things. One drag down Main Street, and he could score anything he wanted. He wasn’t about to sit in the park unarmed. Blackmailers, drug dealers, or Mafia thugs could be anywhere.
The air moved against his face, and for a moment the stench of rotting leaves and garbage was replaced by something heavy and sweet. He sat up straight and glanced around. No one was there. He was always imagining things. Maybe he was the problem. Jillian spent so much time correcting his mistakes she didn’t have time to take care of her own problems. He hadn’t thought of that before. Without him around, she’d be better off.
He shook off the thought and called out again. “Is anyone here? I want to talk to you.” No one answered. The crickets stopped for a moment, but started again as soon as his voice faded away.
Of course no one was there. What did he think, that Mafia hit men just hung around the park waiting for someone to show up? This wasn’t going to tell him how to
help Jillian.
“You’re an idiot, Billy. What makes you think you could solve a problem Jillian can’t solve?” The voice in his head started again. “You know the one thing you can do to help her most. That’s why you came out here, isn’t it?”
He clamped his hands over his ears, trying to shut out the voice. “That’s not it. I’m going to find the people who’re hurting her.”
“You’re the only one who’s hurting her, and you know it.” The voice was everywhere. Closing his ears didn’t help. “Every time she leaves you alone, you screw up and it costs her time and money.” The voice sounded a little like Jillian, only meaner.
Suddenly Billy remembered the mistake he’d made with the cash register that afternoon. It took Jillian a long time to straighten it out. At least he hadn’t lost any money. Last time he got mixed up on the change, it cost her $20. He tried to pay her back out of his salary, but she wouldn’t take it. Instead she got angry with the customer who tricked him.
She practically threw the guy out, yelling, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, pulling a stunt like that in my store. You’re not welcome here anymore. Take your business elsewhere. I don’t care how much you spent last year, I won’t be around someone I can’t trust.” Instead of costing her $20, he cost her a steady customer. Still, it was nice of her to say she trusted him.
He was her biggest problem. That’s why she’d come to the park, because she was upset with him and didn’t want to show it. There wasn’t any blackmailer.
“You’re so stupid, you don’t even know when you’re being stupid,” the voice said. “Why don’t you do everybody a favor and quit taking up room on the planet? You know sooner or later you’ll go back to doing drugs. You’ve already come close several times. Think how disappointed she’ll be then.”
The Secrets on Forest Bend Page 3
