Random Acts of Murder: A Holly Anna Paladin Mystery, Book 1 (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries)

by Christy Barritt

  “Beats me.”

  I needed to refresh my memory on Roman history. This wasn’t the time, though. “So, this Caligula is a gang leader, essentially?”

  He glanced from side to side. “I could get into trouble for telling you this.”

  “No one’s listening, Little T, except for me.”

  He swallowed hard, and I feared he’d clam up. Instead, he blurted, “All the drugs go through him. He’s loaded, and he’s got a whole army of dealers who do his bidding for him. He’s the one who came up with Cena. He created it, he makes it, he sells it.”

  “Wow. And you don’t know who he is? If you know, maybe the police can—”

  “You’re on the popo’s side?”

  I raised my hands. “I didn’t say I was on anyone’s side. I’m on the side of justice. If someone is killing people, he needs to be behind bars.”

  “I only started talking to you because I thought I could trust you.”

  “You can trust me, Little T. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “Well, no one knows who he is. He has people that do his bidding for him. All I know is that I need to stay away. And, if you’re smart, you will, too.”

  ***

  After the kids had cleared out, I stuck around for a few minutes to talk to Abraham, the director. I found him in the game area putting away the Ping-Pong paddles and balls. He was in his midthirties with thin, dark brown hair and a pudgy stomach. He’d been a high school basketball player at one time, but middle age had apparently gotten the best of him. Still, the kids here liked him and trusted him.

  He looked up when I trudged into the room. “Holly. What are you still doing here?”

  I paused by the foosball table and propped my hip there. “Just wanted to check in. How are things going here?”

  He smiled wearily, latching the box where he kept the sports equipment. “You doing the social worker thing?”

  I shook my head. “Just the friend thing.”

  He sighed and straightened, exhaustion showing in the circles under his eyes. “Overall, we’re doing fine. I wish I could concentrate just on running the center and not on trying to raise funds for it and doing all the paperwork. I guess that comes with the territory, though.”

  He began straightening chairs against the wall as we spoke. I knew I should help, but he wasn’t the only one feeling exhausted. I needed to up my vitamin intake or something. I hoped my weariness wasn’t a sign of the cancer’s progress.

  I crossed my arms, hoping to sound more casual than I felt. “I know this might sound kind of strange, but have you noticed anything unusual about the kids lately?”

  He threw me a curious look. “Not especially. Why do you ask?”

  I shook my head again. “I’m just curious. You know, with everything that’s been happening around town lately and all.”

  “I know. Those murders are pretty crazy, aren’t they? I mean, what kind of freak cleans up before murdering someone?”

  I nodded, hoping my cheeks didn’t heat and that I didn’t give any other telltale sign of my involvement. “Exactly. Have you ever heard of Caligula?”

  He shook his head. “The Roman emperor?”

  “No, a gang leader who goes by the same name.”

  “I can’t say I have. Why?”

  I shrugged it off. “Just wondering. I like to keep my pulse on things going on in the community. What affects one person affects us all.”

  “It’s true. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. I want to keep these kids away from stuff like that. But if the DEA hasn’t been able to stop America’s drug problem, I have my doubts that I’m going to be able to either.”

  “Even if you just help one person make wise decisions, it’s worth it.”

  I turned to walk away when Abraham called my name. I paused.

  “By the way, Hannah and I may be taking a trip out of town. If we do, I was wondering if you might cover for us here?”

  I nodded. “Sure, I’d be happy to help. When’s the trip?”

  “Maybe in a couple of weeks. We’ll have to see how it all works out.”

  “Going anywhere exciting?”

  He grinned. “The Bahamas, I hope.”

  I tried to keep any judgment out of my mind. But I couldn’t believe that Abraham could afford a trip to the Bahamas. He and Hannah lived in a run-down apartment, drove a fifteen-year-old car, and never ate out because of the cost.

  Where did he get the money for that? Unless . . .

  I mentally shook off the thoughts. No way was Abraham in some way involved with this whole drug thing. I mean, sure, he had access to a lot of the kids around here, but he would never do something like that. I felt ashamed for even thinking the thought.

  “Sounds nice,” I finally said.

  “Yeah, I think it will be good for us.”

  “Just let me know the dates.”

  Then I slipped outside, trying to put my thoughts to rest. Too bad that was easier said than done.

  CHAPTER 11

  I desperately wanted to stop by and visit Katrina’s cousin, Desiree, the mother of the first young man who’d died and whose image I couldn’t get out of my mind. But my schedule was more hectic than I’d like to admit.

  I’d already taken off work the next morning for a meeting with my oncologist. However, I canceled the appointment at the last minute. I didn’t want to hear what he had to tell me. Was I living in a bubble? Was I too comfortable with my ignorant bliss?

  Or what if Jamie was right? What if I was just in denial? I very well could be. But who wanted to truly own up to the facts of dying? I certainly didn’t.

  Life was easier if I just pushed ahead, kept going, and made the most of my days.

  I had my own little end-of-life plan worked out in my mind. I didn’t want to be poked and prodded and scrutinized. If the pain ever became too unbearable, I’d request some medication to help with it. I didn’t want my final days to be filled with unbearable suffering.

  No, I wanted to be surrounded by friends and loved ones.

  Instead of going to work, I’d stopped by the post office to mail a vintage surfing record I’d found at a thrift store to my cousin Chad, and when I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I paused.

  A chill washed over me as I felt someone watching me. I looked over in time to see a man in a suit. He stood on the corner, his cell phone to his ear, but his eyes were on me. A strange smile curled his lips before he nodded at me and walked away.

  My chill deepened.

  Who was that? Why was he watching me? Coincidence? I didn’t think so.

  I hiked my purse higher and fell into step behind him. I wanted to see where he was going. If Jamie were with me, she’d know exactly what I needed to do to trail someone. I had no idea, though.

  I paused at the corner and peered around it just in time to see an old Cadillac pull out.

  Just like the one I’d seen the day I was shot at.

  Had the man gotten inside it? I glanced toward my Mustang. It was parked two blocks away. There was no way I’d get to it in time to follow the car.

  I squinted, trying to see the license plate. It was no good.

  Just then, something hit the ground by my feet.

  A bullet.

  I was being shot at, I realized.

  Again.

  CHAPTER 12

  I ducked around the corner, using the edge of the brick building for cover as more bullets flew through the air.

  Around me, people screamed and ran. A mom and her teenage son hid behind the car in front of me. Two other people threw themselves into the space beside me. Panic pushed others down the street, scattering them like autumn leaves in a savage wind.

  A car squealed away in the distance.

  I waited a moment. My heart raced as I realized what had just happened.

  With trepidation, I peered around the brick wall, trying to get a fleeting glimpse of the driver.

  I couldn’t see anything. The windows were too dark, too t
inted.

  Why was someone after me? What sense did that make?

  Maybe that shooting the day Chase had been with me wasn’t a coincidence.

  I remembered what Edna had said about Frank Jenkins. Could he be behind this? The man I’d seen on the corner wasn’t Frank, but could he be a cohort?

  Once the car disappeared from sight, I stepped out. I rushed toward the mom across from me. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “He’s gone,” I told her. “I’m going to call the police.”

  Less than five minutes later, two cruisers showed up, as well as an ambulance and a fire truck. Ten minutes later, four more police cars were on the scene. Twenty minutes after the shooting, Chase arrived.

  It was my lucky day.

  “Holly, you’re here?” Chase said, squinting in thought.

  I nodded. “Gun-wielding crazies seem especially fond of me lately.”

  Another man stood beside Chase, his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out. I soaked him in.

  The man wasn’t necessarily tall, but he carried himself like a giant. I couldn’t decide if he was black or Latino, which made me think that possibly he was both. He had dark curly hair, cut close to his scalp, and a certain sense of street toughness about him.

  “Holly, this is my partner, T.J. T.J., this is Holly.”

  I smiled, but T.J. didn’t return the courtesy. He only nodded with an icy, aloof glare.

  Two alpha males as partners? I could only imagine how well that worked.

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Chase started.

  I gave Chase and T.J. a rundown. Chase grunted and took notes while crime scene techs collected the bullets and measured trajectories and took photos.

  T.J. finally said he was going to check out any security video feeds from the surrounding area. When he disappeared, Chase turned to me.

  “You have a minute to grab some coffee, Holly?” Chase asked.

  I wanted to refuse. To say I had to get back to work. Before I could voice my excuses, Chase spoke up again.

  “You have to eat,” he insisted.

  “You said coffee.”

  He smiled. “Well, it is lunchtime.”

  Finally, I nodded. “Yeah, I have a few minutes.”

  He kept a hand on my elbow and led me down the street to a little coffeehouse that sold sandwiches and soups. I ordered some lobster bisque and a decaf coffee, while Chase got a club sandwich with sweet potato chips.

  As soon as the waitress disappeared, I waited for awkwardness to slip between us. If not awkwardness, then I waited for Chase to say something accusatory. Had he put everything together? Did he know what I’d done?

  “How are you, Holly?” he asked.

  His question startled me, and I flinched. “How am I?”

  He nodded, no hint of a grin on his face. “That’s right. I want to know how you’re doing.”

  His question threw me off guard enough that I floundered for an answer. How was I? I wasn’t even sure anymore. Finally, I shrugged. “I’m . . . okay, I guess.”

  “You’ve gotten shot at twice in a week. That’s enough to shake anyone up.”

  I swallowed hard. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

  “More than crazy. Any idea why someone would want to shoot at you? Beyond the answers you’ve already given me. I know you’ve taken children away from their parents. I know your sister has put bad people behind bars. I know there are people who hate your brother and everything he stands for. But what aren’t you telling me?”

  My throat tightened. “What makes you think I’m not telling you something?”

  “Nothing.” He shifted and looked at the table a moment, as if trying to find the right words. “The first time you were shot at, I might have been able to rationalize was random. But twice? The same car? It’s obvious you’re being targeted by someone.”

  “I really don’t know, Chase.” My words came out as a squeak.

  The waitress was a welcome relief as she set two mugs in front of us. I grabbed mine, hoping it would form some kind of barrier between Chase and me, and that I wouldn’t feel so exposed.

  “I want you to know you can trust me, Holly,” Chase murmured.

  His words nearly made me choke. He sounded so honorable, not like the man I remembered in high school. “I, uh . . . I appreciate that.”

  I rubbed my throat, hating how off kilter this conversation was making me feel.

  He shifted, his fingers hugging the mug of coffee in front of him. “I know that in the past things were strange between us. I want you to know that I’m not who I used to be.”

  This seemed like a great opportunity to turn the tables and talk about Chase instead of me. Plus, I wanted some answers. I wanted to know why he seemed different.

  “Why the change?” There was no need to beat around the bush. I didn’t quite believe him, and I needed to know why I should.

  His expression sobered. “Life happened.”

  I didn’t say anything, and instead waited to see if he wanted to add anything more. It was one of the techniques I’d learned when I’d studied counseling: Don’t always fill the silence. In the silence, sometimes people said the things lingering deep in their souls.

  He stared at his coffee, the muscles at his throat appearing tight and strained. “My brother was murdered.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was bludgeoned to death. Found dead in his apartment.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry, Chase. Did they ever find the person who did it?”

  He shook his head. “No, they still haven’t. It’s been five years.”

  “I can’t even imagine. It was hard enough to lose my dad to natural causes, but the senseless taking of a life . . . ” I shook my head.

  “It can consume you.” Chase’s words sounded dull, yet I heard the big emotions that lurked beneath his tone. “I took his death pretty hard, to say the least. It made me realize how short life is. It rearranged my priorities.”

  “I’m sure it did. I’m really sorry, Chase.”

  He nodded slowly. “Me, too. I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not, Holly. The truth is that, after my brother died, I didn’t exactly turn my life around. Quite the opposite, to be honest. I started drinking. A lot. I guess I was trying to numb the pain. It’s not something I’m proud of. I lost a lot of things as a result, one of them being my job with the police in Kentucky.”

  His words caused my heart to slow to a thud. Compassion and understanding collided inside me. “Alcohol can do that to people.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t I know it? I ruined relationships, friendships. People who were depending on me saw an ugly side of my personality. It took me two years to get my life back on track.”

  “You’re sober now?”

  A hint of a smile curled at his lips. It wasn’t a self-satisfied smile but a victorious one. “Fourteen months without even a sip.”

  “Good for you, Chase. That’s a huge accomplishment.”

  “I have to admit that every day is a struggle. Literally. And I hate myself for feeling so weak at times.”

  “What you call weakness, many would call strength.”

  His eyes locked on mine. “Those were the things I didn’t want to say to your mom, Holly. She’s always seemed so proud of me, and I hate to let her down. She believed in me when no one else did, and I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.”

  “Overcoming an addiction to alcohol is something to be proud of, Chase. No matter what anyone says.” I’d worked with enough people with addictions to see how drugs and alcohol could destroy lives. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t something I’d wish on anyone.

  He tilted his head, his gaze observing me. “How do you do that, Holly?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

  “It’s like you have the ability to see through facades, right into the heart of a person. You’ve always been like that. In high
school, it was a little bit intimidating, to be honest.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’ve always liked to listen and observe.” That was just how God had made me. It had seemed like a curse at times during my younger years, but I’d learned to accept it as a gift.

  He stared at me a moment. “You’re different. That’s a good thing. And I’m not just talking about your affinity for vintage dresses and old music and trying to do things the way they were done sixty years ago. I’m talking about you and who you are.”

  My cheeks heated. Those cheeks of mine. They betrayed me at the most inopportune times. I cleared my throat. “I still don’t know what to say.”

  He leaned back, looking away for a minute as if he realized how uncomfortable I was. “I didn’t mean to get off track. The one thing I learned through beating this addiction was the importance of righting wrongs. I know you don’t think—”

  “I’ve got one soup and a sandwich with chips,” the waitress interrupted.

  My heart played a funny little rhythm in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or grumpy the waitress had appeared when she did. What was Chase about to say? Even more, why did I care?

  CHAPTER 13

  I hated to admit it, but I was beginning to see Chase more as a person and less as a Neanderthal. I’d thought of him as a jerk for so long that I had no idea what to do with these newer, kinder realizations. Hating him came a lot more easily.

  We settled back to eat. I knew I had to get to work, but I’d called Doris earlier and explained what had happened outside of the post office. And, officially, I was still talking to the police. This particular officer just happened to look like a muscle-bound superhero . . . and maybe act like him, too. In a good way.

  It was true. I’d been in denial, preferring to remember Chase as a monster. But now all of those reasons why I’d had a crush on the man came rushing back, and I felt like a high schooler again. Feeling like a high schooler was the last thing I wanted.

  Whatever he’d been about to say was apparently forgotten. He straightened, focusing on his food, a professional aura coming over him.

  He grabbed a chip and popped it in his mouth. “Did you find out anything from your former clients like I suggested?”