Leslie suddenly lunged at Molly, wrapping her arms around her neck. “Don’t let anything happen to you. I nearly have you trained.”
Molly kissed her. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you in court, okay?” She added, with a grin, “I love you.”
Leslie answered, “I love you, too,” and all was right with Molly’s world, except the person trying to kill her, but that was minor in comparison to feeling loved.
Molly floated out the back door, with Leslie calling after her. “You look hot in that suit, counselor.”
Randy appeared over Leslie’s shoulder. “Oh Lord, I’ll be glad when this case is over and you two can go off somewhere and get it out of your system.”
Leslie and Molly replied together, “Jealous.”
#
Molly announced loudly to the woman behind the pharmacy counter. “I’m looking for a DNA test kit, for a paternity test.”
The clerk eyed her suspiciously. “Is this for your child?”
“I am the child. I’ve just discovered I am the product of a rape I knew nothing about and I’d like to know who did that to my mother.” She mentioned rape to give the story the weight of scandal, insuring the rumors would spread like fire through town. “I think I know who the culprit is, but I need to be sure.”
The woman looked at Molly with a knitted brow, studying Molly carefully. She finally said, “You’re Sarah Harris’s girl, aren’t you?”
Molly laughed. It would never matter what she became. In this town, she would always be Sarah Harris’s girl. “Yes, ma’am. I am.”
“My name is Agnes,” the woman explained. “I knew your momma. I used to be a nurse before I married the pharmacist back there, eight years ago. I’m not sure if he wanted a wife or a store clerk.” She chuckled and then turned serious. “I was there when Joe brought your mother to the emergency room, the morning after she was raped. It was my first year as a nurse.”
Molly jumped at the news. “You were there?”
“Yes, and I will never forget it. In all my years at the hospital, I never saw a woman beaten that badly and live.” Agnes paused, looking up at Molly. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t tell you that.”
Molly reassured her. “No, really. I want to know. There are no records beyond her initial intake paperwork from the emergency room and a few doctor’s notes.”
“When Joe came to ask me about that morning, I knew he was on to something.”
Molly tried to control the excitement in her voice. “When did he ask you? What did you tell him?”
“He came by here a couple of months ago. He wanted me to draw him a picture of the mark on her back.”
Molly’s heart started pounding. “What mark?”
Agnes stared into space, thinking, before she answered. “Well, Sarah had been thrown or pushed up against the rim of a tire. You could see the mark on her back. The imprint of the hubcap was right there, but no one paid attention to it. The doctor pointed it out to the cop that came to take the report, but he just ignored it. Said she was a drug addict that fell off a bridge. I knew Sarah from around town. She wasn’t a drug addict, at least not then.”
Molly asked, “Did you draw him a picture?”
Agnes nodded that she did.
“Could you draw it for me?”
Agnes smiled. “I don’t have to draw it for you. I know what it was. After I talked to Joe, he came back with some pictures of different tires and hubcaps. I picked it out right away.”
Spit it out, for God’s sake, Molly thought, but she asked politely, “What was it?”
“Dodge Challenger,” Agnes announced proudly.
Molly remembered Joe’s list, but not who went with what car. She had one more question. “Do you remember the police officer that came to the hospital?”
Agnes narrowed her eyes. “It was Chief Bass, back when he first started. He sure as hell didn’t know what he was doing. I distinctly remember him saying there was no need for a rape exam. Said Sarah probably participated freely and she was going to die anyway. Can you believe that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can absolutely believe that.”
#
Molly rolled the key between her fingers, inside her pocket. A pharmacy bag, containing a home DNA test kit, rested on the passenger seat of her car parked in front of the bank. She would use it at the arranged time. Right now, she sat in the lobby of the Waitesville Savings and Loan, waiting for the manager. She spotted James filling out a fake deposit slip at the far counter. Molly looked at the big brass clock hands on the marble wall. Leslie and Randy should be on their way to meet with Joey. They were to go over today’s court appearance again and answer any questions Joey may have. Molly needed Leslie to send her Joe’s list of cars and owners from 1972, but that would have to wait. They both had other matters to attend to.
A heavyset man, with pink pudgy cheeks, and gray hair approached her. He squinted behind round wire-rim glasses. “Ms. Kincaid, I’m Henry Jones, bank manager. How may I help you?”
Molly stood and shook his hand. “Mr. Jones, if we could, I’d like to step into your office. This is a private matter.”
Saying it was a private matter in the lobby assured that people were watching them, as she followed the little round man into his glass walled office. He asked her to have a seat in one of the chairs in front his desk. Anyone in the lobby could see her. Perfect, Molly thought, while extracting the key from her pocket. She held it up, making sure the eyes she knew were watching could easily view it.
“Mr. Jones,” Molly began, twirling the key between her thumb and index finger, “my mother gave me this key when I was very young. I believe the safe deposit box it opens is in your bank.”
“I see,” Jones answered, rubbing his chin. “May I look at the key, please?”
Molly let the key leave her possession for the first time in twenty-nine years, handing it across the desk into Jones’s sweaty pink palm. He looked at the key, turning it over in his hand, then back up to Molly.
“I think you may be right, Ms. Kincaid. This key looks like the ones to the boxes in the old vault. What is your mother’s name? I’ll look up the box number for you.”
This is where it was going to get tricky. Molly sat up a bit taller. “I don’t believe the box is in her name. I am quite certain that key belonged to Walter Branch, Jr.”
Molly was not certain at all, but she was playing a hunch. Jones sat back and rubbed his chin again.
Molly expected the stonewalling to begin immediately, but was pleasantly surprised when he said, “I wondered if someone would show up before June.”
“I’m sorry, what happens in June?” Molly asked, concealing her jubilation at Jones’s recognition of the key.
“This key has been the subject of many a debate in this bank. Mr. Branch took out the box, back in the seventies and paid it up to June 6, 2012. No one knows what’s in the box. Most people think it’s the gold from the Civil War legend. If no one showed up to claim the box by June sixth, the contents were to be auctioned off with the proceeds going to charity. If this is the key to that box, it will satisfy the curiosity of many people.” He caught himself. “Of course, that is if you choose to disclose what is in it.”
“Do I need to prove ownership of the key?” Molly asked.
Jones stood and walked to a file cabinet, while he talked. “No, there is a letter here from Mr. Branch. I inherited it from the last manager when he retired.” He dug through the back of a file drawer, pulling out a file. “Ah, here it is. The letter says the bearer of the key is the rightful owner of the contents, but there is a caveat.”
He handed an envelope to Molly and continued talking, while she took out the letter and read it.
“It says that six people had to be present at the opening, if they are still alive and living in Dobbs County.”
Molly did not have to finish the letter to know who that was. There were seven people on Joe’s list and Walter Branch was one of them. That left six.
Jones k
ept up his narrative. “Seems to me, there are only four of those people still with us — Marshall Whitehead, Jeb Stewart, Wayne Bass, and Jarvis Branch.”
Molly handed the letter back to Jones, and then stood to go. “Mr. Jones, I would appreciate it if you could arrange for those men to meet me here tomorrow afternoon. Anytime would be fine.” She held out her hand and smiled. “I believe I’ll keep that key until then.”
He picked the key up from his desk, handing it to Molly. “I am so glad you showed up. I was just hanging on until June to see what was in that box.” He smiled broadly, his round cheeks almost closing his eyes. “I’m going to sit down and write my retirement letter right now.”
#
Molly’s next stop was Pop’s. Leslie called Robbie on Sunday, filling her in on what they needed. Robbie was waiting for Molly with three coffee cups, sealed in labeled plastic bags. At the appointed time, Molly entered the front door of Pop’s to find Danny McNally waiting for her. Robbie intercepted her at the door with the cups in hand.
“I snatched these up before they knew what was happening,” she whispered, conspiratorially.
“Thank you, Robbie, for everything,” Molly said, this time initiating the hug between them.
Molly left Robbie at the door and strolled to Danny’s table. He stood up, and for the benefit of those watching, officially identified himself and his business with her.
“Ms. Kincaid.” He flashed his badge. “Special Agent Danny McNally. I believe you have some DNA samples for me.”
They sat down and Molly handed over the plastic bags with the coffee cups. She then opened the DNA kit she had with her. Very publicly twirling the swabs inside her cheek, she then sealed the swabs in the sterile container and handed it to Danny.
“That should do it,” she said, watching as people tried to pretend not to listen. “I’d like to know which one of these men is my father, which will identify him as my mother’s rapist. It is also evidence in an ongoing murder investigation.”
Danny smiled slyly. “I’ll put a rush on these. We should be able to determine paternity pretty quickly. The detailed comparison will take longer, but I should have an answer for you by tomorrow afternoon.”
Danny made a big show of carrying the evidence out the door. Molly let out a huge breath. The stage was set. If what she did this morning did not draw out her man, then she was certain her next move would. She opened her briefcase, took out copies of the motions Randy filed with the court this morning, reviewing them one more time. If she were lucky, the judge would rule on those motions today and not make her wait. Of course, the prosecution could claim they had no time to prepare a rebuttal.
Robbie came over, bringing Molly a cup of coffee.
“Look at you, in your business suit, looking so lawyerly. I always knew you would be something.”
Molly sipped the coffee, grinning behind the cup.
Robbie leaned forward, winking. “And you caught the prettiest girl in town. Men and women have been trying to catch Leslie Walker for years. Good for you.”
“Wow, news really does travel fast around here,” Molly said, setting the cup on the table.
Robbie laughed, slapping her hands together. “Honey, nobody had to tell me that. She was looking at you like you hung the moon, when y’all were at Momma’s. I’ve known Leslie since fifth grade. She’s head over heels for you.”
Molly shared something personal, a new experience, but it felt nice. “The feeling is mutual.”
Robbie had been doing her homework on Molly. “Well, I guess you won’t be the star of the Triangle Lesbians blog anymore.”
This startled Molly. “What blog?”
Robbie was happy to share and utterly surprised that Molly had no idea what she was talking about. “Oh, girl. You are all over this page. The woman who writes it is obsessed with you. She calls you the Triangle Tryster and you’re like legendary in the dating department.”
Molly tilted her head to one side like a puzzled puppy, amazed that anyone would go to the trouble of naming her, let alone give her a rather unflattering nickname. Molly did not troll the net looking for stories about her. She had no idea what was out there. Why would anyone care who she dated? Molly hoped that was not where Tammy and Leslie obtained their information about her. They did mention seeing a bunch of pictures.
Molly commented, “I am constantly amazed at what people find entertaining.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t heard about her. She has to be stalking you to have that many pictures. You never look like you know your picture is being taken, well, except for the ones at balls and stuff. By the way, that emerald-green, sparkly dress was gorgeous.”
Molly remembered the dress and the woman in the picture with her. That was definitely a ‘never again,’ as Leslie would have called it. On that particular night, Molly went home early. “Thank you, but it was uncomfortable as hell. Especially the shoes.”
Robbie laughed. “I had a hard time imagining you, the tomboy, all decked out like that, but you sure clean up good. That blogger girl is going to flip out when she sees Leslie. She critiques your dates, even interviews some of them, or claims to anyway. She really didn’t like the blonde in the black dress.”
Molly tried to repair any damage the blog had done to her reputation, by saying, “Don’t believe everything you read, Robbie. Some of those people are just nuts.”
The first thing Molly was going to do, when she went back to Durham, was hunt down this woman’s site and shut it down. She was also going to beef up security. If what Robbie said was true, this woman was indeed stalking her. Was there no end to these people? A Columbian drug lord’s henchmen, redneck murderers, corrupt lawmen, and now a female stalker to make it interesting.
Molly’s phone rang. It was Rainey. “I’m sorry, Robbie, but I have to take this.”
Robbie left her alone to take her call.
“Hey Rainey, I owe you one or two,” Molly said, after answering.
“Where are you?” Rainey asked.
Molly chuckled. “You should know. You’re tracking me.”
“I know you’re in one of these buildings. I just don’t want to go into all of them.”
Molly turned to look out the front windows. There was Rainey, in what she called her court suit, black pants, blazer, and white shirt, standing on the sidewalk.
“I’m in the restaurant in front of you. Come have a cup of coffee and tell me why in the hell you are here.”
Molly watched Rainey press the screen on her phone, hanging up the call. Molly did the same, while Rainey entered Pop’s. Every head in the room turned, as Rainey walked confidently across the room, her chestnut curls bouncing on her shoulders. Molly thought Rainey was stunning, and what she liked about her the most was that Rainey did not know how attractive she was. What Molly also knew, that the people watching did not, was Rainey Bell was smart, incredibly intuitive, and extremely dangerous. Molly would venture to guess Rainey was carrying at least two weapons.
Rainey sat down across from Molly. “I talked to Danny. I know what’s going on. I came to help.”
Molly grinned at her friend. “You could not bear one more minute in that house. Who’s helping Katie?”
Rainey let a sly smile catch the corner of her mouth. “Her mom. I told Katie what you were doing and she insisted I stop you. You know Katie. She gets what she wants.”
Molly did know Katie. She was a determined force to be reckoned with if she felt strongly about something. Molly also knew that Rainey was helpless to do anything, but go along.
“She has you wrapped around her finger,” Molly teased.
Rainey smiled broadly. “Yes, yes she does. Anyway, I’m not here to stop you. Danny has you covered, so I’ll just hang out and talk to the judge if you need me.”
Robbie brought over a cup of coffee for Rainey. Molly introduced them, to which Robbie squealed. “I know you. You’re that behavioral analyst like on ‘Criminal Minds.’ You catch serial killers.”
> Everyone in the room heard Robbie’s loud pronouncement. Molly saw Rainey’s eyes scanning for anyone uncomfortable with that news. Molly enjoyed watching Rainey’s mind work. It was subtle, but if she looked closely, Molly could see Rainey processing the room. Rainey smiled at Robbie, who stood beaming by the table. All the while, Rainey scanned her surroundings.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Robbie. Thank you for the coffee.”
Robbie was not finished informing the room of Rainey’s presence. She asked loudly, “Are you here to catch the real serial killer? ’Cause we all know it isn’t Joey.”
Rainey looked at Molly, her expression asking silently, “What the hell?”
Molly shrugged and said, “Small town. Not too many secrets.”
Rainey answered so all concerned could hear. “I’m no longer an agent with the Bureau. I’m here as an expert witness for Ms. Kincaid. What she cares to share about my involvement is up to her. As far as the serial murders, I believe the FBI is closing in on a suspect. I’m sure they have the situation well in hand.”
Molly was sure the part about the FBI closing in on a suspect was intentionally planted.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Robbie said, winding up her tableside assessment of things. “If Joey don’t have the best looking defense team in the state, I’ll eat your hat. Molly, Leslie, that handsome Randy, and now you.” She teased Molly. “I wonder if your stalker would pay me for pictures.”
Rainey perked up. “Stalker?”
Molly waved off her concern. “It’s just some obsessed woman taking pictures of me. I’ll tell you about it later. One thing at a time, it has nothing to do with this case.” She turned to Robbie, smiling, but meaning every word. “The Triangle Tryster is no longer available for candid shots.”
Rainey was even more confused. “Triangle Tryster?”
“She talks about you too, Rainey,” Robbie said, excitedly.
“Who talks about me? I know if someone is talking about me on the Internet. I know if someone even searches my name. Hell, the FBI knows.”
Robbie explained. “The Triangle Lesbians blogger doesn’t use your name. She calls you Agent Sexy.”
Molly: House on Fire Page 36
