Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers

by Diane Capri

  “You don’t say anything,” she said with a hiccup. “If you do, you’ll end up like me, or worse. He doesn’t fight fair. My advice? Forget about him and pretend you never knew who Hank Williams was!”

  This was much deeper than I’d ever thought. Tracy Mulligan wasn’t the first. He’d had a life of crime, but had only been caught once. And now the psychopath was walking free.

  “Heather,” I said, leaning forward. “Will you testify against Hank? With your testimony and our evidence, we would be able to put him away.”

  She trembled and shook her head so hard that her hair whipped around her shoulders. “N—no,” she stuttered. “I can’t. I’d be dead before I ever reached the stand. You don't know how powerful he is, Sarah!” Terror choked her voice. “His hands are everywhere. It seems like he’s paid off someone on every level.”

  Was she just paranoid, or was there some truth behind her words? My mind raced through the possibilities. There were some big players involved with Williams, Inc. If what she was saying was true, what would that mean for Boise, for everyone involved in the process—senators and politicians?

  “That’s exactly why you need to tell your story,” I said, touching her arm. “He must be stopped.”

  She set her lips and her face closed down, as if a mask had fallen over her features. Taking the handkerchief, she handed it to Joshua, who mumbled, “Keep it.”

  “I think you should leave now,” she said.

  “But, Heather—”

  “Leave!” she shouted.

  I stood and followed Joshua toward the door. Before I left, I looked back. “Pedophiles don’t rehabilitate,” I said. “This is going to happen again. If you testify, you may save another little girl from your fate.” I set my card on her table. “If you change your mind, give me a call. We’ll protect you.”

  She looked up at me, eyes scared. “No one can be protected from Hank Williams. No one.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “GLEN IS THE ONE who kidnapped me.” I glanced over at Joshua, who drove with one hand on the wheel.

  “I thought you didn’t recognize any of the men,” he said with a frown.

  “I never said that—you just assumed. I saw Hank Williams there and didn’t tell anyone because it was too crazy.”

  Silence rested between us.

  “Nothing’s too crazy,” I said.

  He nodded. “So I'm learning. You know you can’t stay at your apartment,” he said.

  “I know. Drop me off so I can pack a bag and then we’ll head to the office to process everything.”

  The first thing I did when I got inside was to go over to the drawer in my bedroom and take out my gun. I didn’t load it, but I put a bullet in my pocket.

  In the quiet of my home, I took a moment. Joshua could wait a little longer. I kicked off my shoes, flopped onto the couch, and covered my eyes with my arm. The cool room felt good. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking. In the kitchen, the fridge hummed and the dishwasher beeped, letting me know it was done. I was home.

  One more thing Hank Williams was taking from me.

  This case was getting deeper than I ever thought. And I was afraid I would drown in it.

  Heather’s face flashed in my mind. That’s what he did to people—destroyed them from the outside in so they’d hate themselves. Was that who Tracy Mulligan would’ve become if she’d survived?

  My phone vibrated. I grabbed my purse, fumbling through it with my eyes still closed. I pushed the talk button.

  “Hello.”

  I waited. The other end was just static and some faint background noise.

  “Hello?” I could hear the other person breathing slow and steady and I thought maybe they pocket dialed me.

  I opened my eyes and looked at the caller ID.

  UNKNOWN.

  I said nothing for a full thirty seconds and hung up.

  Five seconds later, the phone rang again.

  UNKNOWN.

  I answered, but this time I didn’t say hello. I waited and listened to the breathing. My heart beat faster and I sat up. I could hear the person on the other end whispering something, but I couldn’t make out what it was. I turned up the volume to the maximum setting, pressed the phone tight to my ear, and plugged my other ear with my finger.

  “Sarah.”

  It was so soft that I almost missed it, but when someone says your name, something inside rings like a bell, some sort of signal to our brains that tells us we were called. I listened to the voice whisper my name over and over.

  I hung up and put the phone down. It vibrated again in my hand. I looked at the screen.

  UNKNOWN.

  I shut off the phone and put my head in my hands. My legs were shaking and my gut felt like it was going to ball up and twist into my lungs and suffocate me.

  Standing, I paced the room, looking at the phone on the couch. It was off, but somehow I imagined it ringing, like in some horror movie. This was crazy. Who was calling me? I felt like I knew the answer, but couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

  I strode to my bedroom and hurriedly packed my things into a garment bag. This case was more personal than I’d ever thought, than I’d ever wanted. What I really wanted was for Hank Williams to walk through that door and meet the barrel of my gun. The justice system wasn’t giving him what he deserved, and I wanted to. So badly. The force of the feelings disturbed me to the core.

  I didn’t want him to turn me into a monster.

  It was time to get out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I DIDN’T TELL JOSHUA until we were back at the office, standing before Dan’s desk. Then I laid it out, telling them I wanted off the case. I knew Joshua wasn’t going to handle it well.

  He didn’t.

  “You can’t quit now,” he said, rising to his full height. He towered over me. “If you’re off this case, it will never be solved. You know everything about it.”

  “And they know everything about me,” I said. “That’s why I can’t work on it.” My voice broke. “He kidnapped me, almost killed you and Mandy, set things on fire, destroyed Heather’s life, sent me flowers, called me, and all the while he runs one of the most successful businesses in the United States.”

  “A saner person would’ve quit before this,” Dan said.

  Joshua glowered, and I saw hurt behind his eyes. I’d disappointed him. It was hard to see.

  I went on, not looking Joshua in the eye. “I just think someone with more experience could handle this case better than me.”

  I swallowed. That wasn’t the real reason. I knew it. They knew it. My fear darkened the room like a cloud. They just didn’t know that I wasn’t afraid of Hank Williams—I was afraid of myself.

  Dan raised his eyebrows. “That’s the first time I’ve heard any statement from you that was anything less than 100% confident.”

  I looked down. Was I being wise about this, or was I just admitting defeat? Either way, I was bone-tired of it.

  “The safety of my employees is my number-one priority,” Dan said. He arranged the papers on his desk. “If you want off the case, you’re off the case. Take a few days for yourself, relax and get your bearings. Come back on Tuesday. I’ll give you a new case, something you can handle.”

  The words burned within me. My cheeks turned red. It was the first time I hadn’t seen a case through to the end and it rubbed me raw.

  “Joshua, you’re still on it,” Dan said. “I’m going to talk to a few people and see who’s best for the job.”

  Joshua still looked at me as if he couldn’t believe what I was saying. But he didn’t know what was in me, what this case had revealed. It was breaking me. I wasn’t going to wait for it to tear me in two.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Since home wasn’t safe, I wanted to spend my time at a bed-and-breakfast in the suburbs until Tuesday. That would keep me off the radar, and hopefully Hank’s attention would shift somewhere else. I didn’t know what I’d do if he was still te
rrorizing me when I got back home.

  There was something I needed to learn before Tuesday.

  I reached in my purse and took out the sticky note with Solomon’s number. I stared at it for a long second and dialed.

  “This is Solomon.”

  The voice on the other end of the line was deep and had a commanding air.

  “Hello, this is Sarah—Sarah Steele. I was referred to you by—”

  “Yeah, I know who you are … You know Monroe, right? He’s a nut. Good detective, but a nut. He thinks everyone should carry a gun, that the world would be safer if everyone knew how to shoot.”

  I smiled. “Maybe the NRA pays him a little something extra each month.”

  “Well, aren’t you a cynic,” he said.

  “No, I’m a lawyer.”

  He laughed. “What can I help you with? You’re looking to learn how to shoot, I take it.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have a gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know anything about it?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s a Lady Glock. Uh … I got it from my dad.”

  “Well, you have the right guy. I like teaching newbies. It’s a challenge.” I cleared my throat at his condescending tone. “Let’s set up a meeting,” he continued. “I can go over how I work, and you can tell me about your plans and what you want to get out of the lessons. Sound good?”

  “Sure. I’m going to have to go on a lesson-by-lesson basis. I don’t have much free time and my hours are very hectic.” At least, they had been before today.

  “Well, watch yourself,” he said. “Once you start shooting, it’s hard to stop. It’s relaxing, in a weird way, and very satisfying.”

  The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I can see how blowing things up would be satisfying.” I bit my lip. I never said things like that. Out loud.

  But he didn’t hesitate. “It sure is. Can you meet Saturday morning at eight?”

  That caught me off guard. Tomorrow morning—it was so soon. But with a pang of sadness, I realized I had nothing else to do. Besides, the sooner I learned how to handle a gun, the better.

  “That’s pretty early. Do you provide coffee with the lesson?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “For you, I will.”

  I wondered what he meant by that. Did he know who I was? I agreed on the time, he gave me the address, and we ended the call. Solomon had this way of speaking that reminded me of my father. As if he was so sure of himself, never doubted anything, and would meet any situation with a grin.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I had to stop by Mandy’s before I left the city. We’d texted throughout the day, but I needed to see her and catch her up on everything face-to-face.

  As I pulled into her driveway, I got a text from Angela’s mom. “Is Angie with you?” it said.

  “Nope,” I wrote back. This was a normal question for her—Angela often slept over at someone else’s house without letting her mom know. She shouldn’t do that to her mother, but she was almost as stubborn as I was. I texted Angela. “You’d better let your mom know where you are! Now!”

  When I got inside, Mandy was in the shower, but Rick was at the kitchen table with a deconstructed motorcycle engine in pieces before him.

  “Having spare parts for supper?” I teased after giving him a side hug.

  “They taste great dipped in grease,” he said. He was one of the most popular real estate agents on this side of Boise, but he was another guy behind the walls of his home. He wore a white V-neck tee, and I could see his tattooed sleeves and chest tats. Besides going to concerts with Mandy and hanging out with their bike gang, his hobby was reconstructing vintage motorcycles. He had a workshop in the back with every tool imaginable.

  “Mandy said I was hanging out with the bikes more than her, so I brought the parts inside.”

  I smirked. “I’m sure that’s exactly what she wanted you to do.”

  He frowned in consternation. “She didn’t seem that pleased with it.”

  Poor guy. I hid a grin. Men were clueless.

  Mandy came up behind me and tackled me in a hug. “You’re here!” Her wet hair sprinkled my face with water.

  Then she grabbed me by the shoulders, her normal reaction when she wanted to be serious. “Tell me everything.”

  I sat down, and in the simplest way possible, told her I was off the case. I was expecting her to be glad. After all, just a few days ago she begged me to quit. But she hesitated before she replied. “Are you sure that’s best?”

  Swallowing, I nodded. Which was a lie. I definitely was not sure. Doubt and shame plagued me.

  She cocked her head at me, her eyes filled with compassion. “It’s just not like you,” she said.

  “What?”

  “It’s not like you to quit.”

  I thrummed my fingers on the table. It wasn’t quitting—it was backing off. Then I bit my lip, knowing I was lying to myself again. I quit because I wanted to take Hank Williams down. Literally.

  Mandy nodded as if something finalized in her mind. “Well, I’m glad you’ll be safe. I hope he gets what he deserves, after what he’s done to Tracy.” She looked me over. “After what he’s done to you.”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m just looking forward to being my own person for the next few days. I have nothing to do. And I love it.” It was another lie. I hadn’t had free time since before law school and I had no idea what I’d do with myself.

  “You’re still going to meet us at the Ru tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

  “What?” Rick and I exclaimed at the same time.

  “The Ru!” Mandy almost shouted and then rolled her eyes. “Come on. Am I the only one who cares about getting a life? We’re all going to the new club tomorrow, remember? I spent a heckuva lot of time and money to get in and I’m not letting you flake on me now.”

  The Ru. I’d seen that somewhere … My mind flew back to the meeting I’d had with Hannah Williams, in which she’d lied to me the whole time. The note on her desk said RuSat 11. Would she be at the Ru on Saturday?

  “What time?” I asked.

  “11:30,” Mandy said.

  Interesting. I might be there at the same time as Hannah Williams, might have another chance to talk to her and follow up on Heather’s story. The familiar curiosity that usually got me in trouble started to nag at me.

  No. I couldn’t think that way. The case was behind me and I couldn't get sucked into it again. I’d go with Mandy, dance, have fun, and not give another thought to anyone with the last name of Williams.

  “I’ll meet you there,” I said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I DIDN’T ARRIVE AT the bed-and-breakfast until eleven that night. The whole drive there, I resisted the urge to call Joshua and check up on the case. Had the police analyzed the evidence yet? Was any part of Heather’s story verifiable? Just so I wouldn’t call, I hid my phone in my purse and blasted my music as loud as it would go.

  #

  I RUBBED MY EYES and threw back the warm blankets that were piled up on my king-size bed. I yawned and stretched. It was 4:30 a.m. I’d gotten four hours of sleep, which was more than I’d had in a long time.

  The fan above me whirred, waving the stray hairs out of my eyes. Its chain clacked every few rotations. There was nothing for me to do. I just lay there and soaked up the nothingness.

  For at least ten minutes.

  That was all my body could handle before my mind strayed. I jumped out of bed, pulled on my running shorts, tank top, and shoes, and went for an hour-long run around the residential neighborhood. The view was so boring. One identical house after the other, as if they were drones lined up in a factory. That was a life I never craved. Something deeper stirred within me. I wanted more than just to settle down.

  Unless, of course, it was with the right person. But I hadn’t met that right person, and I wasn’t even close.

  Back in my room, I clicked the TV on
and went to the kitchen to get my kettle boiling. Then I undressed and got into the shower. I liked it hot, almost scalding. I let the water wash over my face and I closed my eyes. This was my favorite place to think, to let my mind go and open up. There was just something about the sound, and the way a shower made me feel.

  By the time I got out and drank my tea, it was almost time to leave for my shooting lesson.

  I put on a cute tank top and my skinny jeans. I sprayed myself with body spray—coconut—and put on my makeup.

  Taking my gun from the nightstand where I’d stored it, I raced down the stairs. I was getting excited. I’d always wanted to learn how to shoot, but I’d never pursued the opportunity.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  SAND HOLLOW WAS A sandpit where people could target practice and sight-in their rifles before hunting season. It took about thirty minutes to get out there and my little Honda didn’t like the last part, which was a dirt road.

  I parked behind a nice Chevy truck, got out, and saw him. He was standing backlit by the sun, wore dark aviators, and held a handgun loosely at his side, as if it was an old friend. He was tall, and his shirt pulled tight against his ripped muscles. He looked like a gunslinger, like in the Old West, someone who would strike fear in the heart of anyone who dared to stand against him. I shut my mouth. Geez, was I losing it or what? I needed to get out more. At the first sight of an attractive man, I was getting warm all over.

  I walked up to him, my boots crunching the gravel. He looked up and watched me approach.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m Sarah Steele.”

  We shook hands. I tried not to look so impressed with his muscular physique, but I couldn’t help but check him out.

  “Sarah, so good to see you again.” He smiled in this easy way. He had thick black hair and a trimmed beard. I didn’t like beards, but somehow, on him, it worked.

  At his words, my heart fluttered nervously. I looked down. “Again?” I asked.

  “Oh,” he said. “I’ve watched your case against Williams. It’s a devastating crime.”