Runs Deeper

by R. D. Brady

  Keith burned at that last thought, but the books and TV movie had made sure that Keith was portrayed as exactly that. What they didn’t focus on was that by taking Steve Kane off the streets, Keith had protected Millners Kill for ten years. There hadn’t been a single murder, not until Steve Kane showed back up. But did he get any credit for that? Nooo. Instead, he got fired. Keith had sued them for wrongful termination. The case had dragged on until finally, the judge ruled in the town’s favor. Apparently even the judge was biased against him.

  He and Marlene had moved down to Florida then, but that hadn’t worked either. She’d complained all the time. You’re spending too much time on the computer. You’re a slob. You drink too much.

  Finally, Keith had had enough and left. Now he lived with his mom and ran a website. Marlene sent him money every month. It was enough to get by but not the amount he deserved. He should be pulling in his yearly salary, heading toward a nice fat pension.

  But Steve Kane had robbed him of that as well.

  He missed the curb and stumbled into the street, going down hard. Pain shot through his knee as a broken bottle cut through his pants. “God damn it.”

  He grabbed onto the car bumper next to him and pulled himself up with a wince. Wetness dripped down his leg. Steve Kane was responsible for all of this. He shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t how his life was supposed to turn out.

  He hobbled across the street. His mom’s apartment was two blocks over. Normally he took the long way, not liking how dark the alley that cut between the blocks was at night. But his leg hurt, his head hurt, and his thoughts were fuzzy. Besides, he was Keith Hodgkins, all-state tight end. Anyone who messed with him was going to regret that real quick.

  Straightening his shoulders, he headed into the alley. But with the first step, his shoulders curved, and he leaned heavily on his uninjured leg. A bottle rolled ahead of him, making him stop short. A cat darted out from behind a dumpster and disappeared into a pile of pallets.

  Keith’s heart raced, but he ignored it as he trudged forward. He just wanted to get home and lie down. His head was really beginning to pound, giving the pain in his knee a run for its money. He wasn’t sure which one was more painful now. He stumbled, crashing into the dumpster. He held on to it for a moment, blinking hard. The world was swimming in front of him.

  “Hey, you all right there?”

  He whirled around, but that only sent him crashing to the grubby alley floor. He heaved as the contents of his stomach jostled painfully, the palms of his hands covered in something he didn’t want to think about.

  “Oh, you’re not looking so good.” An arm draped around his shoulders, pulling him up. Keith’s head fell back, banging into the dumpster.

  “Ouch, that must have hurt.”

  Keith blinked, trying to bring the guy in front of him into focus. There was something familiar about him.

  The man leaned closer. “What’s the matter, Keith, don’t you remember me?”

  “Steve.” Keith swung his arm up. But Steve laughed and stepped out of the way. Keith ended up back on the ground.

  He was hauled back up. “Tut-tut. Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  “What do you want?”

  Steve moved in closer, his lips almost touching Keith’s cheek. “My life back.”

  Keith gasped as the knife slipped between his ribs. He slid down the dumpster. Steve leaned over him and yanked the knife out. “That should take about ten minutes to kill you. Just enough time to call for help, watch them arrive, and know they can’t save you.”

  Keith reached for his pocket, patting it down. “My phone. Where’s my phone?”

  With gloved hands, Steve reached into Keith’s other pocket and pulled out the phone. He grabbed Keith’s hand and placed the phone in it. “Here you go. You better hurry up. Time’s a wasting.”

  Keith opened the phone with his thumbprint. “Call 9-1-1.”

  Steve patted Keith’s cheek. “Have a nice, short life, Keith.” Then he stood, whistling as he walked away.

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

  Keith licked his lips, trying to find his voice. “St-Steve Kane just tried to kill me.”

  Chapter Eight

  The dim morning light did nothing to help the appearance of the alley. Discarded boxes, bottles, food containers, and even clothes littered the alley floor. From the street entrance, Detective Tom Gomez counted three overflowing dumpsters lining the right-hand side. Most of their tops were flipped open, adding a pungent olfactory component to the alley.

  “What have we got?”

  Gomez turned to see his partner, Detective Nate Sullivan, walking toward him with two cups of hot coffee. Gomez extended his hand, accepting one of the cups as he answered. “Guy got jumped on his way home from the bar. He managed to call 9-1-1. He was alive when the uniforms put him in the bus, but he was gone by the time they got to the hospital.”

  Sully looked around with disgust. “Ye-ah,” he said, drawing out the word, “so why are we here? Some drunk getting rolled is not exactly a high priority for homicide. Why aren’t those new guys here? What were their names? Franks and Ridell?”

  “Yeah, they were supposed to be on for this one, but I said we’d take it.”

  Sullivan looked down the alley and then back at Gomez. “What am I missing?”

  “The vic’s name is Keith Hodgkins.”

  Sullivan frowned. “Wait, I know that name. Why do I know that name?”

  “He was the former sheriff in Millners Kill. He got fired after Jack Kane was arrested.”

  Sullivan gave Gomez a long look. “Tom, you need to let this go.”

  “This makes four. The other four were out of our jurisdiction. But this one landed smack dab in it.”

  Sully didn’t ask what Gomez was referring to. He was well aware of Gomez’s obsession with the Kane boys. Gomez had been keeping track of people of interest from the Kane boys’ lives. And right now, four of them were dead under suspicious circumstances, at least as far as he was concerned. First the judge, then the jury foreman, the attorney, and now the sheriff. Steve Kane was checking people off a list.

  “You know these deaths are all connected. Are you telling me I should just walk away?”

  “I would if it would do any good.” Sullivan sighed, looking down the alley. “Fine. Let’s get to it.”

  Gomez had already walked the alley before Sullivan arrived. But as he led Sullivan, he tried to look at it again with fresh eyes. It was stupid to walk down an alley like this late at night. Too many hiding spots. And this neighborhood wasn’t exactly the best. Anyone in their right mind would have stayed at least on the main road.

  “Why on Earth would our guy be down here? Was he lured in?” Sullivan asked as if reading his partner’s mind.

  Gomez shook his head. “No. His mother lives about a block over. The alley’s a shortcut.”

  “What time did this happen?”

  “About two.”

  Sullivan shook his head. “Stupid. Where was the guy coming from?”

  “The Halfway Saloon.”

  “Ah, alcohol-created stupidity.”

  Gomez stopped at the first dumpster, nodding to the alley floor, although it wasn’t necessary. The large pool of drying blood clearly indicated where the victim had been attacked. “Looks like the perp waited for him here and jumped him as soon as he passed.”

  Sullivan looked up the alley and then back again. “Looks like a crime of opportunity.”

  “Not necessarily. Not if Hodgkins regularly came down this alley.”

  Sullivan raised an eyebrow. “Did Hodgkins regularly come down this alley?”

  Gomez shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”

  Sullivan let out a sigh. “Tom, what are we doing here? Everything about this smacks of opportunity. Do you even know if he was drunk?”

  “The uniforms could smell it on him. And he was slurring his words in the 9-1-1 call. The ME will give us a blood alcohol.”

 
; “Wait, he was slurring his words?”

  “He said Steve Kane did it.”

  Sullivan gave Gomez a hard look. “From what I know about that Hodgkins guy, he was pretty obsessed with Steve Kane. I saw an interview once where he looked and sounded completely deranged about the guy.”

  “Well, if Steve Kane got away with murder on your watch, you would too.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Hodgkins identified him by name.”

  “But if Hodgkins was drunk, we can’t be sure exactly who he saw.”

  Gomez glared at him. “Why can’t you see this? Steve Kane has been killing people who put him away.”

  “I know it looks bad, but Jack Kane is the killer in the family, not Steve.”

  “The whole family is bad. Yeah, Jack did a lot of those murders. But Steve Kane is no innocent. The fingerprints from the original crime scene were not Jack’s.”

  Sullivan shook his head. “Jack Kane switched those records.”

  Gomez scoffed. “Sure, seventeen-year-old Jack foresaw the need to switch out fingerprint cards in case they were looked at years later. Someone is going around killing the people who put Steve Kane in prison. You telling me I’m just delusional and making all this up? Who would want Keith Hodgkins dead more than Steve Kane?”

  Sullivan studied him for a long moment. “I don’t think you’re delusional. But I do think you’re a brother who’s still grieving. I loved Amanda too, and what happened to her never should’ve happened. But Jack Kane is locked up. You need to let this go.”

  “Even if Steve Kane is still killing?”

  “No one’s heard a word about Steve Kane since he was released from the hospital.”

  “That’s because he changed his name. The record was sealed. But I’m going to get it unsealed. Because right now, he is most definitely a person of interest. Do you have my back on this?”

  Sullivan looked down the alley back toward the street. Gomez tensed, not being able to read his partner of ten years. Finally, Sullivan turned back. “I always have your back. But I just want to make sure you’re following the facts and not your emotions.”

  “The facts tell me everyone who hurt Steve Kane is now dying. The facts are, he was put away for murder, and murder started cropping up again as soon as he was released. The facts are, wherever he is now, I’m betting he’s up to his old tricks. And I intend to be the one who puts him in prison, this time for life.”

  Chapter Nine

  A squad car, its lights off, blocked access to the alley. A very bored-looking uniformed officer stood with her arms crossed to ward off anyone who stepped near. Phineas O’Rourke made no move to approach the crime scene. He stood at the back of a group of seven other lookie-loos, trying to glimpse something in the alley, even though he knew the body of Keith Hodgkins was already gone.

  But he wasn’t waiting for that. He was waiting to see who showed up to investigate. And he wasn’t disappointed. A short muscular detective with dark hair and eyes stepped from a dark sedan.

  Ah, Detective Gomez, I thought it might be you.

  Gomez spoke quietly with the uniform before he headed into the alley. Phineas wasn’t surprised at Gomez’s appearance, even though it wasn’t the usual type of case that a detective of his level took. But being it was connected to Jack Kane, Phineas had suspected Gomez would show up sooner or later. Now the question was whether he was the detective in charge or was just taking a peek.

  Phineas looked around. Now where was … There. A stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair strode down the sidewalk with two cups of coffee. Hello, Detective Sullivan. I guess that answers that question.

  Gomez stepped back out of the alley and made his way to his partner. Phineas adjusted his messenger bag and moved a little closer as the two detectives spoke. He leaned down to tie his shoe as he tried to listen in on the conversation. He could only hear snatches of it, but apparently Sullivan wasn’t thrilled at the idea of taking a low-level homicide.

  The two detectives disappeared back into the alley. Phineas stood and headed down the street. That was all he needed. The body had already been taken to the morgue. He had a contact on the night shift, so hopefully he’d learn something from them. But right now he’d prepare a deep dive into Keith Hodgkins’s background.

  Not that the world didn’t know who Keith Hodgkins was. “Bumbling county sheriff” was the phrase most often associated with him and the Jack Kane case. It was the Kane case that had convinced Phineas to go into journalism. People had devoured the news. It seemed like every day there was a new revelation—a new victim, a new vicious murder technique, a new interview with someone who knew the infamous serial killer. Phineas had devoured his parents’ newspaper every day and then the computers at school, looking for new information.

  Then Jack Kane had gotten locked up. And everyone but Phineas went back to occasionally reading a headline but not really being informed about what was going on.

  From the Kane case, Phineas had learned a powerful lesson: blood sells. He’d gotten his degree in journalism, but by the time he’d graduated, the jobs had dried up. Newspapers were folding left and right. And those that hadn’t folded had cut their staffs dramatically. Everybody was now a freelance writer, just hoping that maybe one of the big websites would take on their articles.

  Phineas knew he’d be stuck in this world of insecurity until he found the one case, the one story that would make him a household name. Or at least the one story that would make the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal take notice. And he had a feeling that the murder of Keith Hodgkins was the beginning of that story.

  Phineas had been keeping track of the people involved in the Jack Kane case. And he’d noticed a rather disturbing trend: Most of them were dying. He had learned of four deaths of people related to the Kane case so far: the judge, the jury foreperson, the criminal defense attorney, and now Keith Hodgkins.

  Three of those deaths looked like they were natural causes, but Keith’s definitely wasn’t, at least according to his source. None of the major news outlets had picked up on any of it yet. And Phineas wasn’t about to tip them off. He’d gather his information, he’d cultivate his sources, and then he’d expose the whole sordid plot.

  Because someone out there was killing off people who’d hurt not Jack Kane, but Steve Kane. Steve Kane, who’d disappeared off the radar right after Jack’s trial. But Phineas was going to find him. And when he did, he knew he’d blow open a story just as big as the Jack Kane case. Because apparently when it came to the Kane brothers, murder ran in the family.

  Chapter Ten

  Dover, Maine

  Declan fiddled with the thermostat, eventually being rewarded with a blast of hot air.

  Thank God. He worried that maybe with the week away from Dover, some pipes might have frozen or the pilot light had gone out. But everything seemed to be in working order.

  He’d just arrived in Dover this morning after spending a week back in Millners Kill. He and Russ had started packing up Russ’s stuff. Russ was at a conference in Elmira, New York, and then he’d be heading here in a few days. Declan was looking forward to really getting some work done on the house.

  The ride back had been hairy. It was so cold he hadn’t been able to use the windshield wiper fluid because it froze as soon as it hit the windshield. He’d even had to stop to help two college kids. Their car had started to freeze on the inside, due to a small hole in the windshield.

  He and Russ had packed up most of Russ’s stuff. They loaded up Russ’s garage with boxes, half of which would be donated. They’d made a big dent. Declan had filled his car with as many boxes as he could manage. They were all in the second bedroom down the hall now. Declan had moved in two weeks ago to start renovating, and Russ joined him on weekends.

  Russ was hoping he might be able to leave Millners Kill as soon as the new sheriff was elected, which meant they could move up their wedding date. It wasn’t going to be a big affair, but Declan found himself excited
ly looking forward to it. He’d come out when he was twenty, but marrying Russ felt like he was coming out all over again.

  Only this time, he wasn’t doing it alone. He smiled as he stared around their house. It was currently, well, a disaster. But soon it would be gorgeous. His phone rang, and he answered it with a smile.

  “Hello?”

  “Declan, it’s Mary Waterson.”

  Declan’s smile dipped at Mary’s tone. Mary was a detective with the Albany Police Department. She and Declan had worked a few cases together. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  Declan placed the phone down and stared at the wall of the bedroom.

  Keith Hodgkins was dead.

  It still wasn’t registering. He knew Keith had split with his wife, but he hadn’t kept track of him. Keith had been a bully his whole life. Declan was happy to let him disappear from his.

  But now someone had killed him. And in his 911 call, he’d said it was Steve. Declan glanced at the clock. It was coming up on two p.m. Mary said the detectives were going to try and keep it from the press. They didn’t want it turning into a circus. But who knew if they would manage it? He needed to get to Steve in case they failed.

  A few minutes later, Declan was pulling out of his drive. He drove past Steve and Julie’s house. There were no cars in the drive. He headed for the lumberyard.

  Traffic was light, which was normal. The sky was dark gray with storm clouds gathering. It was snowing, big white fluffy snowflakes. It was pretty, but it was starting to accumulate. They were supposed to get about a foot by tomorrow morning. But that was nothing compared to what was forecast in two days’ time. If the meteorologists were right, people were going to be stranded for days. Russ was hopefully going to make it in before the worst of it hit.