by R. D. Brady
“I’d agree, but there’ve been some other incidents.”
Declan glanced over his shoulder. “Do you know who Mark Herbert is?”
Steve frowned. He stared at the name Herbert, trying to bring a face to bear.
The name was familiar… “Wait, do you mean Coach Herbert? He was the high school football coach.”
“Was being the operative word. He killed himself about a week before the lawyer died.”
Steve knew where he was going with this. “And he was the jury foreperson.”
Declan pointed at the next name on the list. “The judge also passed away from a car accident.”
“A car accident, a suicide, and a heart attack? How am I supposed to have made all that happen?”
“Technically, it’s possible. A suicide can be staged, a heart attack induced, an accident arranged.”
Steve stared at Declan in shock.
Declan put up his hands. “Hey, I’m not saying that’s the case. That tends to be more Hollywood than real life. But it is possible. And three suspicious deaths, at least in the eyes of the detective, and one confirmed murder has got the detectives wondering.”
Steve shook his head. “I haven’t seen the judge, Coach Herbert, or the lawyer since the trial. I’m not sure I’d even recognize the judge. And I mean, Hodgkins, last time I saw him—” Steve cut off the vision of Keith storming into his kitchen and his boot slamming down on his face. “It’s been years since I’ve seen Keith as well.”
Steve shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around this. How was any of this possible? “How much trouble am I in?”
“Honestly, if the detectives are looking at it realistically, not much. You have an alibi for right before and after. You can’t account for the time of the murder except for Julie saying you were asleep, but there’s no way you could make it out there and back.”
Steve nodded. He’d taken Bess into the lumberyard that morning. He did whenever he could. She would either curl up on the couch in the office to play or sleep while Steve did the paperwork and walk the yard with him when he went out. The guys always spoiled her rotten when she showed up. His heart clenched, imagining if she’d been there when the detectives questioned him. She probably wouldn’t have understood, but she would have known something was wrong. “Then why were the detectives here?”
Declan didn’t meet his gaze. “They just have to run down every lead.”
Steve stared at Declan and knew he was keeping something from him. “Declan.”
Declan sighed, looking up. “It’s Gomez. He has a personal stake when it comes to you.”
Steve frowned, picturing the Albany detective. He’d never seen the man before in his life. He’d never met anyone that was related to him. He struggled to think of some connection. Was it somebody that he met on the inside? But even then, Steve kept his nose clean. He didn’t get into any dustups between inmates. “How?”
“Gomez’s sister was killed, murdered. Her bracelet was found in Jack’s trophy box. Jack never admitted to the murder, but he was in town when she disappeared. Gomez is convinced it was him.”
Once again shock rippled through Steve. “But … but I’m not Jack.”
“I don’t think Gomez is thinking clearly about this.” Declan hesitated. “And there are some in the law enforcement circles who seem to think that maybe the two of you were in it together. That the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Steve closed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. Was this what it was going to be for the rest of his life? Constantly having to dodge people’s assumptions? Constantly having to assure people that he wasn’t like his brother? “I don’t know what to do about any of this.”
“Look, the good news is that the judge forbade the detectives from releasing your name. They are not allowed to tell the world that Steve Kane is now Steve Davidson. So hopefully this will all blow over.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I hope that.”
Steve stared at the screen and the running tally of his kills. “No wonder Gomez thinks I’m somehow responsible for Hodgkins’s death. He’s the last in the long line.”
Declan slowly pushed the back of the laptop closed. “Look, it’s a coincidence that there are so many people related to you that have passed. But none of those deaths were suspicious. I mean, Mr. Griffiths is on the list.”
Mr. Griffiths was Steve’s grandmother’s neighbor back in Millners Kill. He had been seventy-five when everything happened and suffered from Parkinson’s. He’d passed away three years ago. Steve wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be responsible for his death.
Declan read the look on Steve’s face. “Exactly. He pulled everyone who crossed paths with you in any way and put them on there. It’s just in their totality that they look suspicious.”
Steve looked over at his oldest friend. Declan had stood with him through so much. “Declan, if this were anybody else but me, would you be suspicious?”
Declan hesitated long enough to give away the lie. “No.”
Steve shook his head. “Yeah, you would. I don’t get it, though. I mean, why take out these people? I’m not angry at them. And Jack, he’s gone for good. We don’t have to worry about him at all anymore. So if these deaths are linked, who’s doing it?”
“They’re not linked. They’re just life. People die. And like I said, those deaths weren’t suspicious. Gomez is just grasping at straws. He’s still mourning his sister, and Jack is out of his reach, so he’s looking for someone else to blame. But don’t help him by going down this rabbit hole. Once you start looking that hard for connections, you start to find them, tenuous though they may be.”
Declan took a deep breath. “Gomez has gone back to Albany with his partner. This is over. You had nothing to do with Keith Hodgkins’s death. They can’t prove otherwise. What happened today was unfortunate, but don’t let it derail everything. Your life is here. With Bess and Julie. Don’t go borrowing trouble that you don’t need.”
Steve wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that because he had absolutely nothing to do with any of these other deaths, that none of it would touch him. But life had shown him very clearly that innocence was not a protection against others determining your guilt. He wanted to believe that Julie and Bess would be protected from all of this. He felt his heart stutter at the idea of Bess one day learning that he’d been locked up for murder. Because when she did, she would have to, at least for a moment, wonder if he’d actually committed it. The idea of that nearly broke him.
“Steve, don’t do this to yourself. You have a good life. Focus on the good. It is a tragedy that these people lost their lives. But it is not your tragedy. Just let it go.”
Steve knew it was good advice. He knew it was what he should do. But a small dark hole had opened up in his mind. It was filled with doubts and uncertainties and fears of what all of this could mean. And he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to close it anytime soon.
Chapter Eighteen
Albany, New York
Dover, Maine was officially the most boring city in the country. It had been two days since Phineas had gotten the name, and he’d researched it between his shifts at the restaurant and the movie theater, which hadn’t left him much time.
But even with him devoting all of his free time, Phineas had yet to find even a single interesting fact about the place. The highlight of the city’s year seemed to be the Fourth of July parade and park party, which, from the pictures, wasn’t much of a highlight.
After another two hours of searching that morning, all he had was a reinforced conviction that he would never live in a place like Dover. He sighed, running his hands through his hair and tugging on the ends. He knew Dover had to do with the Hodgkins case. The detectives wouldn’t slog all the way out there for nothing, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Dover was a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere that had absolutely nothing going on with it.
The only
connection he could see was that Millners Kill was also a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere. But he doubted the detectives were wandering around all the tiny little towns in the middle of nowhere trying to see if there was something linked to Keith Hodgkins’s case.
No, there was something specific that had drawn the detectives to Dover. There had to be. Dover just got a foot of snow. There was no way the detectives would head up there unless there was something or someone they needed to see.
He pushed back from the desk and stepped over to his window. He could feel the cold air coming through the edges of it. They’d gotten a light dusting of snow but nothing serious. But man, was it cold. And the sky was simply gray, undeniably gray. He blew on the glass and traced a frowning face in the condensation.
He shook his head, retaking his seat. No, there’s something here. I’m just not seeing it. Okay, new approach: I’ll run the names of everyone that I know from Millners Kill to see if there are any connections to Dover.
He pulled up the file of Millners Kill residents and started plugging in names. He knew it was a Hail Mary. He didn’t expect any links, but he was desperate.
Forty-five minutes later, his desperation paid off. Reggie Tully owned a lumberyard in Dover, Maine. The guy had served two tours before being honorably discharged from the Marines. Then he’d been a UFC fighter for a few years before he’d retired from that and started an online woodworking business. Eventually he’d taken over the lumberyard in Dover. Phineas found a few video clips of Tully’s fights and winced as he watched. The guy was a force of nature. Why on earth would he go to Maine?
The lumberyard he owned had belonged to a Seymour Flanagan. Tully apparently had been working with him for years before Seymour retired and Tully took over full time. When he took over, he also moved to Dover full time.
Phineas sat back, staring at his screen. Why would they be questioning Tully? He had no arrests, no run-ins with police. He was clean. His only criminal link was through the attempted abduction of his nephew Micah by Jack Kane.
Phineas drummed his fingers on the table. He brought up the public files on the lumberyard and scanned the names, but he didn’t recognize any of them.
Outside the window, white flakes drifted past the glass. The snow had started again, but this was nothing compared to what the detectives were driving through. So what’s so important up there?
He drummed his fingers on the table. There was a story there. He could feel it. But he wasn’t going to be able to write it from here. He needed to go to Dover.
Phineas turned his attention back to his computer and quickly brought up a hotel website. There was only one hotel in Dover, and it was a bed and breakfast. Luckily it wasn’t too expensive being it was the off season, at least for a night or two. After that, he’d need to find something cheaper.
Now he just needed to get there. He flipped over to a bus schedule. There were, of course, no direct lines. It would take a full twenty-four hours by bus, not including the slowdowns caused by the snow. He debated for a few minutes but finally switched to a car-rental site. He doubted Dover had a decent bus system, and he would need to be able to get around.
But it was going to be too expensive. He would already have to put in for time off from both jobs and use his savings, which were tiny. So begging it is.
He closed his laptop, stood up, and stretched. He opened his bedroom door and stepped into the living room. His roommate, Stuart, looked up from his spot on the couch. “Hey, man. What you been up to?”
Stuart was an accountant. He and Phineas had gone to college together. After college, they decided to room together until each of them made it big. Stuart already made a pretty decent salary, for which Phineas was grateful because there’d been more than a few months when he’d been unable to come up with his half of the rent. Stuart had just waved it off.
Phineas moved into their small kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
“Grab me one too,” Stuart yelled from the couch.
Phineas grabbed another one and walked back to the couch, handing the beer to Stuart. “Hey, I have a favor to ask.” He paused. “Actually, two.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Can I borrow your car? There’s a story I need to chase down, and I need a car to do it.”
Stuart shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I’ll get the bus for a few days or have Todd down the hall give me a lift. But I’ll need it back in a week.”
“No problem. I will totally have it back by then. And if I don’t, I’ll rent you one.”
“Okay. What’s the second favor?”
“Can you keep an eye on Natasha?”
At hearing her name, Natasha Romanoff, Phineas’s all-black cat strolled out from underneath the couch. She circled Phineas’s legs, rubbing against him before hopping up on the couch and curling up next to Stuart.
Stuart rested a hand on Natasha’s back. “You know I’ll always take care of my girl. But where are you going?”
“Dover, Maine.” Popping the cap on the edge of the counter, he took a large swallow of beer, enjoying the cold feel as it made its way down his throat.
Stuart raised an eyebrow. “What the heck’s in Dover, Maine?”
A tingle of excitement ran through him. He didn’t know what he was going to find in Dover. But he had a feeling it was going to change everything.
“My future.”
Chapter Nineteen
Dover, Maine
Snow blew across the road, making the light snowfall look worse than it actually was. Nevaeh knew though that this was nothing compared to what the forecasters were predicting. They said to prepare for at least an inch, maybe two, an hour over the next two days. Combined with the high winds that were forecasted, visibility would drop to well below zero, just like the temperature. On top of that, there was twelve inches of snow on the ground, packed tight. It would take days to dig out.
She could already picture how little sleep the next few days would bring her. She hadn’t gotten much sleep lately anyway. Those two detectives from Albany had skulked around town, asking about Steve for a few hours before leaving. Luckily, they hadn’t used his former name, but people were curious why two New York detectives were interested in Steve. Right now, they were worried on behalf of Steve and his family. But she knew how quickly that could change once the name Kane got thrown into the mix.
Nevaeh didn’t like two strangers coming into her town and causing trouble. She was feeling a kinship with those sheriffs in old Westerns. She’d already called their chief to place a formal grievance. They’d get yelled at and not much else, but maybe it would make them think twice before causing trouble without cause. She’d sent the affidavits for herself, Reggie, Laura, and Julie attesting to Steve’s whereabouts. Hopefully that would be the end of it.
But even as she thought that, she understood their concerns. She’d looked into the other deaths. Hadley was in hospice, so his death was hardly a surprise. The others had been tragic but not criminal. From what she could tell about Hodgkins, he was a pretty heavy drinker, and he’d been obsessed with Steve. Who knew what the hell he’d seen in his last few minutes? All she knew was it wasn’t Steve.
She came abreast of the supermarket parking lot, which was packed. She’d need to send a deputy later as the storm got worse to keep an eye on it. Movement ahead jerked her attention.
What the—
She slammed on the brakes as a red sedan pulled out from the supermarket parking lot. She gritted her teeth, the back of her cruiser spinning out. The guy hadn’t even slowed, just zipped into the lane. She contemplated pulling the guy over, but she had enough on her plate. A horn blared elsewhere in the parking lot. Tempers were getting short. She just hoped no one caused an accident. The two tow trucks in town were already run ragged with the cold, jumping over a dozen batteries this morning. And if that cold snap moved in, it was going to be even worse.
She debated for a moment before she grabbed the radio. “Dispatch, I need Chris to h
ead over to Hannaford’s. People are starting to lose it. Tell him to park out front. Just seeing him there will hopefully keep people from acting really stupid.”
“You are an optimist,” said Helen Champion, Dover’s one and only dispatcher.
“That I am. Tell him to bring some coffee. The temp’s really dropping.”
“Will do, Chief.”
Nevaeh replaced the mic, shaking her head. She’d rather have Chris ready to help people that got stranded, but if tempers started to really fray, they might have something more serious to
worry about. Two years ago there’d been a fistfight in the bread aisle of Hannaford’s before the last big storm. She was not looking for a repeat of that ridiculousness.
Besides, hopefully as the storm got going, people would stay inside. She snorted. Man, I really am optimistic today.
What was it about a storm that made people lose their minds? Worst-case scenario, people would be stuck in their homes for three, maybe four days. They wouldn’t starve.
And what was with the milk-and-bread run? On a normal day, Nevaeh never went near the stuff. But with a storm coming in, just like everyone else, she wanted milk and bread in the house, as if that would make being snowbound all right.
We humans are not rational beings. The light ahead turned red, and she stopped, pulling out her phone and shooting a quick text to Reggie.
Did you go to the supermarket?
His response came in quick. Done. Any idea when you’ll be heading home?
Probably late. People have lost their minds.
Don’t you lose yours. Your boys will be waiting for you. Love you.
Love you too.
Nevaeh placed the phone on the passenger seat with a smile on her face. I am one lucky woman, she thought as she started to drive again. Reggie was the perfect man for her. Strong, smart, sweet, and thank the gods, he could cook. Not to mention the fact that he was a phenomenal dad. Nevaeh had to keep herself from doing a little happy dance.
