“What the hell happened?"
“It's not life-threatening, but looks like a bad injury to the hip area.” After the paramedics filled him in on the incident, Tom jumped back into his car and sped toward the house. Who would force their way onto the property?
When Tom reached the house, two police cars were parked in front, their top lights still blinking. A congregation of people stood on the porch. Two officers stood on each side of a tall blond woman. “Melinda,” he muttered, running up the steps.
Angie met him as he hit the landing. “Tom, what happened at the gate?
“Melinda forced her way in and bounced the officer off her fender.
“Is he all right?"
“Looks like a hip injury, but he'll be okay.” Tom pointed at Melinda. “Why did she want in here so bad?"
“I'm not sure,” Angie said.
Marty stood behind them, wringing her hands.
“I can only think of one thing, that she wanted to pump either me or Marty about her father. But the shocked look on her face when she saw Ken tells me she got her answer."
“Well, I don't think you're going to have to worry about her bothering you anymore. This hit-and-run stunt will probably cost her jail time."
The group watched silently as the officers snapped the handcuffs onto Melinda's wrists and marched her off to the police car.
Marty wiped the corner of her eyes with her apron and disappeared into the house. Angie motioned for everyone to come inside. They congregated in the study and Tom stepped behind the wet bar.
“This has been quite a night. Anyone care for a drink?"
After Tom prepared cocktails for everyone, he raised his glass high. “To you, Ken. Welcome back."
Ken smiled and lifted his glass. “To you, Tom, for helping me out of a big mess."
About that time, Marty poked her head inside the study door. “If I have to warm this dinner up again, it won't be worth eating."
Everyone laughed and proceeded to the dining room table. During dinner, Angie turned to Tom. “What did Sandy do this afternoon that made you leave so quickly?"
Tom put his fork down and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I can't tell you until I have proof my hunch is right. However, I will tell you that something had nagged me for days and I couldn't put my finger on it until this afternoon."
Angie rolled her eyes. “Oh, thanks. That really told us a lot."
Tom laughed. “In a few days I'll be able to tell you more."
* * * *
The next day, Tom walked into the small room at the police station that had been set aside for William Bird to work on Autumn Conners’ computer. He found the man hunched over the keyboard with a furrowed brow.
“Problems?"
Bird glanced up and slumped back in the chair, tapping his pencil on the desk. “Damn. Whoever locked these files didn't intend anyone to get into them. Can you tell me something about this person? Maybe it will give me a hint."
Tom scooted a chair up to the desk and related all he knew about Autumn, except her name. Bird raised his brows when Tom told him about her computer knowledge, where she'd graduated from college and what year. “Does any of this information help?"
“Yes, definitely. Check back with me in a couple of hours. I want to try a different approach."
Tom went back to his office and found Cliff thumbing through the Conners murder file.
Cliff glanced up. “How's the computer guy doing?"
“Hit a brick wall. Can't get those files open."
“Figures. I did a background check on Mrs. Conners."
Tom took off his jacket and draped it across the back of the chair. “Yeah? What'd you come up with?"
“That little lady is no slouch when it comes to computers. And I might add, she has a good knowledge of guns. More so than her husband in both subjects."
His interest piqued, Tom sat down. “Tell me."
“I reached one of her professors in college. He told me that she developed a system for locking files on a computer that no one could break. The class tried to get her to confess the secret, but she never did. She got cocky and figured she had the computer game whipped. The professor tried to convince her to keep working at perfecting the system she'd designed, but she felt it wouldn't be necessary, that no one would be able to break her code."
“Yeah, Bird's discovered that."
“Think he'll be able to break it?"
“Only time will tell. Now, what about the gun thing?"
“Turns out she applied for the tryouts on the Olympic shooting team."
Tom screwed up his mouth. “Autumn Conners? You're kidding."
“Nope.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Five years ago."
“How did she qualify?"
“When she was a kid, her dad used to take her shooting. Had her in all kinds of gun classes. She always finished as the number one marksman. A title she hated. Said it should be called ‘markswoman.’”
Tom nodded. “Figures."
“Another little interesting tidbit. Finally found an acquaintance of Autumn Conners. She asked me not to call her a friend, as she didn't care for the woman. About six months ago, she said Autumn jokingly told her that she and Ryan were going to get what they deserved from the Nevers company, even if it meant murder."
“What a strange thing to say to a friend."
“Yep, my thoughts exactly."
About that time, William Bird stuck his head inside the door, a big smile on his lips. “I've cracked the code.” Both detectives jumped to their feet and followed him down the hall. When they entered the room, Tom headed straight for the humming printer and sorted the sheets of paper. He and Cliff sat down at the corner table and concentrated on the documents. Bird continued to click the Print button.
Before long, with a grim expression, Tom glanced at Cliff. “I think we've found our murderer."
* * *
Chapter Thirty-three
Cliff had put a rush on the analysis of the shawl and the results came in two days. He scanned the pages quickly, then hurried down the hall to Tom's office and handed him the report. “Your hunch paid off. Ryan's blood and brain remnants were found on Autumn's shawl."
Tom shoved back his chair and shrugged into his jacket. “Okay, let's go.” On the way down the hall, he told one of the assistants to get Child Services to meet them at the Conners’ residence."
Autumn Conners, wrapped in a dirty blanket, sat huddled in the corner of her couch. She stared at the officers taking her two children from the room as Detective Hoffman read her rights. Then her gaze moved back to Hoffman, locking on his face.
“Do you understand your rights?"
She nodded.
“Would you like a lawyer present?"
Shaking her head, she squinted at him. “Why do I need a lawyer?"
“You're going to be charged for the murder of Bud Nevers and your husband, Ryan Conners."
Her body jerked. “That's crazy,” she hissed.
For the first time, Tom noticed fear in her eyes. “Your computer files prove that you and Ryan planned the murder of Bud Nevers."
Her eyes narrowed. “You're only trying to scare me. No one can open my files."
Cliff stepped forward with a sheet of paper in his hand. “They've been opened, Mrs. Conners."
“I don't believe you. You're lying and it won't work.” She turned her back to him and pulled the blanket closer to her body.
He began to read from the paper. “Bud Nevers must die a death that looks accidental. Ryan, make all computers at the company read the same, get rid of original records. Lure Bud Nevers to the house, knock him out, inject him with phenobarb. Wear latex gloves. Make sure the Porsche's gas tank is only half-full, drive the car to the hill and push it over the cliff. No evidence will remain on the burned body."
Autumn slowly shifted her eyes toward him, her mouth pulled down in a tight frown. “How dare you. Invading my privacy rights. No one gets into my computer
."
Cliff straightened his hat. “Mrs. Conners, your technology is over five years old, which makes it obsolete in the computer world. I'm surprised that you didn't realize that, since you claim to be so computer savvy."
“Why'd you kill your husband?” Tom intervened.
“I didn't,” she said, hitting the sofa arm with her fist. “He turned weak and couldn't stand the pressure. When the police started questioning him, he caved in and shot himself."
“Why was the gun on his right side when he's left-handed?"
“He was ambidextrous."
Cliff stared at her. “Explain why fibers from your shawl were under his fingernails and how his brain matter got splattered over the fabric. The man's brains didn't leak out his ears at night, Mrs. Conners. You shot your husband so he wouldn't squeal on you."
“Lies! Lies!” she screamed. “And what have you done with my babies?"
Tom couldn't believe his ears. “You should have thought about that a long time ago. They'll be well taken care of, believe me. Better than living in this pigsty."
Cliff motioned to the two officers in the room. “Get her out of here and book her for murder."
“I'm not going to rot in prison.” She suddenly flipped back the blanket, exposing the barrel of a handgun pointed directly at Tom. Before he could react, she let go with two shots.
Tom went down. Before she could turn the gun on Cliff, shots echoed from every corner of the room. Cliff and the officers had turned their guns on Autumn. She slumped to the floor, dead, blood pooling from her body.
Cliff holstered his gun and knelt beside Tom. While hunting for a pulse, he shouted into his cell phone. “Officer down. Need ambulance immediately."
* * * *
Angie paced back and forth in the waiting room while Cliff sat in the corner resting his head in his hands. It had been three hours since they'd rushed Tom into surgery.
She stopped and looked at Cliff, then sat down beside him. She grasped his wrist with trembling fingers and spoke in an agonized voice. “Cliff, you saw what happened to Tom. How bad did it look?"
He patted her hand and took a deep breath. “Mean. But, he's a tough bastard, he'll make it. If for no other reason, he'll come through this for you."
She sighed and squeezed his hand. “I need to tell him how much he means to me."
He stood and looked deep into her eyes. “Do it as soon as you have the chance. Then I know he'll make it."
She nodded.
“I'm going for some coffee. Want some?"
“Yes, thank you."
After he disappeared down the hall, Angie leaned back in the chair. Yes, she knew what Cliff had left unsaid. She'd seen it in Tom's eyes when he looked at her. Could he see it in hers? Could it be possible to fall in love so soon after Bud's death? Or was she on the rebound? Was she strong enough to know the difference?
The pain of Cliff's words, only a few hours ago when he'd notified her about Tom getting shot, had surged through every fiber of her body. She didn't even recall driving to the hospital. Now the waiting was taking its toll. “Dear Lord, don't let him die,” she whispered.
She wiped the tears from her eyes just as Cliff turned the corner into the room, carrying two Styrofoam cups of coffee. At the same moment, one of the surgeons pushed through the double doors, pulling off his mask and rubbing his forehead. Angie jumped to her feet.
“How is he, doctor?” Cliff asked.
“A lucky man. No vital organs were damaged other than the spleen, which we removed. But he can live fine without it. Some muscle and tissue damage. The bullet lodged in a rib, which probably saved his life. So far his vital signs look good, even though he's lost a lot of blood."
“Thank God.” Cliff crossed himself and blinked back the tears of relief that welled in his eyes.
“When can we see him?” Angie asked.
“They'll be taking him down to recovery. But it will be several hours before they put him in a room. I'd suggest you go home and get some rest, then return in the morning. We'll know more then."
Early the next morning, Angie stood at the entrance of Tom's hospital room for a few moments before she walked quietly to his bedside. He looked so gaunt it made her heart race. A nurse moved to the opposite side of the bed and emptied a syringe of medication into the intravenous bottle. She checked the tubing that ran to the back of Tom's hand, then glanced up at Angie and smiled.
“He's so pale.” Angie said. “Is he all right?"
“He's doing very well,” she said, writing on his chart.
When Angie glanced down at Tom, his eyes were open, a grin curling the corners of his mouth. “You're the most beautiful thing I've seen in hours."
She reached over and gently pushed a wisp of hair out of his eyes. “How are you feeling?"
He took her hand. “Like hell, until I looked up and saw this angel standing over my bed."
Angie leaned down and kissed his cheek. “You look wonderful to me too."
* * * *
Two months later, Angie, Tom and Cliff gathered with Ken's family in the Webers’ backyard. Chickens grilled on the spit, flavoring the air with a wonderful aroma. The twins were laughing with some of their friends on the opposite side of the yard. Ken pulled a huge bottle of champagne from a covered container filled with ice.
“I think it's time to celebrate,” he said. “I'd like to make a toast to Tom and Cliff. Not only for surviving, but for sticking by me through this mess."
All raised their glasses.
“Thank you,” Tom said. “Now I'd like to make an announcement. I've just asked Angie to marry me and she's accepted. We've set the date for three months from tonight."
Everyone cheered and congratulated the happy couple.
After the party, Angie and Tom left. In the car, Angie asked. “Whatever happened to the Conners’ little girls?"
“You know, I figured one day you'd ask that question, so I've kept track of them. You'll be happy to know, they've both been adopted."
Angie raised her brow. “Together?"
“Yes.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Like us, at last together."
She smiled and snuggled her head against his shoulder. “Never to be separated."
* * *
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