by Rita Herron
If they’d pursued that line of questioning, the truth about Wade Mulligan would at least have been exposed, garnering sympathy from the jury.
But the attorney had skimmed over the details and focused on Hank’s confession.
The public defender, a new graduate barely out of diapers, had argued against the death penalty, claiming Hank was emotionally disturbed.
The A.D.A. had agreed that Hank was disturbed, but because he exhibited no signs of remorse, argued that he was psychotic. He ended his closing arguments by reminding the jurors of the number of stab wounds he’d inflicted on Wade Mulligan, arguing that Hank was not only dangerous, but also had no rehabilitative qualities.
Jaxon heaved a breath of frustration. The public defender should have requested Hank undergo a psychological exam, should have had both Hank and Avery medically evaluated and should have introduced the abuse factor. He should have researched past foster children placed with the Mulligans to see if there was a history of problems with the family.
Jaxon had hoped Casey would call with the social worker’s name, but he found it in the transcripts—Delia Hanover.
According to Delia, Hank Tierney had anger issues related to his father, had trouble adapting and fitting in and he had hated Wade Mulligan. He’d asked her to move him and Avery from the home, and she was searching for another family to take them, but he killed Mulligan before she could find another placement.
Hank’s attorney should have pushed her for more details on the reason Hank had requested a change.
Jaxon scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck, then sipped his beer.
At the least, the public defender should have cut a deal with the A.D.A. for an insanity plea and had Hank moved to a psychiatric hospital.
He studied the photographs of Mulligan’s body, the dozens of stab wounds, and understood why the jurors had voted him guilty.
But they hadn’t had all the facts.
Would these revelations be enough for a judge to grant a retrial?
He doubted it.
He needed a look at the autopsy report. But it wasn’t in the file.
He would get it, though. If there were evidence of a second perpetrator, maybe that would be enough to convince a judge to stop the execution.
* * *
AVERY SHIVERED AND dug her feet into the covers. She wished she could just disappear forever.
Maybe if she pulled them up high enough over her, she could hide underneath and he wouldn’t find her.
The ping, ping, ping of the rain on the tin roof sounded like nails driving down. Footsteps sounded.
Then his voice mumbling something she couldn’t understand. But she knew what would come next.
“Leave her alone!” Hank shouted.
“Shut up, you little bastard.”
Then a slap across the face. She’d heard the sound so many times she should be used to it, but it still made her stomach heave.
“Beat me, but leave her alone,” Hank bellowed.
Tears leaked down Avery’s cheeks. Hank was always taking care of her. She clenched the sheets, sweating all over. She had to tell someone. Get her and Hank out of here.
She jumped from the bed and rushed to the door. Wade slammed his fist into Hank’s stomach, but Hank lunged at him. They wrestled and fell to the floor. Hank kicked at Wade, his foot connecting with Wade’s knee.
Wade grunted in pain and punched Hank again, this time so hard blood spurted from Hank’s nose.
Avery covered her scream with her hand, terrified, as Wade dragged Hank to his bedroom.
He was going to tie him up. Hank wouldn’t be able to help her.
She slammed her door and tried to lock it. Looked for the stick she’d sneaked into the house to try to fight him off with.
Wade shouted an obscenity, then began to pound the door with his fists. The door jarred. Wood splintered.
Avery jumped back against the wall. She was trembling all over. Felt sick to her stomach.
The door splintered and Wade stormed in. His face looked red, his eyes full of rage. He swung his hand out to grab her.
“Come here, girl. You got to earn your keep.”
Avery screamed, “No,” and swung the stick out. She hit him across the face, and he staggered. The rancid smell of his breath struck her as he lunged toward her and grabbed the stick.
Then he shoved her onto the bed. She looked up and saw the stick coming at her, and she covered her face with her hands and screamed again as he delivered the first blow....
Avery jerked awake, shaking all over and clawing at the bedding.
It took her a moment to realize that she was having a nightmare.
That Wade Mulligan wasn’t here now, and that he could never hurt her again.
Her phone jangled, a trilling sound that sent a shiver through her. Hand trembling, she reached for it, praying Jaxon had good news.
But another voice echoed back. One that sounded garbled.
Only the words were clear.
“Your brother is a killer. He deserves to die. And you’ll die, too, if you try to get him off.”
Chapter Eight
Jaxon’s phone buzzed, waking him at 6:00 a.m. “Sergeant Ward.”
“Jaxon, it’s Casey Chambers. I have some information for you.”
He sat up and grabbed a pen and pad from his nightstand. “What is it?”
“I found the social worker who placed the Tierney kids with the Mulligans.”
“Delia Hanover,” Jaxon said. “I saw her name in the trial transcripts.”
“Right,” Casey said. “She left the office where she worked a couple of years after Hank Tierney was arrested. Now she works with the local school system.”
“Give me her contact information.”
“I’m texting you her phone and address now.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“I did some digging around and discovered four other foster children who lived with the Mulligans before the Tierneys.”
“Good work. I’d like to talk to them. Send me their names and contact information, as well.”
“It’s on its way. Although one of the girls, Lenny Ames, killed herself a few months after she was removed from the home.”
Jaxon’s heart pounded. “Is there any more information about her suicide?”
“Not much. The report was short. Said she went from the Mulligans to a juvenile center for troubled kids. She slit her wrists one night and bled out before anyone noticed.”
“Did she leave a suicide note?” Jaxon asked.
“No. But the house parents at the time said she was deeply disturbed, withdrawn and depressed when she arrived.”
“I suppose nobody bothered to run a psychological checkup on her?”
“Doesn’t say here. But my guess is no. She was another kid who got lost in the system.”
“Or died because Mulligan abused her to the point where she hadn’t wanted to live anymore.”
She mumbled agreement.
“Thanks, Casey. This has been very helpful.”
His phone was buzzing again, another call coming in, so he pressed Connect. “Sergeant Ward.”
“Jaxon, it’s Avery.”
Her voice sounded shaky. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone just called here and threatened me.”
Jaxon went still. “Stay on the line. I’ll be right there.” He grabbed jeans and a clean shirt and dressed quickly, stuffed his weapon in his holster and snatched his badge and Stetson.
“Do you know who the caller was?” Jaxon asked as he hurried outside to his SUV.
“No.” Avery’s breath rasped out. “It sounded like a man, but it was muffled, and I couldn’t be sure.”
&
nbsp; “Keep the doors locked. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She hung up. He started the engine and drove onto the main road leading into town toward Avery’s house. The sun was fighting its way through the clouds and failing, the clouds hovering above and casting a dismal gray to the land.
Avery’s neighborhood was like a breath of fresh air in comparison.
But the fact that she’d been threatened made his instincts kick in, and he scanned the streets and yards in case anyone was lurking around watching her. But the street was quiet with only an occasional neighbor venturing out for the morning paper or to get in their car and head to work. Two joggers ran by, while a trio of young mothers were already strolling their babies.
Nothing suspicious.
He pulled into the driveway and parked, then hurried up to the door. Avery opened it before he could knock. “You didn’t have to come,” she said, although her face looked pale and she’d obviously been upset by the call. She wasn’t dressed, either. She looked as if she’d hastily thrown on a robe. Her hair was tangled from sleep, her cheeks flushed.
She looked sexy as hell.
And frightened.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
She turned and walked to her kitchen. She went straight to the coffeepot, poured two cups and handed him one.
He thanked her, then blew on the steaming brew, waiting until she was ready to talk.
“I had a nightmare about Wade Mulligan,” she admitted.
He gritted his teeth. Naturally asking questions about what had happened that night would stir up old nightmares for her.
“When I woke up, my phone was ringing.”
“Was there a name on the caller ID?”
She shook her head. “Unknown.”
“What exactly did the caller say?”
“That my brother is a killer. That he deserves to die. That I will, too, if I try to get him off.”
Jaxon fisted his hands in an attempt to control his anger. Who the hell would want to scare her like that?
The only person he could think of was the person who’d killed Mulligan.
* * *
AVERY TOLD HERSELF that the call had been a prank, but still it was difficult to shake the fear that had snaked through her at the sinister words.
There had been three other calls since. All from reporters wanting an interview about her brother’s upcoming execution.
“I’m going to put a tracer on your phone in case he calls back,” Jaxon said.
“You think he was serious?”
Worry flashed in Jaxon’s eyes a moment before he masked it. “Could be. But there are already protest rallies for both sides of the death penalty. It’s possible some overzealous fanatic is trying to scare you.”
Avery’s pulse began to steady. “I guess you’re right. I mean, how many people even know that I’m trying to reopen the case?”
“The warden, Lisa Ellis, a social worker I asked for information, the clerk at the courthouse and Joleen Mulligan. But I can trust the social worker and clerk.”
“You think Joleen would threaten me?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Jaxon sipped his coffee. “There’s another possibility.”
Avery tensed at the anxiety riddling his tone. “Who?”
“The person who murdered Mulligan.”
Her breath caught. “That means the threat is real.”
Jaxon sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but we have to face the facts. If Hank didn’t kill Mulligan, then whoever did is not going to want the case reopened and another investigation.”
“You’re right.” Avery drained the rest of her coffee and set her cup in the sink. “But it’s not going to stop me. And neither are the reporters who keep calling for interviews.”
“When did that start?”
“Last week. I’ve refused them all, but twice I saw someone stalking me with a camera.”
“Dammit. They’re like vultures.”
“I can handle them,” Avery said. “I’ve been doing it all my life.”
“But you shouldn’t have to,” Jaxon said in a voice laced with wariness and something else...maybe admiration.
No. She was reading too much into things.
Jaxon’s gaze raked over her, and Avery remembered she hadn’t dressed before he’d arrived. She’d been so shaken by the phone call that she’d immediately punched his number, thrown on a robe and searched the house in case whoever had phoned was inside.
“I know where Delia is,” Jaxon said. “If you want to go with me, I’ll wait while you dress.”
Avery frowned. “You found her?”
“Yes. She left social services and is employed with the school system now.”
“Does she know we’re coming?”
“No. I want to surprise her.”
Avery didn’t bother to ask why. She didn’t care. All she wanted was to hear what Delia Hanover had to say.
And if she’d had any idea what kind of people the Mulligans were before she’d sent her and Hank to live with them.
* * *
JAXON SIGHED WITH relief when Avery went to get dressed. Good grief, that thin little robe barely covered her. And that short gown showcased legs that he wanted wrapped around him.
But that was never going to happen.
The shower water kicked on, and he had to step outside for some fresh air to keep himself from thinking about how Avery would look naked with water glistening off her bronzed skin.
He had a case to solve, and the clock was ticking. He didn’t have time for distractions.
Besides, Avery was not interested in him except for his expertise.
A van rolled by, slowing as it passed, and he saw someone take a picture of the house with his cell phone. Irritated, he headed toward it.
He waved at the van, and the driver pulled over to the curb. Two young men were inside, the camera guy snapping shot after shot of Avery’s house and lawn.
“What are you doing?” Jaxon shouted.
The camera guy grinned. “Isn’t this where the Tierney woman lives? The one whose brother’s going to be executed?”
Dammit, the gawkers had already started.
“No, it’s not.” He flashed his badge. “What do you want with that woman anyway?”
“Just some pics. Heard she refused interviews, so I’m gonna catch her coming out and put it up on YouTube.”
Then everyone would know where she lived, and all the crazies would come after her. “Get out of here, you scumbag,” Jaxon said. “And if you bother Avery Tierney again, I’ll arrest you for harassing innocent citizens.”
The front door opened, and Avery stepped out.
“It’s her!” the driver shouted. The other guy raised his camera.
Jaxon snatched the phone and deleted the pictures.
“Hey, you can’t do that!” the guy shouted.
Avery apparently realized what was happening and stepped back inside the house.
“I can and I did.” Jaxon shoved the phone back in the man’s hands. “Now get out of here before I arrest you.”
The guy cursed, but he ducked back inside the van and the driver sped off.
Jaxon waited until the van turned off the street, then went to the door.
Avery stood in the entryway, her purse slung over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said.
Her frown deepened. “It’s happened all my life. It’s their last chance to get some drama out of Hank’s conviction.”
And make her life hell.
Avery didn’t say it, but it was true. And not fair. But the media and curiosity seekers were seldom fair.
He was not going to let her be hurt by them a
gain, though. Or by that threatening caller. He would guard her until this mess was over.
Until Hank was free and the real killer was locked behind bars.
* * *
AVERY TUGGED ON a hat as she and Jaxon left her house. She kept her head low as they drove from the neighborhood.
She’d kept to herself since she rented the house two years ago, had liked her privacy.
Publicity over the investigation and execution had robbed her of that now.
She’d considered changing her name over the years, but had decided that she wouldn’t run from who she was.
By the time they arrived at the school, she’d summoned her courage. Jaxon identified himself to the receptionist in the school office.
“May I ask what this is about?” the redhead said.
“It’s police business,” Jaxon said.
The woman looked curious, but she refrained from pushing for more information and escorted them down the hall to the counselor’s office.
She knocked on the door, then cracked it open. “Ms. Hanover, Sergeant Jaxon Ward with the Texas Rangers is here to see you.”
Jaxon stepped in, and Avery followed, twisting her hands together as she contemplated what to say. Delia Hanover was not what she’d expected or remembered. Of course, she hadn’t seen her in twenty years.
Which meant Delia had been young, maybe early thirties at the time she’d known her. Her hair was slightly graying now, her eyes wary.
She rose from her desk, her face paling as her gaze latched with Avery’s.
“Oh, my goodness, Avery,” she rasped out. “I...guess I should have expected you to come.”
Avery swallowed hard. “I saw my brother, Ms. Hanover. He’s innocent.”
The woman’s brows pinched together. “I don’t understand...”
Jaxon cleared his throat. “That’s why we’re here,” Jaxon said. “We need your help to find the real killer, Ms. Hanover.”
“Please call me Delia.” She sank into her chair, a weary look in her eyes. “But Hank confessed, Avery. You said you saw him stabbing Wade Mulligan.”
“Hank lied to protect me,” Avery said. “He thought I stabbed Hank, so he tried to cover for me.”
