by Rita Herron
Of course, there was one already in the house.
“And you said you heard a woman’s voice?”
“Yes. She whispered that it would be all right.”
“Was the voice Joleen’s?”
“I don’t know. It was really low and I didn’t see her face.”
* * *
AVERY HAD DOUBTED everything about that horrible night. But she hadn’t imagined that woman’s voice.
Someone else had been in the house that night.
That woman could have killed Wade.
“What do you think she meant? That everything would be all right? Were you crying? Was Wade in the room at the time?”
Avery closed her eyes, desperate to sort through the memory. “I don’t remember. Just that I was hiding under the covers, and she touched my arm and squeezed it, then whispered to me.”
“Did you hear any other noise? Did Wade come in the room when she was there, or was he already dead?”
Her head throbbed from trying to recall the details. “I...don’t know. Everything is so jumbled. I...I remember hearing footsteps, and then...I felt the cold air from the window.”
“What did you do then?”
Avery massaged the scar on her wrist. “I was hiding in the bed, and I waited until it was quiet. Then I looked down and saw the knife. It was all bloody....”
“What happened next?”
“I...think I blacked out for another minute. The next thing I remember is Hank taking the knife from me. Then he was standing over Wade’s body. He raised the knife and drove it down into him. Then I screamed. And he...he stabbed him over and over again.”
Jaxon rubbed her arms. “Who called the police? Did you phone them?”
She blinked hard, a headache pulsing behind her eyes. Finally she shook her head. “No. I...just remember crying and seeing Hank with that knife. Then suddenly the police burst in and everyone was yelling. Then some female officer wrapped me in a blanket, and I saw lights from the police car swirling in the dark and an ambulance, and a big policeman dragged Hank toward his car.”
Her body shook with emotions as another flood of tears rained down her face. They had ripped Hank from her life that day, and she’d thought she lost him forever.
And she would lose him if she didn’t find a way to stop the execution.
So who was the woman she’d heard whispering to her that night?
* * *
LATER AT THE PRISON, Jaxon explained to the warden his reasons for requesting Hank’s mail. “Someone has been threatening Ms. Tierney. There might be a clue as to who it is in the correspondence. Can you think of anyone specific that’s written to him? Someone suspicious?”
“To tell you the truth,” the warden said, “we haven’t had time to sort through it all. The past six months, after that reporter wrote the story on death row and mentioned Tierney, we’ve been flooded with mail. So have the prisoners awaiting execution.”
“Let me have the mail. I’ll look through it, then have the FBI lab analyze it. We have specialists who can detect patterns, threats, look at handwriting analysis, even search for underlying meanings in messages.”
“Fine, take them. We’ve got our hands full here.”
Avery cleared her throat. “I want to see my brother again.”
The warden graced her with a sympathetic look. “Of course.”
He led them into the hallway and arranged for them to visit in a private room as he’d done before. “Have you found any evidence to exonerate Hank?”
Jaxon clenched his jaw. “We’re still working on it.”
Avery had lapsed into a worried silence, and remained quiet as the guard escorted them to a visitors’ room.
Hands clenched, Avery slid into the chair in front of the table, but her gaze was glued to her scar. She was obviously pushing herself to recall the details of that night.
The door squeaked open, and Hank shuffled in, chained and handcuffed again. Avery looked up at him with such a deep sadness that a knot formed inside Jaxon’s belly.
Would she survive if they didn’t save her brother?
* * *
AVERY SWALLOWED HARD to keep from bursting into tears. Hank’s face looked bruised and battered, his arms scraped, and he was limping as if he was in pain.
Even worse, despair darkened his eyes.
Metal clanged as he dropped into the chair. “You came back? Why?”
Avery flinched at the distrust in his voice. But she deserved it. “I told you I was going to get you free, and we’re working on it.” She gestured toward Jaxon. “We’ve been questioning everyone we can think of who might know what happened that night.”
A faint spark of hope flickered in his eyes for a second, then disappeared. “But you still don’t know who killed Mulligan.”
Avery laid her hand over his. He stiffened, and looked at her hand as if it felt foreign to be touched.
At least gently. He’d been beaten on for years. That was obvious.
“No,” Jaxon said. “But we questioned some of the other foster children placed with the Mulligans, and they confirmed Mulligan’s abusive behavior. Their testimony will work in your favor.”
A muscle twitched in Hank’s forehead. “But it won’t get me off?”
Avery had to offer him some hope. “It proves others had motive, so we can argue reasonable doubt.”
Hank balled his hands into fists, but Avery didn’t let go of his hand.
“But none of those other fosters were at the house,” Hank said, his voice deflated.
Avery took a deep breath. “I think someone was,” she said. “I remembered something, Hank. I woke up and the window was open in my room.”
Hank narrowed his eyes. “So?”
“I always kept it shut, remember? I was scared of the monsters in the woods.”
“The only monster was Mulligan,” Hank muttered.
She rubbed her finger over his knuckle. “True. But I remembered something else. I heard a woman’s voice.”
Hank went very still. “A woman? Who?”
“I don’t know yet.” Avery’s lungs strained for air as panic threatened. “But I distinctly remember hearing her voice. I was hiding under the covers, and she touched my arm and murmured that everything was going to be all right.”
Hank stared at their hands again, emotions rippling across his face. “How does that help us?”
Jaxon’s dark eyes promised nothing, making Avery want to cry again. “If Avery remembers that a woman was there, we’ll find her. She could have come in and killed Mulligan. Avery was in shock from witnessing the murder and picked up the knife. Then you thought she’d killed him, so you wiped off the prints in an attempt to cover for her.”
“You didn’t see her because she climbed out my window,” Avery said. “I remember it being open and the wind blowing.”
Hank dropped his head forward, his voice a self-deprecating murmur. “So I wiped off the only evidence that could potentially clear me.”
Pain wrapped itself around Avery and wouldn’t let go. Hank was right.
Between the two of them, they had let the real killer go free.
* * *
JAXON STUDIED HANK. He had been hardened by prison. Hell, he’d been hardened by life long before he was locked in a cell.
He’d been abused and was filled with rage that night, but maybe he remembered more than he’d revealed. Some detail that could help Jaxon crack the case.
“Hank, what about you? What do you recall from that night?”
Hank’s eyes flared with suspicion. “You think I did it?”
“No,” Jaxon said, realizing how much he meant it. “And I’m trying to help you and your sister.” In spite of the fact that his boss would be more than pissed
. “So cut the bull and tell us everything that happened that night.”
“I already have.” Hank’s voice sounded raw with worry. “When the old lady left, I knew Mulligan would go in Avery’s room that night, so I took a knife from the kitchen and hid it in the bed. Later, when I heard him going toward her room, I tried to stop him. But he hit me and tied me to the bed.” He paused, his breath raspy. “A few minutes later, I heard Avery screaming and I was furious. I twisted and turned until I got hold of the knife and cut myself free.” He ran a hand over his shaved head. “When I went in and saw Avery with that bloody knife in her hands and Mulligan lying there dead, I freaked out. I figured she’d killed him, so I took the knife from her and wiped it clean and then I stabbed him.”
Jaxon’s pulse clamored. “You said you had a knife in your bedroom. But Avery had another knife and you took it and used it to stab Mulligan.” He paused. “What happened to the first knife?”
Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. I think I had it when I went in the room, but maybe I dropped it somewhere.”
A tense silence stretched for a full minute. “I’m going to ask the D.A. and your defense attorney,” Jaxon said. “It should have shown up in the crime scene photos.”
Hank made a low sound in his throat. “Even if you find the other knife, won’t the lawyers argue that Avery had it with her?”
“That’s possible,” Jaxon said. “But I don’t like the fact that there was no mention of it at the trial. That makes me wonder why.”
Avery squeezed her brother’s hand. “Hang in there, Hank.”
His defeated look tore at Jaxon. Hank Tierney didn’t expect anyone to believe him or help him.
“One more question,” Jaxon said. “Hank, do you know who called the police? Was it you or Avery?”
Hank shook his head, his eyes flat again. “No. I didn’t call them. And Avery was too upset. She couldn’t stop crying.”
Jaxon swallowed a curse. That was another question for the D.A. and defense attorney. Had a neighbor phoned it in? And how did the neighbor know unless he or she had seen something? The houses were too far apart for one of them to have heard Avery crying.
Unless the caller had been inside the house....
Which meant the killer might have called 911 after he or she left.
* * *
LEAVING HANK IN prison ripped at Avery’s nerves.
She and Jaxon had to find this mystery woman.
He drove to a set of office buildings not too far from the prison. “Wright Pullman was your brother’s defense attorney,” he said to Avery. “Do you remember him?”
Avery searched her memory banks. An image of a young man in a suit at the courthouse with Hank flashed back. “Vaguely.”
“Did he question you?” Jaxon asked as they walked up to Pullman’s office door.
“I honestly don’t remember,” Avery said. “I was pretty out of it back then. I just remember begging them not to take Hank away.”
Hank had been her only safety net.
Jaxon spoke to a receptionist, who asked them to wait in the front room. Avery noted the office furniture was cheap, the paintings generic, the carpet low-grade.
“I did a little research on Pullman,” Jaxon said when the receptionist disappeared into the back. “He’s nothing more than a glorified ambulance chaser.”
The receptionist returned. “Mr. Pullman will see you now.”
Avery followed Jaxon into the man’s office, her gaze surveying Wright Pullman. He was older now, in his forties probably, with a bad comb-over, wire-rimmed glasses and a beard. His suit looked as cheap as his office furniture.
Jaxon quickly made introductions and explained the reason for their visit.
Pullman toyed with a pen on his desk. “I figured someone would show up asking questions. Always happens with a death row case.”
“Do you remember my brother?” Avery asked.
“Hard to forget.” The lawyer’s chair squeaked as he shifted. “He was one of my first cases. I was just a public defender back then, swamped with cases that nobody wanted.” He crossed his legs. “But that one stuck out in my mind.”
“Why is that?” Jaxon asked.
“’Cause the kid was only fourteen. But it was obvious he was guilty. He admitted to stabbing Mulligan a dozen times.” He shot Avery a look of regret. “I know you’re probably grasping for some way to save him now, but no one coerced that confession from him. And he was dangerous. Hell, he scared me. I’ve never seen a kid with so much rage.”
Avery planted her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Yes, he was full of rage because Wade Mulligan was molesting me. Did you know that when you went to court?”
The man’s freckled skin paled. “Look, I did everything I could. I tried to cut a deal with the assistant D.A. who prosecuted the case, but he refused. He was a cocky bastard who wanted to make a name for himself, and that case got a lot of press.”
Avery shivered at the memory of reporters dogging her.
“The A.D.A. used the shock factor of those photos of the multiple stab wounds to convince the jury that Tierney killed Mulligan in cold blood, and that he was a danger to society.”
“How about arguing that there were extenuating circumstances?” Jaxon asked. “That Hank was defending himself and his sister from abuse?”
“I...didn’t know,” Pullman said in a low voice.
“Because you didn’t do your job,” Jaxon snapped. “You readily accepted the kid’s confession at face value. If you’d talked to the social workers and other foster kids placed with the Mulligans as I have, you would have realized that Hank was protecting Avery that night.”
Pullman’s thin lips darted into a frown. “Listen here, I did do my job. But I was young, overworked, and the A.D.A. was determined to make an example out of Tierney.”
“Do you remember photographs of the crime scene?” Jaxon asked.
Pullman’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”
“Hank Tierney claims he had a knife in his room with him. That Mulligan tied him up as he did most nights so he could molest Avery.”
Pullman’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“He cut himself free, then went in to save Avery. But he claims Mulligan was already dead. That he thought Avery killed the old man, so he took a bloody knife from her hand, wiped it off, then stabbed Mulligan to cover for her.”
Pullman fiddled with his suit jacket again. “You believe that story?”
“Yes,” Avery said. “I remember a little more now. The window in my bedroom was open, and I heard a woman’s voice. I think someone else was there.”
Pullman looked confused. But he stood, went to a filing cabinet and removed a file. He flipped through it, then spread the crime scene pictures across his desk.
Avery had seen them before, but the gruesome sight of Mulligan’s chest bleeding from the stabbing still turned her stomach.
Pullman tapped a finger on one of the pictures, then shoved the report in front of Jaxon. “There was no second knife there, and no mention of it in the report.”
Avery glanced at Jaxon, questions nagging at her. “Then someone took it.”
“Or if police found it, they doctored the report,” Jaxon suggested.
“You’d have to ask the officer who filed the report about that,” Pullman said.
“Who called the police that night?” Jaxon asked.
Pullman scanned one of the pages. “All it says here is that a woman phoned 911 saying there was a disturbance at the house. When the police arrived, they found Mulligan dead with Hank standing over the body holding the bloody knife in his hand.”
“Did anyone try to find out the identity of the female caller?” Jaxon asked.
Pullman shook his head. “Didn’t seem i
mportant at the time.”
Avery’s heart raced. “Not important? What if that woman was in the house? She could have been the woman I heard in my room that night.”
Jaxon snatched the report to look at it again. “Hell, Pullman, that was your case, your reasonable doubt. She could have killed the damn man herself, then called 911.”
* * *
“I THOUGHT THAT Texas Ranger was supposed to keep things on track for the execution.”
“He is.”
“Well, hell, that’s not what he’s doing. He’s trying to prove Tierney is innocent.”
He muttered a string of expletives. “What?”
“Tierney’s sister sucked him into believing her brother was all noble, some kind of hero protecting his little sister. And if he finds out about the second knife...”
“The second knife wasn’t in the crime photos,” he pointed out.
“No. But he’s still digging.” A heavy sigh escaped. “And he wants to know who called in the murder. He’s going to try to make it look like the caller murdered Mulligan.”
Dammit to hell and back. “What about my name?”
“I erased it from the police report just as you asked.”
“Good. I don’t want this cluster coming back to haunt me.” Or screw up his career.
He’d worked too hard to build his reputation to go down now for putting away a punk like Hank Tierney.
Chapter Sixteen
Jaxon skimmed the police report again before he drove away from Pullman’s office.
“Do you see anything else that can help Hank?” Avery asked.
Jaxon shrugged. “The officer who signed this report was named O’Malley. I’m going to call him and ask him some questions. But first, let’s talk to the D.A.”
Hope lit her eyes for a fraction of a second, making Jaxon want to promise her they’d save her brother.
But he didn’t know if he could keep that promise.
As he drove, Avery seemed lost in thought, her emotion at having seen Hank obviously taking a toll.
