by Aaron, Celia
“Leonard is her son!” I almost did a palm-to-forehead. “The okra on the judge’s counter. The guy—Leonard, aka Lenny—working for the judge. Doing his dirty work!”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Logan turned to Benton.
“With Arabella.”
“Like hell you are.” Logan put one hand on his hip. “You’re staying here. You’re a suspect, not a goddamn detective.”
“No, I’m a deputy, and I’ve been helping with this investigation from day one while you’ve been twiddling your thumbs doing fuck all.”
“You might want to shut your college boy mouth before I do it for you.” Logan’s voice dripped with menace as Benton stepped onto the porch, both men nearly toe to toe.
“I don’t care who stays and who goes, but we need to get out to Millie Lagner’s house now!”
“He’s staying, and I’m coming with you.” Logan moved aside as I hurried down the steps, the low sun doing nothing to warm the frigid air.
“I’m coming.” Benton followed.
“No, you fucking aren’t.”
A scuffling sound erupted behind me. I turned to find both men on the ground rolling and trying to pin the other one.
“I don’t have time for this shit.” I threw my hands up and dashed to my car. When I started the engine, they stopped wrestling.
And when I pulled away from the curb, they both glared at me in my rearview.
23
Benton
Logan flipped the heat on, then gingerly touched his jaw. “You’re a dick.”
My eye was still watering from the blow he’d landed there. “Just drive.”
“I would have left your sorry ass behind if I didn’t know you’d get Porter to drive you out here anyway. And then I’d have two pricks to deal with.”
I gripped the door handle as he took a curve with more speed than even I’d try. “Don’t kill us before we get there.”
“Scared?” He stared at me when his eyes needed to be on the road.
“Douche.” I wanted to hit him again.
He returned his gaze to the blacktop and sped down the highway toward Millie Lagner’s place. Her son had been the man we’d met at Judge Ingles’ house, and from the looks of things, he was the one who set fire to the firm. I had to assume it was on the judge’s orders. Why else would he do it?
“You need to leave Arabella alone.” The swagger had left Logan’s voice, but iron replaced it.
“Mind your own business.”
“That’s what you’re missing here, college boy. Arabella is my business.”
“You two aren’t together.”
“That’s not the point.” He passed a logging truck, bits of bark bouncing off the windshield.
“I get it. You think you need to do some big brother routine and protect her. But what you’re missing is that I don’t give a shit what you think.” I tried to peer through the trees ahead to catch sight of Arabella’s cruiser, but she’d had too much of a head start.
“Big brother?” He white-knuckled the steering wheel. “I don’t think so.”
“Please.” I shook my head. “You plow every single chick under fifty in this town—and some who aren’t single—on a regular basis. I know, because Porter plows the same ones. So don’t give me that shit. Arabella is too good for you, and she definitely doesn’t want a ride on the same merry-go-round that everyone else has already worn out.”
“Oh, and you live like a saint, right?”
“I never said that. But I definitely have finer tastes when it comes to my bed partners.”
He shot me a glare. “And now you’ve got a taste for Arabella?”
“Like I said, that’s none of your business.”
“She’s not going to fall for your bullshit. You think you’re better than everyone. She knows that. She can see right through your poor little rich boy routine.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried.”
“Worried about a shit stain like you?”
I smiled, the same smile I used on difficult witnesses. “Calling me names doesn’t change the fact that you have a flame burning for Arabella, but she isn’t interested in you at all. And now that I’ve come along, you finally realized that you never had a shot with her to begin with. You don’t have what it takes to make a woman like her happy. Not short term. Not long term.” I wanted to add “isn’t that right?” but we weren’t in front of a jury, and I’d made my point.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay.” I did my best at Porter’s shit-eating grin.
It worked, because Logan kept his eyes ahead, but said, “When this is over, I’m going to knock that fucking smile right off your face.”
“We’ll see.” I gave as good as I got, so I looked forward to another chance at him.
Silence fell like a lead weight between us. I wouldn’t be the one to break it. It didn’t matter to me that Logan had a hard-on for Arabella. He’d had years with her, but never made a move. Or maybe he’d made one, but she’d shut him down. Either way, it was his mistake.
We turned onto the lane leading to the Lagner home. Arabella was just getting out of her cruiser, one hand on her gun, the other holding a flashlight. The house seemed dark despite the rising sun. No lights were on, the curtains drawn. Maybe Mrs. Lagner hadn’t woken yet. Unease crept through me, coloring all my thoughts with alarm.
Logan pulled up next to Arabella’s car as she climbed the stairs to the porch and knocked on the door.
“I’d tell you to stay here, but you’re too dumb to follow ord—”
I was out of the car before Logan even finished speaking. Arabella ignored both of us as we walked up behind her.
“She home?” Logan asked.
Arabella pointed to the Buick in the driveway. “I think so, but the house is quiet.”
Logan flipped the button closure on his holster, leaving his pistol at the ready. For the first time since all this started, I wished I had a gun.
She knocked again and hung on the doorbell, which sounded over and over again inside. No movement. Trying the door handle, she shook her head. Locked.
“You’ve got probable cause that a crime has been or is being committed.” I stepped back. “I can kick it in.”
“We know we have probable cause. Jesus. This is our fucking job.” Logan backed up to stand next to me.
Arabella finally turned and looked at us, her gaze straying to my sore eye and then Logan’s darkening jaw. A disappointed shake of her head was all she gave us before moving to the side.
Logan reared back and kicked before I even got set. The door creaked, but didn’t budge. “Fuck!” He stepped away and rubbed his knee. “She got a burglar bar back there or something?”
I aimed for the spot right next to the handle and drew my leg back, then shot out, nailing it with all my might. The wood at the latch splintered, and the door raced inward, slamming against the wall and sticking, the handle likely embedded in the drywall.
“Lucky shot.” Logan stopped nursing his knee and walked past, drawing his gun as he entered.
Arabella put a palm to my chest. “Stay out here until we clear it.”
I didn’t like the idea, but I wasn’t armed. “Can I get the shotgun from your cruiser?”
She glanced down the hall as Logan disappeared into the sitting room, her teeth worrying away at her bottom lip. “Garvey’s going to kill me.” She pulled her keys from her pocket, then handed them to me and drew her weapon as she entered the house.
I ran down the steps and opened the car. It took me a couple tries to figure out which key went to the locking mechanism between the seats, but once I got the shotgun free, I hurried back up the stairs.
“Mrs. Lagner?” Arabella’s voice was faint. She must have been at the back of the house.
I bypassed the rooms along the hall and walked into the kitchen as Arabella grunted.
“Shit.” I set the shotgun on the table and
knelt beside her as she struggled to roll over what had to be Mrs. Lagner’s body.
“It’s clear back here.” Logan walked in as we both pushed her over.
“God.” Arabella fell back, knocking into the kitchen counter, as I struggled to process what I saw.
Dark red marks circled Mrs. Lagner’s neck, her vacant eyes bulging and red. Someone had strangled her with a cord, the dark wire embedded in her throat, the skin puffy around it.
Logan walked around to her other side and took her wrist, then let go. “She’s stiff, cold. Been here a while.”
Arabella scrambled back to her knees. I grabbed her elbow and helped her up, silently inviting her to lean on me.
“You okay?” I squeezed her arm.
“I’m fine.” She let out a deep breath. “Text Chief Garvey and Porter. Let them know what we got out here.”
Logan holstered his pistol and pulled out his phone.
“There’s a garage out back. Behind that is Leonard’s house.” She kept her pistol in her palm, and her voice was eerily calm. “We need to clear both of them.”
“You think Leonard did it?” Logan finished his message, pocketed his phone, and retrieved his weapon.
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. We need to find him and take him into custody. We can ask questions later. Benton, I need you to stay here.”
“No way.” I lifted the shotgun. “I can help.”
“I can’t risk a civilian getting hurt.” She swallowed hard and her gaze returned to Mrs. Lagner’s face. “Another civilian.”
“I’m in this, okay?” I moved in front of her so she had to look at me and away from the horror on the floor. “Let me help.”
“He’s going to follow anyway. Like a mangy fucking puppy.” Logan gripped the door handle. “Might as well use him.”
“He’s right.” I flicked the safety off. “Except for the mangy part.”
Logan edged the door open and peeked into the yard. “Seems clear. Nothing’s moving. Can we send college boy out first?”
“Logan, get your head in the game.” Authority rang in her tone. “And Benton…just stay behind us. Anything happens, you run.”
“Sure.” No way.
This was the part where I should have kissed her for luck, but she may have shot me for trying. With a calculated grace, she motioned for Logan to open the door.
Frigid wind rushed inside as Logan took point, his pistol up, and hurried across the grass toward the barn. Arabella followed, and I kept to her heels despite her admonition to stay back. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.
She let out a curt whistle, and motioned for Logan to bypass the barn. We all crept up the side nearest the tree line, gluing ourselves to the clapboard sides. When we got to the corner, Logan bobbed his head out to check the area.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “But there’s a truck next to the shack back here.”
“Wasn’t here before.” Her breath fogged. “Leonard must be inside.”
“We rushing him or you want me to call out?”
She glanced at me. “Stay here and cover us. If anyone comes out of the garage or comes up from the house that you don’t know, give a warning shot, unless you see a weapon. If you see gunmetal, shoot to kill.”
“He’ll piss his pants before he’ll pull that trigger.” Logan’s quiet snort had me gripping the stock a little too hard.
“Because that’s what you would do?” I smirked at him over Arabella’s head.
His laughter turned into a snarl. “You don’t even—”
“Boys!” Arabella hissed. “Shut up, and let’s get this done.”
“I’ll go.” Logan flipped me off, then darted around the side of the garage. He stayed low and eased up to one of the shack’s front windows. Arabella followed, her steps silent as she edged around the stairs and molded herself beneath the other window. She was too short to see in, but she had her pistol trained on the front door.
I kept my head on a swivel, looking behind us at the house and garden, then glancing to the garage’s back door every few seconds. Adrenaline made everything move in triple time, even though nothing seemed to be happening. I held the shotgun against my shoulder, my left hand steadying the barrel and my right on the stock near the trigger.
Logan slowly rose, his eyes just north of the windowsill, then sank down again. He held up one finger and pointed to the window above Arabella, then pointed at the ground. She moved to join him as he eased up the stairs, both of them standing on the small front porch on either side of the door. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and I had the urge to run up there, grab her, and pull her away from whatever danger lay inside. But I couldn’t. That wasn’t who she was.
She reached for the door handle. It turned. They shared some silent signal between them, then Logan pushed through the door. Arabella followed, disappearing into the dimness beyond.
A shot pierced the air, the muzzle flash lighting up the interior of the shack, and I broke into a run toward Arabella.
24
Arabella
I dropped to my knees and returned fire as Logan fell in front of me.
“Fuck!” Logan yelled. “Stop! He’s down!”
I was breathing hard, my hands shaking as I pointed my gun at the dim corner of the shack. A thin sliver of light slashed across the floor from the window and illuminated a limp hand with a pistol in it. Lunging forward, I snatched it away, yanking it toward me as I scrambled back and aimed my pistol at the figure again.
A gurgling noise barely cut through the ringing in my ears, but the pale fingers in the shaft of light shivered. When a shadow fell across the door, I swung my gun up. Benton stood there, his shotgun trained on the man in the corner. I dropped my pistol to my side and took a gulp of air. The realization that I could’ve shot him out of pure fear was like a bucket of ice water on my already frozen psyche.
“Are you all right?” He eased to one knee beside me.
“I’m fine. He didn’t get me. Logan?” I reached toward him.
“Fucker tagged me in the leg.”
“Bad?” I gripped his arm.
“No. I mean, it hurts like a bitch, but it’s not the artery.”
Relief washed over me. Benton turned and slapped his hand along the wall until an overhead light flickered to life.
The same man we’d seen at Judge Ingles’ house lay in the corner, a hand towel pressed to a wound in his abdomen. The towel was a crimson red, but as I moved closer, I realized it had been white, but was soaked with blood.
I glanced at Benton. “Watch the door. Someone shot him before we even got here.”
His eyes were closed, his breath coming out in labored gasps.
“Leonard?” I checked his other hand to make sure he didn’t have another weapon handy. Not that he was in any shape to use it.
“Mom?” He coughed, flecks of blood spraying onto his pale lips.
I grabbed his wrist and felt for his pulse. It was slow and barely noticeable. He didn’t have long.
“What happened?”
“Mom?”
“Leonard, I need you to tell me who did this to you. Who hurt you and your mom?” I put my palm to his face, his skin cold and clammy.
“Eyes.” He shuddered, the movement sending him into a weak, bloody cough.
“Eyes?” I leaned closer. “Do you mean the man with the light eyes?”
A distant siren warred with his rattling breath.
“Leonard.” I shook him gently.
His hand dropped from the wound in his abdomen, the gurgle in his chest falling silent.
“Leonard!”
He didn’t move. I sat back on my ass, my gaze glued to him. His unearthly stillness created a wrongness that could never be righted.
“Arabella.” Benton knelt next to me as the siren blared close by. “He’s gone.”
“I shot him.”
“No.” He pointed to pockmarks in the wall to Leonard’s left. “You missed. And it doesn’t matter
. He was a goner before we ever showed up.” He cradled my face in his warm hands. “Come on. Come away from him.”
I blinked a few times. So much death, and I wasn’t able to stop any of it.
“I’m bleeding too, you know,” Logan grated.
“Logan.” I turned to him. He was lying on his back, his right pants leg red with blood just below his knee. “Let me see.”
Benton walked to his other side and bent down. “At least everyone in the room was a terrible shot.”
“Fuck off.” Logan winced as he tried to sit up.
“Stay down.” I grabbed the hem of his pants leg and pushed it up until I found the wound. It was a clean entry, blood oozing from around a hole in his calf. I couldn’t see the back of his leg to check for an exit. Shucking off my jacket, I wadded it up and pressed it to his calf.
Logan gritted his teeth as I applied steady pressure.
“Benton!” Porter’s voice.
“I’m in the building behind the garage! We need an ambulance. Logan’s been shot.”
“I’ll call it in.” Porter’s heavy boots hit the porch and he stopped in the doorway. “What the hell happened in here?”
“The fuck does it look like, Sheriff?”
“You still got a smart mouth even after you got popped in the leg like an amateur?” Porter shook his head, then put his phone to his ear. “Yeah, gonna need an ambulance out at the Lagner residence, and step on it. Logan Dearborn’s going to bleed out if you don’t hurry, and what a terrible, terrible loss that would be.”
“Where’s my gun?” Logan reached for it, but I smacked his hand.
“You need to stay still.” I kept the pressure on his leg. “Porter, Mrs. Lagner’s in the house, deceased. This is her son, Leonard. He was already shot when we got here. I need you to put out a BOLO on the shooter. About six feet, slim build, light blue eyes, blond hair, Jersey accent. Armed and extremely dangerous.”
“I’ll get the rest of my guys running the roads to see if we can find the creep. Do you have any more officers to spare?” He texted, his thumbs flying over his phone.
“No, we don’t have enough for what’s already happened. Chief Garvey may need to call the state for rein—”
