by Jan Coffey
Jan Coffey Suspense Collection
Volume 2
Three Complete Novels
Road Kill
Puppet Master
Cross Wired
Table of Contents
Road Kill
The Puppet Master
Cross Wired
Road Kill
by
Jan Coffey
Copyright © 2014 by Nikoo K. and James A. McGoldrick
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher: May McGoldrick Books, PO Box 665, Watertown, CT 06795.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover: Dar Albert http://www.wickedsmartdesigns.com/
PROLOGUE
Northwest Connecticut
April, 1997
Washing down the Xanax with a long swig of vodka, Lacey felt like from now on, every day would be a Saturday.
She tried to focus on the joint she’d dropped on her faded jeans. With an effort that almost made her laugh out loud, she finally trapped it between her fingers and lit it. The acrid smoke curled down her throat.
As Lacey stared into the blue and yellow flames licking the wood in the bonfire, figures took shape with sudden clarity. People. Trapped there in the fire. A man and a woman, screaming at each other. The man’s arm snapped out like the crack of a whip, striking the woman across the face. As she dropped to her knees, he kicked her in the stomach.
“No you don’t, you bastard.” Lacey reached into the flames to squash him. Her hand burned. She pulled back and stared at it. Her fingers were matchsticks—five of them.
Last week, she couldn’t find a lighter in the bathroom. Well, she’d never have to worry about that again. She spread them out against the dark sky.
A scream down by the beach sliced through the edge of her consciousness. The matchsticks hissed and disappeared, and her fingers returned. She sat bolt upright. The moon was gleaming off the waters of Sherman Pond.
A skin-and-bones girl sat across the way, plugged into her Walkman, on the other side of the fire. Lacey remembered her name was Liz. She was rocking to some tune, and everyone else had disappeared.
There was that scream again, muffled this time. Lacey tried to concentrate on the laughter coming from the beach. It would be so easy to faze out again.
That girl Stephanie must have gone with them.
Lacey was only here because she’d run into Michael Phoenix and his friends at the donut shop. Those guys were all seniors at the high school. Stephanie was only a sophomore, like Lacey. But Michael had promised some good shit if she’d go to the door at the nice house and ask for Stephanie. So she’d done it. No big deal.
That seemed like an eon ago. Lacey looked back into the fire. There’d been an Easter wreath hanging beneath the fancy brass lantern beside Stephanie’s front door. Bunnies and colored eggs and purple flowers arranged in the woven branches. Her family never had anything like that. They’d never celebrated any Easter, or Thanksgiving, or Christmas. Holidays like that would mean there was something good in life. Lacey couldn’t even imagine it. Not in their house.
As soon as Stephanie climbed into the van, it’d been clear she was hot for Michael. They hadn’t even pulled away from the curb before she’d had her hands all over him.
The muffled cry from the beach again broke through the fog.
“Did you hear that?” Lacey looked across the fire at Liz.
Liz pulled her ear buds. “No.”
“Where is everybody? I heard something.”
“It’s nothing.”
Lacey’s stomach got queasy. She really didn’t know any of these kids. Since moving to the area in January to live with her sister and her grandfather, she hadn’t made any friends. These guys were older, and it was the first time anyone had taken her partying with them. Still, it was better than sneaking money out of her sister’s wallet and buying the stuff.
“Sounds like somebody’s in trouble.”
“Aren’t you from Chicago or someplace?”
“Cleveland.”
“Whatever,” Liz snapped. “Don’t they party there?”
“Yeah, but that—”
“Just cool it. Your friend Stephanie knows what she’s doing.”
“She’s not my friend.”
“Better for you.”
“But is she down there with all the boys?”
“I said, cool it.” Liz threw her Walkman on the ground next to her. “Fuck. You really know how to ruin a good buzz.”
The cries and laughter grew louder as Lacey struggled to her feet. The sharp pain in her hip shot straight down her leg. She’d left her cane behind in the donut shop. She didn’t want it. Didn’t need it.
It sounded like the boys were chanting. But another voice was drowning out the others. Her father’s shouts. The crash of furniture. Her mother begging, pleading for him to stop. Lacey’s head was spinning. She tried to take a step but couldn’t get her bad leg to work. She almost staggered into the fire.
“Sit down!” Liz snapped. “It’s none of your fucking business.”
Lacey could hear her mother screaming. He was hitting her.
“No!”
Lacey lurched toward the beach, but the girl cut her off. Her face loomed over her in the dark.
“I said it’s none of your fucking business.”
Lacey felt the prickly heat of panic wash through her, and she scrambled away.
Silhouetted by the fire, Liz was watching her go. “Yeah, bitch. Just keep going.”
Lacey limped off, moving as quickly as she could through the dark woods. Pine branches whipped at her face and body. Missing a step, she went sprawling flat on her face. The smell of cold, damp earth filled her nose.
Lacey needed to get her mother out. She could see his crazed eyes, the rigid mask of rage stretched across his face. He wasn’t stopping. He couldn’t. Her mother was huddled against the wall by the stove. Next time he’d kill her, he screamed, going after her again. Lacey believed him.
Fear propelled her to her feet as she struggled against the pain in her hip and leg.
Lacey hobbled as fast as her feet would move. The cracked yellow walls of their kitchen vanished, replaced by darkness and the smell of night. Her breaths stuttered in her chest.
Suddenly, the trees thinned and she found herself standing at the edge of the lake. Across the way, a solitary red lantern shone at the end of a dock, reflecting a blur of deep crimson on the water.
The voices and laughter were clearer here—goading, encouraging, taunting—and on the beach she caught glimpses of Stephanie’s white skin writhing amidst the dark shapes. One figure was standing back, watching the others. His cigarette glowed in the dark.
“Stop, you bastards!” she shouted. “Let her go!”
Her cry did nothing. No one turned. The chants became louder. Lacey felt in her pocket for the cell phone and dialed.
“Hello?” Her sister Terri’s voice was cool, calm. Like the coo of a dove. She would know what to do. Terri
was older, smarter. She had just been accepted into the police academy.
“It’s me…Lacey.” Her tongue was a wad of cotton in her mouth.
The guttural sounds from the beach tumbled across the water. There was something nasty in the tone. Sick. Satisfied.
Lacey saw the dark solitary figure step forward, joining the others.
“I need help,” she pleaded into the phone. “There’s a girl here. She’s—”
A scream cut through the laughter…and then there was silence.
Deep, thick silence.
And then only the sound of the water lapping the rocks at her feet.
CHAPTER 1
Sixteen Years Later
“We celebrate the life that never dies and the love that lives forever. We celebrate that Terri’s life with God is one without suffering or pain. It is an eternal life of joy and bliss.”
Gavin MacFadyen leaned against the heavy wallpaper in the reception room and let the words of the minister drift past him.
They’d been partners for a dog’s age. Hundreds of stakeouts. Scores of murder cases. He remembered every one. And he remembered how he used to kid her about the meticulous record-keeping she was fond of, the anal way she liked to organize their workload. Man, the endless arguments they used to have over nothing, just for the sake of arguing. He and Terri had been paired up for over ten years. He’d been on the force for ten years prior to that. That made him the senior partner, but he’d admit to anyone—except her—that she was better at the job than he was. She was tougher, meaner, more dedicated, and she made a habit of getting so deep into every case that it became personal.
Terri lived the life of a cop around the clock. That is, until her sister showed up at the end of this past summer. Still, the job never suffered. Terri was the best of the best. Thirty-eight years old. Too young to die. Way too young.
Some two hundred people, mostly dressed in uniform blues, crowded the funeral home halfway between New Haven and Westbury in a dead gray city straddling rusted train tracks and a murky brown river. Terri hadn’t lived here, didn’t work here, didn’t go to church here. But the younger sister had arranged for the service to be held here. She’d chosen a place as isolated and off-track as she was herself.
Gavin’s gaze focused on Lacey Watkins sitting in the front row. Chairs on either side of her sat empty. No friends. Nobody to hold her hand. The last one left of their family. Black knee-length skirt and black fitted shirt. Dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She just stared at a flower arrangement by the foot of the podium. No emotion showing. No tissues in hand to wipe away tears…real or pretend. From this angle he could see the mask of indifference that she wore like a second skin. He knew it didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling anything. It was just there. He’d seen the same expression on Terri’s face plenty of times. It was a give-nothing-away look. On Lacey, it made her look like a beautiful statue. Untouched. Cold.
“We celebrate Terri as one who has gone before us and who will greet us again.” There was a pause and a long moment of reflection before the speaker encouraged the crowd to repeat lines of prayers.
“Hey. Sorry, man.”
Gavin turned his head and acknowledged the squarely built man who edged in next to him. Luke Brandt was a detective at New Haven PD. Gavin had retired this past year from the force to start his own private investigation firm, but that didn’t stop him from staying in touch with the old crew.
“When did you get back?”
“Last night,” Gavin told him.
Terri had died in a hit and run accident in Westbury a week ago Saturday. Gavin had been in Las Vegas going over the security arrangements with the management company for some concerts coming up at Mohegan Sun. No one had called him about Terri’s death until he was back in Connecticut.
“When did you find out?”
“Last night.”
“That’s tough.” Brandt shook his head with a frown.
Gavin had never been close with Luke. They both played their cards close to the vest. That’s just the way they were built.
“How’s the case going? Any leads on the car and the driver?”
Luke shook his head. “The Chief could tell you more about what’s been done. But as far as I know, they’ve got nothing.”
The service ended. Gavin saw Lacey Watkins stand up as a line of people approached her. Her response wasn’t much different from before. A nod. A brief handshake. He saw her glance around once at the door, clearly impatient to get out.
“Sort of sad to lose Terri and have that one hit the jackpot.” The detective stared at Lacey.
“Jackpot?”
“Pension. Life insurance. Savings. Everybody knew how Terri was about socking it away. Gotta be a pretty good pile of cash. It doesn’t get better than that for a jailbird.”
“Back up. Terri always said her little sister was a troubled kid in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she still did three years for it. Not exactly a jailbird.” His flash of temper surprised him. Must have been for the sake of his old partner. Terri loved her sister. Gavin didn’t think he’d ever seen her as happy as this past summer when Lacey agreed to move back here.
“I’m just saying it’s a pretty sweet deal.”
Gavin was in no mood to play defense attorney. He shrugged and walked away. Brandt obviously had never lost a sister.
He wanted to meet Lacey, convey his condolences. Terri had been keeping the two of them at arm’s length. She’d told him why, too. Too many one-night stands. She didn’t want to have to shoot him in the balls when he got close to Lacey and started something. Gavin had no doubt Terri would have done it, too.
A gaggle of uniforms surrounded him. Everyone knew him. They wanted to know what he was up to. Many expressed condolences to him. Marg Botto, the last girlfriend of Terri’s that Gavin knew of, stopped him. Marg and Terri had parted ways last spring.
“It’s not right,” she said, holding it together. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
Gavin patted Marg gently on the shoulder and cut through the crowd. By the time he worked his way through to Lacey’s seat, she was gone. But he saw the small purse left under the chair. He picked it up. Compact and light, the black case was easy to carry and obviously easier to forget. The main door to the hall was packed with people taking their time getting out. A side door was ajar, and Gavin caught a glimpse of fallen yellow leaves plastered to a cement walk.
He pushed open the door. A crowd was gathered in front of the building. The walkway snaked through some ornamental shrubbery and down to the parking lot behind the funeral home. Lacey was hurrying down the path. Limping.
He followed her. “Where are you going that’s so important?”
Today was about Terri and there were a lot of people still here to honor her memory. A life worth honoring. Terri had been so consumed by the idea of helping her sister, of rebuilding their family. She talked all the time about Lacey and how she’d never had a fair chance at life. And how it was a miracle that they were being given another opportunity.
Lacey reached the car and yanked unsuccessfully on the latch. When it wouldn’t budge, she banged on the roof of the car and her shoulders sagged. She hugged her middle, her head dropping onto her chest, her bluster crumbling before his eyes. Her body began to shake as she leaned onto the car.
“Shit.” He didn’t do well with women in tears. Uneasiness rushed through him. He felt like an intruder, watching her fall apart like this. And he was also an asshole for thinking that she didn’t care.
The tap on a horn made her jerk her head around. Gavin realized he was blocking a car from going by. Lacey’s gaze flicked over him, and she quickly turned away, brushing back tears.
He took his time approaching her. “Hi. You left this under your chair.”
“Thank you.” She reached out awkwardly and grabbed the purse, refusing to look at him.
“I was going to keep it, but I was afraid there might be a cop or two around.”
The look she sent him was worth the wisecrack. Her eyes were green and they glistened like emeralds.
It was impossible not to stare. She had the same body type and facial mold as her sister. But there were many differences. The slant of her dark green eyes. The full lower lip. The soft line of her jaw. The pale skin. The slender column of her throat. His gaze moved down to the rise and fall of her breasts under the fitted shirt. The sudden wave of lust rushing through him was unexpected. And uncalled for.
“Gavin MacFadyen,” he said, getting his head back into the moment. “I was Terri’s partner at NHPD.”
“Terri often…” Her husky voice faltered. “She often spoke of you.”
“I’m sorry about what happened,” he managed to say. “I was away. I didn’t know.”
She looked at the car. Gavin didn’t want her to go yet.
“Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
A slight shake of the head. A few more tears escaped. She had the keys in her hand.
Gavin dug deep for some way to delay her. “Can I take you out for a cup of coffee? A late breakfast? Can we go someplace and talk?”
She shook her head and the beep of the car lock told him his time was up.
He yanked one of his business cards out of his pocket and offered it to her. He was relieved when she took it. He held her hand for an extra beat, waiting until she met his gaze again. Her fingers were like ice.
“Just call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
Gavin opened the car door for her and gawked as the black skirt hiked up to mid-thigh when she got behind the wheel. He felt like he was back in high school, but it didn’t matter. The buttons of her shirt strained, teasing him with a glimpse of a white flesh above a black bra.
She closed the door and started the car before he could come up with some other lame invitation.
