Lethal (Small Town Secrets Book 1)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  Very soon.

  He glanced at Rees, sitting by his side in the dim car.

  “You’re welcome for the help with Gordy,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Eager to assist. You know that.”

  Trent had finally faced the fact that keeping Risa out of the investigation was impossible. At first he’d decided to enlist her help merely to prevent her from convincing Subera to use her as bait. As it turned out, she’d made the difference with Young. “Let’s hope our luck with Hanson is as good.”

  Trent threw the door open and climbed out of the car. A security phone was nestled on one side of the gate. Pretty fancy security for rural Wisconsin. But perhaps running a prison made one paranoid.

  Trent picked up the phone and pushed the Call button. A light shone down on his face, illuminating his features for a security camera’s eye.

  “Who’s there?” a woman’s voice squeaked from the phone.

  “FBI, ma’am,” Trent announced. “I need a word with Mr. Hanson.”

  Silence answered him, heavy as the humid night air. Finally the voice erupted again. “How do I know you’re really FBI?”

  Trent held his badge up to the camera lens. “I’m Special Agent Trent Burnell, ma’am.”

  “Someone else is there, too. Who’s with you?”

  Trent glanced over his shoulder. Rees moved up close behind him, into the camera’s view. “Professor Risa Madsen. She’s assisting me.”

  Though he didn’t look in her direction, he felt Rees smile.

  “I’m sorry.” The thin voice rose again from the phone. “Paul isn’t home.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Trent frowned into the receiver. “Am I speaking to Mrs. Hanson?”

  Silence stretched on much too long.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes?” The voice fluttered.

  “May we have a word with you?”

  “No, I—” She drew a shaky breath. “I’d rather not let anyone in. Not while Paul is gone.”

  “This is an urgent matter, Mrs. Hanson. I won’t take much of your time.”

  “I’m not comfortable having visitors while Paul is out. He’ll be at the prison tomorrow. You can talk to him there. Please?”

  Unease pricked the back of Trent’s neck. He studied the tall security fence, the drawn draperies of the house beyond. If he’d needed another reason to stay away from Rees—to call off their wedding—this was it. He could never have borne the idea of Rees being sentenced to a life of fear and paranoia. The kind of existence that apparently, Mrs. Hanson was living.

  Or… maybe it wasn’t all paranoia. “Are you all right, Mrs. Hanson?”

  “All right? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m just not comfortable inviting you in. There are so many bad people out there. So many people who do horrible things. I’m just not comfortable.”

  Rees stepped closer to him, concern and questions creasing her brow.

  Trent could just imagine what she was thinking, only hearing his side of the conversation. He gave her a reassuring press of the lips and concentrated on the phone. “Would you like me to check the house for you, Mrs. Hanson? Make sure everything is secure?”

  “No. That’s not necessary. I’m fine. I just don’t take visitors when Paul isn’t home. Please.”

  Trent narrowed his eyes, scanning the house and surrounding landscape. “Is someone in the house with you, Mrs. Hanson?”

  “What? No. I don’t know you. You could be anybody.”

  He drew in a deep breath of patience, still searching for anything suspicious, anything out of place. “I’m an agent with the FBI, ma’am. I showed you my badge.”

  “How do I know what an FBI badge looks like? It could be fake. You could be one of those inmates coming after my husband. You could be anyone.”

  This was getting stranger by the minute. Trent rubbed the back of his neck. “Have inmates come after your husband before, ma’am?”

  “Well, no. But it could happen. Anything could happen. I have to go now.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. If you don’t come out to the gate so I can make sure you’re okay, I’ll have to come in.”

  Silence stretched across the phone line.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Very well. But only for a moment.”

  A click sounded on the other end of the line and the phone went dead.

  Trent replaced the receiver.

  “What’s going on?” Rees whispered.

  “Probably nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Get back in the car.”

  Risa jutted her chin in a stubborn angle. “I’ll be fine right here.”

  “It was worth a try.”

  After a long minute, the front door finally swung open and a skeleton-thin woman with long brown hair stepped onto the porch. With small shuffling steps, she approached the gate. “Here I am. Happy now?”

  “I’m relieved that you’re all right.”

  “I told you I was all right.” As she drew closer, the streetlight illuminated her features. Her face looked pinched. “Is this about the bribes?”

  Trent tried his best not to let his surprise show. He didn’t know anything about bribes, but he wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Hanson that. “What can you tell me about the bribes, ma’am?”

  “Probably nothing you don’t already know.”

  Since he didn’t know a damn thing, he seriously doubted that. “Please, start from the beginning.”

  She eyed him warily. “About a month ago, Paul noticed that serial killer who escaped was getting extra TV time and time out of his cell. He thinks some of his guards may have been accepting bribes. Surely he told you this already.”

  “Did Warden Hanson tell you who he thought was paying the bribes?”

  She sighed. “I overheard him talking on the phone. The name was unusual. I can’t quite recall. Farrah, or something. A woman.”

  “Farrentina?”

  “That’s it.”

  Farrentina Hamilton was bribing guards. And the warden knew about it. Interesting. A vision of Warden Hanson’s Armani suit and French cuffs filled Trent’s mind’s eye. As the wife of millionaire Wingate Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton had more than enough money to pay the warden for his silence.

  “Well, thank you for your help, Mrs. Hanson. I’ll speak with your husband another time.”

  “Fine. Good.” She twisted a shank of her long brown hair in her fingers.

  “I’ll have the Lake Loyal Police Department check on you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “There are many bad people out here.”

  “Fine. They won’t have to come in, will they?”

  “I’ll ask them to simply drive by.”

  “Oh. I suppose that will be okay. Good night.” She abruptly turned away and scampered for the house.

  As the woman closed the door behind her, Risa turned to look at him. “It’s so sad.”

  He pulled himself from tangled thoughts of Warden Hanson and Farrentina Hamilton. He wasn’t following. “What’s sad?”

  She gestured to the house, locked tight and shuttered behind the security fence. “Mrs. Hanson. The poor woman. It’s as if she’s using gates and locks to shut out everything from her life. And all she has left is shadows and fear.”

  “Maybe it’s the only way she can do what she needs to do. The only way she can survive.”

  “Then surviving is all she’s doing. Because she isn’t living. Not that way.”

  Trent’s chest ached with each beat of his heart. A life infested with evil wasn’t truly living. It was only survival. The meanest, basest kind. Rees didn’t know how right she was.

  And if he had anything to say about it, she never would.

  Risa

  “Ready?”

  Risa nodded to Trent. Keeping her eyes locked on the brick mansion jutting out of the thick bank of trees ahead, she stifled a shiver. The ho
use was beautiful, to be sure. The oldest and grandest home in the area by far. But there was something about it. Something that felt dark, foreboding. Like one of those gothic mansions in horror movies.

  Or maybe that was more about Farrentina Hamilton’s ties to Ed Dryden.

  What kind of a woman was she? One who married a multimillionaire and yet sent erotic photos of herself to a serial killer. One who might be able to give Risa insight into Ed Dryden she hadn’t yet contemplated.

  Deputies watching the Hamilton mansion hadn’t seen any sign of Dryden or Nikki, but that didn’t mean the woman inside hadn’t made contact. Or helped him escape. Or knew where he was now.

  They continued up the cobblestone driveway to the entrance. Reaching the stoop, Trent pressed the doorbell. A cascade of chimes echoed through the house.

  “Creepy,” he said.

  “Creepy? Is that a professional assessment?”

  “As a matter of fact…”

  “Let me take the lead, Trent.”

  “Don’t trust me? I promise not to use the word creepy. Much.”

  Risa couldn’t suppress a little smile. “I trust you.”

  “Professional curiosity?”

  “That or professional challenge. I’ll let you know.”

  “Damn.” He grinned. “And I forgot to make popcorn.”

  After a minute, the light over their heads blinked on, and Farrentina herself pulled open the massive door.

  She looked older than she did in the pictures. Lines fanned the corners of her eyes and creased the edges of her mouth. But the woman was still beautiful in a well-kept way. Probably had weekly facials and pedicures.

  Risa couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a pedicure.

  Trent identified himself. He was about to introduce Risa when Farrentina interrupted.

  “I know. The sister-in-law. How fucking lucky am I?” Her voice was soft, breathy, making her comments sound like swear words on the tongue of a child.

  “You’ve been talking to Ed Dryden?” Risa asked. Trent had said police were keeping an eye on Farrentina, but Risa could imagine Dryden’s eyes watching them all the same.

  “Not for a while.”

  “You seem to be expecting us.”

  “Just getting used to attracting attention lately.”

  “From Dryden?”

  “From cops. Although talking to a fibbie and a shrink will be more fun than the local flatfoots. And cheaper than seeing my therapist. That bitch overcharges.”

  “So are you inviting us in?” Trent asked.

  Farrentina waved her hand in the air, the bell sleeve of the red silk robe she wore flapping like a matador’s cape. “Why the hell not? Entertain me.”

  She whirled away from them and walked through the gaping foyer, hips swaying, leaving Risa and Trent to show themselves in to the mansion.

  And quite a mansion it was.

  Cream marble stretched across the floor where it met intricate woodwork. Two stories up, a crystal chandelier dripped clear, sparkling light. Spotless white carpet swept up the grand staircase. The scent of lemon cleaner tinged the air.

  Risa followed Trent and the retreating red silk flourish of Farrentina Hamilton through the archway and into an adjoining room. This room was cozier than the foyer. Beautiful Persian rugs covered the floors. Classic artwork hung on the walls. But the straight-backed chairs looked stiff and formal and not like bare-legged, silk-robed Farrentina at all.

  “Is Mr. Hamilton home?” Risa asked.

  “He travels.”

  “A lot?”

  She shrugged a shoulder.

  “You must miss him.”

  Farrentina looked at Risa as if she’d lost her mind. “Absence can be good for a marriage.”

  “You must get lonely sometimes, though.”

  Farrentina crossed the room to a wet bar and brandished a bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka. “Drink?”

  Trent shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  Her eyes narrowed on Risa. “You?”

  Risa had guided her mother to bed too many times after a bout with the bottle to risk developing a taste for alcohol. Not that she’d drink in this situation anyway. Better to stay sharp. “No, thanks.”

  Farrentina screwed up her mouth in a disdainful expression, reached for a tumbler, and glugged vodka into it. “Well, if I’m going to wade through tedious questions all over again, I’m going to have a drink in my hand.”

  After filling the glass nearly to the brim with straight booze, Farrentina crossed to a chair and sank into it. “You two going to sit or just stand there?”

  Trent selected a chair facing the entrance of the room. Risa took a chair closer to Farrentina.

  Eyeing them both, Farrentina raised her glass to her lips and took several unflinching gulps. Her hand trembled slightly as she drank.

  Nervousness? Or coming off a bender? Hard to say.

  “Do you enjoy living alone?”

  “You want to know about my relationship with Ed, right? If I’m not as alone as I seem?” Farrentina smiled. “If I’ve seen him? If I know where he might be? If I know whether or not he has his little wife with him? Am I on the right track?”

  Neither Risa nor Trent answered.

  “Well, I don’t know where he is. And I assume the whiny little bitch is with him, from what the police have told me.”

  “You don’t like Nikki?” Risa asked.

  “Why should I?”

  “Have you ever met my sister?”

  “What is this? Big sister coming to that little twit’s defense? What a joke.”

  “Why is that a joke?”

  “Because you don’t care about her.”

  “Is that the way it was in your family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your siblings didn’t care about you?”

  “I didn’t care about them. Besides, Ed said you only started giving a shit about your sister when she married him.”

  Risa tried her best to keep her expression neutral. She hoped Nikki didn’t feel that way, but she suspected her little sister did. “When did Ed tell you this?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Have you seen him since he escaped?”

  “I said I haven’t, didn’t I?”

  “I don’t think you answered the question.”

  “Then no, I haven’t.”

  “Then when did he tell you about Nikki and me?”

  “Sometime when I visited. I don’t remember.”

  “You visited him a lot, according to the visitor’s log.”

  “I suppose. He wanted me there all the time. Couldn’t get enough of me. But I’m kind of used to that with men.”

  Farrentina shifted forward in her chair. Her robe gaped open just enough to give Trent a clear view of one naked breast.

  “Did you smuggle pornography to Ed in prison?” Risa asked.

  Farrentina glanced from Trent to Risa and back again. “Is that a crime?”

  “Not something the FBI would be concerned about,” Trent said.

  “Then what of it?”

  “Did you buy him favors with the guards? More time outside his cell? Extra television privileges?”

  “What do you care?”

  Risa watched Farrentina’s blood red nails clutching the glass. While she was shameless about using sex to try to manipulate men, she seemed to not have a clue how to deal with Risa.

  “Who did you pay off?” Risa asked.

  “Why should I tell you that?”

  “Because someone helped Dryden escape, and if you can’t give us names of people who were helping him, Trent might have to investigate you.”

  “Every time you assume…” Farrentina forced a laugh. “You can’t prove I did anything.”

  “We’ll see what I can prove after you’re thoroughly investigated,” Trent said.

  Farrentina let out a put-upon sigh. She adjusted her robe, covering herself. “God, you’re a stick in the damn mud.”

  “Names, Mrs. Ham
ilton,” Trent said.

  “I don’t remember their names.”

  Trent held out a slip of paper. From where Risa was sitting, she could make out a list of names. “Which ones?”

  Farrentina skimmed the list. “Caldwell, Franklin and Bollinger.”

  “Only those three?”

  “They were expensive enough. Wingate has me on an allowance, for God’s sake.”

  Risa never believed Gordy would help Dryden. He hated the killer through and through. But she was still relieved to know she was right.

  “You and that Detective Cassidy should have shared information. He seemed to know every move I made in the last year and who I made them with.”

  Risa glanced at Trent.

  Trent wiped the flash of surprise from his face and narrowed his eyes on Farrentina. “Cassidy knew all about this?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Where did he get his information?”

  “I didn’t tell him. And I doubt the guards I paid were broadcasting it either.” Farrentina tried to pull off a casual shrug, but the gesture was tight and self-conscious. “The only other person who knew was Ed.”

  Trent angled his head to the side. “Did Dryden ever mention Detective Cassidy to you?”

  “Why would Ed know the local cops? It’s not like he’s from around here.” Farrentina’s gaze landed on Risa. “Of course, Ed could have told your sister.”

  “Nikki isn’t involved in this.” But even as the words left Risa’s lips, she realized how ridiculous they were.

  “Maybe your sister helped him escape. The good little wife and all that.”

  Risa wanted to say Nikki would never do that. She wanted to say Nikki wasn’t anything like Farrentina. But of course, she couldn’t.

  And that gave her an idea. “You care about Ed,” Risa said.

  “Give the shrink a prize.”

  “You love him.”

  “Love is a strong word.”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Listen, I didn’t help him escape. But he didn’t belong in that place. It was all his first wife’s fault, you know. She drove him to do the things he did. It’s not fair. Ed shouldn’t have to pay his entire life for the grief she caused him.”