by V. B. Tenery
“Is the house ready to be occupied?”
“After your people removed the yellow tape, Perkins brought in professional cleaners to put things in order and replaced the chairs in the library.”
“How did Alexander take the news?” Matt asked.
“He was devastated as you might expect. He’s a strong young man. I’m confident he’ll cope. I made funeral arrangements and Alex asked that I schedule the services for Monday at ten o’clock. He also asked if you could make yourself available when he arrives.”
“I’ll call him Friday evening after he’s had a chance to settle in.” Matt was anxious to speak to the Grayson heir as well. But he wanted to have the information on the man’s passport activity when they met.
DFW International Airport,
Dallas, TX
Jack McKinnon’s flight arrived thirty minutes late and Davis and Turner watched through the window as the huge aircraft settled into the berth. As passengers began to disembark, they moved near the jetport to wait for McKinnon.
When the plane had almost emptied, a tall, muscular young man stepped to the side to let the other passengers pass. He carried a small carry-on bag, his gaze searching the gate area. About twenty-six, he wore jeans, a navy-blue turtle-neck, a Northface jacket, and brown hiking boots. Unruly dark hair and a scruffy five-o’clock shadow covered his square-jawed face, a look that drove women wild. His eyes were shielded by a pair of Wayfarer sunglasses.
Davis stepped forward and flashed his badge. “Jack McKinnon?”
He nodded. “You guys sure know how to ruin a hunting party. My friends got all weird when the sheriff came looking for me. That was probably my last invitation to hunt with those guys.”
Davis took the bag from him. “You heard about the Graysons?”
He pushed the sunglasses to the top of his head, revealing red and swollen brown eyes. His eyes misted and he gazed out the large plate glass window that overlooked the runway. “The sheriff told me when he picked me up.” Something undefined passed across his face. “I’m sorry…about Torie, and the others…” His voice cracked. “But I don’t know anything that would help you.”
Davis watched him closely for signs he might be lying or hiding something. If he was, the kid was a good actor. “You have any more luggage?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I checked a bag and my gun. Where are we going?”
“First, we’re going with you to pick up your bag and sign for your gun, then we’re going to the police station.”
“Why?”
“We have questions you need to answer.” Davis said.
“You’re taking the rifle?”
Davis exchanged a glance with Turner. “The Grayson family was killed with a rifle. If your gun is clean you have nothing to worry about.”
Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
Matt received a call from Davis on their way back to the station. They had Jack McKinnon in custody.
Fifteen -minutes later, he met the two detectives in the hallway outside interrogation. “Where is he?”
Davis nodded at the door marked Interrogation Room Two. “We dropped the gun off with Mac.”
Reaching for the doorknob that led into the viewing room, Matt motioned them inside. “Let him sweat a while, until Dale McCulloch looks at the rifle. If it’s not the murder weapon, ask him the usual questions and cut him loose. Otherwise...”
The two detectives left and Matt returned to his office. It could take a while for Mac to run the ballistic test and it wouldn’t hurt to let Jack cool his heels.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Matt’s cell phone vibrated. McCulloch’s name appeared on the screen. “This is the murder weapon, Chief.”
Matt shut the phone off and strode down the hallway to the crime lab.
Davis and Turner followed him inside.
McCulloch slowly turned his stool to face the guests and pointed at the rifle bagged and tagged on a nearby lab bench. “That’s the gun. A Weatherby Mark V Deluxe 7mm magnum with a Burris Euro-Diamond Scope. No need to fume it, the fluoroscope and laser picked up the prints easily. They match Jack McKinnon’s.”
Five casings lay on a white surface near the rifle.
“Is the gun something special?” Turner asked.
McCulloch picked up the weapon. “It’s not something your average hunter can afford. Only someone who takes the game seriously would put that much money into the sport.”
“How much?” Davis asked.
“With all the other accessories, it could run three thousand dollars or more.”
Turner took the gun from Mac. “How did the kid afford anything so expensive? What does he do for a living?”
Davis turned toward the door. “He owns a landscaping business.” He stood by the door and waved Turner forward. “Come on, partner. Let’s get this over with.”
Matt turned to leave then stopped. “Have you tried to trace the rifle’s serial number?”
McCulloch shook his head. “The number has been filed and acid-burned.”
Removing serial numbers was a trick used by professional hit men. The question wasn’t how he could afford the rifle, but where had Jack McKinnon gotten an expensive rifle with an erased serial number? The kid didn’t look that smart, but he could be more streetwise than Matt figured. Why burn off the number, and keep the gun? After murdering five people the smart move would have been to ditch the gun immediately. It didn’t add up.
Jack’s arrest would break Sean’s heart. No one wanted this case solved more than Matt and if the kid was guilty Matt would see he paid the full penalty for it. But for Sean’s sake, Matt had hoped it wouldn’t be Jack.
Matt followed the two detectives down the hallway and stepped into the viewing room next to interrogation. He switched on the closed-circuit monitor in the corner, turned up the sound, and took a seat.
Davis and Turner entered the interview room, and Turner removed a card from her pocket and read the prisoner his rights.
Jack McKinnon’s face paled. “W-Why are you reading me my rights?”
Davis ignored the question. “Do you want an attorney, Mr. McKinnon?”
He inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yes, and I need to call my dad.”
The Mayfield Hotel
Twin Falls, Texas
The shrill ring of the telephone almost made Ian spill his coffee. He seated himself at the worktable, and picked up the receiver.
Seth Davidson’s voice came across the line. “Ian, I’m on my way to the hospital to visit Emily Castleton. She learned about the deaths last night right after we left you. As you can imagine, she was inconsolable. I thought you might like to come with me to the hospital.”
Ian slipped his feet into the new pair of Italian loafers. “Of course, Seth. I appreciate the offer.”
“It’s not going to be a pleasant visit. But I want to stay close to her for a while. Frankly, I need a strong prayer warrior on this one.”
Ian rose from the chair and moved into the bedroom to get his jacket. “I’m glad you asked. Perhaps I can be of some comfort. At least I know what she’s going through.”
He knew very little about Emily Castleton. He’d learned from his sister that Amanda Castleton came to work for Ann when Emily was five. The small family had lived at Grayson Manor ever since.
She couldn’t be more than twenty-two. Her father died in the first Gulf War. Now, with her mother gone, she would be an orphan in every sense of the word. Depending on the financial arrangements her mother had made, Emily might be homeless as well. He could take care of her welfare. He at least still had his father and Alexander and no concerns about his financial future.
Twin Falls Memorial Hospital
Twins Falls, Texas
Ian waited just inside the door as Seth pulled under the hotel’s portico. Swollen gray clouds roiled above and the brisk wind held a deep chill. Ian buttoned his suit jacket. He’d have to pick up that overcoat soon. Mexico’s hot
climate made him overly sensitive to lower temperatures.
He and Seth moved silently through the hospital lobby, into the elevator up to the third floor. The guard outside Emily’s room asked for identification and scanned his list. Satisfied, he nodded his approval.
Seth knocked on the lintel before entering and a nurse invited them in. Ian followed the pastor to the girl’s bedside. The head of her bed had been raised to a sitting position. Her head rested against the pillow, her gaze focused on the dark sky outside. An untouched breakfast tray sat nearby.
Emily Castleton had a fragile beauty enhanced by long golden-brown curls shining against the white bedding. Even though red and swollen, she had the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen. A life-size Botticelli painting.
Seth moved closer. “Emily, this is Ian Hamilton, Ann’s brother. He wanted to see how you were doing.”
She offered a weak smile. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Hamilton…or should I call you Sir Ian? Ann spoke...” Her voice caught. “S-She spoke of you often.” Emily gave him an imploring look. “When can I go home? I hate it here.”
“Call me, Ian.” He moved to her bedside and took her hand. “Old friends can’t stand on formality. I’m glad you’re better, but you must follow the doctor’s instructions. He’ll decide when you’re well enough to leave.”
A shadow veiled her eyes and her gaze searched Seth’s face. Tears welled and streamed down her cheeks. “Why...why my mother...and the others? Why not me? They were good people.”
Seth pulled a chair close to the bed and patted her shoulder. “Emily, I don’t have the answers. That question is as old as time. Very simply, bad things happen to good people. As hard as it is to understand, there is a purpose for everything, and we won’t know what that purpose is until we reach Heaven. As for why not you, I can only assume God still has a plan for your life, or you would not have been spared. All you can do is lean on the Lord, even when it seems impossible and you don’t understand. I may be over simplifying, but it’s the only answer I have.”
Ian eased from the room, unable to watch her deal with the ordeal. His own pain was still an aching wound in his chest.
Standing in the corridor with the guard, Ian leaned against the wall as soft sobs emitted from the other side of the door. Her grief pierced his heart, making him forget his own pain.
Pushing away from the wall, he straightened his spine, and walked back into the room. Emily needed his help. They shared a common sorrow. And a common enemy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grayson Manor
Twin Falls, Texas
The report from the State Department confirming Alexander Grayson’s passport activity lay open on Matt’s desk. Grayson hadn’t been back to the States since the trip to New York three years earlier. That didn’t clear him. There were ways to enter illegally through the Mexican border or with false documents.
He’d invited Davis and Turner to accompany him while he interviewed the Grayson heir, telling Davis he just wanted them to act as observers. Darkness descended as the two cars stopped at the gated entrance to the Manor. The security system was back in operation. He gave his name and the gates swung open.
Matt parked under the portico and killed the engine. The two detectives pulled in behind him. The mansion appeared dark, gloomy, absent its usual brilliance. Lady Ann wasn’t there to insist all the lights shone at their brightest.
Perkins met them at the entrance. “Good evening, Chief Foley. Mr. Alex is waiting for you in the library.”
The old butler led the way and stopped before entering the room. “We were all pleased you solved this terrible business so quickly, but Sean is most distressed...”
Composing himself before opening the door, Perkins cleared his throat. “Chief Foley and his associates have arrived, Sir.”
A strikingly handsome young man stood at the fireplace, staring into the embers, one booted foot on the hearth. Thick, shoulder length blond hair, naturally curly like his mother’s, reached the collar of his jacket. But there was nothing feminine about Alexander Grayson. The navy blazer he wore stretched tight across broad, muscular shoulders.
Matt guessed his age at thirty-two, medium height, with the strong jaw line and hazel eyes of his father. But without Ethan’s self-assured aura.
The host put out his hand. “Chief Foley, it was good of you to come so soon. Ian will be down shortly.”
Matt introduced Davis and Turner. “Our condolences for your loss,” Matt said and took Alexander’s hand with a firm handshake.
Grayson looked more uncomfortable than grief stricken. “Thank you.” He turned to the butler. “Perkins, would you bring us some tea and coffee?”
The old servant nodded and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
Alexander motioned Matt to a seat by the fire and took the one across from him. Davis and Turner parked themselves on a nearby sofa. The chairs Ethan and Ann died in had been replaced by new ones in burgundy leather. “I originally wanted to get an update…on what happened here, but by the time the plane landed, I learned you’d made an arrest. That was extraordinary work.”
“How well did you know Jack McKinnon?” Matt asked.
Alexander leaned forward allowing the light to reflect golden highlights in his hair. “I’ve known Jack since we were children, before I returned to England. I was twelve when I left. We weren’t mates, but it seems inconceivable he could...are you certain you have the right man?”
Irritation seeped under Matt’s skin, and he wasn’t sure why. He wanted to throw the man off-guard, let him think Jack’s arrest wasn’t a sure thing. “He had the murder weapon in his possession. But we’re still investigating some loose ends.”
The Grayson heir’s brow creased. “Really? I would think that was pretty conclusive.”
Matt shrugged.
Ian entered, followed by Perkins with a tea tray. Ann’s cat, Longfellow, eased into the room. His bright blue gaze took one look at the occupants, then he scurried back into the hallway.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Ian said. “I was checking in with the church staff in Mexico. They’re coping well without me.”
Matt stood and walked to the hearth, turning his back to the warmth. He directed his question to Alexander. “What are your plans after the funeral? Do you intend to stay in the States?”
“Truly, I haven’t made any firm decisions at present.” Alexander gazed down at the tips of his boots. “I would like to remain through the trial. That would ease my mind. I must also consult with Norris and my father’s attorney. It might take months to settle his affairs. At some point, I will return to Australia. That’s my home.”
Matt had expected as much. “You work with a photographer there. Trevor Nelson, right? I saw his name on one of your books in the library.”
A subtle change passed over Alexander’s face, and his eyes took on a haunted expression. “Trevor and I worked together closely for five years. That ended nine months ago. He died in an accident while on a photo shoot.”
Grayson’s voice became husky. “We had joined a group of tourists who were making their first trip into the bush. Trevor wanted to capture shots of the vacationers observing the crocodiles for a new picture book we were compiling. We arrived at the river, and at the last minute, Trevor decided to get a croc’s eye view from a limb overhanging the river. The limb broke.”
Alexander set his cup on the tray with a trembling hand. “The Katharine River sits about halfway between Alice Springs and Darwin. The river is crocodile infested. It was a stupid risk. His body was never recovered.”
Grayson’s gaze shifted from Matt to Ian. “Eventually, I shall have to replace him, but I haven’t been able to think about it since the accident. Trevor was more than a colleague. He was like a brother.”
The man seemed more upset by the death of his friend, than by the murder of his parents and siblings.
Ian moved over and clasped Alex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Ann told me how close
you two were.”
Alexander didn’t respond. Changing the subject, he said, “I’ve invited Emily to stay here while she recuperates, or longer, if she wishes. This has been her home since childhood. Perkins hired a cook and we have two maids on staff, so I don’t think the locals will think it’s improper.”
He turned to Ian. “Is she being released tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’m picking her up around ten o’clock.”
Matt replaced his cup on the silver tray, before giving Alexander’s hand a final shake. “I’m sure Emily appreciates the offer.”
He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Alex. “If you need to get in touch with me, I can be reached at one of these numbers. When will the reading of the will take place?”
“Next Tuesday at 2:00 P.M. I wanted to wait until after the funeral,” Alex said. “You’re invited to attend if you’d like.”
“Thank you, I’ll be there.”
Ian finished his coffee and stood. “I’ll walk out with you.”
Outside, Matt asked, “What’s your opinion of Alexander after so many years’ absence?”
Ian slid his hands into his jacket pockets. “We have to get reacquainted. He dresses more informally, and he has picked up some of the Aussie slang, but he appears quite genuine and personable.”
Matt let the answer ride and said goodnight. He’d decided during his visit with young Grayson. He strode over to Davis’ car and tapped on the window. “I’m sending you and Turner to Australia. Book the flight as soon as you can.”
“Consider it done,” Davis said, then drove away.
With Jack McKinnon in jail, Matt knew the City Council wouldn’t approve the expense. As far as they were concerned, the case was closed.
No matter.
Matt would foot the bill for the trip, and log the two detectives out on vacation. His legacy from his late wife’s estate would provide for the expense. She would be pleased to know he used it to help catch a killer.
