by KyAnn Waters
* * * * *
“Someone beat us to Porter.” A man spoke into his cell phone as he sat in his car. From a distance, he watched the house. Surrounded by flashing lights, police, and gawking neighbors, the place pulsed with activity.
“It’s a friggin’ cop convention over here.” He needed further instruction. He wouldn’t dare make a move without authorization.
“How?” The clipped tone made his stomach clench. “I want to know who fucked with me. No one should’ve touched Porter without consulting me first.”
“Don’t yell at me. I’m just assumin’ it was the doc. His kid’s in the hospital. She ain’t dead, but the cops are talkin’ like her old man is. The house is a friggin’ crime scene. Yellow tape and all.”
“I want facts!”
“Don’t jump my shit. This ain’t about you. This involves all of us. We’re family.”
“We can discuss fault later. Just call me when you know something.”
He shook his head. “I can’t get in the house, and there’s cops posted at the hospital. I’ll have to stick around to find out what she knows.” He ended the call.
“I’m glad you called. Sounds like Robert chewed your ass.”
“Yeah, too bad you or I wasn’t born first. Robert’s a dick.” The man turned to his brother in the passenger seat. “No way are we leaving without our money. Doc Porter had to stash it somewhere. I’ll find it, no matter what it takes.”
* * * * *
Dustin stopped at the nurse’s station where he was told Ms. Porter had been moved. Since she had lost consciousness, the physician wanted to keep her for a twenty-four hour observation period. Her physical injuries appeared minor, nothing that wouldn’t heal within a couple weeks. The deepest cuts in her feet and hands had been taped with butterfly stitches.
Officer Jasper sat outside her hospital room.
“Ms. Porter still asleep?” Dustin asked.
“Must’ve been a strong sedative, or maybe she’s wiped out from a long night.”
Dustin cocked an eyebrow. “Killing can take a lot out of a person.”
“Then you think she did it?”
Dustin shrugged. “Too soon to say. But you can take off. I’ll talk to her when she wakes up. No need for both of us to wait.”
Richard stretched his arms over his head. “Thanks, can I get you something before I split?”
Dustin shook his head. “I’m going to see if she’s able to give a statement.” He opened the door and let it gently close behind him.
Inside the woman’s hospital room, Dustin couldn’t tell if she was awake because her back was to him. Breathing slow and even and lying perfectly still, he decided she was still asleep. He sat in the chair at the foot of the bed and picked up a magazine.
“I’m awake.” Her voice was low and even.
Dustin closed the magazine and walked around the bed until he was standing in front of her. She appeared frail, lying beneath the thin blanket. He could easily see the outline of her long and willow-like limbs. She had the body of a ballet dancer, and a face made from porcelain. At the moment, cracked porcelain with scratches and bruising. Ms. Porter was classically beautiful with golden, sun kissed, shoulder length locks. She hardly looked strong enough to claim responsibility for the gruesome scene in her father’s bedroom.
He had learned from years on the force that looks could often be deceiving. The housewife with three little kids could be president of the PTA and one-day make a stew out of her unfaithful husband. The newspapers were full of stories about children killing their parents for money, spite, and sometimes even for the thrill.
“Is my father dead?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me.” Dustin chose to take his position in front of the window, knowing she’d find it difficult to see his face with the sun behind him. He wanted to watch her expression for signs of deception. Not only was she the only witness, she was his prime suspect.
Cringing in pain, she turned onto her back. With her thumb, she pushed the bed control and leveraged herself into a sitting position. Her eyelids fluttered closed. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“You’ll have to be more specific.” Dustin leaned his back against the window and folded his arms across his chest. The glare of the bright summer sun cast his shadow across the room. “Do you mean you don’t know if your father is alive, or are you alluding to something else?” It was still possible that it wasn’t Dr. Porter’s blood spilled all over the bedroom, although no one had located the man. “I’m going to need a statement.”
McKenna shifted her glance to the sun peaking over the mountains as morning swept across the valley. Her hair was damp after a kind nurse had helped her wash off her father’s blood. Laying on clean cotton sheets, and a sterile hospital pillow didn’t change the fact that she could feel her fingers sticking together. The metallic taste of blood still clung to her lips, and her body felt dirty.
She closed her eyes as a tear slipped onto her cheek. Since she was lying in a hospital bed, she had to believe Elliot had really been in his bedroom. This was a very realistic nightmare.
She finally took an opportunity to glance at the detective standing in front of her. He tried to look unassuming, but the wide spacing of his feet and the stiffness of his shoulders depicted a man who was agile in movement and alert to his surroundings.
The accusing wink of his gold detective badge clipped to his waistband caused a fluttering in her stomach. Fearing he’d misread her body language, she looked away. Yet she felt the intense stare of his hazel eyes drilling into her. She ran her finger along the edge of the blanket. Swallowing hard she forced the lump from her throat. “Am I under arrest?” Her voice cracked nervously.
“Not yet. I need to know what happened in your house.”
A heavy sigh shuddered from her chest. “There was so much blood.” Her eyes closed, but the horrific images filled her mind. “I—”
“Wait”
She lifted her gaze to his face.
“If you’re going to make a confession, I need another officer in here with us.”
“Confession?” Her fingers stilled. “I think I need to talk with an attorney.”
Dustin slid his hands into his front pockets, keeping his thumbs out. Damn. Aloof and playing it cool, McKenna was obviously familiar with her rights. Now that she had asked for an attorney, anything he might have coaxed out of her would be inadmissible. Attorneys only complicated a formal interrogation, if that’s where they were headed.
He hated to admit she looked guilty. Young, attractive, her whole life ahead of her and she just might spend it incarcerated…or worse. Capital crimes were eligible for the death penalty.
Pausing, he let the heavy weight of intimidation settle on the moment. Her uneasiness grew more acute. Avoiding eye contact, nervously fidgeting with the blanket, and he couldn’t overlook the fact that she was covered with injuries. All these led him to believe she was present for whatever happened at 634 Mountain Ridge Drive.
“You’re not under arrest, Ms. Porter.” He stepped away from the wall. “I heard the hospital is going to keep you until tomorrow morning. After you’re discharged, come down to the station and ask for me, Detective Pearce. I’ll be working your case with my partner, Detective Jones.” He handed her his card.
McKenna rubbed a finger across the embossed lettering. “Thank you.”
Dustin turned to her before walking to the door. “Don’t thank me. You’re a person of interest in the case. Don’t leave town, and let us know where you’ll be. If you make me come looking for you, I’ll arrest you.” As quietly as he entered her room, he left.
McKenna could breathe now that the detective’s encompassing presence had vacated. When he had come through the door, her room suddenly felt warmer than the yoga studio. The heat from his eyes had not been remotely friendly, but instead, had filled her with fear. She had seen that look before.
There had been another night with a different detective. The victim had
been her high school boyfriend, the man she was to marry someday. And just as surely as Scott’s parents had found her at fault, Detective Pearce presumed she killed her father. Of that, she had no doubt.
However, there was another emotion firing her blood. The breadth of his chest, the sculpted biceps in his crossed arms, he probably had a wife who took comfort in his imposing strength. Of course, he wouldn’t stare at a wife with the stern narrowed eyes he’d laser beamed on her.
McKenna picked up the telephone and dialed the one person she knew she could count on. Although Dawn wouldn’t be very helpful, at least she was a friendly voice that didn’t drip with accusation.
As soon as she heard her on the other end, the dam gave way and McKenna’s eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, god, they think Elliot’s dead,” she cried. “And so do I.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Elliot’s dead. Oh, god, he’s dead.”
“Mickey?”
“Yes.”
“Calm down.”
McKenna gulped in air. “I can’t.”
“Then just tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Elliot was murdered, Dawn. I walked into the crime scene. My father is dead!”
“What?” McKenna heard Dawn’s exasperation. Hell, she understood the frustration. All she really knew was that something horrible had happened in her home and now she was in the hospital and a detective had told her not to leave town. “What are you talking about? Where are you?”
“At the hospital. A detective was here. I could tell he thinks I killed my father.”
“Oh, shit. What happened? Wait. You just need to stay calm. Listen to me. Take deep breaths and pull yourself together. I’m on my way.”
“What do you think my chances are of beating a murder rap?”
“You aren’t going to have to beat anything. Elliot wasn’t murdered. Although I’ve wished him dead a few times.”
“Don’t say that! Next thing you know the cops will be after you too.” She sighed into the phone. “Something happened, and I think the detective believes I’m responsible. He told me not to leave town.” Her voice raised as the gravity of the situation became more real.
“You weren’t planning a trip anyway.”
McKenna chuckled. She loved Dawn’s unwavering positive attitude, but she hadn’t endured Detective Pearce’s scrutiny. She hadn’t seen Elliot…McKenna squeezed her eyes tight and forced the bloody picture from the back of her eyelids. Her heart rate spiked, and the taste of bile filled her mouth.
“I’ll see you soon.” Flinging back the covers, she dropped the phone, stumbled to the bathroom, and emptied her stomach.
An hour later, McKenna related the night’s events to Dawn. From the grizzly crime scene to waking up in the hospital, she replayed everything she remembered. Dawn sat on the end of the hospital bed and listened without interrupting. McKenna cried when she described the scene in her father’s bedroom.
Dawn strode to the window and fully opened the blinds. “There’s a cop watching the room.” She turned and looked hard at her friend. “Mickey, you’ve made yourself suspicious. Think about it. You’re the perfect suspect. You don’t have a boyfriend, you’re twenty-five, and still live with your dad. By any standard, you’re unusual. You don’t let anyone get close. You don’t have a man in your life.
“I know you could never hurt your father, but the two of you live pretty strangely. Even you have to admit it’s odd for a beautiful girl to shut herself out of life to live with someone who barely speaks to her.”
McKenna tried to rub her tired eyes with her bandaged hands. “It isn’t so strange when that’s all you’ve ever known. And the way I live isn’t the problem. Something happened to Elliot.” McKenna draped her legs over the edge of the bed. “The detective who was here made his opinion perfectly clear. Dawn, I will not be a suspect.” She stood holding onto the bedrail for support. “I don’t know what happened in that room, and I don’t have anything to hide.”
“But you don’t have an alibi.” Dawn’s words stopped McKenna from reaching for her stiff pants caked with drying blood. “No one knows better than you how that little detail turns cops on.”
McKenna tried not to think about the trail of evidence the police were following. They found her lying in a large pool of blood, covered with injuries that she supposed, could be interpreted as defensive. Or perhaps the detective might think she’d received her injuries while she brutally murdered her father.
She could guess what churned in the detective’s mind. Spoiled little bitches brought up without thought to those who didn’t fulfill their every whim could easily kill without remorse. All one had to do was remember the Menendez brothers.
“I’m going home.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Tomorrow I’ll tell the police what they want to hear. I’ve done it all before. Cry when it’s expected, yell when they push, and in the end, hope I come out clean.”
Dawn took McKenna’s face between her hands. “You listen to me.” Her voice was strong and steady. “You won’t say anything until we figure out a plan. You need an alibi, and now you’ve got one.”
“Lying only makes me look guilty.”
“No, lying is your only chance. An orange jumpsuit at the state prison will make you look guilty.” Dawn pulled her into a tight embrace. “You find your backbone, Mickey. You hold your head up high when we walk out of here and don’t you dare look at the fraternity of police officers waiting outside this room.”
“I’m on a twenty-four hour observation. The doctor won’t release me.”
“Bullshit. He’ll do exactly what you tell him. It’s time you acknowledge money has power, and contrary to what you pretend, your purse is now overflowing.”
“Great, I have money. Another motive and a lot of good it will do me locked up.”
“Shut up and listen to me. I’m good with split-second decisions and ours is made.” Dawn crossed the room to the chair. “I stopped at a department store on my way over. You will look like the daughter of one of Olden’s richest residents.” Her tone left no room for arguments as she pulled a peach colored pantsuit from under plastic.
“Peach? I should be grieving. Black would be more fitting.”
“Black washes you out. This is somber enough.”
McKenna sat down and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders heaved as tears streamed from her eyes. “Why is this happening?”
“Shh,” Dawn cooed in a mothering manner. “Right now’s not the time.” She wiped under McKenna’s eye with the pad of her thumb. “You can do this.” She smiled half-heartedly. “Hey, you should be used to it..”
Her mother, her boyfriend, and now her father all dead. Oh yeah, just what she wanted to be used to.
McKenna sat quietly on the hospital bed while Dawn styled her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. “I can’t do anything with your face. Too many tears and scratches, you’re red all over.”
“At least the blood is gone.” McKenna picked up the plastic bag labeled personal belongings.
“Leave it, Mickey. Walk out of here with your head high but nothing else. You can’t let them see you as a victim, and you can’t let them believe you had anything to do with what happened in Elliot’s bedroom.”
Easy for Dawn to say. She hadn’t seen the remnants of the massacre left behind. Until they were back at the house, she couldn’t possibly understand, and McKenna was too tired to relive it again. The image of blood spatters along the hall burned behind her eyes when she tried to sleep. Yet, staying awake was worse. All she could think about was the scene, the detective, and the confused, scared emotions swirling in her belly.
Once McKenna was ready, she walked out of the room with Dawn at her side.
She stopped at the nurse’s station. “I’ll be leaving now.”
“I’m not sure—” The nurse looked frantically around for someone, probably a cop, to tell her what to do.
“Well, I’m sure. I feel fine, and
I just want to go home.” McKenna took a ballpoint pen from the cup on the counter. “Do you have something for me to sign?” The nurse put a release form in front of her and pushed the call button for the doctor on duty.
“If you’ll wait a minute, the doctor will be here.”
“You wait for him,” Dawn said testily. “We’re leaving.” Dawn put her hand on McKenna’s back reminding her to stand straight with her shoulders back. This was no time to look fragile and insecure.
She turned away from the counter and caught her breath. The detective, who had been in her room only a few hours before, leaned against the wall not more than a few feet from the nurse’s station.
Although Detective Pearce probably hadn’t had much sleep either, he looked irritatingly at ease. Stubble along his jaw only caused his cheeks to appear more chiseled and his lips subtly softer. Dark brown, a bit long on top, his hair tapered in the back to his collar. With an easy movement, he pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward her. He was attractive, but that didn’t change how dangerous he was to her. “Are you ready to take a ride to the station?”
Dawn stepped in front of McKenna like a mother bear protecting her cub. “She told you she’d be there in the morning.” Dawn flipped her feathery hair. “Her attorney will call your captain with a convenient time for Ms. Porter. Until then, back off. You’re hovering like a vulture.”
Dustin couldn’t help but smile at the spunk Miss Priss’s pal displayed. Her teeth dripped with venom, much more Tyson’s type. A woman with that kind of temper collected trouble like trophies. With her around, trying to gather information would be waste of time and it would be useless to try any intimidation tactics on McKenna Porter, murderess.
“Tomorrow, at the station.”
Chapter Four
McKenna sat in the front seat of Dawn’s car staring blankly out the window. She didn’t want to return to her house. It had never been filled with love and laughter, but it was the only home she’d ever known.
