by Debra Webb
The cloying scent of the flowers reminded her of another event she’d just as soon forget. Her parents’ funeral. There had been two large peace lilies that day, too.
Jess exiled the memories. She had a job to do here.
Two of Gabrielle’s close friends who had flown in from Nashville spoke about what a beautiful and loving person she was. One went on to assure those listening that God had needed another angel in heaven and Gabrielle had gone to fill that glorious position.
Jess thought of what Devon had said about an angel taking the mommy. The only problem with that theory was that whoever killed Gabrielle Grayson didn’t live in heaven. In fact, Jess was relatively sure, he would never so much as see heaven.
For another thirty minutes Jess watched the people gathered around Lawrence Grayson. Not one of them looked uncomfortable or out of place. None were missing.
Had one of these people killed Gabrielle? Was that very person going to be sharing their condolences with Grayson? Offering to help any way they could? That was the traditional thing to do down here, the offering of help part.
The baby grew restless and Sarah hurried out of the sanctuary with the baby in her arms and a bottle in her hand.
Several sets of fingerprints had been on that bottle found in the baby’s crib. Gabrielle’s and her baby’s, of course. Devon’s, his had been confirmed after he went missing, and one unknown.
Jess’s gut was telling her that Gabrielle’s killer not only knew her but was a cop. Her money was on Riley. Yet there was no match for the remaining set of prints. All BPD cops were in the database.
When the sanctuary had emptied, Jess caught up with Burnett once more. She was anxious to get out of here and back to work.
“You okay?” she asked.
Burnett was staring at her kind of funny. She instinctively reached up and swiped her cheek for any offending smudges.
He shrugged. “I was just thinking about how short life really is.”
Jess knew he was thinking about finding that bomb in the Taurus. She looked out over the now empty pews, beyond the choir loft, and to the enormous wall of stained glass. Lil went to a church like this. The thought that she could be really sick and Jess might find herself at a service like this again in the near future suddenly made her knees feel a little wobbly.
“It really is.” She swallowed at the lump of emotion now clogging her throat. Lily had been all upbeat last night when they talked. Dr. Collins had decided he wanted to run more tests and that maybe she wasn’t just depressed.
Time to put the past hour and thoughts of illness and death out of her head. That idea should have had her laughing out loud. Death was a big part of her job.
She dug for her cell and checked for any missed calls. One from Lori. As Jess followed Burnett to his SUV, she put through a call to Lori.
“You learn something new?” she asked as soon as Lori answered.
“I got a call from one of Gabrielle’s former coworkers. She wants to talk. This is one of the two who insisted they had nothing worth telling.”
Jess snapped her seat belt into place. “When can we see her?”
“Right now.”
“Meet me outside BPD.”
“Will do.”
Jess ended the call and turned to Burnett. “Another one of Gabrielle’s coworkers wants to talk.” She felt almost breathless with hope. Maybe this time, they would learn something beyond what a saint Gabrielle was.
“Keep me posted on the results. We need this one closed, Jess. The whole department wants this killer found.”
“No one wants that more than me,” Jess reminded him.
He hesitated a moment, then said, “So Wesley left today.”
She had known that was coming. “He did.”
“Dropped by for a visit last night, I hear.”
“He did,” Jess repeated.
“And?” Burnett sent her a look.
“We ate Chinese. We drank wine and we talked.”
“He wants you back, doesn’t he?”
Jess considered how best to answer that one. “He wants me to keep in touch.”
“I knew it!” Burnett slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “I knew it from the moment he said your name that first night. He’s still hung up on you.”
It would be nice to say she wasn’t getting any glee out of this but that would be a lie. “Who knows?”
Burnett whipped his fancy Mercedes into the nearest parking lot. He jammed the gear shift into park and turned to Jess. “Are you still hung up on him?” he demanded. “Just tell me the truth, Jess. If that’s how you feel… I’ll understand.”
The set of his jaw told her he was mad as hell but the hurt in his eyes was about uncertainty and no small amount of desperation. “I am not still hung up on Wesley. I fully intend to keep in touch because it’s the right thing to do. But I don’t want to be with him.”
The relief on Burnett’s face, in his eyes, was almost her undoing. “Okay.”
He faced forward once more, shifted into drive, and eased back onto the highway.
They rode in silence. She felt a little off balance and she was pretty sure he did too. He’d said a mouthful. Jess reached out and took his hand. He glanced at her and she smiled.
One step at a time.
Bessemer, 6:55 p.m.
Rochelle Arnold’s home was in a comfortable neighborhood. She had three children, all boys under the age of ten, who were busy in the backyard attempting to dismantle the new tree fort their father had built for them. Jess felt confident that if the father wasn’t home soon he would find a pile of lumber and a bucket of nails for all his hard work designing and constructing the elaborate structure.
“We appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to see us, Mrs. Arnold.”
“When the administrator first mentioned that the cops were asking questions about Gabrielle, I sort of blew it off.” She pushed her brown hair behind her ears as if she were accustomed to wearing it out of the way. “I didn’t want to speak badly of anyone. But then the rumors starting floating around about how she died and that there was still no real suspects and I felt guilty for not speaking up.”
Jess’s fingers tightened on her pencil. “We are very glad you decided to talk to us.”
“If I’m speaking ill of anyone and I’m wrong,” she went on, “I hope the Lord will forgive me.”
Jess nodded when what she really wanted to do was tell her to get on with it.
“Until she decided to become a stay at home mom, I worked with Gabrielle. She was my supervisor. There were four of us who were pretty good pals. Took breaks together when we could. Even shopped and lunched together occasionally. Especially around the holidays. There was Gabrielle, Netty Winters, Sarah Riley, and me.”
“Sounds like you were close,” Jess nudged.
“We covered for each other when things came up. If I needed to be off to take one of the boys to the doctor, one of them would take my shift and then I’d take theirs. It made life a lot simpler and the paper pushers like the administrator always appreciate our working things out so they don’t have to.
“Anyway, two years ago last month Gabrielle learned from one of the patients who was a recovering opiate addict that Sarah had asked him repeatedly about his drug connection. Sometimes recovering addicts will say things like that because they’re desperate.”
“Was an investigation conducted into his accusation?” Jess asked, anticipation sending her pulse into high gear.
“Gabrielle asked Sarah about it and she laughed it off, so Gabrielle dismissed the whole business.”
Jess wanted to ask more specific questions but she held her tongue and let the woman talk.
“A few weeks later,” Rochelle went on, “there was another incident. It was family visitation day and one of the patients had gotten his younger brother to slip him a few OCs without his parents finding out. When the pills went missing he lost it. He had to be sedated, but he insisted ove
r and over that Sarah had stolen his OC.”
“OC meaning OxyContin,” Jess confirmed.
Rochelle nodded. “The coincidences were adding up to a situation Gabrielle couldn’t overlook so she confronted Sarah. We were all tore up about it. Sarah cried and claimed she had hurt her back and that she’d just needed a couple to get through it. But Gabrielle didn’t believe her. She insisted Sarah have a drug test.” Rochelle snorted. “She did and it was clean. No OC. Sarah admitted then that the drugs were for her husband. He was still recovering from an old accident and she said the doctor was skimping on his pain meds.”
“Sarah wasn’t charged or dismissed?” Jess asked, startled that she’d not found this in the background research conducted on Sarah Riley.
“Gabrielle felt sorry for her. She knew how pushy Sarah’s husband could be, so she made a deal with Sarah. Sarah would resign and Gabrielle wouldn’t put anything about the incident in her personnel file. Sarah pleaded with her not to tell their husbands. Jack would lose his job and they’d be homeless. Not to mention he would kill her if he found out she’d told anyone about getting him prescription meds.”
“Sarah was really that terrified of her husband?” Maybe this woman could confirm the abuse.
Rochelle laughed but there was nothing amusing about the sound. “Oh yeah. She didn’t talk about it much but I picked up on it.”
The woman’s assumptions weren’t proof but her statement backed up Jess’s instincts. “What did Gabrielle do about Sarah’s request?”
“Gabrielle agreed not to tell as long as Sarah made sure Jack started following the doctor’s orders instead of his own selfish needs.”
“We have random drug tests for just that sort of problem,” Jess said. She was aware there were ways around almost any test but she couldn’t see the guy getting away with it for more than two years.
“He was in an accident,” Rochelle suggested. “All he has to do is keep a script for the occasional pain killer of his choice and he’s covered if he gets hit with a test. Addicts do it all the time. They explain away a heavy concentration with the excuse that the night before had been a rough one for pain and they’d doubled up on the dose. People walk around believing that if a doctor prescribes it that it must be okay. They don’t realize they’re killing themselves and endangering others.”
“Did this incident change Gabrielle and Sarah’s friendship?”
Rochelle shook her head. “No way. Their husbands were partners. And Gabrielle felt like Sarah was the sister she never had. The two were closer than the rest of us. Sarah and Jack introduced her to the man she married. The father of her child. There was a strong connection.”
“Do you believe Sarah did as Gabrielle asked and urged her husband to get help?”
Rochelle shrugged. “I sure hope so. Can you imagine your partner having a drug problem you didn’t know about when you’re depending on him to provide your backup? A partner like that could get you killed.”
And suddenly, as if lightning had struck right out of a clear blue sky, Jess understood they had one possible, immensely disturbing motive.
What she was about to ask could be construed as leading the witness, but Jess wanted this woman’s opinion based on her work in the field. “Mrs. Arnold, based on your experience working with recovering addicts, what steps would have been necessary for Sarah’s husband to have gotten clean of his addiction to pain meds?”
“It’s a tough drug to beat and, depending on how much he was taking, it could be extremely dangerous to stop cold turkey. The best results are seen in those who commit to rehab. At least thirty days followed by long-term counseling. He would need to carry a card indicating he had an opiate addiction. It takes work.”
“Would his partner not be able to see there was a problem? After all, he’s a cop. We know the signs to look for.”
“You may know all kinds of signs and symptoms,” Rochelle agreed, “but you might not necessarily see what’s right in front of you. Some people have serious addictions and their family and coworkers never know. The desperation that accompanies needing something that badly and having to jump through hoops to get it and hide it from the world will make a person do things they would never ever do otherwise.”
Slowly but surely the pieces started to fall into place. “Did you ever know of Gabrielle using drugs herself?”
Arnold laughed, the real thing this time. “You’re kidding, right?” She gave a firm shake of her head. “Gabrielle was the most anti-drug person you will ever meet. She lost a brother to drugs when he was in high school. She hardly took an aspirin when she had a headache. No way she’d touch anything like that.”
After thanking the lady, Jess couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.
“Harper told me what an asshole Riley is,” Lori said as they climbed into her Mustang.
“We need to get a tail on Riley.” Jess’s cell clanged. As if he’d heard her request, it was Harper. “Harris.”
“Chief, we got the phone records. Gabrielle made a call to Dr. Baron on Saturday afternoon, just like she said. On Sunday, Gabrielle made one call and received two calls shortly after her husband returned to duty that night. All three were Sarah Riley.”
“That corroborates what Sarah told us.” Didn’t make Jess feel any better. Maybe the two had been talking about vacations.
“There was another, much later,” Harper said. “Gabrielle also made another call at eleven o’clock that night.”
Jess frowned. “Wait. That can’t be right.” Time of death was estimated at somewhere between nine and midnight. It was possible, she supposed, but that was stretching it. “Who did she call at eleven?”
“Jack Riley.”
A jolt of adrenaline slammed Jess. “You and Cook trade out shifts. I want one of you watching Riley twenty-four/seven.” Now they were getting somewhere.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Anything new on the search for Devon?” she asked before he could end the call. Jess knew there wasn’t. Harper or Cook would have called. But she couldn’t help hoping.
“A few more false sightings, but nothing else.”
“Thanks, Sergeant. Keep me posted on who’s got Riley under surveillance.”
Following this lead wouldn’t win her any friends in the department, but she knew in her bones they’d just been given a motive for Gabrielle’s murder.
“Where we headed now?” Lori asked.
“To the home of Sarah and Jack Riley. I have a few more questions for Sarah.”
“The shit’s going to hit the fan as soon as we cross that line.”
“Yeah, well, I do have a reputation to maintain.”
The light was back.
It was real bright.
It hurt Devon’s eyes.
He was so hungry. The angel had given him a drink and some bites of sandwich last time the light came. But that was a long time ago.
His belly growled as the light got closer. He knew he should be scared but he was too tired.
He didn’t know how long he’d been in this dark place but it felt like a real long time.
Leslie had probably quit looking for him by now. She was prob’ly sad.
He’d heard the kids in the house crying again. And the man and woman yelling at each other. Once when he woke up he thought he heard the blond lady cop talking but he prob’ly dreamed it.
The angel put the light down on the ground by Devon’s feet. He heard a tearing sound. More tape, he was pretty sure. He blinked. Tried so see but his eyes wouldn’t work good. The light made them hurt. More of that yucky tape was stuck to his face. This time over his eyes.
He didn’t like it but he couldn’t say anything. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t matter anyway.
The angel was pulling at his arms. Dragging him. Where were they going? Was the angel taking him home?
Maybe he was going to heaven. Tears made his eyes sting. He didn’t want to go… he wanted his sister.
Devon went inside himself.
Lori rapped on the town house door again.
Even at this hour Jess felt as if she were melting, especially in this borrowed black dress. She’d ignored four calls from Burnett. He hadn’t left any voice mails, which meant nothing was wrong. He just wanted to know where the hell she was and what she was doing. Oh yes, and when she would be home.
Apparently her assigned tail had lost them. It wasn’t on purpose. But there was no time to waste.
Speaking of wasting time, Jess did the knocking this time. “Maybe they went to a wake or something for family and close friends that we weren’t invited to.”
“Or dinner,” Lori suggested.
“What’s that?” Jess teased.
“Something we’ve both missed this evening.”
Jess tried to recall if she’d had lunch.
The door to the left of their position on the sidewalk opened.
Jess prepared to apologize for all the loud banging when the old man derailed her by blatantly sizing her up in her too tight, too short black sheath. She’d had to borrow this dress from Lori. That had become a habit lately.
“I’m Deputy Chief Jess Harris,” she announced, drawing the man’s attention from her legs to her face, “and this is Detective Lori Wells. We’re here to speak with Sarah Riley.”
“Garland Haines. Lived here for fifteen years. Been neighbors with the Rileys for five of those years. They’re not home,” he groused. “If they were, you’d hear ’em yelling at each other,” he rambled on. “Trust me, they’re not home.”
“Thank you.” Jess gave him a smile. “We’ll just be on our way then.”
“Another thing,” he added, “if they were home all that banging would’ve had both their brats screaming at the tops of their lungs.”
What a friendly neighbor. “I guess it’s a good thing they’re not home then.”
“Most of the time I don’t care. I’m watching TV or whatever and I can’t hear ’em. But what gets me riled up is when the bawling starts in the middle of the night. And she don’t do nothing about it. What kind of mother does that?”
