Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Her actions took him off guard, and he stared at her for a long moment. Angel met his gaze, hoping her expression conveyed the compassion she was striving for and not the contempt she felt.

  “I’ll be safe?”

  She nodded. “We’ll head east. There are a lot of trails out there and a lot of roads. They won’t be able to follow us.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I care, Darryl.” She pinched her lips together. “Because I care about what happens to those kids.”

  She pulled on his arm, and he followed her down. She walked in front of him as they reached the entrance of the barn. “Don’t shoot!” she yelled as they came to the open barn door. She stepped out first, her hands raised.

  “Try anything and she gets it!” Darryl shouted. His gun was pressing into her back. He inched her toward the bike. “Get on,” he ordered. “You drive.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw officers enter the barn. The kids would be safe. Her heart dropped to her knees. Her plan had worked.

  Good job, Angel. She swung her leg over the seat. What are you going to do next?

  Callen felt numb as he watched Angel come out of the barn at gunpoint. She’d done it. He had no idea how, but she’d gotten Darryl away from the kids. They were still in a hostage situation, only now the odds were better—he hoped. If they had a SWAT team, one of the sharpshooters would’ve been able to pick Darryl off. But Callen didn’t trust any of the officers out there to put Darryl out of commission.

  He’d alerted the officers to hold their fire—to wait until Angel gave them the opportunity they’d need. And she would—he had no doubt about that. He just wished it wasn’t her getting on that bike.

  He leaned on the hood of his car, Darryl in his sights. Other officers were doing the same.

  Darryl, weapon still in hand and pointing at Angel’s head, climbed on the bike behind her.

  “I don’t know how to drive these things,” Angel insisted. “You should drive.”

  Actually, she had driven a cycle, numerous times. Tim had owned one in his younger days, and in Florida she’d been trained to patrol using bikes, cycles, and horses, as well as cars. She hoped she’d be able to remember the basics, because right now her latent skill was the only thing that might save her.

  “And have you jump off and the cops shoot me in the back?” Darryl punctuated his comment by pushing the gun squarely against her rib cage. “The key’s in the ignition. Just crank it.”

  Angel did as he said. If Darryl decided to shoot, the bullet would go straight into her heart.

  He helped her shift it into gear. “Go.”

  Please, God, please let this work. Angel gripped the handlebars and gunned it. The bike leaped forward, front wheels lifting off the ground like a rearing horse. She hung on as the bike dropped back to earth, then sprang forward. She blew out a long sigh of relief and glanced back. Mission accomplished.

  She could hear Darryl swearing. His free arm no longer gripped her waist, and the gun had flown out of his hand when he hit the gravel road. He was now lying on his back in the middle of the driveway, surrounded by cops. She released the pedal and braked, then turned around and headed back.

  “Nice job, Angel.” Nick patted her on the shoulder. “Where’d you learn to handle a Harley?”

  “Florida,” she answered.

  “You lied,” Darryl whined. “You said you didn’t know how to ride. You told me I’d be safe with you.”

  “I said as long as you were with me.” Her mouth grim, she added, “You’re not with me now, are you?”

  An hour later Angel was back at Callen’s place, putting ice on her throbbing arm. The body did miraculous things when caught in a life-and-death situation. She could attest to that. She’d been aware of the ache, but it hadn’t been all that painful until the ordeal was over and she had begun to relax.

  Kath brought the ice bag and propped it between Angel’s arm and the couch.

  “Thanks.” Angel took a sip of ice water and set the glass back on the coffee table.

  Once she was settled, Callen started lecturing her, but it wasn’t the lecture she expected. Callen didn’t tell her she was an idiot for running headlong into a dangerous situation. Instead, he said, “If you’re going to act like a cop, then be one. Quit telling yourself you were doing it to please your dad. I saw you out there, Angel. You weren’t worried about impressing anyone. You had one thing on your mind and that was to get Gracie and Justin out of that barn and away from Darryl.”

  “Hush, Callen, leave the poor girl alone.” Kath softened the demand with a smile. “Angel has plenty of time to think about whether or not she wants to change careers. She doesn’t have to decide about going back to work today. But what I do want you to do is tell me what happened. How did Gracie and her boyfriend end up as hostages?”

  Angel looked at Callen. “Do you want to tell her or should I?”

  “I will. You need to rest.”

  “It’s my arm that needs rest. Not my mouth.”

  “So you say.”

  She slapped his arm, then left her hand where it had connected.

  Callen went on to tell Kath about the phone call Angel had gotten. As he spoke Angel thought about the moments after Darryl’s arrest. A tearful Gracie emerged from the barn, just in front of the EMTs who were carrying Justin out on a stretcher. She made a beeline for Angel, hugging and holding her with the intensity of a child Dorothy’s age, her cool aloofness long gone.

  “They said he was going to be okay.” Gracie hugged her even harder. “I was so scared.”

  “You were brave.”

  “You didn’t really mean what you said about me killing Phillip, did you?”

  “Darryl thought you had.” Angel guided her out of the road and onto the porch. “Let’s sit down.” The suggestion was for her own benefit more than Gracie’s. The adrenaline rush had evaporated, and her legs felt as though they were going to melt. “Tell me what happened.”

  “About Phillip?”

  “That too, but let’s start with your standing me up.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I wanted to get home. I saw the drawing on the news this morning—the one who killed that girl in Florence. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. After school I thought about it again. Some of the kids had a copy of the picture. I guess the cops were handing them out. Anyway, I took one and started really looking at it. That’s when I knew it was Darryl.” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “I got really scared. I wanted to go home.”

  “But why? All you had to do was call the police.”

  “No, you don’t understand. My grandparents were picking up my brother and sister from school and they were going to take them to the aquarium. Darryl was there and told them he’d pick me up.”

  “You still could’ve called the police.”

  “I was afraid to. They put my mom in jail. So I called you. I figured you’d know what to do. Anyway, Justin saw me in the hall and offered to take me home. I told him I had to wait for you, but he said it would be too dangerous to wait around ’cause Darryl could be there any minute. All I could think about was getting home. Turns out Darryl didn’t come to the school at all. He was out at the house stealing one of Phillip’s guns.”

  “He was in the house? How did you end up in the barn?”

  “We were getting out of the pickup when Darryl came up from the root cellar. Justin grabbed my hand and told me to run. We headed for the barn, hoping he wouldn’t see us. It was stupid. Darryl came after us. He made us go up into the loft. I think he was going to tie us up so he could get away. We’d just gotten up there when you came, and he got real scared and said he was going to kill us if we said anything.”

  Angel knew the rest of the story all too well. She squeezed Callen’s hand, thankful to be alive and grateful he had allowed her to deal with Darryl her own way.

  “So the case is closed,” Kath said.

  “Not yet.” Callen stroked An
gel’s hair. “We still need to get the test results on the evidence we sent in.”

  “And there’s still Phillip Jenkins’s murder,” Angel said. “Gracie told me Phillip was dead when she and Justin came by to pick up her essay for an afternoon class.”

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Kath asked.

  “I do now.” Angel frowned. “And that lets Darryl off the hook as far as killing his uncle is concerned, since he got to the house after Gracie. Which means Candace didn’t kill him either, unless she did it before she left to pick up the kids. Which she didn’t do, because Becky came after she left to have her afternoon meeting with her boss.” Angel rolled her eyes. “Did I say meeting?”

  “So the secretary killed him?” Kath frowned. “I’m confused.”

  “She says he was alive when she left, so either she’s lying or someone else came to pay Phillip a visit after she left.”

  “And,” Callen interjected, “that may have been Fitzgibbon, Savage, or one of the women in your support group.”

  “Any of them could be Dragonslayer,” Angel said. “I think he or she killed Kelsey and Jenkins. Douglas Stanton from the bank may be the next victim.”

  “He’s still missing,” Callen added.

  Angel’s cell phone rang. She’d set her bag on the floor next to the sofa.

  “Stay where you are,” Kath said. “I’ll get it.” She located and answered the phone. “Sure, she’s right here.” She handed Angel the phone. “It’s Rachael.”

  “Hi, Rach, what’s up?”

  “Am I glad I caught you. Things are going from bad to worse. Janet called and said her ex was in town. She decided to do what we’d talked about, which was going to the police and turning him in for blackmail. Well, you are not going to believe this, but when the police went to arrest him, he was dead.”

  “What?” Angel sat up straight and swung her legs off the couch.

  “What’s wrong?” Callen asked.

  The ice pack fell against her back. Angel got up and began pacing. “Do they know what happened or who did it?”

  “He was shot—similar to Jenkins. Dragonslayer left another note on Janet’s computer. All it said was ‘He won’t bother you again.’”

  Angel glanced at Callen’s worried expression. “I’ll be right over.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Angel got the details, and Callen insisted that if she planned on going anywhere, he was going with her.

  “Good. You need to be there. The same person who killed Jim Kelsey killed Phillip Jenkins and Janet’s ex. Janet’s ex is Charles Campbell, by the way. Now that you’ve solved your Florence murder, you can come back to these.”

  “If this Dragonslayer is real.” Callen massaged his neck and tipped his head back. “And you’re right. I need to go.”

  “Dragonslayer may be one person or it may be several.” Angel carefully tugged her jacket sleeve over her injured arm. “But one thing is certain. These guys were killed because they were abusive to their wives. I have no doubt that if we don’t get the killer soon, we’ll have corpses stretched out from here to Lincoln City.” She placed a hand on Callen’s arm. “There are more abusive men out there, and who knows when this psycho will strike next.”

  She bit her lower lip. She had told Janet that Callen might be abusive. If Janet was behind these deaths, Callen could be next.

  Don’t go there, Angel. That’s not likely. She had an alibi for the time Jenkins was killed.

  Angel adjusted her jacket and kissed Callen’s cheek. “Do you want to take separate cars or ride together?”

  “Together—I’ll drive. You shouldn’t be using that arm.”

  He was right about that. Her active afternoon had caused the wound to bleed. They’d had to stop at the emergency room on the way to Callen’s place to get the blood-soaked dressing changed. And she’d had to endure a lecture from the ER nurse. The nurse suggested using a sling as a reminder not to use the arm at all for the next day or so. Angel had the sling in her car and agreed to use it if needed.

  She and Callen didn’t speak on the way to the hotel. An odd silence permeated the car, creating a chasm between them. Angel couldn’t read him. Although he didn’t seem angry with her, he wasn’t happy either. He seemed thoughtful and remote.

  “I won’t interfere with the investigation, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Angel said. “If I should happen to find anything, anything at all, I’ll let you know.”

  Callen nodded. “When we get to the scene, try to stay in the background, okay?”

  They reached the hotel, a place in Lincoln City. Nick was there when they arrived and greeted Callen with a slap on the back. “Boy, am I glad to see you.” He tossed Angel a rueful glance. “I thought you were taking it easy.”

  “I was until Rachael called.” Angel looked past him to the wheelchair sitting in front of the window with an ocean view. A fire was going in the gas fireplace, and the windows were wide open. A cool westerly breeze wafted into the room. Crime lab techs were scouring the room for evidence and taking pictures. As a police officer, Angel would have been privy to all the details. As a private detective, she had to wait until the information was released or find out on her own. She looked around at the other officers, hoping to see a familiar face, but they were all new to her. Nick probably wouldn’t have been here either if he hadn’t been looking into Janet’s allegations.

  “The ME’s already been here.” Nick directed the comment to Callen. “They carted out the body about an hour ago.”

  “How did he die?” Callen asked, drawing his notepad out of his breast pocket.

  “Gunshot to the head. No weapon that we can see. Bullet is still in the guy, so we’ll get a make on it after the autopsy.”

  “He was shot at close range—similar to Jenkins.” Nick shook his head. “Poor guy didn’t have a chance. Didn’t look like he knew what was coming either. No sign of a break-in.”

  “Do you have a time of death?” Callen’s gaze traveled over the room.

  “Probably happened last night,” Nick answered.

  “Witnesses?” Callen stepped inside, and Angel shadowed him.

  “Yeah. We lucked out there. Manager said he saw someone fitting the ex-wife’s description come into the hotel around 8:00 looking for the guy. Right now she’s our only suspect.”

  “Sounds too easy,” Callen said.

  Nick rolled his eyes, his gaze settling on Angel. “Don’t I know it. I’m checking out all the angles this time. Campbell only made two phone calls from his room. One to his ex-wife’s office at 2:00 and another at 7:00 in the evening to her home. I checked the numbers.” He hesitated. “You need to come in on these killings, Riley. We just don’t have the resources.”

  “Might not be a bad idea—especially now that it looks like all three deaths are related. I’ll talk to my boss and Joe—make sure they’re okay with it.”

  “It sure would help. I’m in way over my head.” He turned to Angel. “And no comments from you.”

  “Is that what all this attitude is about?” Angel stood in front of him, hands on her hips. “You felt this way from the beginning and you’ve been taking it out on me?”

  “I never meant to do that. It’s just that you’re way smarter about this stuff than I am.”

  “I am not.”

  “Right. Tell me you haven’t aced every test you’ve ever taken. You’re a better marksman, you could easily have passed the exam for detective. I’m having to work my tail off in these courses. And with all this work . . . I don’t know. It’s too much.”

  “Test results don’t mean all that much,” Angel insisted. “You’re a good cop.”

  “I should’ve listened to you on the Jenkins case. I know it was stupid, but I wanted to prove you wrong.”

  “You two can hash out your differences later,” Callen said. “Right now we should be focusing on the evidence.”

  Nick resumed telling Callen what he knew about Charles Campbell’s death. Angel li
stened with half an ear, more intent on Nick’s comments about Janet having been there. She was surprised to hear that. Janet hated her ex—hated the control he still had over her, but more than that, she hated what he’d done to her and her unborn baby. But enough to kill him?

  Sounds like a motive to me. Honoring Janet’s plea for confidentiality, Angel hadn’t told Callen the whole story. She might need to now.

  She excused herself and went out to the lobby, where she sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and made a phone call.

  “Rachael, did Janet tell you she came to see her ex last night?”

  “No, she didn’t.” Rachael hesitated. “You’re sure?”

  “No, but according to Nick, the manager saw a woman who fit Janet’s description. I’m going to want a photo so we get a positive ID.” Angel had a thought. Maybe someone other than Janet had been there as well. “Can you get me a photo of all the women from the shelter? There’s one tacked on the bulletin board there. See if you can get a good copy and bring it to me.” Angel told Rachael where she was and hung up.

  The more she thought about it, the more she wondered about that diabolical plan she’d talked to Rachael about. If a group of women had put together a plan to kill their abusive husbands, wouldn’t they make certain each wife had an alibi?

  Candace thought she’d had an alibi, but no one saw her during the hour she was reading. Then when she got home and found her husband dead and Gracie’s footprints on the floor, she had to clean things up. Angel made another call, this one to Janet.

  Angel skipped the preliminaries and got right to the point. “Did you go see your ex-husband last night?”

  “Who is this? Angel?”

  “Yes. Did you?”

  “No. Why would I do that?” She sounded shaken and tearful.

  “I have no idea, but the manager here said you were here.”

  “I wasn’t. Do the police think I killed him?”