Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2)

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Rachael stared at her. “You actually think Callen is abusive?”

  “No . . . I don’t know. The point is, I told Janet I thought he might be.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Her first reaction was like yours—surprise. Then she told me to take my time to be sure one way or the other.”

  “Doesn’t sound vindictive.”

  “No, but I didn’t tell anyone else. And I don’t think with all her confidentiality issues she’d tell anyone either.” Angel leaned back when her burger and fries arrived. She topped her burger with all the condiments and took a large bite. Rachael worked on her fried chicken. “Something just doesn’t fit,” she told Rachael.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Janet. I mean, yeah, she was abused. Her husband caused her to lose her baby, then turns around and blackmails her. Major trauma. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’d snapped.”

  “Is that what you think? That she’s working as a counselor and killing off abusive men in her spare time?”

  “That’s what I mean. In a twisted way it makes sense. Only, then again, it doesn’t. Callen is missing. Janet’s gone and so is her car. But she left her clothes and her purse and a chocolate cake.”

  “A chocolate cake?” Rachael’s head snapped up. “Now, leaving the suitcase and the purse behind, I can understand, but what woman would voluntarily flee without taking her chocolate cake?”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am. Angel, I talked to that woman for several hours the day she came to see me. My take? She’s no killer. And she’s not a quitter. Personally, I don’t think she’d run. She might think about it, but I’ll bet she’s the type to stick around and see it through.”

  “So what happened to her? And where is Callen?”

  “Did you ever get a look at those notes she kept from the support group meetings? Maybe we need to take a closer look at those and talk to these other women.”

  “Claire wouldn’t let me near them,” Angel said. “Janet has her well trained in the area of confidentiality.”

  “Well, Claire isn’t there now, is she?”

  “You want to break into the office?” Angel gasped.

  “Of course not. You’re going to get us in.”

  “And just how am I going to do that?”

  “Doesn’t your ex-boyfriend have an office in her building?” Rachael gave her a wicked grin.

  “Oh no.” Angel rolled her eyes but moments later found herself asking Brandon for a favor.

  “No way,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this.”

  “Brandon, this is important. Janet Campbell is missing and so is Callen. She may be the person who killed Jim Kelsey and Phillip Jenkins. Helping find the real killer will vindicate Michelle.”

  Michelle seemed to be the magic word, because after a short pause he agreed.

  From the Burger Shed, Angel and Rachael walked the three blocks to the building where Janet had her practice. Lights were on in several offices. The front door was locked, but the security guard opened it when they knocked. He smiled when they told him who they’d come to see. “Mr. Lafferty is expecting you. Go on up.”

  Brandon was waiting just inside the law offices. Angel and Rachael took turns greeting him with a hug and thanking him for his help.

  “Don’t mention it.” He scowled and picked up a file. “Bring me the keys when you’re done, and I’ll get them back into the janitor’s closet.”

  They took the elevator to Janet’s suite of offices and easily gained entrance. They spent over an hour searching but could find no record of the notes Claire had taken. Discouraged, Rachael and Angel returned the keys, thanked Brandon for his help, and left. Back at the Burger Shed, the two women got into their respective cars and headed home.

  Angel called Nick to see if they had made any headway on finding Callen, Janet, or Doug Stanton. All available law enforcement agencies were on the lookout, but so far, nothing.

  It was late. Angel’s arm hurt. She felt bone tired, but how could she give up with Callen out there somewhere and very likely in danger? She had no doubt that Claire had taken those notes home with her, but why would she do that? Was she protecting someone? Had Claire been in contact with Janet? Maybe Janet had asked her to bring them to her. Angel glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock. It had been twenty-four hours since Callen had dropped her off at his place and she’d kissed him good-bye. She should have insisted on staying with him.

  The missing files put things into a different perspective. Angel hadn’t thought much about Claire being a possible suspect. But now she wondered. Did Claire type up notes of Janet’s private sessions as well as the support groups? Had Janet told Claire that Callen might be abusive? Maybe the two women were working together. If Claire were meeting Janet, where would they go? Claire’s place? Angel tried to remember the conversation she and Claire had during the break at the support group meeting. Had she mentioned where she lived? Angel couldn’t recall.

  She stopped by an all-night market for some coffee and borrowed a phone book from the clerk to look up Claire’s address. She lived in one of the older homes along the south side of the bay. Angel drove over to check it out. This home, like a number of others, had a yard sloping out to the water and a boathouse alongside a private dock. Trees and overgrown shrubs made the house almost impossible to see from the road. Angel almost drove past without stopping, but she caught a glimpse of Janet’s car parked in the driveway off to one side. Angel stopped and cut the engine and the lights. She pulled out her cell and called dispatch, asking the operator to have Nick meet her out here. After giving her location, Angel stepped out of her Corvette and quietly closed the door.

  A light arched behind the house, flickering through the tree branches. A flashlight. Angel sneaked around to the back, where she noticed two crouched silhouettes heading toward the dock. The person bringing up the rear had a gun. From her vantage point, it looked as though the first person was being held at gunpoint.

  They disappeared inside the boathouse. Angel stayed in the shadows until she reached the dock, then moved stealthily toward the boathouse. Upon reaching it, she crouched beside it.

  “Get in the boat.” A woman’s voice. Sharp and angry.

  “This is wrong. Can’t you see that?”

  It didn’t take long for Angel to determine who the voices belonged to. Claire and Janet.

  “There’s no other way,” Claire said, her tone softening.

  “Please don’t do this,” Janet pleaded.

  A loud gravelly moan emanated from inside the boathouse. Masculine. Callen?

  “You shut up!” Claire spoke with such vehemence that Angel feared she’d use the gun.

  As much as Angel wanted to step inside, she couldn’t—not yet. She needed to determine what was going on. Besides, she didn’t have a weapon and would be useless with her injured arm.

  “Please, Claire,” Janet spoke again. “I understand why you felt you needed to kill those men, but why kill Detective Riley? He’s not an abuser.” Janet’s voice wavered.

  Kill Callen? Angel thought she was going to be sick. But wait. Hadn’t she just heard him in the boathouse?

  “You’re the one who gave him the cake,” Claire said. “That was only meant for you.”

  “Why, Claire? Why are you doing this?”

  “For someone who’s so smart,” Claire answered, “you can be extremely dumb. What else am I supposed to do? Give myself up? Get into the boat.”

  More shuffling. Angel found a crack between boards that gave her a partial view. The only light came from a small lantern that now hung from a nail near the entrance. The boathouse was open at the front, accessing the bay. Janet climbed aboard.

  “Inside the cabin,” Claire ordered. Once Janet was inside, Claire went aboard and closed the cabin door.

  Angel eased closer to the boathouse door. She had to find a way to stop Claire. Maybe there was a way to sabotage the boat. Keep her from taking Janet and Ca
llen out to sea. She hadn’t said as much, but Angel surmised that was her plan. Dump their bodies at sea and keep going.

  She heard a creak behind her and, thinking it was Nick, turned around, holding a finger to her lips to silence him. But it wasn’t Nick.

  The first thing she saw was the faint glistening of the gun barrel. The second thing was the hard, cold look in her captor’s eyes.

  Angel hadn’t been that far off with her diabolical plan theory. She just wondered how many of the women were in on it.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  So you weren’t joking after all.” Angel’s gaze shifted again to the gun.

  Debra waved the gun to the side, indicating for Angel to go inside. “We thought about hiring someone but decided we could use the money ourselves. It wasn’t that hard.”

  “Debra, is that you?” Claire called out.

  “Me and an uninvited guest. Looks like we have another one.” To Angel she said, “Open the door. We’re going for a boat ride.”

  “What if I say no?” Angel swallowed back the tide of fear threatening to engulf her; with much more bravado than she possessed, she called Debra’s bluff. “What are you going to do, shoot me? Looks like you’re going to kill us one way or the other, so what difference does it make?”

  “None at all to me, except that you might have a chance out there.” She nodded toward the ocean.

  Angel wasn’t falling for it. A person wouldn’t survive more than a few minutes in the frigid water. “So you’re saying you don’t mind shooting me or having neighbors hear a gunshot and noticing my car is out there. The police are on their way. They know I’m here.”

  “Just get on the boat,” Debra growled between her teeth.

  “No. I’ll take my chances out here. Shoot me. Go ahead.” Angel felt as if her heart were turning over faster than the boat’s motor. “I can understand you wanting to get rid of those abusive men, but Janet?”

  “Janet.” Debra spat out the word as though it were poison. “Janet was going to turn us in to the police—she thought everything could be settled without violence. But she was wrong. Violence begets violence. We never meant for anyone else to get hurt other than the abusers. But you and your boyfriend had to interfere. Now we have no choice.”

  “Yes, you do. You can turn yourselves in.”

  “What, and plead insanity?”

  Angel caught her gaze. “Give me the gun, Debra.”

  She waved it again. “No way.”

  “Debra,” Claire called out, “get on board now.” The motor sputtered, then died.

  “I hear sirens,” Angel said. “Turn yourself in before—”

  “Debra, please. The police,” Claire pleaded.

  “I can’t just leave her here.”

  “Then shoot her.” Claire started the engine again, and again it died.

  In one swift move, Angel stepped away and jumped off the dock. The gun went off.

  The water, still fresh from mountain runoffs, took her breath away. Not daring to surface, she managed to turn and swim under the dock. She felt her way along the pilings and under the boathouse walls, coming up at the prow of the boat.

  “Where is she?” Debra screeched as she pumped more bullets into the inky water.

  “Never mind her. We have to get out of here now.” Claire’s pitch rose with each word. The motor roared to life.

  Debra entered the boathouse and climbed aboard. Claire eased the vessel forward.

  Angel worked her way alongside the boat until she reached the stern. She grasped the ladder that extended up and over the rail, fighting the water churned up by the propeller. Within seconds they’d head toward open water. Only about two feet of water separated the boat from the deck inside the boathouse. Angel looked around for a board or something to shove into the propeller blades to stop them. Nothing. Not even a piece of driftwood. She tugged at her shoe, yanking it free after what seemed an eternity. She’d shove the shoe into the blades. If it didn’t work, she could lose an arm. But if she didn’t try, she’d lose Callen and Janet. Angel took a deep breath and let go of the ladder. At the same moment, she pushed the tennis shoe into the blades.

  Something snagged her arm as she went under. She bobbed up and caught the edge of the dock. The boat had cleared the boathouse, its motor silent as it drifted a short distance and bumped against the end of the pier.

  Footsteps pounded on the dock. The cavalry. Thank you, God.

  “Police!” someone shouted. “Don’t anybody move.”

  Nick yanked her out of the water as if she were a rag doll. She was too numb to protest. Seconds later he had her wrapped in a wool blanket and was carrying her toward the house.

  Angel didn’t get to hang around long enough to find out what happened. She didn’t really need to. Nick had everything well under control.

  The emergency room was crowded that night, for at least a few hours, while doctors checked out everyone for injuries. Angel had not lost an arm or even come close. The wave action had knocked her into a piling, breaking open some stitches and opening her wound again. The nurse cleaned the wound and steri-stripped it closed. She was just finishing up when Callen brushed aside the curtain and stepped into the room.

  Haggard and unshaven, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. She smiled and poked a hand out of the warming blankets to caress his face. His gaze caught and held hers.

  “I understand you saved my life.” Callen stroked her cheek. “Along with Dr. Campbell’s and Doug Stanton’s.”

  “Stanton?”

  “He was in the cabin with us. Trussed up and awaiting execution.”

  Angel winced. “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.”

  He smiled. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yeah. I was so worried about you, Callen. What happened?”

  “Long story, but we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes. Callen was safe. Candace was out of jail and back at the farm with her family. And the bad guys had been rounded up. It had taken a long time to warm up after her flirtation with hypothermia, and now all she wanted to do was sleep.

  The next afternoon, Angel and Anna Delaney were stretched out on beach lounges, catching some sun, watching the waves roll in and out. Seagulls squawked overhead. Mutt lay between them, watching their every move, concern written in his liquid brown eyes.

  Callen stood at his barbeque, grilling thick T-bones, while Paul and Rachael followed his orders to set the table and bring the food he’d prepared earlier out to the table. Tim and Susan had taken the girls for a walk on the beach and were just coming back. Peter was heading for Portland, where he would catch a plane to the Bahamas to deal with some sort of emergency at the resort there. Nick had picked up Rosie and was on his way over.

  “It’s hard to have someone else taking care of dinner.” Anna turned her head in Angel’s direction, sunglasses hiding her eyes.

  “Mmm. Enjoy it, Ma. You’ll be back in the kitchen soon enough.” Angel hadn’t really talked with her mother since her father’s death. Truth be told, she’d been avoiding it.

  “Angel, move in with me.”

  “What?” Angel wasn’t sure what she expected, but not this.

  “You heard me. With your father gone, the house is too big and I hate being alone.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just think about it. The boys say I should sell and move into a condominium, but I don’t want to do that.”

  “You shouldn’t have to—sell, I mean. It’s too soon anyway.”

  “Angel,” her father had told her before his open-heart surgery, “if anything happens to me, take care of your mother.”

  Anna nodded and looked back at the water. “I miss him.”

  An old familiar lump made its way to Angel’s throat. She didn’t cry this time. She’d done far too much of that already. “I miss him too.” Eventually, she would have to deal with all the unfinished business that had gone on betwee
n them. The funeral had helped. So many people had come up to her—especially people he worked with—telling her how proud he’d been of his little girl. She just wished he could have told her—shown her.

  “Come get it!” Callen yelled.

  Angel set aside her thoughts and helped her mother out of the chair. How ironic that they would both end up with arm injuries. Fortunately, neither was serious enough to keep them out of commission for long.

  Dinner provided a perfect opportunity to watch Callen as he interacted with the people she loved most. How could she have thought him abusive? Her heart swelled to twice its size as it filled with love for him. She could hardly wait for dinner to end and for conversations to fade and their guests to leave.

  At 8:30 she got her wish. She and Callen were alone. He would be taking her home soon, but she had him to herself for at least another hour or two.

  He turned on the dishwasher, hung up his apron, and joined her on the couch. She curled her fingers in his hair. “That was quite a performance. We’ll have to start calling you Emeril.”

  He smiled. “Enjoy it while you can. As soon as that arm of yours heals, I plan to recruit you as my chief cook and bottle washer.”

  “In your dreams.”

  He leaned over and planted a sweet, lingering kiss on her lips, leaving her breathless and wanting more. He tipped his head back and slouched down on the couch, closing his eyes in the process.

  Angel brushed his hair from his forehead.

  “I suppose you’re itching to know how everything turned out.” He smiled as though he didn’t mind telling her.

  Angel hadn’t planned to ask, thinking her curiosity could wait a day or two. “Now that you mention it, I suppose I am. There are still a lot of unanswered questions. Like how you managed to get yourself abducted.”

  Callen told her about his talk with Janet. It had been Claire, not Heather, who’d brought the cake, a cake laced with a powerful sedative that had knocked both Callen and Janet out. Claire came back with Debra, thinking they’d find Janet passed out, only to find they had to deal with Callen as well.