by Sara L Foust
Jimmy Vern spat.
It ripped her heart out to get back into the truck and head for home empty-handed. Was Cody here somewhere? Could he hear them? Lord, this is torture! Help Cody stay strong, wherever he is.
“What do we do now, Zach?”
“We’ll get him. I’m more convinced than ever he’s guilty. Of everything.”
She was too, but they had to have concrete proof if they were going to nail him. And that kind of solidity seemed awfully scarce. In any part of her world lately.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I75 NORTH ZIPPED BY Zach’s car. If Annalise focused on the immediate tasks at hand and Zach’s speed, she didn’t think—as much—about Cody or Dave. The ache throbbed rather than pierced, for the moment.
Her phone rang, and she picked up the call on the first ring. “Captain Brooks, thanks for calling me back.”
“Sure thing. What’s up?”
“One of the arrested men, Mike Wilson, was murdered on his way to the interrogation room at the jail earlier.”
“Oh, man.”
“Yeah, we were really hoping to crack one of these guys. Seems impossible now, but we left Kirk with the remaining two living ones. Pray for a miracle.”
“I will.”
She updated him on the photos and conversation with Jimmy Vern. “I need to speak with Paul as soon as we get back, in about thirty minutes.”
“He’s here. Settled in real nice, Annalise. I gotta say, I like the boy.”
“That is a lot coming from you, sir. You’re a great judge of character.”
Annalise hung up.
Zach barely slowed for the right turn at the exit.
“Good thing the light was green.”
“Huh?” He glanced in his mirror. “Oh, right.”
“You okay?”
“Just thinkin’.”
“About what?”
“A lot’s happened the last few days.”
No kidding. But she didn’t want to rehash all of it. Not right now when her mind felt like waves on a windy day rather than during a hurricane. “Swing by real quick and let me check on Celine.”
Zach nodded and a few minutes later pulled up to the curb in front of the Moss home.
“I’ll be right back.” Annalise bounded up the front steps and knocked on the bright blue door. “Celine?”
When there was no answer, she went to the back door and repeated her actions. She tried the handle and found it open. “Celine?” she called once more from the open rear entryway.
The quiet house sent goosebumps racing up her arms. She pulled her gun from her hip holster and crept through the kitchen and dining room, and stepped over the threshold into the living room. Why was it so dark in the middle of the afternoon? The curtains pulled over the windows allowed little sunlight to enter. And no lamps lit the space at all.
Her breaths felt shallow and heavy as she made her way up the stairs and into the first open door on the right.
A trail of red dotted the plush carpet. Annalise’s heart sank. She texted Zach, “Need backup,” and slid along the wall. The queen-sized bed was empty, and a pair of pink slippers waited under the edge. Where was Celine?
The trail led into the bathroom off the master bedroom. Annalise nudged the door. Something blocked it from the inside. Lord, I have such a bad feeling. Help me, please.
Annalise didn’t want to push too hard and hurt Celine, if she was in fact the obstruction. She pushed gently, held her breath, and squeezed through the narrow opening.
As she feared, Celine lay in a motionless heap behind the door.
Annalise held her breath as she knelt and watched for the rise and fall of Celine’s chest.
“Where are you?” Zach’s voice sounded from the hallway.
“In here! Call 9-1-1.” She felt Celine’s slow pulse and sighed. At least she was still breathing, and her heart was beating. But, beyond that, Annalise wasn’t sure she could say anything positive. Celine’s swollen face would’ve been unrecognizable had Annalise not known this was for sure her form lying on the floor. How long had she been like this?
Blood pooled beneath her head, a nosebleed that seemed to be slowing to a drip. The crooked bone on the bridge proof of its broken state.
“Annalise?” Zach shouted and then knocked on the door.
“She’s right behind the door, don’t push.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I haven’t cleared the rest of the house, though. Can you please make sure we are alone?”
“Yes. Stay put.”
Like she had any choice. “Oh, Celine. What happened to you?” Even as she whispered the words, she had a sinking feeling she knew the answer. Jimmy Vern Buchanan.
Her heartbeat quickened. If he had broken into Annalise’s house and come after Celine in her own home, was Paul safe anywhere?
She heard Zach’s footsteps approaching the door once again. “Everything okay?”
“Seems to be. Can I help?”
“I don’t think there’s much we can do. She’s stable but unconscious. Someone has beaten her to a pulp.”
Zach growled. “Jimmy Vern.”
“That’s what I was thinking too.”
“We need to dust for fingerprints. I know there weren’t any in Cody’s room, or your house, but maybe he got careless this time.”
“One can only hope.” But she doubted it. Jimmy Vern knew exactly what not to do. His first arrest had given him quite the felon’s education.
“I’ll get started out here on the doorknobs. Oh, and I think the fight started in the office. There’s a lot of blood there.”
Celine must’ve tried to make it to her bathroom to clean up after the pummeling and passed out. Why hadn’t she called the police or gone to the ER?
The wail of sirens pierced the walls and reached her. Oh, thank goodness.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE AMBULANCE PULLED out of the driveway, Annalise riding alongside Celine. He would pick her up later. After he finished processing the house.
A text from Kirk lit up his cellphone screen.
“Got nothing from these two. Figured as much. Guess my impeccable record is going to have to take a hit, eh?”
“Nah. Your hands were tied on this one. Won’t count.” Zach sighed and then sent a second message. “Celine Moss has been attacked. I’m going over the scene with a fine-toothed comb. I’ll call later and update.”
Zach resumed his investigation in the study. So far, he’d fingerprinted all the door handles throughout the entire house and collected samples to compare, again, with everyone they knew had been coming and going the last few days. He didn’t have high hopes of getting lucky.
He had photographed and collected blood samples from the trail leading to the bedroom and from the bathroom where Annalise had found Celine. He suspected it all belonged to Celine. When he had finally seen her, it had taken his breath. And not in a good way. How could someone do that to a woman?
The office was something straight out of a Stephen King novel. He hardly knew where to begin. Which blood spatter puddle was the most important? He squatted over the largest one on the floor and tilted his head. His pulse skipped. Was that a boot print? This could be the most helpful thing they’d found so far.
He enhanced the shoe print and lifted it, carefully preserving the details for the lab. If they could match this print to a particular brand, to a specific store, maybe they’d get lucky and find video proof of the purchaser. It was a long shot, but if it worked, they would have fail-proof evidence of Jimmy Vern’s involvement.
He probably shouldn’t be narrowed into one suspect yet, but if it wasn’t Jimmy Vern behind all of this, he’d eat his own boot.
Zach packed up his gear and made his way to the truck. He hated to leave the place in such a terrible state, but he wouldn’t be able to clear the scene for clean-up just yet.
He swung by Annalise’s house. Nothing seemed out of place there. Dave’s truck was still absent. Was that a
good thing or a bad? Zach wanted to beat some sense into the man, but at the same time, would it be healthy for Annalise if Dave decided to fight for their marriage? All he wanted was for her to be happy. As much as she loved Dave, and was committed to her marriage vows, if he’d cheated once, what was stopping him from doing it again? Zach growled. Nothing, that’s what.
Zach couldn’t stand cheaters. They hurt the women they loved for temporary reprieve, love, pleasure, whatever. And left a web of destruction and chaos behind them. Broken families. Broken hearts. Broken dreams.
He knew all too well how little Cody Moss felt. Annalise didn’t deserve this kind of pain.
ANNALISE TAPPED HER toes on the linoleum floor. She really needed to get home, to check on Paul. Captain Brooks had assured her he was holed up in the extra bedroom at the Brooks’ residence. All was quiet on the home front. Why, then, did the nagging fear clawing at her mind cease to leave her?
Celine lay in the bed to Annalise’s left. The CT scan came back surprisingly clear, but the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours would be critical. If her brain began to swell ...
Why was it that her life of late was counted in hours? In critical, tick-tock, life-is-draining, chances-of-success-are-dwindling-with-each-passing-one hours?
Celine had needed a blood transfusion and was heavily sedated. With a broken nose, left collar bone, and left wrist, Annalise hoped they kept the poor woman that way for a while yet. Something kept Annalise by her side, though she couldn’t get any pertinent details from an unconscious woman. She couldn’t just leave her alone. Would Brian want to know? Would it be a good idea for him to be here, after the huge fight Annalise had witnessed?
She dropped her head to the corner of the bed. If she was here, she wasn’t out trying to find their son. Lord, help!
Celine wouldn’t care about her own health. She would want Annalise to be doing everything within her power to find her boy. If it wasn’t too late already.
Annalise shot to her feet. In the hallway, she flagged down a nurse. “I need to know as soon as Ms. Moss wakes. I have very important questions for her.” She handed the nodding, wide-eyed nurse a business card. “Please call me the minute she opens her eyes. Okay?”
“Yes, Officer. I will”
She called Zach on the way to her truck. “What’d you find?”
“Blood. Lots of it. Did Celine have any other injuries? Stab wounds or anything?”
“No. not that I am aware of.”
“Why on earth was there so much blood?”
Annalise bit her lip. “What if it is the attacker’s blood too? Did you find evidence that Celine fought back?’
“No. I collected a bunch of different blood samples, maybe we will get lucky.”
“Maybe. What else?”
“A partial boot print.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “That could be a good lead.”
“Could be. What’s the plan? You staying at the hospital?”
“I’m leaving now. I need to talk to Paul. And check on Brian and update him.”
“I’ll get these samples to the lab and then join you wherever you are. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.” She took a deep breath. “Thanks for ... everything, Zach.”
“No thanks needed.”
“I’ll cook you a really big dinner when this is all over.”
“I won’t say no to that.”
She chuckled. “I know you won’t. It’s a pretty safe bet to offer you food.” As they had grown and she had gotten married, their friendship had changed. It was still good, of course. But instead of confiding in him, she’d spent years confiding in Dave. As it should be. She had missed Zach and not been able to explain it fully to herself or Dave just how much. “You’re important to me, Zach.”
Silence filled the air between them for many seconds. “You are to me too, Annalise.”
He was her first best friend, not to mention her longest friendship. She would never take him for granted again. “All right, I’ll call you in a bit.”
She knocked on Brian’s hotel room door.
Something on the other side crashed to the floor.
She drew her gun and stepped to the side, her heart climbing into her throat. “Brian? You okay?” She jiggled the handle and found it locked. “I’m coming in five, four, three—”
The door swung open. Brian lurched into view. “What?”
“Are you drunk?”
“Might be. What’s it to you?”
Was this a theme with the men around her or something? “I ... Or ...” She took a deep breath and pushed thoughts of Dave back behind the curtain. “Celine has been attacked.”
His shining eyes widened. “What? Is she okay?”
“She is in the hospital, under heavy sedation. She has a lot of broken bones, but the doctors are optimistic she will be okay. As long as her brain doesn’t begin to swell.”
He stumbled backward into the door frame and wiped his hand across his brow. “I have to get to her.”
“You cannot drive in your condition. Nor would you be any help at the hospital.”
“What about Cody? Have you figured anything more out?”
She swallowed hard. “We are currently following a lead, but I would advise you not to get your hopes up.” Hers were certainly sinking by the hour.
“I need to get home.”
What?
“My wife needs me home.” He backed into the room.
Annalise followed.
He sank onto the bed and hung his head between his hands. “But I can’t leave either.” He sighed. “This is all my fault.”
Annalise wanted to argue with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It kind of was his fault. He’d abandoned his family and driven Cody to rebel.
He raised a tear-streaked face toward her. “I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless holed up in this dumb hotel room. At least at home, I’ll be with my family.”
She clenched her fists. His family? His other family, more correctly. Had he not cared about Celine and Cody at all? Was it so easy to toss them aside? To flush his marriage down the drain and walk away with the mistress he never should’ve had in the first place? “How dare you! Are you all the same?” Tears sprang to her eyes.
Brian recoiled. “I—”
“Don’t bother. There’s something about husbands, isn’t there? Some ridiculous, unspoken rule that says, ‘You get bored with one, go ahead and move on to the next.’ It’s disgusting.”
Red crept up his neck and colored his cheeks. He sprang from the bed. “What do you know about my life? Huh? Your job is to find my son, and you can’t even do that.” He turned his back. “Get out, before I call real police. The ones who know how to help people.”
With her chest tight and tears streaming down her face, Annalise backed from the room and ran to her vehicle through a cold October drizzle.
SOMETHING LITTLE, WITH annoying buzzing wings landed on Cody’s forearm. He peeled open sticky eyelids and stared at his injured hand. He couldn’t see a thing, but the sound of the little wings clued him in to the bug’s identity. “I’m not dead yet, stupid fly.” How could it take so much effort just to brush one small bug away?
His hip bones and ribs ached. He’d lost track of how long he’d been lying in the same position. Leftover dreams turned nightmares clouded his thoughts. One minute he was home, the next buried alive. One minute eating pizza, the next his stomach cramped and tore his abdomen open. Stupid subconscious, or wherever dreams came from.
What was that new sound? He arched his neck and listened. Water? Water! Dripping through the walls somewhere behind him. His parched mouth and sandpaper tongue overpowered all his other body parts. He pulled his knees to his chest and rolled. His arms shook as he lifted himself to a crawling position. Seriously. How could he be so weak? Had Jimmy Vern done something to that chicken he’d offered? Some sort of slow-acting poison?
The painstaking effort it took to crawl to the trickle made Cody
’s chest heave, but he finally felt the cool drips sliding down the rocks. He pressed his lips to it and groaned. He never dreamed cold, clear water could be so delicious.
What if he got sick? He pulled back and swiped his mouth with a shaking hand. Oh, right. He already was. He chuckled, ending in a cough that pulled down to the very bottom of his lungs. Fantastic.
The cellar door slammed open, and Cody jumped.
“Hey, boy! Where you at?”
He didn’t want to answer, wasn’t sure he could the way his mouth still clove together.
“Boy? Your momma says hi.” Jimmy Vern’s hoarse laugh filled the damp space. “Actually, she couldn’t really say much at all after I finished with her.”
“You leave my mom alone!” What had Jimmy Vern done to her? Tears sprang to his eyes. Was she going to be okay?
Jimmy Vern approached, hovering in a shadow behind his flashlight. “What’s wrong with you?”
Oh, where should Cody begin? He bit his tongue to keep the sarcasm from spilling over. “I’m sick.”
The flashlight blinded him as Jimmy Vern turned it Cody’s direction.
“You look awful. Here,” he threw a jug of water at him, “drink somethin’.”
Cody didn’t reach for it.
“It’ll make you feel better.” Jimmy Vern squatted. “Your mom couldn’t tell me where Paul was either. I will go back, if you don’t.” He pulled his cell phone out and flipped to a picture of Cody’s mom.
Cody’s stomach roiled. He turned his head and vomited the water he’d just managed to drink. Her bloodied, swollen face might have been the most awful thing Cody had ever seen. “What? Why—”
“Where is Paul?”
“How am I supposed to know? You’ve kept me in this hole for over three days. He could be anywhere.”
Jimmy Vern chuckled. “Four days, kid. Where does he usually live?”
“Out on Highway 61.” Cody didn’t have the energy to try to resist anymore. What did it matter? Paul had brought this monster down on his own back and gotten Cody’s mom beaten up.
“Good boy. Drink up. When I find Paul, I’ll bring more food. When I find my money, you can go.”
