She berated herself as she sped down Beach Boulevard, hoping it wasn’t too late. How could she not have seen it? The fake photograph should have set off alarm bells loud and strong. But she never saw Trish being a dangerous part of this case.
***
Pamela could hear her phone ring inside her purse. Trish tossed it aside. Pamela struggled to get her hands loose from the rope tied around her wrists.
“What’s the PIN number on this account?” Trish held up the Regions Bank card.
“It’s not like you’re going to let me live,” Pamela said.
“No, but I can make your death real painful.”
Pamela lifted her chin in defiance. Trish walked over and backhanded her again. The slap stung, but this blow didn’t take her breath away.
“Play it your way.” Trish disappeared out the door.
Pamela reached down and untied her ankles. Once free, she tried to extricate her hands using her teeth to bite at the rope. One came loose. Footsteps sounded in the hallway. She covered her legs and hands with the end of a blanket.
“So, you ready to talk or bleed?” Trish held up a steak knife.
Pamela gulped. “Why are you doing this? We were supposed to be friends.”
“You are so stupid. I never knew you. That picture is fake. Everything was fake, just like that wonderful husband of yours. My fiancé.”
Pamela let out a gasp. “Fiancé?” Trish and Phillip? Andrew? How could she not have noticed? All this fear kept her from remembering his real name. Not that it mattered much now.
“But then he had to meet you and decide to fall in love.” Trish stepped forward, her eyes insanely wide. “I want that PIN now.”
“Okay. Okay. It’s 5872.” Pamela had to get out of there. Trish and Phillip. How could she not have known?
Trish got to the doorway and stopped, her face red. “I tried to get him to leave with me that night. Told him we both would be happy, but he wanted you.”
The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Pamela realized what she was saying. “You killed Phillip?” Pamela’s breaths came out in spurts.
“Andrew,” Trish screamed as she walked back to the bed. “His name was Andrew.” She backhanded Pamela again, the knife spinning in her hand.
It hit Pamela like a two-by-four. The thin person outside the house, following her to the fence. Shooting.
“It was you,” she whispered. “You killed my baby.”
“Look on the bright side.” Trish put her lips near Pamela’s ear. “It’s just a matter of time until you get to join your little brat.”
Pamela kicked out, hitting Trish in the side. She stumbled to her left. The knife banged against the end table and fell to the floor. Both Trish and Pamela jumped toward it.
***
It was almost eight when Jane turned into Trish’s complex. She waited to call the police; afraid Trish might harm Pamela if she figured out the sirens were for her.
There was no answer when Jane knocked on the front door.
“Pamela.” A creepy feeling came over her. She knocked for a third time. “Trish.”
She tested the knob, and it gave freely. She glanced inside.
“Trish. Pamela.”
A coppery aroma hit her. She took a step back. That smell was undeniable. Jane pulled her weapon from her holster and tiptoed inside. Bloody footprints headed out the back door.
There was nothing in the kitchen or living room. Jane continued down the hallway. Nothing in the first bedroom.
From the doorway of another bedroom, she could see blood castoff on the walls and ceiling. She tiptoed forward. A body on the floor. As she neared, she saw a pool of blood around Trish’s head. Her shirt had been ripped open. Stab wounds evident. A knife protruded from her throat. Her eyes stared at the ceiling.
Jane didn’t bother to check her vitals. She had to find Pamela. Her pulse raced, as she followed the bloody footprints out the back door. She pulled out her cell and dialed 9-1-1.
“Emergency, how can I help you?”
“I have a dead woman and one missing.” She gave the lady her name and Trish’s address but hung up before the operator could insist she return to her car.
Around the corner of the condo, the security light clicked on. Jane heard a faint moan somewhere to her right.
She inched her way forward. Twenty feet from the back door, she spotted bare feet and a mound of clothing. As she drew closer to the pile, Jane realized someone lay face down on the grass.
“Pamela?”
Jane checked Pamela’s pulse. Slow. Jane rolled her over. A rope was wrapped around one wrist and blood coated Pamela’s shirt.
Jane pulled the shirt up to check her wounds. None.
At once Pamela’s eyes popped open, and she grabbed Jane by the lapel. Pamela fisted Jane’s jacket with a bloody hand while the other pounded her chest with the side of her fist.
“You killed my baby,” she screamed, her eyes wild with hysteria. “You destroyed my family.”
Jane peeled the hand off her jacket. She glanced between Pamela and the back room of the condo. A shiver raked down Jane’s spine. There was no doubt who had created the bloody mess inside.
Chapter 36
The police didn’t allow most people to watch an interrogation, but since Winston was an attorney, she was allowed to stay.
Yates’ lawyer had spent about thirty minutes speaking with his client before the police came in to interrogate him.
“As I’ve said several times, my client has nothing to say about what occurred tonight,” Yates’ attorney said.
“Then maybe he can tell us about all those insurance policies.” Charles sat with his arms on the tabletop. “The feds will be here any minute to speak with you. Might as well spill.”
Winston knew the agents were upstairs still going through all the evidence, hoping for enough to close the lid on Yates for the rest of his life.
“He has nothing to say about those either.” The lawyer kept his eyes pinned on Charles.
“How would you like to talk about the murder of Andrew Smirnov?”
Yates straightened up. “I had nothing to do with that. I thought he was already dead.”
“So, you’re saying you knew Mr. Smirnov?” Charles asked.
Yates glanced at his attorney, who nodded. “Yes. But I didn’t kill him. Cops said he was dead. I assumed they knew what they were doing.” He grinned. “Apparently not.”
Winston listened as the man proclaimed his innocence. He might not have killed Smirnov, but he was responsible for all those people who died in the hit-and-runs. So far, they were up to seven. Thankfully, some policyholders had been found alive.
“And your friend in the hospital. Why’d you shoot him?”
“I told you. My client was protecting those women,” the lawyer said. “They were just so distraught, they didn’t realize what was going on, but he was a hero, not a perpetrator.”
A knock on the door interrupted them, and a man stuck his head in. “Detective, there’s news.”
Charles stood. “Send him back to the cell. I’ve got to get the pool going anyway.”
“Pool? What pool?” Yates asked.
“The betting pool on which state gets the joy of giving you the needle.” Charles nodded at the lawyer and then walked out.
Winston smiled. Definitely something for Yates to think about while sleeping with one eye open. He didn’t strike her as someone who’d ever spent the night in prison. This would be an experience he’d never forget.
Her cell phone buzzed in her purse, and she pulled it out. About time.
“Jane, what’s going on?” Winston asked.
“You’re not going to believe this.”
The door burst open, and Charles rushed in, his phone to his ear.
***
Jane leaned her back against her car, her cell phone to her ear. She was still wired, would be a for a while.
“I don’t know when I’ll be home,” she said to
Cam over the phone.
“Be honest, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave a light laugh. “It’s my client with the issue.”
“She going to be okay?”
“Physically, yes. Mentally, I’m not sure.” She let out a loud breath. “I just didn’t want you to worry.”
“I’m glad you called,” Cam said. “I won’t get any sleep wondering what it is you haven’t told me yet.”
“Trust me,” she said. “My day is one long story.” Just then Winston pulled up in Charles’ car. “I’ve got to go. Try to get some sleep before I get home. I love you.”
“I love you too, babe.”
She pressed the button, shutting the call off. Winston got out of the sedan, followed by Charles. He gave a nod to Jane, then headed inside the house.
Winston joined Jane in the driveway. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Pamela stabbing Trish. I can’t wrap my brain around it.”
Charles walked out before Jane could say anything. “The police found these.” He showed an evidence envelope with three drivers licenses, all with a different name, but Trish’s face. “We’ve also got her cell phone which shows her texting someone called Company. I have a feeling Yates is going to be found in the same vicinity of all those calls.”
“Trish is really dead?” Winston asked.
“Yeah. It’s a mess,” Charles continued. “They say you didn’t touch the body.” He looked at Jane.
“No.” Jane shook her head. “Figured there was no saving her, so I just called it in.”
“M.E. says there are several stab wounds.”
“From all the cast off, I’d say a lot more than several.” Jane reached up and touched her chest where Pamela had pounded. Her hand held the same way she must have clutched that knife when stabbing Trish. “All her anger came out on Trish.”
Jane rubbed her hands up and down her arms. The police had taken her jacket as evidence because of the blood Pamela had left behind. Thank goodness she didn’t get any on her pants or shirt or Jane would be out there half-naked.
“Did she say anything before the paramedics took her off?” Charles asked.
“Just kept saying ‘you killed my baby.’ Repeated it over and over.”
“She blamed you?”
“I don’t think she knew who I was. Even still, it was pretty freaky.”
“Where’s she at?” Winston asked.
“Shand’s Trauma to treat a gash on her hand.” Jane knew from experience when someone got that much blood on a knife, it made the weapon slippery. “Pamela might not even have realized she’d cut herself. She was so out of it.”
“We’re never going to know for sure what happened since no one downtown is talking.” Charles turned to Winston. “I’m going to stick around here for a while, see if they find anything else. I’ll get someone to take you to your car.”
“I’ll drive her.” Jane volunteered, hoping to get out of there. “If your friends say I can go.”
“I’ll check.” He walked up to an officer standing in front of the doorway.
“I hate Pamela did this,” Jane said. “Things are going to be hard enough without knowing you killed someone.”
Charles waved them off, and Jane headed to the driver’s side of the car. Once inside the car, she jerked on the heat. She pulled from the driveway. “I liked her. Could see her being a friend.”
“Still can. She’ll need someone on her side.”
“After what I saw inside that house?” Jane touched her chest where Pamela had pounded. “I don’t want anyone who can get that angry anywhere near my family.”
Epilogue
Gabriel stared at the guy in the other cell snoring like a train rushing down a track. How was he expected to do anything with people watching him all the time? He hadn’t been able to go to the bathroom since getting there.
It didn’t help Analyn had left to stay with her mother in Montana. Even if he were found not guilty, she’d never come back. The fact she wouldn’t accept his phone calls said as much. He should have just gotten out of the country when Trish started this disaster. Before his name was ever implicated.
The guy across the way let out a snort. Someone should shut him up.
He’d lost everything, and no one cared. And who were those killed? Nobodies. People who didn’t donate to good causes like he did. He rolled the sheet into a noodle shape.
What if he were found guilty? That would mean the rest of his life in prison with others like the guy across the way. Or worse.
He shuddered.
No way could he let that happen. Footsteps sounded coming down the corridor. The guard. Right on time.
Gabriel rolled over, hiding the rolled-up sheet, and feigned sleep. The footsteps paused in front of his cell, but Gabriel didn’t dare open his eyes to see if the guard were watching him or the man across the way.
Finally, the guard continued on.
Once sure he wasn’t coming back, Gabriel got up with the sheet and tied one end on the bed. Then did the other end in a noose. By the time the guard came back, it would be too late.
***
Pamela stared out the window of the hospital. Blue sky and a roof leading to who knows where.
She still wasn’t sure what she’d been told. She killed Trish. Pamela had no recollection of the stabbing. The last thing she remembered was being tied up on a bed and Trish coming at her. Telling her Andrew had loved her.
The doctor said she was still in shock but should be able to go home in a day or two.
The only visitors she’d had so far had been Winston and Mr. Smirnov. He always seemed to be drunk. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was normal or just because of the death of his son.
Whoever said money can’t buy happiness was right. In her case, she’d give it all up for just another hour with Andrew, no matter what type of scheme he had going with the Caldwell Company. Even if it meant he was in on the hit-and-runs.
She let out a loud sigh. Had he put her under some spell to make her still love him? Was she crazy or just in shock? It didn’t really matter. After all this, she’d never be the same again.
The door opened and a strange woman stuck her head in. “Ms. Evers?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She walked in with a small bouquet of flowers. “I know you don’t know me, I’m Meg Herbert, Phillip Evers’ mother.”
Pamela looked for the alarm for the nurse. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what my son put you through.” She looked at the floor. “I wish I’d raised him better.”
“I’m sure you did the best you could.” Pamela wasn’t sure who to trust anymore. There had been too many lies in her past.
“I did, but apparently it wasn’t enough.” Meg let out a weighted breath. “Is there anything I can do for you? Get you something while you’re in here?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Please, it’s the least I can do. Maybe even a burger from down the road?” She laughed, her smile warm. “I know it won’t make up for what happened, but it’s something.”
Pamela worked to keep from screaming at the woman. She wanted to help to relieve her own guilt, not to ease any of Pamela’s pain.
“I know you can never forgive Phillip, but do know at one time, he was a good person.”
Pamela huffed out a breath. Yeah. Right. She had to get rid of this woman. “To be honest, I’m kind of in the mood for a roast beef sandwich. The food here’s terrible.”
“You got it. I’ll be back in a little bit.” Mrs. Herbert rushed out.
Pamela watched the door close then counted to two. She pressed the button to the nurse.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“There was a woman who was just in my room. Can you see to it she doesn’t bother me again? Her name is Meg Herbert.”
“We’ll keep her out.”
What did this Herbert woman think, they’d become friends? And it wasn’t like Pa
mela could never forgive her son for what he did. Pamela had already contacted a real estate agent. She couldn’t stay in Jacksonville. Not with everything that had occurred. Maybe she’d move to the other side of the state. She always loved the coast. But she had to go. There was no way she could live in the place where she’d lost so much.
***
Winston stacked the music videos into a box. She needed to let the pain go. She had seen too much of herself in Pamela these past couple of days, and she didn’t like it. Both held on to foolish wishes of what ifs and what could have beens.
Time to move forward with life.
That’s what Mrs. Newberry said when Winston called to tell her Coleman had dropped the case against the city and sheriff’s department.
“What are you doing?” Marcia asked from the doorway to the media room.
“Taking your advice.”
“You’re getting rid of them?”
“Not getting rid of, but having Carlos put them in the attic. A spot not so easy for me to access.” After a second, she said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Taking care of me when I get this way.”
“Been doing it a long time.”
“Yeah.” Winston smiled. If she could have picked any woman in the world to be her mother, it would have been Marcia. Better late than never.
At least everyone she cared for was doing fine. Even Brenda’s mother had no after affects from her daughter being missing, not that she really knew what had occurred.
Winston placed another stack of videos in the box.
And she’d be all right, as long as she didn’t drop dead from her first official date with Charles. Asked and accepted.
She caught sight of Steve’s face on the side of a video cover. He’d want her to move on. To be happy.
Maybe it was time. Tears blurred his face. Too many what ifs. Much too many.
***
Jane paused in her car outside Mom’s house and checked the video feed on the Jeffries’ basketball hoop. Mom glanced out the window. Jane scanned in fast mode.
Chasing a Dead Man Page 19
