Maris tilted her head. “What? No questions about Brandon murdering his mistress?”
He peeked out between the curtain, scanning the courtyard, then returned his focus to her. “Nope.”
Brandon’s mistress had been found stabbed to death in a hotel room. But even if the knife wounds hadn’t killed her, the overdose she’d taken most likely would have. The overdose the investigating detectives had suspected was caused by drugs Brandon had provided, though they couldn’t find a way to prove it. Since Maris’s article came out soon after that, Jace had already been on his way out by the time the investigation got underway and hadn’t been privy to much of the information. But he wouldn’t share any of that with Maris. It was none of her business.
She stared at him a few seconds longer, then flopped into an armchair, sighed and propped her feet on the ottoman.
“I can’t protect her, or you, if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I’m not worried about being protected.” She huffed out a breath and dropped her head back, closing her eyes. “And I’ve been protecting my sister most of my life.”
“Protecting her from what?”
Connor cleared his throat, interrupting before Jace could say anything else. Probably a good thing, since anything he said now would only lead to an argument.
Jace started toward the connecting door. It was time to go.
“Does this have anything to do with the woman who was murdered thirty years ago?” Connor’s question stopped Jace dead in his tracks.
He held his breath, afraid of missing her answer.
Maris sat up straighter. “Were you able to find any public records on that?”
“While looking for similarities between past crimes and the murders that have already taken place, one of my researchers found an old newspaper article. Apparently, the case about thirty years ago closely mirrored the recent ones.”
Jace turned back to them. “But that doesn’t make sense. Addison’s book only came out last year.”
“Exactly.” Connor nodded and focused on Maris. “Tell him.”
She blew out a breath and then spoke so softly it was hard to make out what she was saying. “She was supposed to go with me to my father’s that weekend. But she was going through a phase where she was very attached to our mother. At the last minute, she started crying she didn’t want to go.”
Jace moved closer.
“I thought about staying home with her, but I was angry, and maybe a little jealous that she wanted to stay home with Mother instead of coming with me.” She shook her head and sobbed softly.
Jace wanted to push her for answers, but Connor shook his head, so Jace waited her out.
“Our mother was murdered.” Her shoulders slumped with the admission. “Addison was three, and the only witness. At least I think she was a witness.”
“The article mentioned a child being found at the scene, but her name was withheld because she was a minor,” Connor added.
Jace couldn’t stay still any longer. “Did they catch the killer?”
She shook her head. “But our older brother and his father both disappeared at the same time. The police figured his father killed our mother and kidnapped Eddie. It was big news for a while, but then it faded as more urgent stories took its place. You know how it is.”
“Wait a minute.” Questions ricocheted through his head. “Why hasn’t Addison ever mentioned any of this?”
Maris took a shaky breath and studied him for a moment. “She doesn’t talk about it. Ever. Hasn’t since the day it happened.”
Jace patted his pockets, but he had no pad or pen to take notes. He rifled through a small desk in the corner and came up with a sheet of printer paper and a pen. He laid the paper on the desk, leaned over and started jotting notes. “Were they ever found?”
“Eddie’s father turned up dead about ten years ago. It was ruled a suspicious death. Eddie was never found.”
“All three of you had different fathers?”
“Yes.”
“How old was your brother when he disappeared?”
“Fifteen.”
“Did he live with you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he want to live with his father?”
“I have no idea. I was only eight at the time.”
“Did Addison actually see her get killed?”
“She’s never said.” Maris sighed. “Addison’s father had already passed away, and I wanted her to stay with me, so after our mother was killed, my father took custody of her. But like I said, he didn’t want her, and he only did the bare minimum. He fed her, kept a roof over her head...that’s about it. He didn’t even buy her clothes. I passed mine down to her. When I turned eighteen, I moved out and took her with me.” She finally sat back down on the chair. “We’d never discussed what happened, but I tried to get her into therapy once I moved out. She refused. When I dragged her there, she clamped her mouth closed and wouldn’t say a word. But she suffered horrible nightmares after the murder. I have a feeling she saw the whole thing.”
“What makes you say that?” Jace held the pen poised over the paper.
“The police found her hiding in a cabinet. They called my father right away to make sure I was with him. I pitched a fit until he went and picked up Addison.” Maris twisted her hands together, twining and untwining her fingers. “Once I became a journalist, I had a friend in the department copy the case file.” She jumped up and started to pace. “Including the crime scene photos.”
“And?”
She stopped and faced Jace, holding his gaze. “I always thought she witnessed the murder, but when I read her book, there was no doubt. The first murder scene matches the crime scene exactly. My mother’s murder could have taken place exactly as Addison described it in the book.”
Connor stood behind his wife, gently massaging her shoulders. “Did you ever ask her if she saw what happened?”
“Of course.”
“And she denied it?”
Maris shrugged him off and paced. “She avoided answering. Every time.”
Connor stepped into her path, blocking her forward progress. “Thank you, Maris. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to relive that.”
She shrugged and lowered her gaze. “But does it help?”
“Yes.” Jace studied his notes, leaving Connor to comfort his wife. Did her admission help him? Probably. Information usually did, though he couldn’t quite figure out how yet. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“Did you know Eddie’s father? Did he seem like the violent type to you?”
“I don’t know. I was only eight...” She frowned. “But I don’t ever remember feeling afraid of him. I only met him a few times, but he seemed all right, I guess. Why?”
Something was bugging him, though he couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was. “The first murder in Addison’s book was an excessively violent scene. A man not prone to violence... I don’t know.”
Connor ignored the rising anger in Jace’s tone. “A crime of passion, maybe?”
“Maybe.” Jace had to concede. Crimes committed in the heat of the moment could be particularly violent. He pointed the pen at Connor. “Brandon Carlisle would have had access to the file on Addison’s mother’s murder.”
“True.” Connor nodded. “But he also could have read the book, so that really doesn’t prove anything.”
Phoenix scrambled to his feet, his deep bark echoing through the small space, and lunged toward the door that led outside.
No way was the killer getting anywhere near Addison. Jace reached for his gun.
TEN
Raised voices drifted to her.
Addison hurried to the connecting door.
It swung open before she could grab it, and she jumped back.
Jace g
ripped her arm. “Addison, stay calm.”
“Stay...what?”
Two cops strode through the door. “Mrs. Carlisle?”
“No.” She hadn’t gone by that name in more than three years, and she wasn’t about to answer to it now.
The young cop hesitated and glanced at his even-younger-looking partner, who only shrugged, then turned his attention back to her. “You’re not Addison Carlisle?”
Jace’s face was almost purple, his gun nowhere to be seen.
Sweat dripped a steady line down her back. “Not anymore.”
The urge to flee hammered her. Claustrophobia held her trapped in place.
The cop’s frown deepened. “Come with me, please.”
Jace snaked an arm around her shoulders, leaning close to whisper, “Do what they say. I’ll be right behind you.”
Addison reeled.
Keeping his arm firmly in place, Jace faced the two cops. “I already told you, we’ll bring her in for questioning. Her attorney is being contacted as we speak. She’ll come in with him and answer any questions you have.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but a warrant has been issued, and my orders are to take her into custody.”
He dropped his arm and stepped in front of her. “She’s being arrested? On what grounds?”
“Obstruction of justice. She will be extradited back to Long Island shortly, into SCPD custody. A sheriff is already on his way.”
She had to get out of there. She took a step backward.
Jace tensed. “Please, Addison. Don’t do this.”
She had to run.
He held both of her arms and squeezed, staring into her eyes. While his were filled with concern, she didn’t sense any actual fear. Of course, he had nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn’t end up dead if he went with these cops. “We’ll be right behind you. Connor is on the phone with a lawyer right now. He’ll take care of it. Please. Trust me.”
Trust him? He had to be kidding. She hadn’t trusted anyone in more years than she could remember, and look what had happened when she’d lowered her guard the smallest bit, when she’d allowed Jace to worm his way beneath her defenses. Lowering her gaze in defeat, she only nodded.
Jace released her and stepped back.
One of the cops moved toward her.
Her breath caught, pressure building in her chest, but she refused to give in to the tears clogging her throat. No way would she give Brandon’s cronies the satisfaction.
“Is that really necessary?” Jace gestured toward the handcuffs the officer held.
A touch of pink tinged his freckled cheeks. “Sorry, sir. She already ran from the authorities on Long Island, and I was instructed to cuff her.”
Jace stepped between her and the officer. “First of all, she didn’t run from anyone. Second of all, if she was hiding, how’d you know where to find her?”
He blushed deeper. “Anonymous tip.”
So the killer had followed them. Her breath hitched, but she still swallowed the sobs begging for release and reached for Jace’s hand.
He gripped hers and squeezed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you, and Connor will catch up as soon as he makes a few calls and one of his guys picks them up.”
“Turn around, please, ma’am.” The cop gripped her arm and read her Miranda rights.
Addison turned and held her shaking hands behind her back while the cop cuffed her. Heaving in slow, deep breaths, she struggled against nausea.
The two cops fell into step on either side of her, leading her toward the door, forcing Jace to follow behind them.
Phoenix stood alert, blocking the door. He growled low in his throat, the sound even more threatening because it was so quiet.
Though Connor’s back faced her as he looked over the deck railing, phone pressed to his ear, his stiff posture told her he wasn’t happy with whatever he was hearing. A quick scan of the room as she crossed brought no sign of Maris.
A cool breeze fluttered her hair as the cops ushered her through the doorway to the waiting police cruiser. Dried leaves skittered across the courtyard. She inhaled deeply, dragging the crisp, fall air into her lungs before one of the cops pressed a hand to the top of her head and guided her into the back seat.
Addison turned and looked out the back window.
Leaving Phoenix with Connor, Jace jumped into Connor’s new car and slammed the door. He pulled out behind them and stayed glued to the patrol car’s bumper.
Knowing he was behind her brought a small glimmer of hope. Maybe he’d be able to keep her from falling into Brandon’s hands. Probably not, but if nothing else, he’d try to make sure Brandon was punished if she disappeared. That knowledge offered a surprising measure of comfort.
She tried to find relief in that, but her mind couldn’t focus on anything but the gut-wrenching fear that had become her constant companion since she’d received the first email from the killer.
A chill tore through her as they hurtled down the highway with the lights flashing and the siren blaring—a completely unnecessary show of power on the deserted highway, probably engineered to instill fear in their captive. It wouldn’t work. Not even Brandon frightened her more than the killer she’d unwittingly unleashed on the unsuspecting public...on her own sister. Although, who knew? Maybe they were one and the same.
A bump jarred her from the guilt as the cruiser jostled her on its way into the small parking lot of the Shady Creek Police Department. The early Saturday morning quiet was interrupted only by birds chirping happily in the trees, the occasional bark of a dog in the distance and children’s laughter as a group of young boys on bicycles cut across the parking lot, one of them jumping off the curb and launching his bike into the street.
The deceptively peaceful illusion was shattered by the Suffolk County sheriff’s car, used to transport prisoners, sitting in the far corner. Two deputies leaned against the hood, arms folded across their chests, faces schooled in expressions meant to intimidate.
The two Shady Creek officers shared a look, innocence apparent in their youthful but concerned expressions, and handed her over to the deputies with a small stack of paperwork, few pleasantries and no conversation. They stared after her as she was escorted to the waiting sheriff’s car.
Jace remained in Connor’s car, parked on the side of the road behind a blue SUV.
With no move to take off the handcuffs, the deputies guided her into the back of the car.
She leaned against the seat as best she could with her hands cuffed behind her back and settled in for the long trip to Long Island. Dropping her head against the seat, she let her eyes drift closed, the smooth rocking motion lulling her, allowing her mind to wander.
She’d written her first novel in an attempt to alleviate the nightmares that had plagued her childhood, harassed her through her teenage years and pursued her into adulthood. The woman sprawled in the middle of the kitchen, blood spattered on the wood cabinets, her long, dark hair swimming in an ever-growing pool of red so deep it was almost black.
Though her face had been turned away, there was something familiar about her. Addison should know who the woman was. Dream Addison, a combination of the child she’d been and the adult she was now, crept closer, reaching out to smooth a clean section of hair. The child and the adult battled in her mind, the adult Addison begging the child to retreat, the child insisting on knowing the truth. The child’s hand hovered over the woman, about to—
The car door whipped open, and a rough hand reached in, grabbed her arm and dragged her from the back seat.
* * *
They’d reached Long Island, and Jace still hadn’t heard from Connor. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white with the strain. Where in the world was Connor with the lawyer? One of the deputies slammed the car door closed behind Addison and shoved her toward the police station. She stumbled,
and he released her as she fell, hands cuffed behind her back. At the last minute, she was able to twist and cushion the fall with her injured shoulder instead of landing on her face.
Forget waiting for Connor. He jumped out of the car, locked the door, then pocketed the keys. No way was he going to sit there and wait for a lawyer while the deputies mistreated Addison, no matter what Connor’s instructions had been.
He jogged across the small parking lot toward them.
One of the deputies had gone ahead and now stood beside the door. The other propped a hand on his holstered weapon and waited for Addison to struggle to her feet.
She stood, chin lifted in defiance, and met the deputy’s gaze before turning and walking into the police station, the door falling shut behind her as Jace reached the sidewalk.
Ringing from his cell phone made him pause long enough to pull the phone from his pocket and check the caller ID. Connor. Finally. Then he resumed his pursuit. “Where’s the lawyer?”
The hiss of static from the bad connection cut off the start of Connor’s reply. “...his way.”
“What? You’re breaking up.” He stopped, torn between following Addison and talking to Connor. The only one who could help her now was the lawyer. He stared after Addison, then moved away from the building to get better service.
“...be there...meet...”
Jace pressed a hand against his free ear and held the phone tighter against the other in an effort to decipher the words interspersed between crackles and hums. “I can’t make out what you’re saying. Where do I have to meet him?”
“Front door.”
Scanning the parking lot in search of anyone who might be waiting, Jace ignored the noise of the connection and whatever else Connor was trying to say. A woman in a business suit strode toward him, briefcase swinging at her side, then continued into the building without slowing.
He pulled the phone from his ear and glanced at the screen. Call failed. Clutching the phone in a grip tight enough to crush it, he shoved it into his pocket, whatever Connor had been trying to say lost in the electronic haze of faulty cell phone connections.
Crime Scene Connection Page 13
