BURN IN BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  “Samantha will want to know why you were there,” Gemma said calmly, debating what the implications were of Walker’s mistake.

  “You think I haven’t already thought of that?” His words were harsh, full of personal guilt.

  “I’m just saying.” Gemma knew Walker was already thinking of his response when the question came. “There’s still hope,” Gemma said.

  Walker turned his head and met her gaze.

  “I spoke with Allison Doyle,” she said.

  Hope flashed over his eyes. “And what did she tell you?”

  The corners of Gemma’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Her relationship with King goes further back than we previously thought, but it’s unclear if Samantha is aware of just how deep it went.”

  Walker asked, “Are we wasting our time focusing all our efforts on Samantha?”

  “You’re not having doubts, are you?”

  Walker reached behind Gemma, gripped her hip, and pressed his lips to hers. “I told you they were our best option. And I still believe that.”

  Pressing her breasts into his skin, she mewed, “But you might have blown our shot.”

  Walker looked forward, ironing his hands down his thighs. “What’s done is done. Maybe it’s good that she saw me there.”

  Gemma’s lips parted, wondering how they could spin this into a positive. “She’s not stupid, Walter. If anyone will figure this out, it will be her.”

  “Then this will be the test to prove how great of a detective she is.”

  Gemma shook her head. “By making the game easy?”

  “What is the game, anyway?”

  “You know what I want,” Gemma said, pulling the sheet further up her chest. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  Walker spun around and reached for Gemma. “Then if what Mrs. Doyle says is true, this is perfect. Better than we could have imagined.” His eyes glimmered as they bounced around her face with sudden excitement. “Christ, how did we not know this before?”

  Gemma’s eyebrows pinched. “Because we didn’t think we had to know it.”

  Launching to his feet, Walker quickly put on clothes choosing to forgo a shower, and prepared to head out the door.

  Gemma was still sitting in bed when she said, “Then let us make sure we don’t lose her.”

  Walker hooked his finger beneath Gemma’s chin and stared into her glimmering eyes. He could see that she already had an idea and asked, “What do you have in mind?”

  “You leave it to me. Samantha will come around,” Gemma said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  My eyes were dry and my body felt numb.

  Reporting on Avery’s death was the hardest story I’d written in quite some time. I kept hearing Avery’s voice echo between my ears as I jabbed at the keys. The few times I blinked, I could still see the glimmer of excitement shining in her beautiful eyes that came from the pride of wearing a badge. Now she was gone. We’d never get her back.

  I kept asking myself if this could have turned out differently if King had called her earlier. What if we had dinner another night? Would it have changed anything? I wasn’t convinced it would have, and it tore me up inside knowing that we couldn’t turn the hands of time back and ask for a redo.

  My fingers kept tapping the keys as the hours passed. By the time I completed my final sentence and sent it off to Dawson for edits, I fell back into my chair and stared at my screen as Avery’s death reached a new level of reality.

  I glanced to a photo of Avery and King, the pressure in my chest building. The master and his protégé smiling in each other’s arms, a perfect moment captured for eternity.

  The tears finally came. My vision blurred as I darted my gaze around the tiny room I had locked myself inside of to hide from the outside world.

  I wanted to disappear. Escape from the truth. Avoid the potential dangers that seemed to be blazing a trail straight to King.

  As I swiveled around in my chair, my throat closed up and I pressed my hand over my mouth in an attempt to lock everything inside.

  But it was useless. The pain was too raw to keep from pouring out. My spine curled and I caught face in my hands. Tears continued to fall like thick rain drops above quivering lips. I buried my face deeper into my hands, not wanting to wake Mason who was sleeping peacefully on the other side of the wall.

  Shrouded beneath a dark cloud of depression, I questioned everything. Including the relationship I had with King.

  Since Angelina had come back into his life, even the security I found in his presence seemed suddenly fragile. I didn’t want to blame him, but it was too easy not to.

  What happened to Avery was heartbreaking. A young vibrant life with a promising future stripped away in such an ugly manner. I’d seen the worst mankind had to offer before, but this was different. As I wiped the tears away from my face, I kept thinking about the note tacked on Erin’s door telling King to burn in hell.

  It was the message that started this all. Set the blaze that now seemed uncontrollable. Now a third message had been left for King. There was little doubt in my mind that these murders were related. I didn’t have the proof, and couldn’t say how exactly, but it was clear someone was coming after King. That scared the hell out of me.

  Who was it and what did they want? I didn’t know. How the hell did Avery get caught in the crossfire? That was the mystery I needed to figure out before the next victim was me.

  I scooted forward—the wheels of my chair gliding me to my desk—and flipped through pages of notes I had taken, both past and present. I had little to work with but Orville Boyd was the obvious suspect. With his whereabouts still unknown, I was left with only anxiety.

  It felt like I was losing my touch—that maybe I wasn’t making the same kind of impact I was used to. I was too close to this last murder to think clearly when suddenly I heard a thumping on my office door.

  Wiping the tears away, I prepared to face my son. Hiding all evidence of Avery’s death, another thump magnified across the small room.

  “Just one second,” I said, scrambling to contain the mess. Then I rolled across the floor and reached for the knob.

  Cooper nudged the door open with his long snout and made me smile. I rubbed behind his ears as he wagged his tail with his long tongue hanging out of his mouth.

  “Hey buddy. You worried I left without giving you breakfast?”

  Cooper’s ears perked up at the idea of food. I laughed and hugged him, thankful to have my confidant always there for me when I needed him most.

  Somewhat relieved it was my dog and not my son, I picked up my cell to see who had just messaged me. It was King asking me to stop by ASAP.

  I didn’t know if it was Cooper’s presence or the weight of last night, but the idea of stepping away from the paper seemed like a good one.

  I could take a rest, take a sabbatical and give myself a chance to pursue other interests without constantly being reminded of how dark this world really was. Perhaps even focus on stories of my choosing. But everything I was considering was exactly what Walker was offering. Any other day, it wouldn’t be a problem. But I still had my doubts when it came to working with him.

  I stared into Cooper’s big dark eyes, asking myself what Walker was doing there last night at the park. It unnerved me when remembering his promise to give Avery what she deserved. Could he have been the one to kill her? His presence could have been purely coincidence, but my gut told me it wasn’t.

  Cooper danced on his toes at the door, antsy to be fed. Before I did that, I reached for the folders Walker presented to Erin and me.

  I shuffled my way through the stack of cold cases, hoping to find the article from four years ago that resembled Avery’s attack, the same story Walker had linked to another brutal crime. It had to be here, but it wasn’t. He kept it only for himself and I asked myself why.

  Was I trying to make Walker into the villain? Or did I have him all wrong? Could Erin be right? Was this our
opportunity of a lifetime? Was I pushing him away because I was afraid of success?

  My head was pounding with pressure. Then my cellphone rang.

  “I heard about last night,” Dawson said as soon as I answered. “I’m sorry.”

  “No one knows Avery is dead,” I told him, adding how I promised King I would hold off on publishing the fact until Avery’s family had been notified first.

  Dawson didn’t have any objections and made me feel slightly better by saying, “It’s a beautiful piece. Avery would be proud.”

  Chapter Forty

  “I’m telling you he was there.” As soon as I got off the phone with Dawson, I called Erin. I didn’t have to worry about her being awake. She slept about as well as I did—which meant, hardly at all.

  “That doesn’t make Walker a suspect,” Erin countered.

  “Maybe not, but it does make him suspicious.”

  I needed her to agree with me. Avery deserved justice just as much as Peggy Hill did, but I knew we couldn’t continue diving into our next story so long as Walker was around. Our work needed to remain confidential and as long as he remained suspicious, I’d treat him the same as our missing Orville Boyd.

  There was a pause on the line before one of us said something we would regret.

  I could still hear Erin breathing as I asked myself again if Walker could have attacked and murdered Avery. It certainly seemed plausible. But that would mean that he had also been involved in Peggy Hill’s murder.

  “You heard what he said to Avery yesterday.”

  Erin inhaled a deep, controlled breath. “Before we get ahead of ourselves, why not just ask him?”

  “And scare him away?” I said, hearing Erin’s doorbell ring. “I want nothing to do with this guy.”

  “Hang on.” A rustle through the line had me imagining Erin’s bare feet shuffling across her floor. “There’s someone at my door.”

  I had just parked in front of King’s house and told Erin we’d finish this conversation later. She didn’t object as it gave us both time to decide how we were going to proceed with Walker.

  Opening my car door, I stepped out and locked my vehicle before climbing up the stairs leading to King’s front door. I wasn’t at all surprised to find it locked. Apparently King was feeling as paranoid as I was. That gave me even more reason to feel reserved around the man I loved.

  I jabbed the button and listened to the doorbell ring.

  Wrapping my arms around my body, I turned to face the street. It was a pleasant morning, on its way to heating up to unseasonably high temperatures. Yesterday’s storms never materialized but we desperately needed the rain. A minute later I heard the lock click over. King cracked the door open.

  I spun around, anxious to hold him, but his dark eyes and deep wrinkles had me hesitating to jump into his arms. Tucking my insecurities away, I forced a weak smile. “Hey.”

  His distant gaze traveled over my head and I took a step back.

  His hesitation had me retreating into those same insecure thoughts I was trying so hard to avoid. He’d had one hell of a night and it showed in the heavy bags beneath his eyes that were as dark as the drape-drawn room that he stood in front of.

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  Our eyes met and I could breathe again.

  King’s pupils opened a fraction wider. “I wasn’t sure you got my message.”

  I gave him an arched look. “I said I would.”

  King seemed distracted, not fully present, and was slow to respond. After a brief pause, he nodded his head and stepped to the side. “Yeah. Come inside.”

  I touched his arm as I passed. He didn’t seem to notice. His concern kept him searching the quiet suburban street as if expecting to find someone else.

  I didn’t want to ask because sometimes not knowing was better than having all the answers.

  The door clicked behind me and I turned on a heel and faced him. His swollen, sad eyes avoided mine at nearly every turn. Needing him to be present, I stepped forward and hooked my hands around his neck, clinging onto him as tightly as I could.

  It took a minute, but his big hands finally gripped me hard as I watched his eyes close. Pressing his forehead against mine, I nearly broke.

  “I’m here,” I whispered, knowing he felt personally responsible for Avery’s death.

  It was important I stayed strong for him. He had the biggest heart of anybody I knew and he deserved to know he wasn’t alone during this time of mourning.

  “I’m here,” I said again, getting King to fist my clothes even tighter.

  He didn’t have anybody but his mother and I doubted he’d broken the news to her yet. It was just too much, too quick. But I asked him anyway if he had.

  He opened his sad tear-glossed eyes and shook his head no.

  I could feel his pain as I squeezed my eyes shut, trying my hardest to be his rock. My own feelings of sadness bubbled up inside of me but I remained strong for him.

  I held on to him for what felt like hours. I loved how this big strong man felt confident enough to cry in front of me. We went a long time without saying a word. I’d never seen King as shaken up as he was today. Only hours ago, an awkward dinner was our biggest worry. Now we were drifting into uncharted territory. We’d both take last night back if we could—even if it meant me having to sit through more of Angelina’s jabs.

  “Sam, I don’t know what to do.”

  I met his gaze, my fingers kneading the nape of his neck, unsure of what to tell him or what he needed to hear.

  His eyes swayed with mine. “How can I tell Mom that two of her friends have been murdered this week because of me?”

  I took his face into my hands and said, “None of this is your fault.”

  “It is.”

  “No. You’re wrong. It isn’t.”

  He turned his attention to the kitchen table. I followed his gaze and found my core go cold. He’d been looking for answers and it appeared that he might have found what he was after. The problem was, it looked like my worst nightmare.

  Chapter Forty-One

  His service Glock lay on the table for a quick draw. Its muzzle was pointing directly at me. I suspected there was a bullet in the chamber, but that wasn’t what had stolen my attention or made me hesitate. Instead, it was what King was attempting to piece together that had me inching my way closer to the kitchen table.

  The floor creaked as I traveled over it. Dozens of photographs were spread across the table and, though I didn’t know what they were about, I recognized a couple of faces without having to look too deeply.

  I looked over my shoulder and glanced back to King.

  He was staring at the table, his head hanging lower than normal. He had one hand buried inside his pocket while the other rubbed the back of his neck. A look of uncertainty had me questioning whether or not I should go any further.

  Taking my eyes off his crinkled brow, I reached for the photograph nearest me and turned it upright with my fingers. My heart started beating faster. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at, but should have known he’d resort to this.

  “What is this, Alex?” I asked when referring to his engagement photos with Angelina.

  They were beautifully done, just as Carol had said. I hated to admit it, but I could see the happiness in both their faces—the love they once shared, long before King and I became an item.

  Why was he looking at these when mourning Avery’s death? This certainly couldn’t be part of his ongoing investigation. Could it?

  King’s eyes widened below a tightening brow. He rubbed his face, desperately searching for the words to explain what I was looking at. He couldn’t seem to string a sentence together.

  As I waited for him to speak, I circled the table like a hawk, looking for potential vulnerability. I took it all in as I reminded myself to breathe. I knew the moment I found Angelina’s engagement ring in King’s bathroom, she would cause trouble. But I never expected it to get this deep so fast.

&nb
sp; My mind was pushing for me to make assumptions, let the accusations fly. Instead, I could only look at King with disbelief hollowing out my chest.

  He was still standing with legs wide, feet firmly planted into the floor. He couldn’t look at me despite my silent pleas for him to tell me what this was about.

  I’m here, I wanted to tell him. Look at me. But even as I stared, he never did.

  I turned back to the images and asked, “What’s this about?”

  King sighed before saying, “It’s about my dad.”

  I lowered my brow and cut my eyes to the source of our strife. King licked his lips, visibly swallowed, and moved to the table. He lowered himself into a chair and plucked a photograph of Marshall King out of the pile.

  Marshall was sharing a laugh with Angelina. As I watched King get lost in of the memory captured in time, I needed to know what it was he was thinking.

  I said, “Can you please explain this to me, because I don’t get it.”

  “Dad was so angry when he learned we called off our engagement.” King’s tone was soft as he slowly came out of his shell. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I kept my mouth shut and strained to open my ears further, with hopes of understanding him. “He blamed me, of course, for letting her go.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” My voice was a soft murmur in the quiet room.

  King swung his head up to me, locked his eyes on mine. “Because if my father ever had a chance to meet you, he’d realize he was wrong about Angelina.”

  I struggled to maintain my balance as the air was suddenly knocked out of my lungs. King had completely swept me off my feet with his answer. I was thankful and confused. Without making too much of his professed love for me, I could hear the clock ticking.

  “How does Avery fit inside all this?”

  I wasn’t convinced she did, but she must have if I knew King like I thought I did.