BURN IN BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  He scratched at the itch gnawing under his skin. There was something uncomfortable about having others do his bidding for him. If his mother had taught him anything, it was to never trust others to do his job for him.

  I told you, you’re not as great as you think you are.

  The Shadow Stalker turned to his mother. “Do you know who you’re talking to, old woman?”

  When his mother didn’t respond, he moved across the carpet before kneeling in front of the old woman. Looking into her dull eyes, he extended his arm and touched the old woman’s cold, pale face. Searching for secrets held within her wrinkles, his eyes traveled to Samantha’s article neatly opened on the end table next to her.

  The Shadow Stalker smiled when staring at Marty Ray’s image. “Today was a good day, Mother.”

  His mother was still staring at the TV flickering between commercials behind him.

  He smiled, remembering the look on Gemma’s face after Marty revealed the secret identity to the man responsible for Frank Lowe’s conviction. Their circles were growing increasingly closer by the day—but perhaps a little too close for comfort.

  But isn’t that what you always wanted? To get close to Inspector King?

  “Mother, did you hear what I said? Today was a good day.” His mother looked ahead. The same deadpan expression on her face he’d become accustomed to. He kept talking regardless, knowing she was listening. “Marshall’s legacy is slowly crumbling. King knows, Mother.” He patted her cold hand. “And soon, because of it, we will have our family back.”

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Cooper’s tail couldn’t stop wagging. He was thrilled I was home, nudging his big head against my leg, begging me to take him on a walk. I was grateful to finally be home, too, but more than anything else I wanted to know what Angelina said to King.

  “Want a beer?” I asked King.

  He nodded and I fetched a couple bottles from the fridge. It was impossible not to think about the police freely roaming my house earlier in the day, but I kept my focus on Angelina.

  Making my way to the front of the house, I handed King his beer, As soon as his fingers wrapped around the bottle he said, “Angelina admitted to leaving the note.”

  I pulled the bottle away from my mouth, somewhat surprised to learn Gemma was actually telling the truth. Now I knew we were onto something—perhaps our biggest break in the case yet. Was Angelina also connected to the murders?

  “Did she say why?”

  I knew their story—knew the reason Angelina called off their engagement. She couldn’t handle him being a detective—the long hours, the dangers that come with the job—but was she having regrets after all these years? King made me believe she was.

  King looked me in the eye and said, “You.”

  “That’s insane,” I said as my memory flashed back to the engagement ring she left behind at King’s. “She could have burned down Erin’s house.”

  King nodded and sighed, clearly at a loss of how to proceed. Then he went on to say that Angelina caught sight of us working the Loxley story and grew jealous of what it appeared we had. “She was right,” King said. “I had forgotten about her.”

  “There is something I need to show you,” I said, setting my bottle down on the dining room table and digging out the report on Frank Lowe. Angelina might be crazy, but maybe Gemma wasn’t. I handed the folder over to King.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Just take a look and tell me what you think.”

  King moved to the couch and placed the file on the coffee table in front of him. Setting his beer off to the side, he kept stealing glances at me as he read over the documents. When he was finished, he asked, “Where did you get this?”

  “Is it true?” I was on the floor giving Cooper a tummy-rub when I made sure King was looking me in the eye. “Alex, did your father put an innocent man behind bars?”

  King stared at the papers as he frowned. I watched his posture go rigid and listened to his heel tap against the floor. He was quiet for a long pause and it was clear to me that he didn’t want to believe what he’d just read. Then he stood and started pacing back and forth.

  Cooper jumped to his feet and followed King around the room.

  “My father was a good man.” King breathed hard.

  “I know.” My voice floated through the air like a feather.

  King stopped and pointed to the papers. “I didn’t see his name in the report. Not once was his name mentioned.”

  I tucked my feet beneath me and sat on my heels. “But it could be his name that’s redacted, right?”

  “If my father is the reason Frank Lowe is serving a life sentence, then there is good reason for it.” King’s jaw tightened as she shook his head.

  Was Marshall King the fraud Gemma suggested? I could only be sure about what the report said. But if it wasn’t Marshall, then who?

  I asked, “How is it possible the victim’s hands were swabbed for DNA but never tested?”

  “I don’t know.” King scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he went on the defense again. “My father isn’t the man you’re suggesting he is. He was a great detective and an even better father.”

  “But you said yourself he missed the best night of your life,” I challenged.

  King glanced at me sideways. “I can’t fault him for protecting this city—the city we both love.” King reminded me of his father’s charity, Sunday church services, as well as his dedication to his wife and family. “No way could he live with himself knowing he put an innocent man behind bars.”

  I reminded King how someone from the mayor’s office gave my editor the image of Marty Ray to print next to my story. Something told me King also knew Marty was innocent of Avery’s death. But I didn’t say anything. He caught on to my thinking himself.

  King raised both his eyebrows. “If you’re suggesting the department is corrupt, you’re wrong.”

  “Maybe the department is clean now, but perhaps it wasn’t twenty years ago?” I pushed myself to my feet and made my way to him. “King, a cover-up this big would give motive to target you, reminding you of your father’s past. You must see it, too?”

  “Except this isn’t him.” King pointed again at the report.

  “Maybe it’s not Marshall, but someone in the department? Is there anyone you can ask who can clarify this for us?”

  King searched my eyes, a look of disdain on his face after realizing I wasn’t going to just let this go.

  “If I don’t investigate this, an innocent man could die in prison. I can’t let this happen,” I said. “Especially since it seems his case was obviously mishandled.”

  King looked away and sighed. I didn’t blame him for putting up resistance. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to potentially destroy the image I held of my father, either. But someone obviously wanted King to know, and now I shared the same curiosity myself.

  King’s eyes locked on mine. “There is someone I can ask.”

  “Can we trust him to keep this a secret?” I asked, knowing that we were pushing ourselves further into the fire pit. As if this wasn’t already dangerous enough, potentially exposing a corrupt police officer could be deadly.

  “What choice do we have?”

  King gave me a look that said we didn’t. It was all or nothing and we were going all in.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Gemma Love pulled to the side of the road and waited for the headlights to pass.

  Since her meeting with Samantha, she had been driving in circles thinking she was being tailed. One false alarm after another; this time it felt different.

  Her eyes were glued to the rearview mirror and her nerves were high since having gone rogue. Walker would learn what she’d done soon enough, but her night wasn’t quite finished yet. There were more questions that needed to be answered, and now that the ball was rolling it couldn’t be stopped.

  As the headlights got closer, Gemma pressed her shoulders into her seat cushion and continu
ed to stare into the rearview mirror. Her heart beat wild in her chest, afraid to know what Walker might do to her once he learned of her actions.

  Seconds froze in time and Gemma flicked her gaze to the side mirror when noticing the vehicle slow down as it passed by. Without turning her head, it didn’t take more than a glimpse to realize the vehicle may very well have been Walker’s.

  “Shit.” She sighed when looking to the license plate but it was too dark to read. Before she knew it, the vehicle was gone and she was left with only speculation and fear.

  Though she wasn’t certain it was him, of course Walker would want to be following her. He never trusted her to do this without him—even though this was her investigation.

  She sat for another minute before putting the car into gear and continued on her drive east. Several minutes later—and with no other sightings of the black SUV—Gemma turned onto the quiet street in the Park Hill district.

  Her GPS put her in front of the house and, as soon as she parked, Gemma checked her mirrors. There were no cars around, only a couple kids riding up and down the sidewalk on their bikes beneath the gentle glow of the street lights.

  She reached across the seat and took the small envelope into her hand. Glancing through the passenger side window, she saw that the front porch light was on. The person she wanted to meet appeared to be home.

  As soon as she exited her vehicle, she stopped with feelings of being watched creeping up her spine. A similar style SUV as to the one she saw earlier stopped on the corner two blocks up. She couldn’t see who was inside—if it was Walker—but they kept their headlights on as if knowing they weren’t going to stay long.

  Then it eased off its brakes and drove away.

  On edge, Gemma didn’t waste another second. She hurried to the front door and lightly knocked. Soon thereafter, a short round black woman answered with a look of surprise on her face.

  “I’m sorry to be coming unannounced,” Gemma said.

  Allison flicked her gaze to the right, then swept her eyes to the left. “I’ve said all I had to say about Samantha, probably more than I should have.” Allison kept her body wedged between the door and the house, preventing Gemma from seeing the inside. Then her eyebrows squished. “How did you know where I lived?”

  “I’m here to talk to you about your cousin.”

  “How do you know my cousin?” Allison squinted her eyes, her tone growing more defensive by the second. “Wait, is this about yesterday?” Allison lifted her chin and eyed Gemma with suspicion. “What’s going on?”

  “You cousin needs my help.”

  “Your help?” Allison stepped forward, closing the door behind her. “And how exactly do you think you can help him?”

  Gemma didn’t budge. She kept her feet planted when staring Allison in the eye. “I know something that can set him free.”

  “Set him free?” Allison planted her hands on her hips. “And what exactly do you know?”

  “Not until you help me.”

  “Help you?” Allison inched closer, sarcastically laughing. “Haven’t I already done that?”

  Gemma handed Allison the small envelope and said, “Inside is a picture of a man.”

  Allison was slow to take the envelope. Her eyes studied the small package before locking in once again on Gemma. “And what do you want me to do with this picture?”

  “Tell me who he is and I’ll tell you how you can make sure Marty doesn’t go down for the murder of Officer Morgan.”

  Allison glanced to the envelope and flipped it around. Though feeling blackmailed into helping, she would do anything to help Marty. “How do you expect me to know whoever is in this photo?”

  “You’re good with computers. Figure it out.” Gemma headed down the steps. “And when you do, give me a call. My number’s on the back.”

  Chapter Eighty

  As soon as Gemma arrived home, she put both hands on the steering wheel and hung her head hoping her plan would shake loose. She’d done everything she could to make sure the truth about Frank Lowe would get out, but there was still a part of her that thought she could do more.

  Gathering her things from the front seat of her car, she stepped out of her vehicle and walked past Walker’s SUV. She stopped and looked around, wondering if it was him she believed had been following her. Placing her hand on the hood, she was surprised to find it cold.

  “Huh?” She pulled her hand back and swiveled her head around. If it wasn’t Walker following her, who was it? What kind of games was he playing?

  Rounding the hedge, she stopped when glancing up to the front door. She knew immediately that something wasn’t right. Weren’t the lights on when I pulled into the drive? She couldn’t recall. But now the lights were off and neither she nor Walker ever left the house dark—especially when one of them was yet to come home.

  Digging her house keys from her purse, she stepped up to the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. With her heart thumping in her ears, she nudged it open.

  The house was completely dark and not a sound could be heard.

  Now Gemma’s pulse was thrashing hard in her neck as her mind let loose with wild imagination.

  Where was Walter? And what was that smell?

  Suddenly, her cellphone rang and made her insides jump. It was Allison.

  “Did you figure it out?” Gemma answered the call, flipping the switch to an inside light that never came on.

  Allison said, “Was that some kind of test?”

  “If you know, who is it?” Gemma asked before her phone was knocked from her hand and a plastic bag was pushed over her head.

  Gripping the man’s hands around her neck, she heard her cellphone crash to the ground. Clawing at the overpowering arms, Gemma’s screams were muted by a heavy hand, her body constricted by his brute force.

  “I told you, love,” a man said into her ear. “You should have left this inquiry to me.”

  Chapter Eighty-One

  King pushed his arms through the sleeves of his sports coat and I followed him to the door. Tugging on his hand, I pulled him in for a kiss. Our lips touched and I said, “Call me as soon as you learn anything.”

  “I will,” he said as his cell buzzed with an incoming call.

  I stepped back and King took the call on the front porch. Leaning against the door, I breathed in the summer night, feeling the humidity in the air. The clouds lit up with distant lightning and by the time King ended his phone call he turned and gave me that half-mast look that said his plans were being forced to change. I’d known it as soon as he took the call, but what I really wanted to know was why.

  King said in a low voice, “Alvarez said Orville Boyd was picked up for drunk driving.”

  Surprised, I asked, “Will you talk to him?”

  “That’s why I was called.”

  I reminded King about his basement window being shattered and King said he’d ask him about it if the opportunity presented itself. But, more than anything, King needed to know if it was Boyd who was connecting him to his past.

  King made a move toward his car when I said, “Hang on.” I ran back into the house and closed Frank Lowe’s file and handed it to King. “Take this,” I said.

  King cast his gaze to the report—the fear of potentially learning the truth about his father swirling in his dark eyes. “I can’t promise anything this time of night.”

  “I know,” I said, having my doubts Boyd was our guy.

  When King turned away, the burden he held on his shoulders was clear. I stayed on the front porch until he drove away. When his taillights disappeared around the corner, I headed back into the house.

  Cooper stared at me from his dog bed—knowing me well enough to know I wasn’t going to be able to let this go tonight. He stood and clacked his way over to me. Rubbing his head, I said, “How could I possibly sleep with all I learned tonight?”

  Cooper curled up next to me on the couch and I couldn’t stop thinking about Angelina, Gemma, and Marshall. Every
thing was colliding and I was anxious to confirm Marshall King’s role in Gemma Love’s efforts. Without the files, I didn’t know what I could do other than wait.

  Then I got a call from Walker that changed everything.

  I answered and Walker said, “Have you seen Gemma?”

  My heart thumped in my chest as I didn’t know what to say. He sounded genuinely worried, but could I trust him not to be playing games with me? I tipped forward and planted my feet flat on the floor. “Why, is everything all right?”

  “Shit,” Walker said in a voice that had me imagining him running a hand through his hair. “This can’t be happening.”

  “Walker, what’s going on?”

  “I think she might have been kidnapped.”

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Fifteen minutes later, Detective King arrived to the station and was barely a foot into the squad room when Alvarez caught sight of him. “We have Boyd in Interrogation 4 and everyone is waiting for you.”

  “Anyone question him yet?” King asked.

  “He was a little buzzed when he got picked up. We’re letting him sober up a bit before we get too deep, but LT specifically saved him for you.”

  They kept walking, making their way to the back of the precinct. King liked that Boyd had been made to wait—sweat over why he was here besides the DUI. He’d prepared his questions during his drive across town, but until he saw Boyd himself, how his interrogation would begin was still up in the air.

  “He won’t be happy to see you again.” Alvarez gave a knowing look.

  King smirked as he met Lieutenant Baker behind the glass. LT handed King Boyd’s files. King took the papers into his hand and studied Boyd’s slumped posture. Boyd looked miserable and tired, a thick beard and unkempt hair that told the story of his last few days.