A Killer's Agenda (31 page)

Alex was the one with the clairvoyance but the moment Brad

met her gaze, he felt the connection. He let himself speak from the heart, suddenly knowing it was the only way.

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“My name is Brad Norton, Mrs. Fox, and I need to know if your son was killed by the same man that murdered my aunt.”

Her eyes widened for a moment and then narrowed, a closed

expression sliding over her face. “I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about,” she said curtly, starting to close the door.

“I think you do. In fact I’m sure of it.”

At the tone of his voice, she stopped, her eyes wary, her hand remaining on the door.

He waited while she just stood there considering, the steady drizzle dampening his hair. Damn! This entire situation wasn’t in his comfort zone.

Finally she spoke. “Can I see some form of identification?”

He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. She read it and then glanced up at him again. “How did you find me?”

“It’s a long story, ma’am.”

She leaned against the door, eying him silently for a long

moment. He could see the indecision on her face and decided to go with his instincts.

“I can tell you that my aunt was killed just over six months ago, driving home in a quiet neighborhood in South Carolina. Shot and killed by what the police termed a drive-by shooting.”

She crossed her arms. The raw wind whipped past him into the house playing with the woman’s dark hair, blowing it about her pale face. “I don’t see what that has to do with my son’s death, Mr.

Norton,” she said curtly although he caught a glimpse of pain in her eyes.

“My aunt knew Anna Ferron,” he said quietly.

This time he got the reaction he desired. She glanced past him at the street and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

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Anita Whiting

He stepped into the foyer, glancing outside as he turned to

close the door. Alex wasn’t anywhere in sight which was probably how she had planned it. The woman ushered him into the large kitchen, motioning for him to take a seat.

“Coffee?”

He nodded and she poured him a cup, sitting across from him

at the table. “What is it you want from me, Mr. Norton?”

“Brad,” he said, leaning back in the chair. He could feel her pain, empathized with it. He paused briefly, searching for the right words to convince her he was sincere. An image of his aunt floated before him and suddenly he knew.

“The hurt runs deep, doesn’t it? No matter how many days,

then months pass, it’s still there at the most unexpected moments.

At least that’s how it is with me.”

She blinked the tears back and took a deep breath. “My

husband won’t be happy you’re here, Mr. Worthington. He told me you called.”

“I know that. If I were in his shoes I’d feel the same way.”

“Then you would do well to talk quickly. He and my daughter

are due back very soon.” She raised her eyes to his, their dark depths bright with unshed tears. “No matter how much I miss my son, there is no point in rehashing old history. The police certainly feel that way,” she ended bitterly.

“And you accept that?” he said harshly. “Accept that someone ended your child’s life before it had even begun and not feel the need for revenge?” He shook his head. “Maybe you’re right, I am wasting my time. Because I’d like to strangle the person who murdered my aunt with my bare hands and I won’t stop until I find

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him.” He shot her a look, challenged her. “Maybe you don’t feel the same way.”

She shot to her feet, eyes flashing fire. “How dare you accuse me of that! You don’t know how many days I couldn’t get out of bed after my son was killed. How many days I cried, my insides ice cold.” Tears ran down her face as she took a breath. “There is nothing I’d like better than pointing a gun at my son’s killer and pulling the trigger. But that’s not possible and I won’t jeopardize my family in the process.”

“Because you’ve been threatened?”

She didn’t answer immediately, sinking down in the chair once again, her gaze narrowing. “You said your aunt knew Anna Ferron.

How?”

He told her, leaving nothing out. The tears were still there when he was finished, running silently down her cheeks. “I should have gone to the authorities. Told them what I knew,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But I was so afraid.”

She stood, pacing, finally stopping to look out the glass doors.

“Do you know how many times I’ve relived that moment in my

mind? If only I hadn’t reached down to tie his shoes at that particular instant. If only I had picked him up from school that day. If only I hadn’t threatened to…” She stopped, putting a hand to her mouth.

“Tell Anna Ferron about her husband’s vasectomy?”

She spun, shocked. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because right before she died, Anna accused her husband of

not wanting a family. Told him she had proof. You were that proof, weren’t you?”

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“Oh my God!” she cried, finding the chair again with trembling fingers. “She called me out of the blue one day about seven months ago. I knew about her although I didn’t when …”

“When you had your affair?”

She nodded, her lips curling bitterly. “I was so stupid and so incredibly naïve. I was finishing my last year of law and was working with my father in his practice.” She leaned forward, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “Russell was counsel for a case that intertwined with one Dad was working on. He was at the office several times and that’s where I first met him. He was suave, attractive and he literally swept me off my feet. I don’t think Dad really knew how involved we’d become until after I became

pregnant. He was furious, especially after he did his own

investigating and discovered the man was married.”

“Did he approach Ferron?”

Her smile was without humor. “Oh, he sure did. You had to

know my father. He was a fair-minded man but when he was

crossed there was nobody more tenacious. Russell was lucky he escaped with his face intact.”

“Okay that makes him a coward but why the sterilization?”

“That came later. I had our son and he refused to have

anything to do with either of us. I was so hurt and so angry. I told myself it wasn’t fair that I had to go through a pregnancy, labor and delivery without my child’s father there. I focused all the anger and resentment I should have felt toward Russell on his wife. A woman I had never met. I called him the day after I brought the baby home and told him he wasn’t ever going to do what he had done to me to anyone else.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I

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threatened to go to her unless he had a vasectomy and showed me the proof. To my utter shock, he agreed.”

Brad shook his head. “Doesn’t surprise me at all. I’ve met the man. He’s an egotist. Having children and watching them grow would ruin his carefully constructed youthful image.”

Her smile was hard. “Sad thing is, I wouldn’t put it past him to have killed his wife to preserve that persona. I didn’t know that when I met him, I do now.” She looked up, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Please tell me that our phone conversation that day wasn’t the reason she was killed. Because I don’t know if I could live with that,” she said flatly, rubbing a hand across her temple.

“It wasn’t. My associate and I believe it’s what Anna discovered later that led to her demise.”

“What was that?”

He could tell by the question and her expression that she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Before I answer that, Mrs. Fox…”

“Wendy.”

He nodded. “All right, Wendy, who do you think killed your

son?”

Without hesitation, she answered. “Russell or someone he

hired to do the dirty work for him.”

“Then why not go to the authorities?”

“And tell them what?” The tears were gone replaced by anger.

“That the bullet that sliced through my son was actually meant for me?” She ran a hand through her dark hair. “No, I’m not

delusional. I received a phone call threatening me to keep my mouth shut or the next time he wouldn’t miss. It wasn’t Russell’s

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voice but I knew the message was from him. I had suspicion but no proof.”

“You told me you had several phone conversations with Anna

Ferron. What were they in regards to?”

She stood and warmed both their coffees. “Did you know she

had hired a private investigator?”

He shook his head. “No, but from what I’ve heard about the

woman I’m not surprised.”

“That was obvious from our conversation. The investigator

traced Ferron to me and then, through birth records, identified my son as his.” She smiled again, sadly. “Ironically, the fact that she wanted children so desperately and I had just lost mine drew us together. Believe it or not, by the time the conversation was over both of us were in tears. And both of us shared something else as well. A hatred for one Russell Ferron.”

Brad frowned. “What I don’t understand is why risk any

contact with you at all after six years? After all, it wasn’t like you lived in the same area, knew the same people. Ferron might be a lot of things but he didn’t impress me as being careless or stupid.”

“I think it had something to do with my father’s continued

investigation after Michael was born. He became more and more furious when he found evidence of further infidelities in Russell’s past. His secretary, a well-known model, another socialite, the list is long and sordid. Only his love for his grandson prevented him from confronting the man.” She shrugged. “Mom died when I was very small and Dad was probably more protective than most

fathers since I was his only child. He couldn’t let what Russell had done go.” She blushed slightly. “It didn’t matter that I told him I was just as responsible. After Michael was killed, he became

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obsessed with proving Russell’s guilt. Ultimately, his obsession resulted in his death a little over a year ago.”

Brad could have said more, suggested more, but at that

moment they were interrupted by a child’s voice accompanied with the slamming of the front door.

“Mommy, Daddy gots me a ice cream.”

Brad turned and couldn’t help smiling. A small curly-haired

toddler spilled into the room, her mouth and face covered with chocolate.

Wendy bent down and gathered her daughter, chocolate and

all, in her arms holding her close. “I can see that. Was it good?”

“It was scrumptious.”

A muscular, sandy-haired man walked into the kitchen, his

face immediately darkening when he caught a glimpse of Brad. His gaze shot to his wife. “If this is who I think it is, I’m calling the police.”

Wendy shook her head. “Its okay, Steven. Meet Brad Norton.”

She stood with her daughter still in her arms. “Why don’t the two of you get acquainted while I wash Missy’s face?” She glanced at her husband. “I think you’ll find what he has to say very

interesting.”

They both watched her leave and then Brad turned and

extended his hand and, after a slight pause, Steven Fox took it, his handshake firm. However, the eyes that met his were suspicious.

“All right, Mr. Norton, why don’t you tell me what you have to say that is so interesting? It goes without saying that it better be good.”

Brad knew he needed to be convincing so he opted for the truth without any embellishment. “I believe my aunt was killed by the

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same man that murdered your wife’s son, Mr. Fox. If you allow me just a few moments to explain, I think you’ll agree with me.”

The man eyed him steadily for a moment and then nodded,

motioning toward a chair. Brad didn’t waste words, telling him quickly and precisely what he and Alex had discovered.

Steven let out a long low whistle when he was finished leaning back in his chair, the wary expression gone. “I’m not a lawyer, Mr.

Norton.”

“Brad.”

“Okay, I’m not a lawyer, Brad, but it sure seems to me you’ve got a whole lot of circumstantial evidence. Maybe enough to get an indictment. What I don’t understand is what myself or my wife can do for you?” He glanced down the hall. “I met Wendy shortly after she had Michael.” His gaze returned to Brad’s. “That boy was like my own. If there was anything that could have been found

incriminating that bastard, Ferron, you can bet I would have found it. That or my father-in-law would have.”

“He did. That’s why he was killed.”

“Killed!”

They both turned as Wendy walked into the room. “I put Missy down for a nap.” She swung her gaze back to Brad. “What do you mean killed? Dad lost control of his car and crashed over an embankment. I saw the police report myself.”

When Brad didn’t respond, she walked forward putting a hand

on his arm. “I deserve to know,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “You’re right, you do. Let me ask you something,

Wendy. Did your father ever mention someone by the name of

Corey Johnson to you?”

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She thought for a moment. “I don’t think I ever met him but I do remember taking several calls from someone by that name for Dad at the office.” The frown disappeared as she put the pieces together. “That’s the college student that was killed in West Virginia, wasn’t it? I remember Dad being extremely upset about that.”

“It was. Phone records indicate your father and Corey phoned each other frequently in the last month before he was murdered.”

She eased into the chair across from him. “I knew he was doing research on a plane crash that happened years ago. I overheard Dad talking to him several times about it. Why?”

Brad took a moment to consider his words. He could see and