Bullet in the Night (3 page)

He nodded. “I realize talking is supposed to help, but does it really? I’ve been over this several times, and it remains traumatic.” Tucker lifted his hands, palms up, in a helpless gesture. “This probably isn’t the last time I’ll ever have to speak of the horror of last night.”

“I understand.” Nick averted his eyes.

“Well, I took the train home for the weekend from my job in Illinois, arriving at my usual time, ten-fifteen p.m., just as paramedics loaded Lenora on a stretcher.” He turned his head as if to block the picture before completing the account of the chain of events.

“And Kirk’s story?” I asked.

“Says he had a seven p.m. appointment with Lenora but arrived late, around nine, due to a flat tire.”

“He came for...?” Nick leaned toward Tucker, concentrating his gaze.

“Kirk was to have had a coaching session with Lenora and review his first week on the job for her Second Chance Prison Rehab Foundation.”

“She’d been counseling him for how long before giving him the job? Sorry, I’d never paid close attention when Lenora told me about her plan to hire him.”

Tucker counted out loud. “Several months, maybe six...”

“If Kirk had intended to shoot Lenora the evening of their appointment, he’d be foolish not to have a better alibi,” Nick said.

“Exactly.” I spoke the word with such vehemence my face flushed. I hated to think Lenora’s protégé would have turned on her.

Tucker shook his head. “The police pieced together a logical scenario. Kirk and she argued about the job, he stomped outside, drove away, but stopped at the road that borders the hill behind our property. He pulled a rifle from his trunk, entered the woods, climbed up, and shot her from a spot behind the house where he had visibility.”

“Why all the back and forth?” Nick probably knew the answer but wanted to hear the police theory.

“His intent in all this was to make it look like he wasn’t involved. This guy, Kirk, was known to have a bad temper and carry grudges.”

“Not good.” Nick looked at me.

“Why try to save Lenora afterwards?” I brushed a piece of lint from the tabletop.

Tucker shrugged. “Remorse can be a powerful emotion as well.”

Nick stared at me. “We’re talking about a crime fueled by passion...anger...committed by an irate man. Jennifer, isn’t it unlikely he’d have the self-control to enter the woods and wait patiently for a good shot?”

I nodded in response. “And ridiculous to think guilt could set in that fast when someone is upset enough to attempt murder. And Tucker, Kirk’s story is...?”

“Says he arrived around nine and found Lenora passed out in a pool of blood. He called 9-1-1. The police arrived within minutes after he reported the shooting and found Kirk hovering over her bloody body holding a towel against her wound.”

“Where was she exactly?” Nick asked.

“Still at her desk. They immediately took Kirk to the station for questioning.”

I closed my eyes to block out the vision of Lenora covered with blood.

Tucker continued. “Kirk claims he wanted to call to tell her he’d be late due to a flat tire but had forgotten his phone. When he arrived, the door was unlocked. He walked in because Lenora was expecting him. He used her desk phone to call the police...that part was true.”

“Which undoubtedly saved her life,” I interrupted. “Kirk waited for the rescue squad at Lenora’s side. How noble and tragic as well.” My voice caught.

Tucker crossed his arms. “Or an attempt to throw off suspicion. My wife is a wonderful woman. Anger is a terrible motivator.”

“What evidence do the police have?” Nick focused on facts; emotion was my territory.

Tucker appeared to pull his words from a point of pain I could only imagine. “No gun residue on his hands, so he was smart enough to wear gloves, although his fingerprints were in the study and the kitchen. The police checked for footprints, but the ground was too dry. From the angle of the shot, they determined where he stood in the woods.”

The image of Lenora stripped of her cozy idyllic existence infuriated me. “Have you been to look at the spot yet?”

“I can’t bring myself to. The police combed the area but found nothing.”

“Then evidence is circumstantial so far,” Nick commented more to himself than us.

“But all pointing to Kirk.” Tucker clenched and unclenched his fist.

“Tucker, you sound confident he’ll be convicted, but,” Nick clarified, “circumstantial won’t do it, not for attempted murder.”

Tucker shook his head in disagreement. “All I know is the police sergeant told me they have what they need to put him away.”

“Fresh out of prison, where would Kirk get a rifle?” I asked out of curiosity.

“An ex-con?” Nick shrugged. “With their network of contacts, guns or drugs are no problem. Kirk could have had a rifle stashed somewhere before he went in, possibly even in these woods.”

Tucker snarled. “Of course, he denies he had one.”

“Tucker, you said earlier today you didn’t think Lenora’s shooting could have happened during a robbery? Are you still of that opinion now that you’ve had more time to check?” I asked.

Tucker shot me an impatient look. “I told you nothing was taken.”

Nick tapped his fingers on the table. “Makes sense. A sniper attack is unlikely for a robbery. A thief would come into the house, not shoot through a window, and then enter. Too risky.”

“Is it possible a former client of Lenora’s had developed affection for her which she did or didn’t return?” We female counselors work hard to keep male clients from developing inappropriate attachments. “Rejecting a man with an already unstable mind could make him dangerous.”

“A disgruntled previous client,” Nick agreed. “Makes sense if he knew her habits, realized she was home alone, and psychologically didn’t feel capable of killing at close range.”

Tucker shifted in his chair. Obviously this thread of conversation displeased him. “Are you suggesting my wife might have been in an inappropriate relationship which she’d called off?”

“Of course not. We’ll know more when Lenora recovers enough lung function to be off the ventilator.” I hastened to add, “I simply hope, for her sake, her protégé wouldn’t have done this.”

The unspoken words “
if
she can get off the ventilator” hung in the air. Again my heart hurt for Tucker.

“Truth will come out.” Nick used his lawyerly tone of reassurance.

Tucker blew his nose and cleared his throat.

I gave him a moment, then asked if he had the paperwork for me.

He turned, picked up a manila folder from a shelf in the oak sideboard next to the table, and handed it to me. “The complete data on Kirk Corsini from the Second Chance Foundation’s files. In addition to giving him a job, Lenora counseled him for personal issues from his past. All her notes are in there.”

“Thanks. I’ll get this back as soon as possible.”

“No hurry. The police have another copy.”

“Has anyone else at the foundation worked extensively with Kirk?” The thought had just occurred to me.

“Chuck Denton, Chairman of our Board, Vice-President of Equitable Union Bank, sat in on the interview Lenora had with Kirk for his position. The head of Mr. Denton’s bank encouraged his involvement with our foundation as a community service. Mr. Denton may have some insights about Kirk. You can reach Chuck through the bank.”

I turned to Nick. “Do you know this Chuck Denton?”

Nick shook his head no.

“He’s a helpful guy.” Tucker started to stand, then fell back onto his chair. “What will happen to the foundation without Lenora? What will happen to me? This is so awful. Do you think she’ll make it through? She must...”

I reached over and rubbed the back of his hand on the chair. “What we can do is pray and make sure she gets the best medical care.”

He rose and stood tall. “No doubt about that. I’m seeing to every detail.”

“One last thing, as long as we’re here, may we briefly see her office where the shooting occurred?” I couldn’t leave without going in there.

“Yes, the crime scene team released the site. Follow me.”

My blood chilled. Did I want to see the scene of Lenora’s shooting? No way. But there might be a clue.

CHAPTER FOUR

Soft rain pattered the roof as Tucker led us down the hall and through pine French doors into Lenora’s spacious, wood-paneled office. Russet swags imprinted with multi-colored bird designs topped windows framed in white. A massive, antique library table dominated the center of the room. Piles of journals and manila folders clustered beneath it and were scattered in stacks across much of the floor. A shiver ran down my spine. I rubbed my hands down my arms to drive away the coldness in the room.

Tucker flicked on a wall switch. “This is...
was
Lenora’s sanctuary. It’s been a zoo with detectives and photographers.” He sighed and picked up a remaining fragment of crime scene tape.

A hush fell over us as Nick and I examined the hole the bullet had made in the screen, raw edges of mesh turned back ever so neatly.

“I hope the forensics team knew what they were doing,” Nick whispered in my ear. “It’s not like we’re a big city where dealing with attempted murder is commonplace.”

Tucker walked over and turned on the desk light. “It still seems surreal.”

I remembered reading in a mystery novel about surveying a crime scene in three dimensions. I looked up, down and around, studying the room from different angles.

A huge picture window with smaller windows on each side faced the woods, giving Lenora a great view. It also gave Lenora’s attacker a perfect view of the room.

Tucker cleared his throat, interrupting my silence. “Lenora insisted on perfect order everywhere in the house except her office. The cleaning lady rarely set foot in here.” He pointed to the carpet. “Lenora used the floor like a gigantic desktop for all her journals and research papers on prison reform and rehabilitation.” The first hint of a smile on his face appeared for a second. “Believe it or not, she could find anything instantly.”

He picked up a letter opener in his Goliath-sized hand and put it back in the center desk drawer. Tidy man.

“I’ll need Lenora’s info on her counselees she’d been helping.” How I hoped she’d documented thoroughly.

He pointed to a closet on the left side of the room. “Her confidential files are locked in the cabinet in there.”

“I can’t access them until I get a signed release from each client who wants therapy from me, but I can get names and phone numbers to get started. Under these circumstances, contact info is okay. I’ll check her appointment book to make sure I don’t miss anyone.”

“She kept a separate one for social events and her work calendar in here.” He opened the side drawer of the library table desk and pulled out a black leather nine-by-twelve book imprinted in gold with the word “Appointments” above the year. “The police have already examined it.”

I reached for it.

He hesitated.

“You do want me to follow up with all her clients, don’t you?”

“Of course. It’s the right thing to do.”

“To save time, I’ll take this to get the women’s names and numbers, then return it to you.” I slipped it into my oversized black bag doubling as purse and briefcase.

“Is there anyone else you can think of? A family member who might have had a motive to shoot Lenora?” Nick was hunting.

Tucker lifted his shoulders. “Lenora got nasty letters rather frequently. We figured they were written by crackpots and pretty much discounted them.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Why?”

My chest burned at the idea. My sweet friend didn’t mind making enemies. Outspoken she may have been, but gracious always.

“She wrote a weekly newspaper column and occasional editorials about our criminal justice system that drew angry responses. Some neighbors didn’t like Lenora providing help for ex-convicts. A few were downright ugly in their indictment of her work with the prisoners.”

Nick frowned. “Lenora wasn’t afraid to express her strong opinions?”

Tucker had just expanded our search for the shooter to a huge group of potential suspects.

I groped for emotional steadiness. Every time I heard Lenora referred to in past tense, I bit my lip to keep from shouting.
She isn’t dead.

“Yes. My feisty wife even argued with members of her own foundation’s board.”

“Did she keep these letters?” Nick asked, intent on pursuing this angle.

“I doubt it. Usually she’d get mad, crumple them, and toss them in the trash, but I’ll check through her papers.” Tucker glanced at his watch.

“Did you inform the police?” Nick’s tone demanded an answer.

“I never gave the letters a thought when they questioned me.” Tucker bristled. “I see no need to tell them now since Kirk obviously shot her.”

“It’d be a good idea anyway.” My lawyerly husband preferred full disclosure and I agreed.

“I’ll see what I can dig up. It’s getting late. I need to get back to the hospital. It’s hard to leave her there so helpless. Who knows what kind of care she gets when I’m not around.”

“Of course.” We were headed for the front door, as I thought of one last question. “Tucker, who would have known about Kirk’s release date two weeks ago?”

He responded with a frown. “The whole town. The Recorder carried a feature article last week about the Second Chance Foundation and mentioned Kirk as our first employee. Lenora wrote the press release herself to promote the foundation and included her address for people to send charitable donations.”

Nick glanced at me sharply. We read each other’s minds. So all these potential enemies had Lenora’s address readily available.

“She was extremely vocal about her rehabilitation program,” Tucker added. 

Was there resentment or pride in his voice? Hard to tell.

I offered a smile. “I’m sure there’d be no stopping Lenora’s speaking or fundraising efforts on a program she felt passionately about.”

Tucker escorted us to the door. “You’ll keep me informed about helping her clients?”

“Of course.”

Nick strode briskly to the car, his back to me. “Sometimes women are too naïve. The whole community knew about Kirk and where Lenora lived. I hope you show more sense in similar situations.”