Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Jaxon’s phone buzzed, waking him at 6:00 a.m. “Sergeant Ward.”

“Jaxon, it’s Casey Chambers. I have some information for you.”

He sat up and grabbed a pen and pad from his nightstand. “What is it?”

“I found the social worker who placed the Tierney kids with the Mulligans.”

“Delia Hanover,” Jaxon said. “I saw her name in the trial transcripts.”

“Right,” Casey said. “She left the office where she worked a couple of years after Hank Tierney was arrested. Now she works with the local school system.”

“Give me her contact information.”

“I’m texting you her phone and address now.”

“Thanks. Anything else?”

“I did some digging around and discovered four other foster children who lived with the Mulligans before the Tierneys.”

“Good work. I’d like to talk to them. Send me their names and contact information, as well.”

“It’s on its way. Although one of the girls, Lenny Ames, killed herself a few months after she was removed from the home.”

Jaxon’s heart pounded. “Is there any more information about her suicide?”

“Not much. The report was short. Said she went from the Mulligans to a juvenile center for troubled kids. She slit her wrists one night and bled out before anyone noticed.”

“Did she leave a suicide note?” Jaxon asked.

“No. But the house parents at the time said she was deeply disturbed, withdrawn and depressed when she arrived.”

“I suppose nobody bothered to run a psychological checkup on her?”

“Doesn’t say here. But my guess is no. She was another kid who got lost in the system.”

“Or died because Mulligan abused her to the point where she hadn’t wanted to live anymore.”

She mumbled agreement.

“Thanks, Casey. This has been very helpful.”

His phone was buzzing again, another call coming in, so he pressed Connect. “Sergeant Ward.”

“Jaxon, it’s Avery.”

Her voice sounded shaky. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone just called here and threatened me.”

Jaxon went still. “Stay on the line. I’ll be right there.” He grabbed jeans and a clean shirt and dressed quickly, stuffed his weapon in his holster and snatched his badge and Stetson.

“Do you know who the caller was?” Jaxon asked as he hurried outside to his SUV.

“No.” Avery’s breath rasped out. “It sounded like a man, but it was muffled, and I couldn’t be sure.”

“Keep the doors locked. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She hung up. He started the engine and drove onto the main road leading into town toward Avery’s house. The sun was fighting its way through the clouds and failing, the clouds hovering above and casting a dismal gray to the land.

Avery’s neighborhood was like a breath of fresh air in comparison.

But the fact that she’d been threatened made his instincts kick in, and he scanned the streets and yards in case anyone was lurking around watching her. But the street was quiet with only an occasional neighbor venturing out for the morning paper or to get in their car and head to work. Two joggers ran by, while a trio of young mothers were already strolling their babies.

Nothing suspicious.

He pulled into the driveway and parked, then hurried up to the door. Avery opened it before he could knock. “You didn’t have to come,” she said, although her face looked pale and she’d obviously been upset by the call. She wasn’t dressed, either. She looked as if she’d hastily thrown on a robe. Her hair was tangled from sleep, her cheeks flushed.

She looked sexy as hell.

And frightened.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

She turned and walked to her kitchen. She went straight to the coffeepot, poured two cups and handed him one.

He thanked her, then blew on the steaming brew, waiting until she was ready to talk.

“I had a nightmare about Wade Mulligan,” she admitted.

He gritted his teeth. Naturally asking questions about what had happened that night would stir up old nightmares for her.

“When I woke up, my phone was ringing.”

“Was there a name on the caller ID?”

She shook her head. “Unknown.”

“What exactly did the caller say?”

“That my brother is a killer. That he deserves to die. That I will, too, if I try to get him off.”

Jaxon fisted his hands in an attempt to control his anger. Who the hell would want to scare her like that?

The only person he could think of was the person who’d killed Mulligan.

* * *

A
VERY
TOLD
HERSELF
that the call had been a prank, but still it was difficult to shake the fear that had snaked through her at the sinister words.

There had been three other calls since. All from reporters wanting an interview about her brother’s upcoming execution.

“I’m going to put a tracer on your phone in case he calls back,” Jaxon said.

“You think he was serious?”

Worry flashed in Jaxon’s eyes a moment before he masked it. “Could be. But there are already protest rallies for both sides of the death penalty. It’s possible some overzealous fanatic is trying to scare you.”

Avery’s pulse began to steady. “I guess you’re right. I mean, how many people even know that I’m trying to reopen the case?”

“The warden, Lisa Ellis, a social worker I asked for information, the clerk at the courthouse and Joleen Mulligan. But I can trust the social worker and clerk.”

“You think Joleen would threaten me?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Jaxon sipped his coffee. “There’s another possibility.”

Avery tensed at the anxiety riddling his tone. “Who?”

“The person who murdered Mulligan.”

Her breath caught. “That means the threat is real.”

Jaxon sighed. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but we have to face the facts. If Hank didn’t kill Mulligan, then whoever did is not going to want the case reopened and another investigation.”

“You’re right.” Avery drained the rest of her coffee and set her cup in the sink. “But it’s not going to stop me. And neither are the reporters who keep calling for interviews.”

“When did that start?”

“Last week. I’ve refused them all, but twice I saw someone stalking me with a camera.”

“Dammit. They’re like vultures.”

“I can handle them,” Avery said. “I’ve been doing it all my life.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Jaxon said in a voice laced with wariness and something else...maybe admiration.

No. She was reading too much into things.

Jaxon’s gaze raked over her, and Avery remembered she hadn’t dressed before he’d arrived. She’d been so shaken by the phone call that she’d immediately punched his number, thrown on a robe and searched the house in case whoever had phoned was inside.

“I know where Delia is,” Jaxon said. “If you want to go with me, I’ll wait while you dress.”

Avery frowned. “You found her?”

“Yes. She left social services and is employed with the school system now.”

“Does she know we’re coming?”

“No. I want to surprise her.”

Avery didn’t bother to ask why. She didn’t care. All she wanted was to hear what Delia Hanover had to say.

And if she’d had any idea what kind of people the Mulligans were before she’d sent her and Hank to live with them.

* * *

J
AXON
SIGHED
WITH
relief when Avery went to get dressed. Good grief, that thin little robe barely covered her. And that short gown showcased legs that he wanted wrapped around him.

But that was never going to happen.

The shower water kicked on, and he had to step outside for some fresh air to keep himself from thinking about how Avery would look naked with water glistening off her bronzed skin.

He had a case to solve, and the clock was ticking. He didn’t have time for distractions.

Besides, Avery was not interested in him except for his expertise.

A van rolled by, slowing as it passed, and he saw someone take a picture of the house with his cell phone. Irritated, he headed toward it.

He waved at the van, and the driver pulled over to the curb. Two young men were inside, the camera guy snapping shot after shot of Avery’s house and lawn.

“What are you doing?” Jaxon shouted.

The camera guy grinned. “Isn’t this where the Tierney woman lives? The one whose brother’s going to be executed?”

Dammit, the gawkers had already started.

“No, it’s not.” He flashed his badge. “What do you want with that woman anyway?”

“Just some pics. Heard she refused interviews, so I’m gonna catch her coming out and put it up on YouTube.”

Then everyone would know where she lived, and all the crazies would come after her. “Get out of here, you scumbag,” Jaxon said. “And if you bother Avery Tierney again, I’ll arrest you for harassing innocent citizens.”

The front door opened, and Avery stepped out.

“It’s her!” the driver shouted. The other guy raised his camera.

Jaxon snatched the phone and deleted the pictures.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” the guy shouted.

Avery apparently realized what was happening and stepped back inside the house.

“I can and I did.” Jaxon shoved the phone back in the man’s hands. “Now get out of here before I arrest you.”

The guy cursed, but he ducked back inside the van and the driver sped off.

Jaxon waited until the van turned off the street, then went to the door.

Avery stood in the entryway, her purse slung over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said.

Her frown deepened. “It’s happened all my life. It’s their last chance to get some drama out of Hank’s conviction.”

And make her life hell.

Avery didn’t say it, but it was true. And not fair. But the media and curiosity seekers were seldom fair.

He was not going to let her be hurt by them again, though. Or by that threatening caller. He would guard her until this mess was over.

Until Hank was free and the real killer was locked behind bars.

* * *

A
VERY
TUGGED
ON
a hat as she and Jaxon left her house. She kept her head low as they drove from the neighborhood.

She’d kept to herself since she rented the house two years ago, had liked her privacy.

Publicity over the investigation and execution had robbed her of that now.

She’d considered changing her name over the years, but had decided that she wouldn’t run from who she was.

By the time they arrived at the school, she’d summoned her courage. Jaxon identified himself to the receptionist in the school office.

“May I ask what this is about?” the redhead said.

“It’s police business,” Jaxon said.

The woman looked curious, but she refrained from pushing for more information and escorted them down the hall to the counselor’s office.

She knocked on the door, then cracked it open. “Ms. Hanover, Sergeant Jaxon Ward with the Texas Rangers is here to see you.”

Jaxon stepped in, and Avery followed, twisting her hands together as she contemplated what to say. Delia Hanover was not what she’d expected or remembered. Of course, she hadn’t seen her in twenty years.

Which meant Delia had been young, maybe early thirties at the time she’d known her. Her hair was slightly graying now, her eyes wary.

She rose from her desk, her face paling as her gaze latched with Avery’s.

“Oh, my goodness, Avery,” she rasped out. “I...guess I should have expected you to come.”

Avery swallowed hard. “I saw my brother, Ms. Hanover. He’s innocent.”

The woman’s brows pinched together. “I don’t understand...”

Jaxon cleared his throat. “That’s why we’re here,” Jaxon said. “We need your help to find the real killer, Ms. Hanover.”

“Please call me Delia.” She sank into her chair, a weary look in her eyes. “But Hank confessed, Avery. You said you saw him stabbing Wade Mulligan.”

“Hank lied to protect me,” Avery said. “He thought I stabbed Hank, so he tried to cover for me.”

“Oh, my God, that can’t be true,” Delia said.

“I talked to him myself,” Jaxon said. “And I believe his story.” He planted his hands on top of her desk. “Which raises the question, who did kill Mulligan?”

The social worker’s face turned ashen. “How should I know? I believed Hank.”

“Think, Delia,” Avery said. “Do you know anyone else who would have wanted Wade Mulligan dead?”

Chapter Nine

Jaxon studied Delia’s shocked expression, searching her face for some clue that she knew more than she’d revealed. “Can you think of anyone else who would have wanted to hurt Mulligan?”

She shook her head. “No. No one that I can think of.”

“What about his wife? Do you think she was capable of murdering him?”

Delia drummed her fingers on her arm. “They had their fights,” she admitted. “Of course, I didn’t know that when I placed Hank and Avery in the house.”

“You had conducted follow-up visits to the home, didn’t you?”

“A couple,” Delia said, although a frown darkened her expression. “I was swamped at the time and should have gone by more often.”

“Couldn’t you tell that something was wrong?” He glanced at Avery and saw her bite down on her lip. “Couldn’t you see the children were unhappy?”

She released a pained sigh. “None of the children I placed in foster care were happy, Sergeant Ward. Hank and Avery had already suffered the trauma and stigma of their father’s arrest and their mother’s abandonment. And they’d been shuffled through a half dozen other homes before I moved them to the Mulligans.”

“Why were they moved from those homes?”

“Various reasons. The first family said they couldn’t keep both of them. The next one, the mother had health issues. Another family claimed Hank was an angry kid and that he hit one of their own children.”

“Were any other children in the Mulligan home when you placed Avery and Hank there?”

“No.”

“What about Lois?” Avery asked.

Delia rubbed her forehead. “That’s right. I forgot. She was there, but only about a week at the same time you were.”

“What happened to her?” Jaxon asked.

Delia shrugged. “She was sent to a group home a few hours away.”

“How about other children who lived with the Mulligans prior to Hank and Avery’s placement?”

“I don’t know much about them. I inherited the file from the former social worker, Erma Brant.”

“There were no notes about abuse by the Mulligans in that file?”

Anxiety streaked Delia’s face. “No. I...wish there had been.”

Irritation shot through Jaxon. If she had known and had put them there anyway, she was partly responsible for what happened to Avery. “This is important, Delia. A man’s life depends on it. What happened to the others?”

Delia stared at her hands, picking at her cuticles. “A couple aged out of the system. One boy was moved to a juvenile facility because he was caught stealing from a convenience store.”

“Did any of the children, male or female, complain that they were abused?”

“No.” She bit her nail. “And like I said, I didn’t see any notes regarding abuse. I wouldn’t have left Avery and Hank there if I had.”

“But he abused me and my brother,” Avery said. “I can’t help thinking that we weren’t the first.”

The woman turned toward Avery, sorrow in her eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Avery. I should have seen it sooner, should have picked up on something.”

“I should have told you what he was doing,” Avery said. “But I was too ashamed.”

“You were just a child,” Delia said softly. “Mr. Mulligan was supposed to take care of you, but he took advantage of you instead.”

“He said he loved me,” Avery said with a bitter laugh. “That if I told anyone, he’d kill me and Hank.” Her voice cracked. “It’s my fault Hank went to jail. If I hadn’t been so scared—”

“You had reason to be frightened.” Delia walked around her desk, knelt in front of Avery and squeezed her hand. “So don’t blame yourself. You were an innocent little girl, and all the adults in your life let you down. Including me.” Self-recrimination underscored her voice. “If I’d known what Wade Mulligan was doing, I would have gotten you and Hank out of the house before Hank stabbed Mulligan.”

Jaxon inhaled sharply. So she believed Hank was guilty. “You left your job shortly after Hank’s arrest. Why did you switch jobs?”

Delia looked tormented. “Because I realized I’d made a mistake with Avery and Hank and decided I couldn’t be responsible for something like that happening again.”

Jaxon studied her for another long moment, then handed her a business card. “Thank you for your time. Please call me if you think of anything else that might help Hank Tierney. Especially anyone who might have had a problem with Mulligan.”

She agreed, and Avery gave the woman a hug. “Thank you, Delia. Things may not have gone well at the Mulligans, but I know you tried to help me and my brother. I owe you for that.”

Guilt streaked Delia’s face as she hugged Avery in return. “I’m sorry about Hank. I really am.”

Avery nodded, although tears filled her eyes as she pulled away.

“One more thing,” Jaxon said. “Tell me the names of the other children who lived with the Mulligans.”

Delia looked startled for a moment. “I’m not sure I could release that information even if I had it. But I left all those files in the social services office.”

“Think about it and maybe you’ll remember a name,” Jaxon said. “One of them might be willing to come forward and testify about the abuse to help Hank.” He pinned her with a dark look. “After all, you owe Avery and Hank that much.”

* * *

A
VERY
STARED
OUT
the window at the passing scenery, Delia’s ashen face flashing in her mind. Jaxon’s last comment had upset the woman. But if she were upset, maybe she could help.

The bare trees looked as desolate as she felt. Hank had been in jail over half of his life and had missed the changing of the seasons, missed birthdays and holidays and building a career for himself.

She wanted him to breathe fresh air, to get a second chance at life and to spend his next birthday eating birthday cake and opening presents.

A noise sounded, and children raced onto the playground, laughing and talking. They looked so happy and carefree, just innocent kids skipping rope and playing children’s games.

She and Hank had never been innocent. And neither one of them had a family.

Hank because he was incarcerated.

Her because she’d locked herself in a mental prison of her own. Shut herself off from trusting or loving a man because Mulligan had robbed her of her innocence.

She would show that bitter, mean old man that he wouldn’t take anything else from her. She would get Hank out.

Then she would work on herself. Learn to trust again.

“Are you okay?” Jaxon asked as they drove away from the school.

Avery nodded. “Delia seemed sincere.”

Jaxon clenched his jaw. “Maybe. But she should have pushed Hank’s attorney to explore the abuse angle in Hank’s defense.”

Avery rubbed the scar around her wrist. “That’s my fault. I should have spoken up and confided in her.”

“If she was good at her job, she would have picked up on it,” Jaxon said. “And she should have researched the family and made certain the home was safe and secure before leaving you there.”

Avery couldn’t argue with that. But she sensed Delia carried guilt around with her already regarding that mistake.

Jaxon maneuvered through traffic until he reached the body shop on the edge of town. Several rusted, broken-down cars sat on cinder blocks, a fenced-in area held a mountain of old tires and other car parts and pieces, ranging from new fenders to motors, were scattered across the junkyard.

“What are we doing here?” Avery asked.

“Casey, my contact at the social service office, sent me a list of children who lived with the Mulligans prior to you and your brother. One of the boys, Shane Fowler, runs this place.”

Avery’s heart pounded. “You think if we get some of the others to speak up, it might help Hank.”

Jaxon frowned and adjusted his hat as he reached for the door handle. “It might. It’ll certainly establish a pattern of abuse, which could be argued in a self-defense plea.”

Hope fluttered in Avery’s chest. Mulligan had abused her and Hank.

Which meant they most likely weren’t the first. And they probably wouldn’t have been the last if someone hadn’t stopped the old man by ending his life.

* * *

T
HE
JUNKYARD
LOOKED
like a sad place where old cars had gone to die. Jaxon had worked at one when he was a teenager, though, and he understood the value of recycling, of reusing good parts in another vehicle to save the owner the cost of expensive repairs.

He also couldn’t fault any guy from making an honest living, and being an auto mechanic or specializing in body repairs took skills.

Ironically, though, Mulligan had worked at a garage years ago.

Jaxon took Avery’s elbow as they walked across the yard to the office. Hubcaps, tires and an assortment of axels were scattered in organized piles near the trailer. He knocked but no one answered, so he opened the door and peeked inside.

“No one is here.”

Avery touched his arm. “I see someone over there.”

She pointed to a row lined with hoods, and Jaxon headed that way. “Mr. Fowler?”

A stocky man wearing a plaid shirt and overalls looked up, adjusted his hat to shade his eyes and frowned. His arms were tatted up, a jagged scar discolored his left cheek and his hands looked battered and bruised. “Yeah?”

Jaxon flashed his badge, identified himself and introduced Avery.

“Am I in some sort of trouble with the law?” Fowler coughed into his hand. “I mean, I pay my taxes and all. And I run a legitimate business.”

The man’s paranoia made Jaxon question whether or not he might be doing something illegal. But Jaxon wasn’t interested in petty crimes.

“No, sir,” Jaxon said. “We came to talk to you about Wade Mulligan. You lived with him when you were a kid, didn’t you?”

Fowler’s eyes sharpened. “Yeah. But that was a lifetime ago.”

Avery cleared her throat. “Shane, I’m Hank Tierney’s sister, Avery. We also lived with the Mulligans.”

“Aw, hell,” the man muttered. “I shoulda recognized you from the news. They been talking about your brother’s execution all week. Showed a picture of you when you was little.”

Avery’s mouth twitched. “That’s because the date is approaching. I’m trying to stop him from being put to death.”

Fowler wiped his greasy hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“Both Hank and Avery were abused by Mr. Mulligan.” Jaxon watched for a reaction, but Fowler didn’t seem surprised. “How was the family when you lived with the Mulligans?”

The man backed up, his posture defensive. “Like I said, it was a long damn time ago.”

“But you remember whether or not he hit you,” Jaxon said.

Fowler ran a hand across the scar on his face. “So what if he did? I was a smart mouth back then.”

“Were there any girls living in the home when you lived there?” Jaxon asked.

Fear flickered in Fowler’s gray eyes. “Yeah, a couple.”

“Did Wade Mulligan ever go in their room at night?”

Fowler rubbed his hands on the grease rag again, looking into the black smears as if they might offer him a way out. “I was just a kid back then,” he said. “I didn’t know what he was doing was wrong.”

Avery sucked in a sharp breath. “So he did molest the girls?”

Fowler looked up at her, guilt registering a second before he jerked his head to stare across his junkyard. “I didn’t see nothing, but I heard ’em crying at night. I went to the door once, but he beat me and told me to stay out of grown-up business.”

“So you stayed quiet?” Jaxon said, unable to hide the disgust in his tone.

Fowler gestured toward his scarred cheek. “Monster sliced my face that night. Said the next time he’d put that knife in my gut. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“You could have told someone,” Avery said angrily. “You could have called 911 or let the social worker know. If you had, you might have saved those girls and me and my brother.”

* * *

A
VERY
WAS
TREMBLING
so badly she thought she was going to have to sit down. Anger at this man ballooned inside her. If he’d turned in Mulligan, she and Hank would have been spared.

Their entire life had been destroyed by the events that had happened in that house. Events that could have been prevented.

“I’m sorry,” Fowler said, his voice almost childlike now. “I was scared. I...know I shoulda said something.”

“Classic abuse,” Jaxon said. “Who were the girls who were there when you were?”

Fowler leaned against the fence, wiping sweat from his neck with his hand. “Priscilla Janice and Renee Feldon.”

“Do you know where either of them are now?”

“Priscilla OD’d on heroin a few years back. Don’t know where Renee is. Last I heard she was turning tricks on the streets.”

“When was that?” Jaxon asked.

“About ten years ago.”

Avery clenched her hands together. One girl had overdosed while another resorted to hooking. No doubt both their problems had been caused by Wade Mulligan’s abuse.

“If we get a stay for Hank Tierney, would you be willing to testify to the abuse?” Jaxon asked.

Fowler looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know. I’m not sorry the bastard’s dead, but I ain’t proud that he used me for a punching bag.”

“Please,” Avery said. “Wade Mulligan deserved to die, but my brother didn’t kill him.”

Jaxon cleared his throat. “You want your self-respect back? Then stand up to him.”

“But he’s dead,” Fowler said.

“My brother isn’t,” Avery said quietly.

The man looked up at her, his scar reddening in the sunlight. “All right, I’ll do it.”

They thanked him, then walked back to the car in silence. Avery flipped on the radio to distract herself from the bitterness eating at her as Jaxon drove from the parking lot.

But a special newscast was airing. “This late-breaking story in. Hank Tierney, whose execution is scheduled just a few days away, was stabbed today in a prison fight. Guards were moving him from his cell block when a fire erupted in a neighboring cell. Before they realized what was happening, two inmates attacked Tierney.”

Avery choked on a sob while she waited to hear if her brother was still alive.