Authors: Maggie Toussaint
“Yeah. I used to cat around a bit with Judson Byrd a few years back. He was one helluva party animal. He liked this dancer at a club. Angel. Man, was she hot. I’d have nailed her if Judson hadn’t flashed his money around first.”
Judson Byrd. He could be Angel’s “Jay.” If that was true, Angel’s son might have been fathered by Judson Byrd. Was the “she” Angel was so terrified of Carolina Byrd?
Carolina was demanding and powerful and commanded a lot of wealth. That didn’t make her a killer. I searched my memory for other details I knew about my former client. She had a kid. A special-needs kid. That’s why she had so many extras built into Mallow, to accommodate her kid.
“You ever sleep with Carolina Byrd?” Wayne asked.
Duke sneered at me. “Does she have to be here?”
“Yes, she does. Your honesty will determine what she does.”
“No. I never slept with my boss.”
The air around him shifted and his aura darkened. His nostrils flared, and he averted his eyes, all things he hadn’t done during our previous conversations. “You’re lying.” Confidence oozed through my pores. “You had a personal relationship with her.”
He shrugged, looking not the least repentant. “Sue me. She wasn’t married then. We didn’t break any laws. We hooked up a few times when she came down to see how the house was coming along.”
“You still hooking up with her?” Wayne asked.
Duke huffed out a breath. “Nah. She’s moved on to Buster. And good riddance.”
“Why?”
“She never shut up the whole time. Yammering on and on. It was enough to give me a complex. No wonder her husband had a hottie like Angel on the side. His wife was a she-devil.”
“Thanks for coming in on a Sunday.” Sheriff Wayne Thompson unstacked his heels from his desk and waved me into his office. For once he didn’t leer at my body. Was he finally seeing me as a person and not another conquest? “You were most helpful during the Duke Quigley interview. I’d like you to observe Carolina Byrd while I talk to her. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Carolina won’t like me being included,” I warned.
“She isn’t in a position to bargain.” He studied me a long moment. “How’d you know Quigley was lying?”
I doubted he wanted a metaphysical explanation. “His words felt wrong. That’s the best explanation I can give.”
“You some kind of lie detector?” His dark eyes took on a faraway look. “You got any idea how valuable that would be in law enforcement?”
I dismissed his remark with a quick flip of my wrist. “Not very. Knowing someone is lying is different from proving it. Besides, I don’t always know if a person is lying. Just sometimes. Some people are very good liars.”
He nodded. “Here’s the thing. Carolina is on her way back up to Macon. I don’t have any reason to tell her not to leave town, but if you pick up a lying vibe, I want to know about it. You nod at me or kick me under the table, you hear? We’ll explain your presence by saying you’re exploring the possibility of a job in law enforcement.”
“That’s a very good lie. It’s close enough to the truth that it’s believable. That’s why my divination talents aren’t a hundred percent.”
The intercom buzzed. “She’s here,” Wayne said. “Remember, you’re in observation mode unless I say otherwise.”
“Got it.” I followed him to the reception area, murmured a polite hello when spoken to by my former employer. Once the niceties were over, she ignored me.
“You said there was news about the case. Are you releasing my property?” Carolina wore a demure mint-green, skirted suit. A silver filigree pen adorned the jacket lapel.
“We have news, but not that kind of news.” Wayne waited until both of us selected a chair in Interview Two before he sat. “The victim has been identified. Her name is Lisa Noble. Does that sound familiar?”
Carolina held very still, as if sifting through her brain to remember every name she’d ever encountered. “I don’t recognize the name.”
“It turns out that she has ties to someone here in Sinclair County,” Wayne said. “To your builder, in fact. Were you aware that Duke Quigley often socialized up Macon way?”
She frowned. “Let me think. Oh yes, it’s coming to me now. My late husband recommended we hire Duke to build our house down here. Seems they were acquainted.”
“Indeed.” Wayne leaned forward across the table. “Your builder also knew the victim.”
Carolina’s head jerked. Her face flushed. “He’s not my builder any longer. I fired him last week. On the same day I fired my landscaper.” She shot me a pointed look.
I ignored her barb. So far I couldn’t tell if she was lying or telling the truth. However, going by her reaction, her last response seemed genuine. Time for me to earn my pay, whatever the heck that would be. I caught Wayne’s eye and nodded as imperceptibly as possible.
“Your builder knew Lisa Noble. That seems like a coincidence.” Wayne’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust coincidences.”
“I didn’t realize until I hired the man that he was ungovernable,” Carolina said. “I’m not surprised in the least. The man even made a pass at me. As if someone of my social standing would lower myself to his level.” She shuddered. “Did you arrest him?”
“We don’t have any direct evidence, other than their previous association, that puts them together at the time of death. But my gut says we’re on the right track.”
“Don’t worry about me, Sheriff. I’ve distanced myself from the man. Once you arrest him, this nightmare will end and I’ll be able to get on with my life.” She fiddled with her highlighted hair and looked at Wayne through her darkened eyelashes. “I have complete faith in you. The sooner you arrest him the better for me.”
I had no idea if she was lying there or not, but it galled me that she was flirting with Wayne in front of me. Hell, did she want to sleep with any man she came in contact with? And why should I even care? Wayne had the morals of an alley cat. It wasn’t like he held the vows of his marriage sacred.
I was supposed to keep quiet, but I needed to shake Carolina’s cool façade. I couldn’t read her otherwise. “I’ve been wondering about the victim, Sheriff. Why didn’t her family miss her before now?”
Wayne blinked in confusion, as if he had to break Carolina’s siren spell to even glance my way. “We’re still searching for her next of kin. She appears to have no fixed address; it’s possible she lived on the streets.”
A flat-out lie on his part and a corresponding nasty glow to his aura. I may not be learning about Carolina’s talent for lying, but I could spot a whopper from the sheriff now. Useful information, indeed.
“Neither of you is to mention her name to anyone until we issue an official press release,” he cautioned. “Meanwhile, Ms. Byrd, avoid any communication with Duke Quigley.”
“Not to worry. I never want to hear his name again. You arrest Duke for this, and I promise to make it worth your while.”
We walked her out to the lobby where Gail Bergeron waited. The two of them put their blond heads together and departed. Something else clicked in my head. Carolina’s filigreed pin. Gail had one like it, and I was fairly certain I’d seen Muriel Jamison wearing one.
They’d been sorority sisters in college. Perhaps that was the reason for the similar jewelry.
But Lisa Noble had worn jewelry of the same design. What was the connection there?
“Well?” Wayne asked.
“She’s very good at lying. The only thing I’m certain of is that she wants you to arrest Duke. Oh, and she wants to sleep with you. That’s the absolute truth. The rest was cloaked in shades of the truth.”
“I didn’t need you for that. I figured that out on my own. What’s your gut tell ya?”
I barked out a laugh. “She’s up to her ears in this. You have a reprieve because she doesn’t know you like her for the crime. I think she did it. I believe she killed Lisa and framed Duke for it. Probably planned to frame me as well by putting my trowel in Lisa’s grave.”
His brows rose. “Dang, woman. Your gut feeling matches mine. Too bad we can’t prove it.”
“She’s clever. What if we can’t tie her to the murder?”
“No matter how clever folks are, there are always loose ends. That safe deposit box might be our ace in the hole.”
“I hope so. It would creep me out to know that she got away with murder and lives here in Sinclair County.”
“Don’t you worry. I’m on the case.”
Despite his assurance, worry hounded me all the way home. How were we going to tie Carolina to the crime? She’d had a week in Macon to cover her tracks. If there were witnesses or evidence lying around, she’d already made them go away.
How did one catch a clever killer?
Lisa came to me that night. Her casual clothes and tied-back hair fooled me at first. If not for the plain dime-store watch and intense violet eyes, I wouldn’t have recognized her. This version of Lisa looked like an ordinary young woman.
Her slender hands worried at each other. “Is my baby all right?”
I glanced around the unfamiliar dreamscape. It looked different. Less solid. As if Lisa had somehow met me partway between my world and hers. I couldn’t quite catch my breath. My stomach writhed. “Where am I?”
She waved my question away. “My baby? I gave you what you wanted. What about my son? Is he safe?”
I wobbled, clutching my gut. “The bank is closed on Sunday. We’ll access your safety deposit box tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is too late!” she wailed.
The room spun. I sank to my knees. “Please, let me go. This place. It’s wrong for me. I can’t breathe.”
As darkness descended, her parting words zinged my ear. “She’ll kill again.”
When I awoke, the sky had begun to lighten. I clutched the covers to my neck and shivered until I warmed. The more I dream-walked, the more I realized how little I knew about it. Finding someone in a dreamscape was hard enough, but there were dangerous pitfalls like unclean spirits and airless venues.
Precious thrust her nose on the bed, wagging her tail expectantly. I reached out and stroked her intelligent head, ruffling the soft fur of her fluffy ears. A soft whining sound filled her throat.
I knew that cry. She wanted to go out.
My eyes snapped shut in protest. I wasn’t ready to face a new day, not with so many unanswered questions circling in my head. Why couldn’t I hone in on Lisa’s killer? What was I missing? I’d worried late into the night, finally falling asleep after two a.m. Four hours of sleep wasn’t enough. I needed to stay sharp if I wanted to catch this killer. But the thought of returning to that inhospitable dreamscape propelled me right out of bed.
Easing past Larissa’s room, I padded downstairs in my cotton PJs. Muffin heard the activity and abandoned Larissa’s bed, following us outside. The dogs sniffed around the backyard, watering their favorite spots.
Next to the back door was another stack of fresh vegetables and a foil-covered mound. Ever since I’d become the dream-walker, vegetables had shown up at my door, as if the universe was paying its dues for my services. I could definitely get used to this. I held the thick bunch of greens to my face and inhaled their sun-kissed aroma.
The foil-encased mound was a lump of homemade bread. I pinched off a bit of crust and tried it. Yum. Oat bread.
Muffin sensed he was missing out on food, came up, and begged a pinch. I knelt and gave him a morsel. Only one dog begging? Where was Precious? I stood and scanned the yard. The flat-coated lab was nowhere to be seen.
“Precious?”
Nothing. All I could think of was that rattlesnake. If the snake bit Precious, she’d die before I found her and got her to a vet. Outrage roared inside me. I wasn’t losing this client. Precious was my responsibility.
I hustled Muffin inside, thrust my feet into a pair of old boots, grabbed the Glock, and hurried outside, locking the door behind me. I suspected the dog went into the woods, but I checked the highway first to be safe. No dog there.
Lungs burning, I raced back to the wood line behind my house. “Precious?”
No answer. Where was that dog?
I’d promised Louise Gilroy I’d keep her dog safe. Now I’d lost her. I had to find Precious. I called her again. Precious could be anywhere, and if she was on a scent, she’d ignore me. So what was she following? Was someone out here in the woods?
I leaned against a live oak, trying to catch my breath. My extrasensory hearing worked for people but not for animals. If Precious was chasing something human, I could find her. I allowed myself to hope that this was the case. I listened with my extra senses, probing the woods. To my right, a person hurried away from my location. I sensed another person, also on the move, father to the right, only this person seemed to be on an intercept course with the runner.
I considered my choices. I could hide in the house and call the sheriff’s office. I could go after the people because that was more than likely where the dog went.
Larissa’s safety came first. She was asleep in the locked house. She was fine. I needed to find the dog, and I couldn’t take the chance on her finding her way back home. Not with that busy highway in front of my house. It would break my heart if she was struck by a car. I had to go after her.
I angled right along the wood line, looking for a deer path to follow into the underbrush. Found it. Slipped into the shadowed forest. I moved swiftly, trying not to cause undue noise, gun in hand at my side. The fleeing person I was mentally tracking met up with the more deliberate person. The mental signature of the deliberate person reminded me of my watcher. Moments later, the fleeing person went down, and the deliberate person huffed out a breath. The fleeing person didn’t move, and the deliberate person, my watcher, melted back into the woods.
Precious barked. And barked some more. I followed the sound of her barking to where Buster Glassman lay hogtied in my woods. His dark clothing was torn; his perfect blond hair and prep school looks were marred by scratches and briars. His glasses lay six feet away from him as if he’d run into a brick wall.
“Good girl.” I petted Precious’ head. She continued to bark at Buster. He appeared to be out cold. Oh, for a bucket of water to throw on him.