Guarded (26 page)

“They even brought photos with them. Some were of family vacations they’d taken with Daddy. Others were from some private investigator. I was so young at the time, I remember being excited to see Daddy in new pictures. Momma started crying and just didn’t stop. She made the women promise never to contact her again and threw them out. Then she started throwing Daddy’s stuff into the garbage cans out back.

“When he came home a couple hours later, they fought. Hannah and I hid under my bed while they yelled at each other. Hannah fell asleep—that girl could sleep through anything. I didn’t. I listened to him tell her that if she’d been a better mother, she wouldn’t have had freaks for kids. That if she’d been a better wife, he wouldn’t have needed others. Then the door slammed. Momma started sobbing then. I crawled out from under the bed and found her in the kitchen. I hugged her. She made me promise not to tell anyone what had happened.”

“Why?” Jules had tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t she want anyone to know? We have brothers out there somewhere?”

“At least two.” Shelley shrugged. “Jules, Momma was a proud woman. If you had heard Daddy yelling, you’d have understood. He made it sound like his man-ho lifestyle was entirely her fault. And ours. He called us freaks. All. Of. Us. Then he left.”

And damn it. That lump that always formed in her throat when she remembered that day came back. Her eyes stung and her vision turned blurry. God, she hated the man for destroying her mother. Hated him more for being the first in a long line of people to abandon her.

“Oh, Shelley.” Jules pulled her into a fierce hug. “You were only five when that happened. I’m so sorry.”

Her arms came up of their own accord, and for the first time in her life, Shelley let her sister comfort her about what their bastard of a father had done. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know you blamed yourself.”

Jules squeezed tighter briefly, then sat back. “Well, the truth’s out now. And there are more of us to find. After Hannah. We need to find her first. Then we’ll be a family, like we should have been.”

Dread made its way down her spine. “Jules, I’m glad you don’t hate me for what I said when we were separated.”

“What are you talking about? The screaming match? When I made you go with Nate and Jill. Please. I’m just glad you don’t hate me. You’re my sister. I love you.”

And dang if that didn’t make Shelley’s eyes get all moist. Fear slid down her spine; this happy reunion couldn’t last. Jules had to know that. And as much as it stank, Shelley had to make it clear. “Look, I’m happy to have found you again. And I’m glad you have such a good life, but I’m not staying here. I have a life back in Elkridge.”

Jules frowned; she stared past Shelley at something near the open doorway. It was then that Shelley realized that the dread she’d felt slithering down her spine was actually the room temperature dropping.

She glanced back at her sister who’d gone pale.

“Are you sure?” Jules asked empty space.

Unsure whether speaking would break the connection Jules seemed to have with the specter, Shelley sat silent.

“Yes, I understand. But we’re supposed to stay here,” Jules said, just before the lights in the room flashed bright, then exploded.

Shelley ducked and threw her arms over Jules’s head to protect her from the flying glass of the exploded light bulb on the bedside table.

And still Jules spoke. “Okay, I understand. I’ll get her there, but you’d better guarantee that you’ll stay with us. I don’t want to walk into a trap without some way out of it.”

The room went from freezing to saunalike within seconds. Jules fell backward across the bed, seemingly unconscious. Checking that her pulse was steady, Shelley hurried to the bathroom. Her shoes crunched across the broken glass. Grabbing a small wastebasket, she set it beside the bed. The room was stifling. She opened the slider and salty air wafted into the room.

Unsure what to do next, she reached for the phone to dial Dev. She’d barely picked it up when Jules opened her eyes. She rubbed her head and slowly sat up, appearing disoriented. Dropping the cell onto the nightstand again, Shelley hurried over to her sister.

“Jules, how are you feeling?”

Her sister blinked twice before her eyes bulged in panic.

Shelley grabbed the bucket, but Jules shoved it away.

“Confused.” Jules stumbled to her feet, swayed. “Tomás is really upset. He can’t find Beau. He thinks something has happened to him.”

Shelley caught her by the elbows and helped her remain upright, ignoring the fear skating down her back. “Why does he think that?”

“Because.” Jules gulped air, as if to stave off the urge to vomit. “Because he can hear Beau calling for him, but he can’t reach him. Tomás wants you to find Beau. Now. He says the child will only come to you.”

“I
CALLED EVERYONE
in,” Captain Peterson said, walking into his office and taking a seat behind his large cherrywood desk. “The sheriff of Elkridge is an old friend of mine. He’s asked for our help with a couple of murder cases.”

Dev struggled to keep silent. Normally, he didn’t mind waiting. But he didn’t typically have one very antsy vet at his house either.

The captain picked up his phone and dialed. Reynolds and O’Dell, the two homicide cops currently seated in the only two visitors’ chairs in the captain’s office, turned their attention to him.

“Eager to get back to your vacation?” O’Dell said out of the side of his mouth. He made a shooing motion. “Run along, kid. The real homicide cops can handle it from here.”

“Thank you for that incredible offer,” Dev replied, in an undertone. “The captain assigned me to this case. Don’t you remember? I’d see a doctor about that memory issue you’re having. They have meds for early-onset dementia.”

“Good zinger, Jones. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Seth said, then turned back to O’Dell, whose face was turning as red as his ugly tie. “Why are you two here? I thought you were on the construction-site murder.”

“Do I have everyone on the line?” The captain’s question was louder than necessary and not directed at just the phone’s speaker. Dev gave the captain his full attention.

Two voices, one male and one female, responded over the crackling airwaves.

“Great, let’s get everyone up to speed.” Captain Peterson glanced at the four men in his office. “Sheriff Webber, Dr. Clark, you’re on speaker with four of my best detectives, Reynolds, O’Dell, English, and Jones. Gentlemen, Webber is with the Elkridge Sheriff’s Office. You all know Dr. Charles Clark.

“Dr. Clark, let’s start with you. Have you had a chance to examine the body found this morning in Elkridge?”

Dr. Clark, a woman in her mid-forties, despite her masculine first name, cleared her throat. “My findings are preliminary. I have examined the body identified as Tomás Rodriguez. I’ve also read the report the sheriff shared with me. His deputy’s assertion that the victim had been stabbed through the neck with the screwdriver found in the apartment of one Dr. Shelley Grace Morgan was correct.”

“We train them right in Elkridge,” the sheriff said, pride in his voice.

“I’m sure you do, sir,” she said, then paused. “However, the cause of death was not exsanguination. The victim was stabbed postmortem. There was very little blood in the trunk. The car in question also owned by Dr. Morgan appears to be a dump site rather than the kill site. The actual cause of death was due to dislocation of the C4 and C5 vertebrae in his spine.” Dr. Clark, in true form, paused for effect, then added the layman’s term, as if any of them needed it. “His neck was broken.”

“His neck was snapped? You’re sure?” the sheriff asked.

“Yes, quite positive. Someone broke it like the proverbial dry twig. Given the angle of the fracture, the killer approached the victim from the front, either subdued the victim, or moved too quickly for the victim to fight back. A single, very forceful snap, and the victim died within seconds,” the M.E. announced. “I’d have to say, given the size of your victim, I would suspect the killer to be a male and at least six feet tall.”

The sheriff exhaled a puff of air. “That’s excellent news.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Why is that good news, Sheriff?” the captain asked. “You seemed pleased with the M.E.’s report. But didn’t that contradict your suspicions?”

“Yes, it did,” the sheriff replied. No missing the relief in his tone. “That’s the best damned news I’ve had in a week. If Tomás’s killer is a man, then it absolutely rules out our prime suspect.”

Dev had to admit, he was reassured to hear Sheriff Webber conceding the point so easily. Dev had already guessed the prime suspect was Shelley. He glanced at Seth who cast him a quick, barely imperceptible nod.

“You’re happy to lose your prime suspect?” O’Dell leaned forward in his seat, speaking directly into the intercom. “Care to explain that bit of small-town logic to me?”

“Elkridge might be small, but it ain’t run amok with stupid,” Sheriff Webber retorted, his southern accent considerably more pronounced than it had been.

“O’Dell!” Captain Peterson snapped. “I apologize, Sheriff Webber. I believe my
detective
was trying to ask why you’d want your prime suspect ruled out.”

Webber was silent for a moment, then replied in his normal voice. “Our prime suspect was Dr. Morgan. She’s the town vet and one of the most respected people in Elkridge. The last thing I wanted to do was arrest the woman most folks in the Ridge have come to consider family. Doesn’t go over too well going into an election year, to arrest someone who’s well loved. So, yes, I’m pleased to have her ruled out.”

Whoa. Shelley is that well regarded in Elkridge? Does she know this?

“Understood,” Captain Peterson said. He leaned back in his leather chair and tapped his pen against his chin. Tap. Tap. Tap. He stopped, straightened, and asked, “Got any other suspects in mind?”

“Not really.” Sheriff Webber’s voice crackled through the speaker. “The only suspect we had was Dr. Morgan, but again that was only because the third victim was found in her car and the murder weapon in her apartment. It don’t help that she’s gone missing too. Although, Kenny, he’s the local mechanic, says he’d heard from her just yesterday. Just no one’s seen her. I’d like to know she was all right, myself.”

Dev considered speaking up until his captain said, “Sheriff Webber, when you contacted me this morning, you mentioned that Tomás Rodriguez was the third member of your community to turn up dead in the last week?” Dev wasn’t the only detective in the room to go on high alert. “Let’s talk about the other two murders, Colbert Rush and John Wallace.”

“Excuse me.” Dr. Clark’s feminine voice filtered through the air. “But as you already have my reports on those two cases, I’d like to get back to work.”

“Of course. Thank you for your time, Dr. Clark.” When she disconnected from the call, the captain asked, “Sheriff Webber, what can you tell us about the relationship between Wallace and Rush to Elkridge.”

The sheriff didn’t hesitate. “Their families have been here since the town was founded two hundred years ago. Rush didn’t live in Elkridge anymore, but he kept a fishing cabin he used a couple times a year. We’d also see him once a month for his standing haircut with the barber. Rush’s time in town was limited to a few hours a month, generally.

“Last week, Colbert Rush placed an order at the local antique store. He never picked it up. He also missed his appointment with the barber. Yesterday, his wife called us to report he’d been found murdered.”

“You didn’t hear about his body showing up all over Tidewater’s beaches?”

“Not at the time.” Sheriff Webber paused. “Last summer, another one of our local boys disappeared, John Wallace. Wallace . . . well, at the time of his death, he was still living in the house he grew up in. His body was found yesterday in the swamp by our town’s mechanic, Kenny Parran.”

“And now Tomás Rodriguez has been found dead,” Dev said. Then he asked the question he really wanted answered, “Do you have anything tying the murders together?”

“Only Elkridge “

“Is it possible that this vet, Dr. Morgan, could be tied to all three men? That she knew them,” Reynolds asked.

The sheriff barked a short laugh. “Son, it’s Elkridge. Everyone knows everyone in this town.”

“So it is possible that she could still be involved,” O’Dell interjected.

“Except that Clark told us the Rodriguez killer is likely a man, at least six feet tall,” Seth interjected and earned a narrow-eyed glare from O’Dell.

“She couldn’t be Rush’s killer,” Sheriff Webber said emphatically. “Her alibi for his death is solid.”

“How’s that?” Dev asked, eager to hear just how solid her alibi was.

“Aside from the fact she’s got no motive for killing Rodriguez, Rush, or Wallace?” the sheriff asked, but didn’t wait for a response. “Rush was last seen at the antique store at five in the evening, by no less then four witnesses, on the night of his disappearance. And the M.E. puts the time of his murder somewhere between five p.m. and five a.m. the next day, when the first piece of his body was recovered. I know the doc is in the clear. She was helping my cat, Spider, give birth to her kittens. Spider was hit by a car and went into labor. Doc Morgan was with me from four in the afternoon until past four a.m. at the clinic the night of the murder.”

Sheriff Webber has a cat named Spider?

Dev cast a quick glance to Seth, who smiled, but covered it with his hand.

“Is there anything else that ties the three victims together?” Dev asked.

“I can’t think of anything.” Sheriff Webber sighed. “Rodriguez is new to town. He’s only lived here for about seven years.”

“That’s new?” Reynolds asked, a unibrow of confusion on his face. “What’s considered local? Christ, live in Tidewater five years and you’re considered a local.”

“Not in Elkridge. Locals are folks whose parents were born and raised in the town. Not a lot of people move in or out. Dr. Morgan and Tomás are the first folks to move to the Ridge in years.”

Reynolds visibly shuddered. “Thank God I live in the city.”

The sheriff’s voice turned cold. “Are you sayin’ there’s something wrong with small towns,
Detective?”

“No, he’s not.” Captain Peterson ran a hand over his balding head and refocused the meeting. “You were saying Rodriguez wasn’t a local?”

“Yes, but John Wallace and Colbert Rush were. Three generations of Rushes worked in the sheriff’s office. Most were the womenfolk. They worked in administration. Colbert was a deputy for a few years, until he decided he wanted more than small-town life. He quit law enforcement about twenty-five years ago and got into his wife’s family business.”

“Jewels,” Seth said.

“Right.” The sheriff agreed. “His wife had said that the Rushes still kept the family property but came for the summer to get away from the Tidewater tourists.”

Dev’s cell phone buzzed. He tugged it from his pocket and glanced at it. Shelley’s name appeared on the caller I.D. He let it slide to voice mail, suspecting it was her asking, again, if it was safe for her to go back to Elkridge.

“What about John Wallace? Any ties to Rush?”

“Yeah, now that I think on it. Long time ago he and Rush went to school together. Grew up together. But where Rush went into law enforcement, Wallace became a lawyer. He’s a retired assistant district attorney.”

A current went through the room. Everyone straightened and turned eyes to the captain, who asked, “Did Wallace and Rush ever work on the same case?”

“I don’t rightly know. If they did, it would have been more than twenty years ago. Most of the files from back then are in boxes in the basement of the station. I could have one of my deputies look—” The sheriff cut himself off, then whistled. “Wait a minute. I remember something about a case from when I was a kid. Something about a hit-and-run. Rush and Colbert were both assigned to the case. There was a lot of talk about it, but no one was ever arrested.”

“Did they have a suspect?” Dev asked.

“Yeah. Eddy Jameson.”

“The owner of the Elkridge Zoo?” Dev’s pulse kicked up. Shelley might have been onto something much bigger than animal thefts.

“That’s the guy.” Webber paused. “How do you know the Jamesons?”

“Sheriff, I’ve got a better question than that,” Seth said, drawing the attention away from Dev. “What do a retired D.A., a former deputy, and a dead zookeeper have in common?”

“That’s for you and Jones to figure out,” the captain said.

*   *   *

“D
ANG IT!
S
ETH’S
still not picking up.”

Shelley tore her gaze from the road briefly and cast her sister a quick, sympathetic glance.

Jules apparently didn’t notice. She slapped the button on her Bluetooth and tossed it into the cup holder of Seth’s Honda. “Any luck with Dev?”

“Sorry, Jules. Dev’s not answering either,” Shelley said, gripping the steering wheel and fighting the urge to drive faster.

“What could they be doing?”

Shelley did look at her sister then. Jules had bags under her eyes and lines digging deep groves at the corners of her mouth. Shelley’s heart squeezed, but she tried to cover it by lightening the mood. “Wait, I know this one. They’re working a case and can’t answer the phone.”

“Ha. Very ha.” But Jules’s expression softened a bit. “Are you sure Callie will be all right by herself? You said she needs to eat every few hours.”

“You said your assistant would take care of her.”

Jules nodded reluctantly. “Yes, but I’m not sure how keen Dev’s going to be on the idea of Diana having the run of his house. She does have a crush on him, after all.”

Shelley shrugged. “He’ll live. Besides, we couldn’t exactly take a ferret and a nursing kitten with us, could we?”

“You’ve got a point, Tomás.”

Shelley jerked her gaze to the rearview mirror again, half expecting to see the groundskeeper. All she saw was an empty back seat. “Tomás is in the car?”