In the Arms of the Wind (2 page)

Because of the darkness pressing in on her, Kaycee couldn’t see the hands of her watch, but she knew a good amount of time had passed since utter quiet had fallen in the room beyond. Mentally she had counted slowly to five hundred in an effort to get her pounding heart under control. Though she continued to shake now and again, she had managed to settle down enough to lean slumped against the wall, hoping nothing with eight legs dropped down upon her or was at that moment crawling up her skirt. Her thoughts were no longer on what might have happened to Thomas, but how she was going to get out of the space she was in—a space that was slowly becoming oppressively hot and enclosing.

Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she reached out to put a hand on the backside of the bookcase, running her fingers along the edge in search of a latch that would spring the mechanism open. She encountered nothing there so moved in an inch and retraced her path. When that failed to accomplish anything, she moved over another inch and about halfway up, found a metal plate with a finger inset.

After another slow count to one hundred and she’d heard nothing to indicate she had company beyond the door, she took a slow, unsteady breath and pulled against the inset. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out when the bookcase sprang open half a foot and stopped, letting in fresh air and light.

“Blessed Mary, please don’t let there be anyone out there,” she whispered as her heart accelerated to a thundering beat so loud she could hear it. Her hand shaking, she brought it to her mouth and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find her palm slick with sweat.

She pushed on the panel. It went just so far and stopped, but it was enough for her to squeeze through.

* * * * *

His partner was driving and he was riding shotgun, keeping a close watch on their surroundings as they wound through the exclusive section of real estate known as Cobb’s Corners. They had removed their ski masks since the windows of the nondescript sedan in which they were riding were coated with the darkest solar film allowed, making it impossible for anyone to see inside the dark car. As an added precaution, the dashboard lights had been turned down as low as they could go and still be readable.

“You reckon she was upstairs?” the driver inquired.

“Possibly.”

“Don’t know where else she could have been.” The turn signal was pulled down and the sedan coasted to a gentle stop before the driver turned left toward the security kiosk. “Couldn’t have been anywhere else but up there. Maybe she went up to get ready for him to fuck her.”

He said nothing. The guard at the kiosk was one of their men, but the one who patrolled the estates’ streets was not. The man in the front passenger seat was watching for the pale green two-door belonging to the security contractor. Not that it mattered. They’d done nothing to call attention to themselves. Stone Ridge was the last mansion in the extravagant subdivision and it was situated at the top of a long, winding entrance road and sat behind a second unmanned security fence. The gunfire wouldn’t have been heard beyond the thick fieldstone walls and they’d left none of Gerring’s bodyguards or staff alive.

Except for the unknown, unexpected woman whose evening bag still lay on the settee.

“Should have opened that bag,” the driver complained as though reading the other man’s mind. “I’ll bet there was an ID in there.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll find out who she is soon enough.”

* * * * *

The first thing Kaycee saw when she stepped around the barrier of the bookcase panel was Thomas’ body. He was on his stomach with his face pressed into the carpet, the back of his head missing.

“Argh!” Kaycee gasped, and turned to lose what little stomach content she had. The sight shocked her so badly, sickened her so greatly she lurched back against the bookcase and vomited again, leaning forward to grasp her knees as she gagged once more.

She stayed like that for several minutes until she could get her gag reflex under control. Running the back of her shaking hand across her lips, she deliberately turned her head the other way so she would not see the carnage that had been her evening date. She stumbled to the side and away from the sight, her nostrils picking up a hint of excrement. Trembling so violently her teeth were clicking together, she made her way to the ornate French baroque desk and the gilded phone perched atop it. With her stomach quivering, she thrust her index finger into the old-fashioned circular dial twice, wincing at the cold feel of the metal against her flesh. She dialed the nine once and the one twice as stomach acid bubbled up her esophagus.

The voice that answered her call was crisp and clear. “Sigourney Police Department, Sergeant Grimes.”

It took Kaycee two tries to say, “I want to report a murder.”

Chapter One

“Barnes and Gallagher, homicide,” the short, squat detective identified them to the uniform guarding the entrance to the mansion.

The uniformed officer nodded but didn’t speak. He stepped aside for them to enter.

Several men and a couple of women were going about their business at the crime scene. The coroner had done his thing and was waiting for the investigating team to make an appearance before moving the body. They met him in the hallway.

“Time of death was between eight and eight thirty,” the beefy man informed Barnes. “Looks like one thirty-eight slug to the back, and two to the skull. He’s a mess.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Two others are down the hall and three are in the kitchen. The lone survivor did not see the perps.”

The detectives exchanged a look.

“Perps as in plural?” Barnes inquired.

“At least two from what our witness says. She heard two voices.”

“Where was she when all this was going down?” Detective Danny Gallagher queried.

“She was hiding in the safe room.”

“Safe room,” Barnes repeated. “And where is that?”

“Behind a section of bookcase. The vic opened it and shoved her inside when they heard gunshots.” He scratched his jaw. “She says he fell against it, closing it. That saved her life.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Sitting on the sofa in the parlor. She’s pretty shaken up. Don’t know how much help she’ll be able to give you. She says she didn’t see anything.”

“But she heard the intruders,” Gallagher spoke up.

“Yeah, she heard voices. I’ll be outside copping a smoke when you guys are ready to give me a go on taking the bodies.”

The two detectives continued down the hall and into the parlor with Jack in the lead. They nodded to the forensics team who were dusting for prints and taking measurements. After a quick inspection of the murdered man, they turned to the uniformed policeman nearby.

“Tell us about the witness,” Barnes ordered.

“Her name is Kaycee Connor,” the policeman replied. He’d been the first officer on the scene. “She was here on a date with the deceased. You need me to go through what she’s said?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Gallagher replied. “Thanks.”

She was sitting on the sofa staring intently at a glass of water clutched tightly in her hands. Her feet and knees were planted primly together and she was leaning slightly forward, away from the back cushion.

“Ms. Connor?”

Her eyes were red and swollen when she looked up. They shifted from Barnes to Gallagher then back again. “Yes sir?”

Barnes smiled gently and used his softness voice. “I’m Detective Barnes and this is my partner Detective Gallagher. We’re with homicide. How you holding up?”

She shrugged. “I’m okay.” Her gaze darted to the dead man and she shuddered, looking away again.

“I know this has been difficult for you, but we need to go over what happened here so we can get a feel for the case. Think you are up to it?”

“I guess.”

“Okay, so tell us how you know Thomas Gerring.”

“He was a customer at the antiques shop where I work,” she said. Her knuckles were white against the glass she was holding.

“You work at a shop,” Barnes said, and his voice held a tinge of disbelief.

She looked up. “You’re wondering why a man like him would date a nobody like me.”

“He didn’t say that,” Gallagher said quietly, taking in the blush that had put some color into her face.

She shrugged and the action seemed defensive. “I can’t tell you why he asked me out, Officer. He…”

“Detective,” Barnes corrected.

Her blush deepened and she lowered her head again.

“He what, Ms. Connor?” Gallagher prompted.

She looked up at him. “He seemed to enjoy my company and we shared an interest in antiques. That’s all.”

“So you two went out how many times?” Barnes pressed. “Two, three? Every night?”

She frowned. “This was our first date,” she said. “And it would have been the last.”

“I’d say it’s a safe bet that it was,” Barnes drawled.

“I take it your relationship wasn’t working out,” Gallagher said, casting Jack a warning look.

“There was no relationship, Detective,” she told him. “The only thing we had in common was the love for antiques. He was understandably proud of the treasures in this house, but he spent the entire evening telling me how much this piece and that piece cost. It was becoming awkward.” Her attention flicked to the dead man and she squeezed her eyes closed.

“Tell us what happened here tonight,” Gallagher prompted. “Walk us through it.”

She opened her eyes, took a deep breath and told him what had taken place up until the moment she heard the final two shots then her voice broke and her hand trembled so violently the water in the glass splashed onto the skirt of her dress.

“You heard voices.” It was Gallagher pressing her again. “Male? Female?”

“Male.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“Could you hear what they were saying?”

“Yes, I could.” She told them what she’d heard.

Gallagher gave Barnes a quick look then hunkered down in front of her, drawing her attention completely to him. He gently took the glass of water from her and handed it to his partner.

“Would you recognize their voices if you heard them again?” he asked, holding her gaze.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.” Her eyes filled with tears as she clenched her hands together in her lap. “I was so afraid to move in there, to make a sound. I was so afraid they’d hear me and shoot me too.” A single tear fell down her cheek. “I didn’t want to die.”

Gallagher reached out and put a hand over hers. “I think that’s enough for tonight. We’ll have an officer drive you home. Did you give us your address and phone numbers at home and work?” At her nod, he squeezed her hand then released it. “If we need anything, then we’ll be in touch.” He stood, reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. “If you think of anything, give us a call.”

“I don’t know what else I can tell you,” she said, looking down at the card.

“Well, sometimes just sleeping on a situation will bring something to mind. You might remember a detail or two that will help in the investigation.”

“I want to forget this happened, Detective Gallagher. I don’t want to remember it,” she said almost in a whisper as she put the card into her evening bag, clutching the accessory to her chest as though it were a lifeline.

“That’s understandable,” he replied. He held his hand out to help her. When she took it—putting her fragile hand into his—he had an overpowering urge to pull her into his arms. She looked so vulnerable, so frightened, and for some inexplicable reason he wanted more than anything to see her smile.

Barnes cleared his throat and Gallagher stepped back, releasing her hand. He nodded to her as one of the policemen came up to offer her a ride.

Long after she left and the two detectives had finished their inspection of the crime scene, they walked silently back to the sedan. It was close to midnight and lightning was flaring in the distance.

“Gonna get another round of fucking storms,” Barnes complained as they got into the car.

Gallagher automatically buckled his seat belt as his partner cranked the car. He looked out the window, lost in thought.

“Don’t even be thinking what I know fucking well you’re thinking, Gallagher,” Barnes growled, putting the car in reverse. “Not unless you want a dose of Jesus Juice pumped into your veins. This has got to be handled.”

“She didn’t recognize either of our voices.”

“Yeah, well, she wasn’t expecting the men who murdered her boyfriend to be the cops investigating the crime either,” Barnes reminded him.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“It or her? I saw the way you were looking at that broad. If we don’t contain this now…”

“I said I’ll take care of it!” Gallagher snapped.

“You’d fucking well better, I don’t want some black bodybuilder calling me his bitch and duffing my lily white crack, you know?” He cut his eyes across to his partner as they neared the security kiosk once again. “You feel me, bro?”

“Lay off, Barnes, or you won’t have to worry about some bodybuilder duffing you. I’ll ram my boot up there so tight nothing will get past it.”