Runs Deep (15 page)

CHAPTER 34

A
s Steve and Jack pulled away, the chief and Deputy Califano stood outside the doors of the station, their arms crossed over their chests, glaring at them. Steve knew the chief had no intention of looking at anyone other then him for the murder of Elise Ingram. Steve pictured Elise’s pale face. Someone had killed her—on the very day he’d come back to town. There was zero chance that was a coincidence.

He swallowed as Jack turned on the radio.

The announcer’s voice came over the speakers. “—storm will be increasing in intensity in the next few hours. Residents are advised to stay indoors and away from windows. This storm is going to be a doozy.”

Steve and Jack listened to the rest of the weather report, but then the radio switched over to local news. “A body was found in Mill—”

Jack quickly switched it off. “Well, I think that’s enough of that.”

An uncomfortable silence descended on the car.

It wasn’t until they pulled off Main Street that Jack spoke. “I heard Julie Granger was back in town.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Steve closed his eyes, not wanting to fill the silence with this particular topic. He wasn’t surprised that Jack had heard; in Millners Kill, nothing stayed secret for long.
Except Simone’s real killer
, a voice whispered in his mind.
And now maybe Elise’s as well.

“Have you talked to her?” Jack asked.

It took Steve a minute to realize who Jack was talking about. Julie. “Um, yeah. My first night back. But only for a few minutes.”

Jack glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Steve shrugged, not wanting to discuss Julie with his brother. Julie was private. She was his friend. Or at least she used to be. And seeing as how last night’s conversation was probably the last one he was ever going to have with her, he wasn’t about to talk about it to Jack, or to anyone else. Because some wounds cut just a little too deep.

Steve looked up and saw with relief that they had arrived at their grandmother’s house. Jack pulled into the drive and put the car in park but left it running.

“I’m going to head back to town and see what I can find out about the Ingram case. Do me a favor? Stay close to home?” Jack said.

Steve sighed as he got out of the car. Free from prison, but still not really free. “Yeah. No problem.”

He looked around as Jack drove off. The rain was still coming down, and the wind had picked up. The trees that towered over the street blew from side to side as if they were being shaken by some angry, invisible giant.

When Steve finally turned to the house, he realized he had an audience sitting on the front porch, holding a soccer ball. “Micah? What are you doing here?”

Micah wiped at his eyes. “Nothing.”

Steve didn’t have the energy for this right now, and even if he did, befriending Micah was not going to bring the kid anything good. But he still found himself taking a seat next to him on the stoop. “Having a bad day?”

Micah nodded.

Steve sighed. “Me too. You want to tell me why you’re having a bad day?”

“Because my brother’s a poopyhead.”

Steve pictured Micah’s brother. “Yeah. I can see him being a poopyhead.”

Micah giggled. “You said poopy.”

“So I did.”

“Why are
you
having a bad day?”

Steve pictured the chief. “Because someone’s being a poopyhead to me too.”

The two of them sat for a few minutes in silence just watching the trees blow. And somehow, hanging out with a six-year-old who had no business being friends with him provided Steve with some peace.

Steve glanced at Micah out of the corner of his eye. Micah had his chin resting on his hands, his soccer ball between his knees—the picture of glum. “You want to kick the ball around?” Steve asked.

“It’s raining.”

Steve shrugged. “So we’ll get a little wet.”

Micah started to smile, but then it dimmed. “My brother said I’m not any good.”

“Well maybe you just need some practice. You know, I used to play in high school. Come on. I could use a little exercise.”

Micah gave him a little smile, then scrambled down the stairs. “Okay.”

Steve followed him down and lined up about ten feet away from him. The boy dropped the ball at his feet, but then had to chase it as it rolled down the lawn. Biting his lip, Micah kicked it. It rolled only six feet, and in the opposite direction of Steve.

Steve tried not to smile. “That was good. Now try kicking with your laces.”

CHAPTER 35

J
ulie sat in her car, three houses down on the opposite side of the road from Steve’s house. This morning she had tried to focus on her studies, but had been unable to concentrate. The fear that she had ruined her future kept intruding.

So she’d gone to the coffee shop, and there she’d run into another old classmate, Mary, who was out with her four-year-old daughter. They got to talking and time just flew by. When Mary had brought up Steve, Julie had deflected the questions and quickly changed the topic. But the questions had been enough to push Steve back to the forefront of her brain. Truth be told, he’d been a constant presence in her mind ever since her dad had mentioned he was in town.

When she finally said goodbye to Mary, she’d had every intention of going straight home. But then she’d seen Jack’s car pull out of the station and she’d found herself following.

Now she slumped down in her seat as Jack pulled his car out of the drive and drove past her. She looked at the ridiculous situation she was in: her head resting below the steering wheel, her legs curled under the dash.
What the hell am I doing?

Her inner rational person argued for sanity.
You’re a second-year resident. You should be getting your parents’ house together and getting back to your life. Not hunched down in your seat like some amateur PI.

She shook her head at her own behavior. Was this really what she’d come to? Hospitals had fought over getting her into their residency programs. She was building a reputation as a highly skilled surgeon. She had her eyes set on a neurosurgery fellowship at Johns Hopkins. And yet here she was, acting like Veronica Mars.

Before she’d slipped below the dashboard, Julie had seen the passenger door of Jack’s car open, and she had watched the tall, muscular man who had gotten out. She still couldn’t believe that this tall—and let’s face it, hot—man was Steve. Whenever she’d thought about seeing him again, part of her had expected him to be the same Steve—short and skinny. But this wasn’t the boy she knew. This was a man. A man she didn’t know. And yet…

He turned and walked to the porch, and Julie sat up in her seat. Time to go. This had been a stupid idea. She had already placed her hand on the key when she noticed Steve stop and sit on his porch, next to a little boy. She hadn’t noticed the boy before.

A few minutes later, Steve was kicking a soccer ball with the kid. And the kid was smiling.

Julie watched for a while, her confusion growing. Who the hell
was
he? Was he Steve Kane, the skinny boy who had killed her sister in cold blood? Or was he this grown man who made a little boy smile by playing soccer with him? Or was he both?

Was it possible for someone to have two sides to them: one light and one dark?

She turned the key in the ignition. Her radio, tuned to a local station, sprang to life. “The body found on the beach at Hamlet Cove has been identified as eighteen-year-old Elise Ingram.”

Julie’s gaze flew to Steve and her heart began to race. Another teenage girl had been murdered—just after Steve came back to town.

“The police have not arrested anyone for the murder, but an unnamed source at the Millners Kill Police Department has said that Steve Kane is a person of interest. Kane was recently released on parole after serving a ten-year sentence for the murder of Simone Granger.”

Julie flicked the radio off. Her hands began to shake. She looked back at Steve’s house. Bess had now appeared on the porch with a tray of muffins and drinks. Steve and the boy took a seat on the porch steps with their snack, and Bess walked back inside. It looked like the little boy was chattering away, but Steve just nodded, only occasionally speaking. Nothing about his body language suggested aggression or violence.

Julie felt sick. Was she watching her sister’s murderer?
And
the murderer of Elise Ingram?

Was everyone right? Was he the devil they’d made him out to be? Had she just been stupid all these years? And now was this murderer sitting calmly on his grandmother’s porch, planning his next kill?

Julie pulled away from the curb slowly, knowing her mind wasn’t focused on driving. But she needed to get away.

Clenching the steering wheel, she drove past Steve, not looking over. But she couldn’t get away from any of it, could she? With the bridge down, none of them could.

CHAPTER 36

H
e locked his car and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact.
Idiot chief. He almost ruined the game before it could begin.

He had planned on Elise not being found for a few days. Let the town’s concern for the girl grow before he tipped the police to her location. He should have remembered old man Frank and his dog took their walks along the beach.

If Steve had been locked up, all his fun would be over. Thank God for big brother Jack and his fancy lawyering. Although, with the chief, fancy was probably too strong a word.

But no matter, now the game was on. And the pieces were all coming into play. In fact, now that Julie Granger was back in town, the game could
really
get underway.

He’d never imagined she’d return at the same time as Steve. It was like God was blessing him with this opportunity. Julie would be the final move in this game. But first, a few pawns must be sacrificed.

He rubbed his hands together, struggling to hold back his joy.
But who to sacrifice first?

The pictures of all the people Steve cared about flowed through his mind.
So many lovely options.

But none of them would do. They’d cause grief and despair. They’d make the town tip a little more toward panic. He needed a victim that would push people’s buttons—and make everyone in town turn against Steve.

And with the bridge out, the likelihood of that panic turning homicidal was almost guaranteed. Trapped people always lashed out. It was practically a certainty.

He just had to direct that anger.

He smiled as an image of the perfect person floated into his mind.
And I know just how to do that.
He whistled.
Oh, it’s going to be a fun night
.

CHAPTER 37

J
ulie pulled her Kindle onto her lap and opened to the latest mystery she was reading. Five minutes later, she realized she had absolutely no idea what she had just read. She lifted her eyes from the screen and placed the Kindle on the side table next to the couch.
Damn
.

She had been having the same problem with her textbook, which was why she’d decided to take a break. But apparently, in her current mood, reading of any sort wasn’t an option.

Her gaze flitted around the living room. Her parents had replaced all the family pictures with neutral landscape scenes—the realtor had strongly encouraged them to stage the house with non-personal items. So all the old familiar pictures, the ones that had been on the walls since Julie was a kid, had disappeared.

Under other circumstances, Julie might have found the seascapes to actually be rather nice, peaceful. But tonight, with the wind howling outside, they just left her feeling alone.

She placed her Kindle on the table and crossed to the large bay window that looked out over the front yard. The blue spruces that lined the yard to the right were blowing in the wind.

Across the street, the Simmons boys, ages eleven, thirteen, and fourteen, were wrestling in their front yard. Julie frowned, not sure if they were playing or serious. As Julie watched, the Simmonses’ front door opened and Arianna Simmons yelled for her boys to come in. The three boys kept wrestling, so Arianna yelled again. Finally they detangled themselves and obeyed, all grinning.

Julie shook her head with a smile. Those three boys had always been thick as thieves. Julie had babysat for them when she was younger and she could still picture their cute little baby faces. But when the boys disappeared into the house, the happy memories disappeared with them, and Julie was left with only the empty street, which offered no company.

Julie turned from the window. She’d been home for hours and she was beginning to feel trapped. She contemplated calling one of her high school friends. It had actually been fun catching up with them the other night at Mel’s.

But with the new murder, she didn’t want to see the pity in their eyes or hear it in their voices. So she’d tried calling Leslie, but had gotten voicemail. Now she stared at the blank TV screen. She wished it had something to distract her, but when she’d checked it earlier, it seemed like every channel was now doing non-stop news coverage of two main stories: the storm and Elise’s murder.

And more time seemed to be focused on the latter. News reporters were rehashing everything they knew about the Elise Ingram murder—which wasn’t much. So they would then spend even more time re-telling the story of Simone’s murder and the trial of Steve Kane. One station looked like they had employed a B-movie theater’s graphics department to create the logo for their segment—”Killer in a Small Town”—complete with what looked like blood running down the screen. That was what had finally motivated Julie to turn off the TV in disgust. She didn’t want to watch the coverage; she didn’t want to think about the murder. But she couldn’t seem to think about anything else.

She pictured Steve on the porch with the boy. She’d done some asking around and had learned that the boy’s name was Micah Donaldson. He was six years old and lived down the street from Steve, with his brother and mom. According to one neighbor, Micah was a little slow but incredibly sweet—which meant incredibly trusting. If Steve was a monster, the boy would never see him coming.

Just like none of the rest of us saw him coming.

Julie walked into the dining room and took a seat at the table. Her parents had left a lot of furniture—more staging. She drummed her hands on the mahogany surface that they had almost never eaten on.

Steve wouldn’t hurt a kid,
she assured herself.

But do you really know Steve?
another part of her brain whispered.

She pictured that little boy’s face—that huge smile of his.

“Enough.” She stood. Grabbing her jacket off the back of one of the kitchen bar stools, her bag from the counter, and her keys from the hook by the back door, she let herself out.

The wind blew fiercely as she stepped into the carport, and her hair swirled like a tornado around her face. She fought the wind to her car. Rain lashed out at her. The wind slammed the car door shut behind her as she all but fell into the driver’s seat.

She sat for a minute, stunned by the assault from Mother Nature.
No one should be out in this.

She grabbed one of the ponytail holders she always kept in the console between the seats and used it to pull her hair back.

Okay, I’ll just go check. Make sure Micah’s okay. And that’ll be that
, she thought as she pulled out into the street.

But she reached down and patted the Glock 9mm tucked into the holster under her jacket. She’d gotten the gun as soon as she’d turned eighteen. In fact, her dad had been the one who’d driven her to the firing range every weekend for six months until she could hit the bull’s-eye almost every time. And when Julie had moved away, she’d kept up the practice, getting to the range once or twice a month.

She generally left the weapon at home, even though she had a concealed carry permit—but there was no way she was coming to Millners Kill without it. And after she learned that Steve was out, she’d started wearing it everywhere—both around the house and when she was out. Truth was, she all but slept with it.

But she was fine. She was okay. She was driving around in a storm while armed.

All things that perfectly sane people do,
she assured herself.