Runs Deep (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

H
e walked down the street, watching the preparations for the storm. Most of the stores had plastic or wood covering their windows. The coffee bar owner pulled in the placard that displayed the daily quote. Today’s read: “Never put off for tomorrow what you can do today.”

He smiled.
Excellent advice.

People hurried past, a sense of excitement in the air. Everyone was getting ready for the latest storm of the century.

He turned in to the park, nodding as he passed a family he knew from church, and walked over to where Lake Ontario rushed by. Normally the lake was calm, but the storm had worked it up.

He’d always loved the water, but never more so than when it stormed. The wind tugged at his coat, trying to wrestle it off of him.

He breathed in the power in the air. It felt like the whole world was on the edge of violence.

He smiled.
And how true that is.

Whitecaps crashed angrily against the rocks along the shore, sending a spray into the air. Even the water had a palpable anger and power to it right now.

Anticipation built inside him, and he clenched his fists, trying to hold in the laugh.

Steve was out.

And a storm was coming.

He couldn’t have planned it better. He smiled even wider, rubbing his hands.

Time to play.

CHAPTER 5

D
eclan pulled into the parking lot of the Millners Kill Police Department. The squat, brown brick building stood at the end of Main Street; a flight of cement stairs and a winding handicap ramp dominated the front, along with a flagpole. The town employed four full-time officers and five part-time, along with another half a dozen volunteers.

Declan had debated stopping by Bess’s house just to see if Steve had arrived all right, but he knew Steve wouldn’t have appreciated it. It was hard, though. Even though Steve was a man now, Declan still thought of him as the little boy who’d lived a few houses down from him. Or the terrified boy who had been led away from the courtroom.

But Steve was grown up now. And Declan had seen the hardness in him that prison had created. But he’d also seen signs of that young boy he’d known. Prison hadn’t been able to stamp that boy out completely.

With a sigh, Declan pulled the key from the ignition and watched the flag ripple in the wind. He took a minute to try and figure out what he was going to say. He was the liaison with the state police, so he could probably make it seem like he was here about storm business. But the chief would see through that flimsy reason in a second.

Of course, he thought, watching a deputy walk up the steps and disappear through the double doors, the chief wasn’t exactly a Mensa candidate. Chief Keith Hodgkins was the same guy he’d been in high school—a bruiser. He’d made all state for football in his junior year. Declan and his friends had joked that he’d taken one too many hits to the head.

Declan clenched his fist, remembering Keith shoving him into a locker after holding him down while his friends wrote “fag” on his forehead—in permanent marker. Now that same Neanderthal was the chief—for four terms already, and a lock for a fifth.

Declan shook his head. After high school, Keith had washed out of Florida State’s football program. Yet he’d come back to Millners Kill with his ego unharmed. Two years at the local community college, and he’d signed on as a deputy. Eight years later, he ran and won for Chief. And he’d remained chief for sixteen years now. Even with the complete clusterfuck that was the Granger case.

Grabbing the square box from the passenger seat, Declan opened the car door and steeled himself to face the jackass.
No, the chief
, he warned himself, trying to tamp down his old resentment. But those high school wounds felt awfully close to the surface whenever he ran into Keith.

Declan walked up the steps and held the door open for an older woman who was heading out. “Ma’am.”

She gave him a small smile. “Nice to see manners haven’t died.”

“Yes ma’am,” Declan said before stepping through the door.

Dee Pearson, who’d manned the reception desk almost since the station’s inception, was under siege. The phone was ringing, and Declan could see all the hold buttons were lit up. Three people were standing in front of the desk arguing. Dee was ignoring all of it.

She caught sight of Declan and gave him a sour look. Declan didn’t take it personally. On her best day, Dee wore the same look.

Declan walked around the crowd. He leaned on the desk and gave Dee a smile. “Hello, Dee.”

She nodded at him. “Declan. What can we do for you?”

Declan slid the box of muffins he’d been hiding behind his back across to her. “You’re looking lovely today.”

A smile lurked around her lips, but Dee refused to let it through. “I’m on to your charms, Declan Reed. They won’t work on me.”

Declan held his hand to his chest and sighed. “Now you’re breaking my heart.”

She pulled the box of muffins closer and peered inside. “Blueberry?”

“Absolutely. I had to wrestle three men, large men, to get them. That’s the last box from Tops.” Actually that story was only part of an exaggeration. He did, however, have to snag the box before Carl from the fire department could nab them. Luckily no fists had been thrown.

“Stores are about run dry with the storm coming in,” Dee said.

“Yeah. I’ll be in town for it. I’m staying at my sister’s. Keith in?”

Dee tilted her head toward the back, while picking up the phone. “He’s in his office. I’ll tell him you’re coming.”

“Thank you, Miss Dee.”

Declan headed through the swinging doors to the back. Four desks for deputies stood in a square behind Dee’s desk. All were currently empty.

Deputy Russell Nash, Millners Kill’s youngest deputy, came barreling out of the storage room, his arms full. Declan quickly sidestepped to avoid getting run over.

Russ looked down at Declan through a heavy set of dirty blond bangs, a blush covering his cheeks. “Oh, hey Declan. Sorry about that.”

Six foot four, skinny as a beanpole, Russ bore an uncanny resemblance to Shaggy from
Scooby Doo
. And the department’s uniform of brown on brown didn’t help dispel that image one bit. Not for the first time, Declan wondered why they had gotten uniforms that matched the building.

“That’s all right. What’s all this?” Declan eyed the tarps and ropes threatening to tumble from Russ’s arms.

Russ shifted his load. “Storm prep. You here to see the chief?”

Declan nodded.

Russ stepped closer, leaning down. “Careful, he’s in a mood.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. You need help with that?”

“Nah. I’m good. You going to be in town during the storm?”

“Yeah. My dad and I are bunking in with my sister.”

Declan’s dad still lived in town, as did his sister, Sylvia. But Sylvia’s husband was in Afghanistan, and neither Declan nor his dad felt right about letting her and her kids ride out the storm alone. Besides, with Steve back, Declan wanted to stay in town anyway, in case there was anything he could do to make Steve’s transition a little easier.

“That’s good.” Russ shifted his load.

Declan eyed the precariously balanced pile, but it held.

“It’s getting crazy out there,” Russ said. “I’ve written up three traffic accidents this morning and broken up two fights. I even had to put a guy in the drunk tank an hour ago.”

“Storm’s working everyone up.”

“Yeah.” Russ’s face clouded a little. “It’s good you’ll be in town. We might need a little extra help.”

Declan eyed Russ. “Something going on?”

Russ opened his mouth but then shut it quickly as another officer came out of the hallway leading from the cells. “Nah. It’s good. See you later.” Russ headed toward the front doors, his load wobbling the whole way.

Declan watched to see if Russ made it through the heavy front doors without dropping anything. The tall officer disappeared through them without incident.
Pure luck
, Declan thought.

He turned and headed back to Keith’s office. He had the nagging feeling there was something Russ had wanted to tell him. Well, it would have to wait. There was enough going on without whatever was on Russ’s mind.

Declan was still ten feet away from Keith’s office when he heard Keith on the phone.

“Damn it, Marlene, I can’t get to your mother’s party this weekend. We have a storm coming in.”

Keith’s wife, Marlene, was rarely in town, preferring to spend her time down in Florida. She came from money, and Declan was pretty sure that was the only thing keeping Keith hanging on. Declan had absolutely no idea what was keeping Marlene in the marriage.

A silence was followed by, “Fine. You take that any way you want.”

Declan hesitated a minute, making sure Keith was off the phone. After hearing nothing more, he stepped into the doorway and knocked on the frame.

Keith looked up, and Declan was once again shocked by the man’s appearance. In high school, Keith had been all muscle, but now all that muscle had turned to soft fat. Large jowls hung around his neck, and his eyes seemed to have shrunk into his head.

Apparently the doctors were right: heavy drinking and an unhealthy diet were not good for you.

“Declan.” Keith leaned back in his chair. It creaked under his weight. He placed his hands over his stomach, which seemed to be straining to free itself from his shirt. “What can I do for the state police today?”

Declan leaned against the doorway. He didn’t even consider taking a seat. Keith seemed to have found the most uncomfortable chairs in the history of mankind for his “visitors.”

“Nothing. The state police are wondering what
you
need. Anything we can do to help with the storm prep?”

Keith shook his head. “We’ve got everything well in hand. But I’ll let you know if you state boys are needed.”

Declan glanced around the office. Marlene had decorated it: wood paneling, antlers hanging behind Keith’s desk, old cowboy pictures hung at random spots, and a lamp with a cowboy boot for a base. And there was a new addition since Declan’s last visit: a framed lasso over by the window, a small plaque underneath it that Declan couldn’t make out.

Apparently Keith had never grown out of wanting to be a cowboy when he grew up.

Declan turned his attention back to Keith. “There’s a possibility the governor might order an evacuation. He’s supposed to make the decision within the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’m aware.” Keith narrowed his eyes, making Declan wonder if he could even see through them. “But we take care of our own here. We don’t need to go running for cover because of a little rain.”

Shit
. Declan had been worried about just this reaction. He tried to figure out a way to handle Keith, but the truth was, the man was as stubborn as a goat.

“Keith, they’re talking about an inch of rain or more per hour. And winds almost at hurricane strength. If that’s the case, evacuation would probably be a really good option. Especially considering the condition of the bridge.”

Keith waved away Declan’s concerns. “You’ve always been a worrier, Declan. Millners Kill has been through worse.”

Declan opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. There was no point. Besides, Keith wasn’t the one making the call. It was the mayor. And hopefully, when the time came, the mayor would ignore Keith’s advice.

Declan blew out a breath, trying to keep his voice even, professional. “All right. Well, I’m staying in town for the storm. So I’ll be around if you need me.”

Keith watched him for a moment before speaking. “Is that because of the storm or because your little pet project is back in town?”

Declan didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t understand the barb. “Steve’s not a pet project. But I don’t mind being around if he needs some help adjusting.”

Keith scoffed. “Adjusting. Yeah, let’s make sure the murderer doesn’t get his feelings hurt now that he’s out and free to kill again.”

Declan considered for only a second explaining all the very good reasons why Steve was not the murderer of Simone Granger. All the data on the many innocent people who were wrongly convicted every year ran through his mind. Already, over three hundred convicted prisoners had been exonerated around the country thanks to DNA testing—and that was only where the funds could be arranged to test DNA, and where there DNA available to test. There were also numerous studies that spoke about the inherent flaws in eyewitness testing, improper testing, inadequate counsel, and the list went on.

And then, of course, there were cases like Steve’s: where everything rested on circumstantial evidence. Information that, taken individually, could never have convicted him—but which collectively looked damning.

He thought for just a minute about arguing with Keith one more time about Steve’s innocence. But he discarded the thought almost immediately. Keith had always had a blind spot when it came to Steve.

“He’s not a bad kid, Keith. He did his time. Even got his college degree while he was inside. He deserves a chance.”

“He killed the Granger girl.” Keith paused. “Of course, you never really believed that, did you?”

Declan didn’t respond. At the time of Simone’s murder, Declan had been Steve’s strongest supporter, next to Steve’s grandmother and brother—not that it had made any difference.

Keith fixed his eyes on Declan. “Nobody’s going to forget what he did. Nobody should.”

Declan knew that at least the first part of Keith’s statement was true. The murder of Simone Granger had shaken up the little town of Millners Kill. Simone had been seventeen years old and a straight-A student with a full ride to Stanford.

She’d also been painfully shy. The prosecutor had argued that Steve, who had been in and out of the Granger house since he was a kid, was one of the few people who Simone would have let into her home on that fateful night.

“You never could come up with another suspect, could you?” Keith pressed. “And you know why? Because Kane was guilty.”

“Even if that’s true, he’s done his time. He—”

“Lions don’t change their stripes. Once a killer, always a killer.”

Declan sighed. This had been a stupid idea. He knew who Keith was. And Keith was right, even if his metaphor was wrong:
zebras
don’t change their stripes. And that was especially true for Keith.