Seeing Red (27 page)

“I hate to leave you”—he wheezed—“shorthanded.” He finished off with a chest-rattling coughing fit.

“You sound just awful, bless your heart. Don’t you worry about us. I’ve got high school help coming in over the weekend, so you just plan on taking off until Monday.”

“Thank you, ma’am. But if I’m better tomorrow, I’ll be there.”

“Don’t push yourself. We’ll get by ’til Monday.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hollis hung up and rolled back onto his mattress with a loud laugh. He wouldn’t even have to think about covering his tracks until Monday.

By then, his work would be done.

Ellis was jerked out of a fitful sleep by a loud knocking on her door. Her body was moving before her mind caught up. As her feet moved, her mind scrabbled for orientation like a mountain goat on a landslide.

What day was it? Why was she sleeping in her clothes?

By the time she reached the living room, her mind began to clear.

Nate was at the door. Had he caught Alexander?

“Ms. Greene, this is the police. Please open up.”

Her heart nearly slid to flatline. Oh, God. Nate. Had Alexander robbed her of another person?

Her fingertip was on the first number on her alarm system pad before she stopped herself.

“Just a minute,” she called through the door. Then she went to look out the sliding door. Two squad cars were parked in front. One from the Belle Island Police Department. The other was a Charleston County Sheriff’s vehicle.

Her body turned as cold as if she’d been thrown naked into the winter surf. Horrified thoughts fought for dominance, tangling, twisting, each worse than the last. Something had happened to Nate. Or her parents. Or Uncle Greg.

Returning to the door, she checked the peephole. Three officers stood on her threshold. She recognized one from the local police, Les Winkler. She’d taught his son last year.

With trembling hands, she disarmed the alarm and jerked open the door.

“What’s going on?” She could barely get the words out of a mouth as dry as chalk dust.

“We need to speak with Nathaniel Vance,” Les said. “We understand he’s here.”

Safe. They were all safe. Her legs felt as if they’d collapse under the weight of her relief.

“No,” she said. “He isn’t. Why are you looking for him?”

Les looked uncomfortable. He took off his hat and asked, “May we come in?”

She opened the door fully. “Of course.”

One of the deputy sheriffs followed Les inside. The other remained on the porch. His hand rested on his holstered gun, his gaze roaming the grounds below.

Once the officers were inside, Ellis noticed the sharpeyed way they looked over her condo. Unspoken accusation was in every sweep of their gazes.

Thank God, Nate’s black bag of tools had gone with him.

Les’s nervous fingers rotated his hat by the brim. “Do you know where Mr. Vance is?” Les must have drawn the short straw because he knew her.

“No, I don’t,” she said. “I’d like to help you, but I have no idea what this is about.”
And why in the hell are there three of you here?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the deputy edge closer to the kitchen, leaning to get a better look around the doorjamb.

“Excuse me,” she said sweetly, with raised brows. “Can I get you something?”

He straightened and folded his hands in front of him. “No, ma’am.”

She turned back to Les and smiled. More flies with honey than vinegar. “Like I said, I’d like to help in any way I can.”

Les asked, “May we search the premises?”

Keeping her smile, she said, “No, you may not. Not until you tell me why you’re here.”

“We need to ask Mr. Vance some questions.”

“And it takes three officers to do that?”

Ellis noticed the deputy was now easing his way toward her bedroom.

Les shifted his weight. “We need to question him regarding the murder of Kimberly Potter.”

Dear God, this can’t be happening. Not again.

“I can tell you who killed that poor girl,” Ellis said sharply.

“Oh?” Les lifted a brow, giving her the same expression his son had when she’d explained math story problems.

“Hollis Alexander—the man who raped and beat my cousin sixteen years ago. He’s been paroled. Kimberly Potter looks uncannily like Laura. And I’ve seen him hanging around my condo a couple of nights—”

“You can give a positive ID?” Les said.

“Well, no. But I’m sure it was him. He left a bunch of roses on my door last night.” Her suspicion that it could possibly have been Rory stayed locked in her throat. “There was an officer here this morning; he took them to the lab.”

“On the occasion that you
think
you saw him, did you call and report his presence to the department?” he asked.

“I called complex security.”

“And did they find him?”

After a pause, she said, “No.” Then she added, “But Nate inspected the scaffolding that collapsed with my father. He said it had been tampered with. He reported that to the police too. All you have to do is find Alexander and you’ve solved your murder and my father’s accident.”

Les didn’t respond.

“If you want to question Nate on Alexander’s whereabouts,” she said, “I’m sure he’ll share whatever information he has with you.”

Les looked at her as if she’d suddenly turned from an intelligent teacher to the most pathetically gullible woman on Earth. “Ms. Greene, for your own safety, it’s important for us to find Mr. Vance.”

“Nate didn’t kill Kimberly Potter. I can’t imagine why you’d even think that with Hollis Alexander skulking around here. Besides,” she rushed on, “it’s impossible, because Nate was with me that night. All night.” The lie was out before she thought it through. Panic had driven her tongue, and now there was no way to take it back.

Les looked at her with that same disappointment in his eyes. “That’s not what your uncle said.”

“How would my uncle know?”

“He said he saw Nate Vance leave here at eleven-thirty and that he hadn’t returned by sunrise.”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know how he’d be able to say such a thing.” Uncle Greg had said he’d been out looking for Alexander, but in the wrong place. Had he been watching her place all night long?

With a dismissive shake of her head, she added, “My uncle is under terrible stress. He hasn’t been sleeping. Since Alexander made threats against me, my uncle is very worried for me and my family’s safety. I’m sure he’s confused. Nate’s been staying with me in case Alexander decides to make good on those threats.”

“Then where is he now?” the sheriff’s deputy asked from behind her.

“I don’t know.” The less said the better. She’d already screwed herself big-time. “Y’all feel free to search the place if you really think I have him stashed under my bed or in a closet.”

With a look that said he’d like to slap handcuffs on her and haul her ass to county lockup, the deputy went into the kitchen.

“When do you expect him back?” Les asked.

“I have no idea.” If they hauled Nate in for questioning, it would be that much longer before anyone found Alexander.

The deputy came out of the kitchen, looked at Les, and gave a slight shake of his head. Then he disappeared into her bedroom.

When he came out, he said, “Doesn’t look to me like a man’s been staying here—no dirty underwear, no shaving stuff.”

“He’s neat,” she said curtly. “And I don’t think he’s shaved since he got here.”

Les said, “When he gets back, please call and let us know.”

“Oh, I will. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you—to get this all cleared up as soon as possible.”

That much was true.

“Can you tell me,” she asked, “what makes you think Nate had anything to do with this crime in the first place?”

The deputy spoke up. “No, ma’am. But I can tell you, you should be concerned for your own safety.”

Les turned to the deputy and said, “I’ll meet you outside, Bruce.”

The deputy let himself out the front door.

Les hesitated only a moment, looking at her with a mix of regret and concern. “Vance’s fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”

“It’s a mistake.”

“No mistake. Prints match or they don’t. No gray area. His were the only ones on the weapon. Please, stay away from this guy.”

He handed her a card. “Here’s my number. Call me the minute you see him.” He started to the door, then stopped. “Bruce is right; you should be extremely careful.”

She managed a mute nod. All of her words had been stripped from her, lies or otherwise.

For a long moment, Ellis stood still in the middle of her living room. Her belly felt as if it were full of worms eating their way to the outside.

Nate’s fingerprints were on the murder weapon. How in the hell could Alexander have accomplished that? It didn’t seem possible.

And if it wasn’t . . .

Nate
hadn’t
been with her. In fact, he’d been gone much longer than he’d said he would be.

She dialed the first three digits of Nate’s cell number, then froze. She couldn’t be stupid. She had to organize what she was going to say.

Looking out the sliding glass door, she saw the officers were still standing in her driveway. It looked like they were planning their next move. One of them was talking on a radio.

If she let Nate walk into a trap, she’d never get her answers.

She dialed his cell.

He answered on the second ring. “I have to stop by and trade vehicles with Jake; then I’ll be there.”

She had time. “So, did you catch Alexander last night?” Had he even been looking?

Stop it. You know Nate didn’t kill that girl.

“No. He had dinner with an older woman at a seemingly respectable home, then went back to the halfway house at eleven-thirty. He didn’t leave the rest of the night. But I’ll catch him doing something he shouldn’t.”

“Where was the house?” Her laptop sat on the desk. She opened it and woke it up.

“What?”

“Where he had dinner?”

“In Charleston.”

“Where specifically?”

“On Logan Street.” He sounded curious. “Why?”

“I thought maybe I could help figure out whose house it is.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Good idea. I wrote the address down.”

When he gave it to her, she entered it in cyberhomes.com. It came up immediately with a legit address.

“What kind of house was it?”

“The usual for the city, single house with a piazza.”

That matched. She began to feel a little foolish for doubting him. Still, she’d proceed cautiously.

“The police were just here,” she said.

“Did they find something on those roses?” Hope colored his voice.

“They were looking for you.” She let it hang there.

For a moment, the line lay silent. Ellis’s heart rate bumped up.

“What did they say?” he finally asked.

“They think you murdered Kimberly Potter.”

“I didn’t.” It was a surprisingly unemotional statement.

“Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

“I don’t know how he did it, but we both know who’s responsible for that girl’s death.”

“You said he’s got a plan. Why frame you?” she pressed. “You didn’t have anything to do with him going to jail.”

She heard him release a long breath. “I don’t know. Maybe because he hoped I’d take the blame for Laura and didn’t.”

She remained silent. Nate said Alexander was balancing the scales; killing that girl seemed extreme.

“Ellis,” Nate said. “I’ll catch him.”

“Not if you’re in jail.”

“I won’t be.”

“Are you leaving?” she asked, ignoring the stone in her stomach.

“What?” He sounded surprised for the first time in their conversation.

“Are you leaving Belle Island?”

“No, of course not. I won’t leave you vulnerable.”

She nearly let loose a hysterical, insane kind of laugh. She hadn’t felt this vulnerable since the day they’d found Laura on the beach.

“Stay put,” Nate said. “I’ll be in touch.” He disconnected the call.

Ellis stood for a long while with the phone still to her ear. That insane laughter again threatened to break loose.

Good God, Nate’s fingerprints. How had Alexander done it? And why?

The bigger question was, What next? They had to get one step ahead. If they weren’t very careful, Alexander would win this time—and they’d all pay the price.

Greg poured himself another glass and recapped the bottle of scotch.

Wouldn’t Jodi have a fit over this? Scotch before noon.

Well, Jodi didn’t have any say in his life. It still rubbed him raw, her decision to stay with Marsha instead of him.