Tin God (27 page)

Urgency hammered in Nick’s chest. Darren hated his sister for bringing shame to his idol. He killed three women to keep Holden’s secret. If he knew Holden was in the hospital, his hatred would double.

“The picture.” Cage leaned against the counter as though his legs were about to give out.

“What?”

“The one on Jaymee’s nightstand. Of her and Darren. It was knocked over. I sat it up.”

“She knocked it over somehow. As a clue.” Nick stood up and jammed the recorder into his pocket. “We’ve got to figure out where he would have taken her.”

“It’s all about Holden,” Cage said. “If this has been Darren’s plan all along, he took her somewhere significant.”

“Let’s hope Holden’s conscious.”

Nick still smelled Crystal’s death. His own sweat stank and made his shirt stick to his back and chest. The sterile atmosphere of the hospital made him feel even filthier.

Cage had his badge out. Nick could give a shit about authority or the proper channels. He was getting answers if he had to literally shake them out of Holden Wilcher.

Not that the badge mattered. Detective Charles waited outside Holden’s door with a pacing Paul Ballard. Judging by the red streaks on Ballard’s neck, the detective had already told him what Nick and Cage had found.

“Sonofabitch.” Ballard came straight toward Nick. “You and that whore are framing my son. He cares about his sister even if she doesn’t deserve it.”

Nick caught the old man by the shirt collar, slamming him against the wall. He jammed his knuckles against Ballard’s throat. “Who are you calling a whore? The one you paid or the woman you abused her entire life?”

“Both. S’all Jaymee ever was,” Paul spat back. “Product of a sinful union. Curse on my family. Curse on Holden. Curse on you, too. Brought your wife down into her shithole, didn’t she? Cursed your life with her selfishness.”

Nick yanked Ballard off the wall and then slammed him against it again. The older man let out a hard groan and punched Nick in the chest. He didn’t back off.

“Your son’s the one who brought the curse on you and your family. He killed Lana. Then Rebecca and Crystal. Now he’s got Jaymee, and the only thing that may keep his ass out of the electric chair is turning himself in.”

Paul sputtered and spit. Cage pulled Nick off as Detective Charles stepped between them. “That’ll be enough.” He motioned to a uniformed officer hovering near Wilcher’s room. “Take Ballard outside until we’re through.”

“Is Wilcher awake?” Cage asked.

Charles nodded. “Not talking. Doesn’t seem to have any idea why Penn Gereau would want to hurt him. And of course he didn’t know Gereau was Jaymee’s father. Lying out both sides of his shit-filled mouth.”

“You tell him anything?”

“Thought I’d wait until you got here.” Charles stuck a piece of cinnamon gum into his mouth and grinned. “After all, I invited the county in on the investigation, didn’t I? Figured you should witness.”

Wilcher lay motionless in the hospital bed. Purple bloomed around both eyes, the right side of his mouth, and his entire left cheek. His lips were swollen, one eye nearly swollen shut. The reverend’s good eye popped when Nick entered the room followed by Cage and Charles. Holden looked out the window. Nick blocked his path. He turned again. Cage hung on the other side of the bed. Charles took his place at the foot.

“Since you feel like hell, and we’re short on time, I’m going to get to the important stuff,” Nick said. “We’ve got proof of your black-market adoption business. Elaine Andrews has evidence you’re the father of her baby. Your partner, Debra Rogers, has testified that Royce Newton blackmailed the two of you after he found out you sold the child you fathered with Jaymee Ballard. We’ve also got your bank records, and we know what RLN was used for.”

Holden’s engorged lips opened and then closed. His undamaged eye opened wide enough to burst. The skin that wasn’t purple turned white. He licked his lips, tongue moving like a man doped up with painkillers. Gereau had knocked out a tooth.

“It gets better,” Charles said. “We know you’re not a killer.”

“But we’re not sure if you know who the killer is.”

Holden shook his head.

Charles looked at Nick. “Have at it.”

“It’s your golden boy, Darren Ballard.”

Holden coughed and then wheezed a laugh. He breathed deeply and forced out a whisper. “Never. Good boy.”

“Crazy boy,” Charles said. He took the digital recorder from Nick and let Holden hear Darren murder Crystal. Holden closed his good eye against the horrendous gagging and choking and the sound of Darren’s calm, hardened voice.

Nick never stopped watching the pastor’s face. He wanted to remember the shame and pain Holden suffered in this moment so he could describe it to Jaymee.

When the sound ceased, after Crystal’s final wretched breath had echoed between the sterile hospital room walls, Holden opened his undamaged eye. Watery now, the once vibrant blue irises pale.

“Where would Darren take Jaymee?” Charles asked.

“My fishing cabin on Lyric Lake.”

###

Get untied.

That single thought dominated Jaymee’s mind. The cabin door was directly across from her, a window to her right. Darren sat in the middle of the room, cross-legged and cradling his knife.

“I’m sorry.” Jaymee forced the words out.

“No, you’re not.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

He tapped the tip of the knife on his jeans, low and angry laughter oozing from his mouth. “You never thought about me. You never thought about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true.” Jaymee rolled to her hands and knees using her elbows to maneuver into a sitting position. “You’re the reason I gave Sarah up.”

Darren raised the knife in a white-knuckled grip. He lurched toward her. “Excuse me?”

She’d either stepped in her grave or given herself a chance at a reprieve. “When I told Holden I was pregnant, I wanted to keep the baby. I even said I’d keep his name out of it as long as he was willing to help feed her, but he said we couldn’t risk the truth coming out.

“You were a sophomore in college with a scholarship courtesy of his influence. He said if it got out he’d fathered my baby, his reputation would be ruined and your scholarship revoked. I believed him.”

Darren dragged the knife across the floor. His hard, dead eyes never broke contact. “You’re stupid. School couldn’t have done that.”

He believed her without question now? A spark of hope lit.

“I was seventeen, and my life was falling apart. I didn’t know what to believe. But I didn’t want your chances ruined.” Jaymee’s stomach twisted. Her next words may well end her life. “Holden said you couldn’t handle being thrown out of school.”

Darren didn’t respond, but his hand jerked, leaving a narrow scratch across the wood floor.

“He said you were the weak one–that Paul’s expectations of you were so high you’d have a breakdown if you lost your scholarship.”

Fire gleamed in her brother’s eyes. “Did he?”

The moment had arrived. “Holden said he’d been burdened with you for years and that getting the scholarship was his last chance at making you self-sufficient. Keeping Sarah would ruin that, and you. He said you were too weak to handle the truth.”

She wasn’t lying. And Holden had been partially right. Darren’s actions were that of a weak, desperate man. But Jaymee couldn’t accept he was all evil. The brother she’d grown up with–the protector and friend–had to be behind the rage.

“He said I was weak?”

“Yes.”

Bitterness morphed his thinned lips into a scowl. “Dad always said I was weak.”

“I know.”

Darren jabbed the tip of the blade against the meaty part of his palm. “I killed for Holden. I’m not weak.”

“No.”

He twisted the knife in a circle, the point breaking the skin and drawing a small trickle of blood. The droplets trickled to the floor. He was getting careless.

“Darren, you’re not going to get away with this.”

Unblinking and unmoving, Darren stared down at the wet bloodstain.

“Blood always leaves traces. I’ve scratched you. They’ll get the DNA from underneath my fingernails no matter how much you clean them.” Jaymee prayed she was right. “How do you plan on getting away?”

“Newton.”

“What?”

“Rebecca’s parents own a small cabin nearby.” Darren turned to look out the window–the south-facing window. “That’s why she wanted to move to Roselea, you know. Her family spent summers here, and she loved it. She and I used to meet out here.”

“Is Royce at the cabin now?”

“I sent him there. Yesterday I stopped by Evaline to work on his computer. He was freaked out about your buddy Nick and heat from the police. I suggested the cabin. He didn’t ask how I knew about it. Just went to pack. I came back later and planted the evidence.”

“What evidence?” Jaymee worked to keep her expression benign. Rebecca told her about the summers she’d spent at the cabin but never mentioned Lyric lake. What had she said?

Think. Think hard
. Jaymee’s memory ignited. Something about the south end of the lake, a tire swing, and a rickety dock with yellow paint.

“The file Lana had with Elaine Andrews’s information. Crystal’s ring, and your sunglasses.”

“My sunglasses?”

“They were laying on the counter for you. Couldn’t resist.”

“So you plan to frame Royce? I don’t think he’ll appreciate that.”

“Royce is a drunk. Closeted, of course. He’ll be easy to lure over here. You’ll already be dead. Then I’ll kill him and make it look like a murder-suicide.”

“Easy-peasy.” Jaymee’s mouth had gone dry.

“I thought so.” Darren finally looked at her again. Something in his eyes had shifted. “Not anymore.”

###

Nick let Cage drive. Cruiser lights flashing, they raced down the county road. Detective Charles rode behind them in the ambulance.

Jaymee would need the ambulance. She wasn’t dead. Darren wouldn’t kill her right away. He’d want to play with her–torture her. Holden said he’d told Darren where Sarah was. Her brother would want to tease Jaymee with that information.

Nick turned to Cage to voice these thoughts, but the words died in his throat. Pain decorated Cage’s face. His sister’s murderer and best friend’s kidnapper had been under his nose all this time.

“You couldn’t have known.”

Cage snapped his head back and forth. “Don’t.”

“He fooled everyone.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

“No.” Nick didn’t speak again. He shut his eyes, and for the first time in four years, started to pray.

Jaymee struggled against a growing sense of despair. She couldn’t stand much more. Her stomach had gone rank from heat and fear. Her clothes stank from last night’s struggle on the muddy ground and layers of salty sweat. Water did nothing for her foul-tasting dry mouth. Murder-suicide might still be on Darren’s mind, but bone-numbing instinct told Jaymee the plan no longer involved Royce Newton.

Her brother remained in his spot on the floor seemingly oblivious to the cabin’s sauna-like conditions. He didn’t move, speak, or even blink for an eternity. Jaymee mirrored his lack of action, barely able to breathe.

Would Darren stab her or strangle her?

She cast a jittery glance at his still form. Weak spots: throat, groin, knee.
Knee
. Darren had a bad knee, injured playing basketball in high school. A hard kick might give her enough time to escape. If she could get to her feet.

Slowly, she moved her ankles. Alternating. First the left and then the right. No use. The plastic bound her too tightly.

“Darren.” Her voice had gone hoarse. She coughed. “My feet are numb.”

He shrugged his shoulders and raised his head to stare at her. He needed a haircut. Wrinkles she’d never noticed lined his eyes. Growing stubble did nothing for him. Neither did dull, bloodshot eyes. He could have been the mental patient who sat in front of the window day and night, mute and miserable. He should have been.

“I’ll take care of it soon enough.”

###

“Where is this place?” Nick clutched the armrest as the cruiser bounced around the dirt road.

“Boon-fucking-docks.” Cage spoke through tight lips. “Lyric Lake is pretty big. Scattered cabins around it. No real towns nearby. Not for ten miles or so.”

No help for Jaymee
.

“How close are we?”

Cage glanced at the speedometer. He sped up. “Fifteen minutes if I don’t flip us.”

###

Hands in her lap, hidden between her legs, Jaymee rubbed her wrists raw. Half her right hand was free, but the restraint caught on her knuckles.

Darren had gone catatonic. He had to be aware of Jaymee’s movements. If she could free one hand, she’d have a fighting chance.

“Holden said I was weak?” His bluster gone, Darren sounded like a little boy who’d just been told Santa and the Tooth Fairy didn’t exist.

“Just because he said it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But that’s what he thinks about me. After all I’ve done.”

“Does he know what you’ve done for him?”

Darren sat up a little straighter. “No. No, he doesn’t.”

She thought fast. Walking a tightrope now, she had to lead Darren in the right direction. “I’m sure he’d think you were strong, but would Holden value murder?”

“I did it to protect him.”

“But murder is a sin. Holden believes he’s helping the children by finding them parents in an unconventional way.” Jaymee nearly choked on the bile brought on by the lie. “Murder is against God, Darren. Holden won’t condone that.”

He slumped again, sagging all the way to the floor into a yoga-like pose, his head on his hands and the knife resting between them. Shoulders rising and falling, slowly at first, and then faster, Darren’s body quivered. His gusty breathing was loud and ragged, the noise festering in Jaymee’s ears until she wanted to scream.

“Darren, stop crying.”

“I thought I was protecting him.”

“You did. But the truth has a way of prevailing.”

“I failed. I’m a failure.”

For Christ’s sake. She didn’t have the psychology degree for this, much less the patience. Her body was frying in the heat, her bladder had filled to an excruciating level, and her nerves were as frayed as a bad electrical wire.

“Nothing’s ever been good enough for Dad.” Darren’s face was soaked with tears, the skin around his eyes red from rubbing. Snot streamed from his nose. “But I thought Holden accepted me. He was only pretending.”

“That’s what he does, Darren.” Jaymee tried to discreetly free her trapped knuckles. Her skin tore. She gritted her teeth to stop the scream. “He manipulated you, just like he did me and Elaine and who knows how many others. It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Jaymee leaned forward, hiding her hands. Darren still had his head down. She braced herself and gave a final, hard yank. The small knick on her knuckles turned into a gash down her index finger, but the rush of slippery blood provided enough lubrication to free her hand. It smacked the floor before Jaymee could stop it, and she ceased breathing, eyes on Darren.

He didn’t move.

“End this.” She shifted so that she could get to her knees. The knife was still between her brother’s slack hands. She might slice her hand, but if she could grab the blade, he’d crumble. Hopefully.

“How?”

“Let me go. I’ll cover for you, Darren. Say it was someone else who took me. We’ll make up a story. You rescued me. The other murders will go unsolved. Everything will go back to normal.”

Silence.

Ducks quacked on the lake. Birds cheeped and whistled. Blood rushed to Jaymee’s head, filling her ears with a harsh whoosh. She wanted to scream, wanted to hit, wanted to hold Darren. He was a monster–a monster who murdered her best friend and destroyed lives. But he was also her brother. The same boy who’d quieted her tears after Paul whipped her, who’d sneaked her popsicles when she wasn’t feeling well, and who’d offered to beat up the supposed low-life who’d left her pregnant at seventeen. Darren was the only member of her family who hadn’t completely renounced her. Every week, he told her he was there if she needed him. Every week, he made her feel a little less loathed.

Maybe he really did hate her. But he was her damned brother, brought up in the same dungeon of self-righteous piety and abuse. If anyone could understand the screwed-up workings of his mind, she could.

“Darren, please. Let me go, and I’ll make it all okay.”

She expected more crying. Maybe shouting. Even a sudden lunge with the knife. His laughter threw her off guard. It wasn’t full-on belly laughter, but cackling; first low and rough, and then high-pitched and as chilling as any horror film she’d seen. Knife in his right hand, Darren unfolded his body out of the weird yoga pose and sat up.

His raucous laugh grew louder. “You’ll make it okay?”

“Yes, I promise.”

The laughter died as fast as it started. His eyes were no longer dead but bright and glowing. Darren held her hostage in his gaze. Helplessness replaced by grim understanding.

“No, you don’t.” The robotic set of his face made Jaymee go numb with terror.

“I do, I swear.”

“Do not lie to me,” he screamed, jerking forward, snarling and spitting, so enraged Jaymee swore she saw the devil himself. “You think I’m stupid? Weak, like Holden? Soon as I let you go, you’ll run and tell the first person you see what I’ve done.”

His frenzied screech hurt her ears. She barely caught herself before she covered them with her freed hands. Instead, she buried her hands in her lap and hunched into a quivering ball.

Darren leapt to his feet. “You’re all a bunch of fucking liars. Holden, Dad, Mom. You. You most of all.”

“I lied for you,” Jaymee said. “I told you.”

“I didn’t need your favors. I don’t need them now.” He pounded his chest with clenched fists. “You’ll see. I’m no coward.” He threw his head back and shouted at the ceiling. “I’m no coward!” The last words came with the force of a screech owl.

Out of time.

Panic sent Jaymee into action. Dropping her shoulder, she sprang forward with a move she’d learned in flag football years ago. She’d have to thank Cage for teaching her how to play. She slammed against Darren’s leg and hit him in the bad knee with all the force she could muster. He teetered, howling in pain. She drove her fist into his stomach. Eyes wide as dinner plates, arms moving in tiny circles, he fought for balance. The weight of Jaymee’s body prevailed, and the two of them fell backward in a grotesque, slow-motion ballet.

His butt hit the floor. Velocity carried the rest of his body down. The cabin rattled with the impact, and the knife flew out of his hands. Blinded by sweat and fear, Jaymee shoved off her brother. She dragged herself toward the knife.

Fear licked the back of her neck. At any moment, Darren would grab her ankle and throw himself on top of her. Her fingers inched forward. The steel glinted in the sunshine. So close. Panic tightening in her ribs, breath held, stomach twisted, she made a final lunge.

She clasped the knife.

Jaymee wrenched herself around, knife in front of her, ready to strike.

Darren lay motionless.