Protector (33 page)

Authors: Laurel Dewey

Tags: #Police Procedural, #Denver (Colo.), #Mystery & Detective, #Psychic ability, #Women detectives, #Crime, #Suspense, #Women Sleuths, #Children of murder victims, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural, #Espionage

BOOK: Protector

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“Oh, yeah. I’ve just had a rocky last few hours.”

“What do you mean?” Chris said, closely watching Ron’s every move.

“I was helping my wife cut up beeswax for her famous herbal salve and the knife slipped. I darn near cut off the tip of my left finger.” Ron held up his bandaged hand.

“You okay?” Jane asked.

“Oh, it’ll be just fine,” Ron said, dismissing the question. “When I heard about your little girl in there—”

“My little girl?” Jane said quickly.

“Well, I mean to say you were looking after her and all.” Ron quickly sniffed a ball of snot up his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m a little discombobulated. I just got word from one of the patrol cops about Martha. I’m in shock,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Jane replied.

“I’ll let you and Detective Crawley go about your business,” Ron said as he stole a look in Emily’s direction. “God bless you both.”

Ron started off when Chris quickly spoke up. “Hey, Ron! You need a ride home? I could take you. It’s no problem.”

“No, thank you. My wife will take me home.”

“Really?” Chris said, his voice becoming slightly intense. “Where is your wife?” Chris suddenly became an inquisitor.

Ron rubbed his hand in obvious pain. “Oh, she’s gone out to get the car. She had to park pretty far away after she dropped me off. I’m sorry, I need to go. I’m not feeling very well. My wife and I will keep you in our prayers. Both of you.” Ron turned and walked down the hallway.

Chris moved several steps into the hallway, watching Ron’s every last move. “Yeah, bud, I’ll bet you’ll be praying real hard,” Chris said under his breath.

“Chris, what’s wrong with you?” Jane asked.

“Jane! Have you lost your touch? I thought you were a student of observation. Body language and the whole nine yards.”

“What about it?”

“He’s shaking like a fucking perp. And he’s sniffing like a fucking coke fiend.”

Jane stood up, disgusted. “You have got to be kidding!” “There are no coincidences, Jane.”

“You’re not seriously trying to say that Ron could—”

“Jane, think about it! He cut his finger chopping beeswax for an herbal salve? What kind bullshit is that?”

“His wife makes the stuff! He offered me the salve for my burn. Ron is—”

“Shhh! Let’s just keep this to ourselves until I can investigate further,” Chris said in a hushed, confidential tone.

“My God!” Jane said, completely bewildered. “I’ve said it before, Chris, and I’ll say it again. You have got to do something about that paranoia.”

“No, Jane. I’ve got to do something about solving this case. You may not be able to see what’s standing right in front of you. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.” Chris turned to walk down the hallway, then stopped and looked back at Jane. “I’ve got some questions I want you to ask that kid. It can wait for a few days until she’s back on her feet. Until then, I’m gonna do a little private investigation of Mr. Dickson.”

“Chris, you’re crazy.”

“Crazy like a fox, kid. Wake up, Jane!” Chris said with a smirk. “I’m gonna solve this crime and I’m gonna put DH back in good favor. And I will get that Sergeant’s promotion. Hey, when that happens, you’ll be working for me. Won’t that be sweet? Watch over that little girl in there. She’s solid gold.” With that, Chris walked down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

Jane shook her head and pulled out a cigarette. She started to light up when a nurse spotted her. “Officer!” the nurse said, “you can’t smoke in here!”

Jane walked down the hallway and out the automatic doors. A hospital traffic cop eyed her blue Mustang that was parked where she’d left it. “That’s a police vehicle!” Jane yelled over to him. “Tow it and you’ll be sorry!” Jane ducked around a corner and found a secluded area. She no sooner lit up when she heard her name quietly spoken. She turned. “Boss!” Jane said, semi-startled.

“I just came from the scene,” Weyler said, subdued. “It’s a goddamn mess.”

Jane took a drag on her cigarette and looked off into the distance. “You know, I wanted Martha out of the picture. But I never wanted anything like this to happen to her. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t left.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’d have the good sense not to have the windows and back door wide open. Did you not express to her the possibility of a stalker?”

“Yes. I told her there was some concern in that area.”

“That’s it? Concern? Martha probably didn’t equate the same meaning to that word. Did you tell her to keep the windows and doors closed?”

“I did. She said the house was stuffy and that she wanted to briefly open the windows to move the air around.”

“How many people die for how many stupid reasons? So, who else knows about this mess?”

“We’re holding off the media as long as possible. I’ll have Chris handle that when I feel it’s appropriate. I ordered a twenty-four hour police guard around Emily. Other than that, I haven’t debriefed anyone. I was hoping you had information from the number one source.”

Jane leaned against the wall and stared up into the starry night sky. “She was on that damn roof. I don’t know whether she went out there to look at the stars or to get away from something. Either way, she was out there and slipped and caught hold of the vent pipe. She hung there while this fucking asshole crawled out on the roof.”

“We know it’s a guy?”

“She says she heard him breathing. That’s how close he was. And then he left.”

“Left?”

“Maybe the back alley patrol vehicle freaked him out. I haven’t had a chance to figure out the timing but he must have shot Martha and then made a beeline up to Emily’s bedroom and crawled out on the roof when he saw her open window. He had to know that we’d be in there when we heard the shot. He knew he had to work fast and get out. It was a helluva chance but it goes to show how desperate he was.”

“Where did he go? He’s on the goddamn roof.”

“He didn’t go back into the house through her bedroom because there were no signs of wet footprints on the bedroom carpeting.” Jane thought for a second. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing any outside footprints on the carpeting except for Emily’s from when she went outside earlier in the evening.”

“So, he covered his tracks?”

“He covered his feet. Just like the first time when he took out her parents.”

“This puts us back to the theory that one person killed two people—”

“One person can kill two people. You stun one and kill the other, then turn around and finish off the first. This guy is smart. He’s a pro.”

“Are you forgetting that Emily’s parents were killed with two different knives and two different kill patterns?”

“He planned it that way, knowing it would throw us off. This guy’s sick but he’s far from stupid.”

“So, what’s ‘PAYBACK?’ Weyler wondered out loud, referring to the ominous note left on the knife that cut through Martha’s cheek.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m aware that you feel this case has nothing to do with drug dealing, but I think we should seriously reconsider that possibility.”

“Boss, I told you, it doesn’t add up—”

“I know. The kid told you that she never saw her folks doing coke. I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to dismiss the idea. ‘Payback’ is revenge.”

“It’s also used by the mob.”

“Are you saying this is the Texas mob?”

“I’m saying it could be any mob and I’m not saying that a mob is involved.”

“Why not?”

“What link would the mob have with this little family?”

“Maybe it’s worth looking into. I can put Chris on it—”

“Don’t bother Chris right now.” Jane took another drag on her cigarette. “He’s got his own suspect theory going.”

“What’s that?”

“Right about now, I imagine he’s doing background checks on Dr. James Dobson and Pat Robertson. You know? The infamous ‘Christian Cocaine Cartel.’ ” Weyler looked askance. “Don’t worry, boss. Let him make a fool of himself. He wants to solve this thing and fuck the consequences.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to make sure nothing bad ever happens to that kid again.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you and she had no connection whatsoever. Isn’t that what you told me?” Weyler was testing Jane, goading her to see when she’d bite. “You know, I would never accuse you of caring for someone like Emily. But I have to assume that you’ve developed some extraordinary bond with that child for you to suddenly get off your ass, leave your house for no known reason and save that girl’s life. How do you explain that?”

Jane searched the ground for answers. Her head spun as she recalled the disjointed, disembodied dream of Emily screaming for help. “I can’t explain it, boss.”

Weyler nodded. “Okay.”

There was a moment of tense silence. “Boss?” Jane hesitated. “I haven’t been completely up front with you.” Weyler waited, a little uneasy. “Today, before I went down to DH to talk to that nutcase that Chris questioned, Emily told me something.”

“Such as?”

“A third voice. She recalls her parents fighting and then hearing the sound from downstairs of a third voice.”

“What was the voice saying?”

“Something about an accident. That was the way he got the Lawrences to let him into the house. You know, ‘My cell phone’s dead. Can I use your phone to report the accident?’ Emily said she heard the footsteps of the stranger walking into the kitchen for a brief period of time. That’s where the Lawrences’ phone is located so it might fit.”

“The crime scene evidence proves that the perp’s feet were covered, he wore gloves and a mask. Certainly, he didn’t show up at the door in that garb?”

Jane quickly started to formulate possible scenarios. “He didn’t. He had it hidden somewhere on his person. When he was in the kitchen, he could change into it quickly and then reemerge. Emily remembered hearing a lot of yelling after the stranger walked back into the living room.”

Weyler considered Jane’s theory. “If that’s what occurred, then this guy is premeditated to a fault.”

“This was not some dime store kill. Powerful people needed the Lawrences dead . . . But the Lawrences don’t seem to know anybody.” Jane tossed her cigarette on the ground, crushing it with her boot heel. “Anyway, I didn’t tell you what Emily told me and so there it is. That’s all she’s been able to remember, but . . .” Jane began to struggle with the concept. “But I think she’s going to remember more. When you send her to Cheyenne, make sure she gets some help, okay? She’s gonna need it.”

“Her aunt and uncle are not willing to take her back right now.”

Jane was stunned. “Why not?”

“They’re scared. Actually, they are terrified. They feel that whoever is after the kid is going to keep after her until one of them is dead. And after tonight, it only proves that whoever else might be with the child would also be in danger. They’re not willing to take that chance right now.”

Jane moved closer to Weyler, angered. “So what happens to Emily?”

“Do the math, kiddo.”

“Protective custody?” Jane could hardly get the words out.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“I’m not sure. Until we figure out this whole thing.”

“You may never solve it! What’s the kid supposed to do? Hide out in some town with a bunch of FBI agents until she’s old enough to vote?”