The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) (31 page)

“I’m fine,” Cooper assured him with a weary smile. “In fact, I’m not going to stay here overnight. There’s nothing wrong with me except for a little cut.”

“You’re as bruised and stitched as a prizefighter,” Savannah pointed out gently. “Nathan told us you hit your head on that cement ground too. It would be best to take it easy, dear.”

McNamara flipped through his notepad and cleared his throat. “Ms. Lee, you said that Cindi Rolfing claimed that she didn’t have time to track down Hazel Wharton and Jed Weeks. What do you suppose she meant by that?”

“She was getting ready to leave the country,” Cooper said. “She told us as much.”

“And Vance had two duffel bags on the front seat of the SUV,” Nathan added.

“She won’t be going anywhere fast.” McNamara got to his feet. “I hope you’ve all learned your lesson about snooping. As you can see”—he gestured at Cooper’s arm—“those on the wrong side of the law can inflict
real
injuries. It’s not a game out there. If me and my men hadn’t come along, we might be pulling you and your boyfriend out of the James River right now instead of taking your statements.”

“Yessir,” Cooper muttered, her face burning because of the reprimand, not to mention McNamara’s use of the term
boyfriend.

“What brought the police to Cindi’s place at that moment, if you don’t mind my asking?” Quinton wanted to know. “Something about her must have raised a major red flag.”

“A financial red flag,” McNamara agreed. “In murder cases, we always look at the financial angle. The fact that Brooke Hughes was in charge of the Fraud department, with full access to the inner workings of the entire Capital City system, kept nagging at me as being significant. Despite the evidence, what most folks saw as Wesley’s motive for killing her was weak from the get-go.”

He threw out his arms as if to embrace everyone in the room. “All couples argue, but very few of those arguments end violently, so what would cause a man to shoot his wife in cold blood? Another woman? Drug or alcohol abuse? Sometimes folks just go plumb crazy, but most of the time, murder is about money. Wesley Hughes wasn’t interested in money. He was perfectly content with his life. That didn’t fit the murder, so I knew I had to keep looking for someone with a financial motive.”

“You thought Wesley was innocent all along?” Savannah spluttered.

“I felt he might be, Mrs. Knapp.” The officer was solemn. “But what I think and feel doesn’t matter. Evidence matters. Luckily, Ms. Lee stumbled across Jed Weeks, and the information he provided allowed us to crack the case.” He turned back to Quinton. “We went to Ms. Rolfing’s apartment to question her again because one of the Hugheses’ neighbors recently remembered seeing a silver Honda sedan parked down the street from their house the morning of the murder. This woman was also able to recall two of the letters in the license plate, both of which appear on Ms. Rolfing’s plate.”

“Will she live?” Cooper whispered. “Will Cindi stand trial?”

McNamara issued the slightest of nods. “She’s still in surgery, but the doctors are confident she’ll pull through. On a more positive note, Mr. Newcombe’s condition has improved remarkably and he’s been most cooperative. Perhaps his willingness to help will lead to a lighter sentence, though that’s not my call to make.” He lowered his voice and grinned. “I think he’d do anything to please the missus at this juncture, but she says she’ll stick by him no matter what happens.”

“Good for her. Their marriage is worth saving,” Savannah said.

Glancing at her in approval, McNamara placed his hands on his hips. “Mr. Newcombe’s agreed to see a counselor, so they might just make it.” He glanced around at everyone in the room. “I’ll personally see to the release of Wesley Hughes, folks.”

“What about that rat, Maynard?” Jake demanded, balling his hands into fists so that the cross tattoo on his arm rippled. “How’d he get away with his part in all this?”

The officer sighed. “Unfortunately, Mr. Maynard had been seen at public events during the time when Mrs. Hughes was killed and again when Mr. Newcombe was pushed from the bridge. On the afternoon Mrs. Hughes was murdered, Mr. Maynard was playing in a charity tennis match, and when Mr. Newcombe was injured, Mr. Maynard was attending a charity ball until close to two in the morning.”

“But what if he gets away?” Cooper whispered in horror.

McNamara put his warm palm over Cooper’s right hand and stared intently into her eyes, making it clear that the subject of Vance Maynard was now closed. “I’ll be in touch, Ms. Lee. Please take care and listen to the doctors. I’m posting a man outside your door, so don’t you lose sleep thinking that anyone can enter. If you don’t want to see someone, then they won’t get in.”

“Thank you, sir.” Cooper gave the lawman a grateful smile. Nathan stood and shook the police investigator’s hand and they all watched him leave the room, his posture firm and his mouth set in a thin line. He was a man with a purpose.

“I can’t believe that Vance character! Leaving his girlfriend behind to face the firing squad. What a coward.” Trish gazed at Cooper in remorse. “I know she’s committed horrible, evil deeds, but she must be a tormented soul to have done the things she’s done.”

Jake smirked. “She’s going to be roaring mad at Vance for a long time. And it sounds like she’ll have a few decades in prison to think about that island they could have bought.”

Nathan slumped in his chair. “That’s what I worry about. What if Vance got away and is headed for that oasis as we speak?”

The friends exchanged anxious glances. Cooper agreed with Nathan. Vance Maynard was crafty enough to come up with the entire Capital City scam, so it was likely that he had an escape plan in place from the moment Brooke Hughes began to suspect that someone in her company was involved in criminal pursuits.

“Hey, where’s Bryant?” Quinton asked in an attempt to lift the gloom.

“Fending off the news crews,” Nathan replied.

Trish shot out of her chair. “He’s going to get all the prime camera time! Where are they? Outside?” She was practically salivating as she dug in her purse for business cards.

Cooper smiled at her friends. Her family had been by earlier, and between her mother’s anxiety and the investigator’s pointed questions, Cooper was suddenly feeling worn out. In fact, the idea of spending the night in the hospital didn’t sound so bad. The nurse on duty had informed her that macaroni and cheese with green beans and garlic bread was on the menu for dinner and that she could check out first thing in the morning after the doctor assigned to her case completed his rounds.

Taking a drink of water from her plastic cup, Cooper thought of how the media would be trying to contact her at home, demanding to have their questions answered and their curiosity sated. Instead of unplugging her phone and asking her parents to deal with unwelcome visitors, she could simply stay here, spending a blessedly uneventful evening watching reruns of
Love It or List It.
She could return home in the morning, feeling completely refreshed.

“Why don’t you help Bryant make a statement on behalf of me and Nathan?” Cooper suggested wearily to Trish.

Savannah lifted her nose in the air as if tracking a scent. “You sound tired, Cooper. I think it’s time for us to be going.”

“Call me if you need anything!” Trish trilled and was out the door in a frantic clicking of heels.

“Oh, before I forget,” Nathan said to Cooper as Jake took Savannah by the arm. “Your boss called. He wants you to take the rest of the week off.”

For some reason, Cooper found Mr. Farmer’s offer extremely touching. He already had too much work for his current employees to handle and yet he was willing to give Cooper an entire week of rest. She closed her eyes and struggled to keep from crying, but as soon as she shut out the light, the sounds of gunfire echoed through her mind. Trembling, she tried to block the memory of the shouting, the roar of Cindi’s gun being discharged, and the searing pain of the bullet lacerating the soft flesh of her arm.

Cooper felt a hand covering her own and she opened her eyes again. “Do you want me to stay awhile?” Nathan asked tenderly.

“You’ve been through a shock as well,” Savannah spoke from the doorway. “You both need rest.”

“Come on, my friend.” Quinton took Nathan’s elbow. “I’ll give you a lift home.”

Nathan cast one last look over his wide shoulders at Cooper. She gave him a weak smile and for a moment, his face became effused with its customary animation. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “If something had happened to you because I got in the car . . .” He trailed off, miserable with guilt once again.

“We’re both okay,” Cooper assured him firmly. “Despite everything, I’m glad we were together. I don’t think I could have made it through on my own. Good night, Nathan.”

As the room emptied, Cooper released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She laid her head on her pillow and thought she could detect the scent of gunpowder in her hair. Envisioning Cindi’s demented smile as she ordered Cooper to pray, tears sprung into her eyes and trickled onto the pillowcase. She could still taste the fear in her mouth. It was an acidic, metallic taste, and she longed to wash it away with something wholesome, like a glass of milk and a few of her mother’s cookies.

As if by magic, Cooper’s nurse bustled into the room carrying a small tray. “All your visitors gone?” she asked as she placed the tray next to Cooper’s bed and gave her patient a brief examination. “Oh, honey, you’re shaking like a leaf! Are you cold?”

Cooper looked down at the goose bumps on her unbandaged arm in surprise. The nurse examined her patient’s tear-streaked cheeks.

“Sweetie, you’ve had an awful shock. Tell me what would make you feel better.”

“I’d really like to take a shower.” Cooper sniffed the ends of her hair again. “Everything that’s ha-happened . . .” She choked back a sob. “I just want to wash it all away.”

The nurse took Cooper’s hand. “Your mama brought a pair of your pajamas along with a bag of those cookies with the jelly in the middle. My nana used to call them thimble cookies. Why don’t you take a nice, hot shower—but you keep that left arm from getting wet—and then have yourself some milk and cookies? I bet you’ll be asleep before the mac and cheese gets here. You look like laundry that’s been wrung out and hung to dry.”

The nurse was right. Every inch of Cooper’s body felt like rubber and she longed to clean off the grime and put on her soft, warm pajamas. She stood under a scalding stream of water for a long time, dried her hair, and got ready for bed. After eating five of her mother’s thimble cookies, she phoned her parents to tell them that she’d be home in the morning.

“Baby,” Maggie’s voice quivered and Cooper knew she had been crying. “You just sleep tight. Let your body and your mind shut down for a while and when you come home tomorrow I’ll fix you a brunch that’ll make you feel like a new woman.” She sniffed back tears. “After that, your daddy wants you to sit awhile with him in the garden. He says lookin’ at the new crop of Better Boy tomatoes will heal you faster than any medicine.”

Cooper said good night, eased her bed to a flat position, and pictured her father’s vegetable garden. She could see the sun shining on the red curves of the tomatoes and the glossy surfaces of the cucumbers slick with dew. In her vision, bean plants were tickled by a breeze and bumblebees hovered over the bed of coneflowers bordering the garden. Cooper could almost smell the fragrant honeysuckle, which grew in a tangled mass across the length of the back fence. The last thing that passed through her mind as she sank toward sleep was an image of herself, leaning against the fence, her eyes turned upward as Columbus soared overhead, circling ever higher toward an endless expanse of bright blue sky.

• • •

The congregation filed into Hope Street’s chapel. The room buzzed with soft chatter, laughter and the cries of several infants. The opening praise hymn boomed throughout the large space and the worshipers leapt to their feet, singing and clapping in harmony. Two more songs followed, and then it was time for the offertory, announcements, and Communion.

As the minister prepared the table with the bread and wine he and the elders would give to the congregation, the side door to the auditorium opened and a middle-aged man entered the room. His arms were wrapped around the shoulders of a much younger man, and the two walked confidently to a pair of empty seats in the front row.

Behind them, people began to murmur. Toward the back of the room, parishioners craned their necks to see what the fuss was about, and when they recognized their fellow worshipers, their faces broke into wide smiles.

The minister welcomed the congregation to come forward, and as each man, woman, and child came to partake of Communion, they paused before approaching the altar in order to hug, kiss, or shake hands with Wesley and Caleb Hughes.

When the minister stood to offer a Communion prayer, he did so with his hands resting on the crowns of the Hughes men’s heads. Tears wet his cheeks but his voice was made powerful with joy.

“Thank you, Lord! Thank you for bringing these men home to us.”

• • •

Outside Gold’s Gym, Cooper’s coworker, Ben, slung his workout bag onto the passenger seat and sank down into the driver’s seat with a heavy sigh. He placed the keys in the ignition, but did not start his car. He just sat there, weary in mind and body, as the sun winked off his plastic water bottle and scattered star-shaped rainbows across the backs of his hands. Ben stared at them, and then lifted the bottle to his lips, drinking deeply. After wiping his lips on his right shoulder, he held the bottle against his heart. The rainbows fluttered, shifted, and came to rest on the corner of the alcoholism brochure someone had placed inside his locker.

Ben withdrew the paper from his bag, picked up his cell phone, and dialed. When the sound of a woman’s voice answered, he didn’t know what to say. He cradled the phone against his ear, but couldn’t begin to speak the words he needed to say. The woman coaxed him gently, reassuringly, until at last, he began to talk. Suddenly, it all came pouring out in a rapid tumble of pain and grief.