A Killer's Agenda (32 page)

feel the anger behind Steven Fox’s calm facade and understood it.

There wasn’t an easy way to say what he had to.

“It wasn’t a coincidence that Corey chose your father for advice regarding that plane crash. A simple school assignment turned into something much, much more sinister. Something that ended up costing both of them their lives.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will when I’ve explained what my associate and I

discovered.”

There was silence when he was finished. Steven took his wife’s hand in his own. “Okay, my guess is the two of them discovered that plane crash was no accident. And somehow Russell Ferron was right in the middle of it. Am I right?”

“You are. Corey Johnson was thorough in his investigation

and, as he delved deeper, it appears he discovered enough evidence to make a strong case that Ferron had that plane sabotaged.”

“Why on earth would he do something like that?” Wendy asked.

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“Because he wanted the people on board dead.”

Wendy’s eyes widened. “Who was on board?”

“Laura and Lawrence Steadman,” Brad said bluntly. “Anna

Ferron’s parents.”

Steven shook his head. “I don’t get it. Why would he want to kill his wife’s parents?”

“Because she wasn’t his wife yet and Lawrence Steadman,

according to our investigation, already suspected Ferron wasn’t the kind of man he wanted his only daughter married to. Russell saw all that lovely money disappearing and he wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“Don’t you think a double homicide is just a little drastic, even for Ferron?”

“Not if you knew him, Steven,” Wendy interrupted heatedly.

“Name dropping and money were a priority always. The right

clothes, the right cars, the right restaurants, the right class of people,” she finished bitterly. “I can’t believe I was ever attractive to such a monster.”

“Why wasn’t the man arrested then?”

“Because Corey was killed before he could finalize his

investigation and because the police weren’t convinced at the time.”

“So that leads us back to the same old thing,” Wendy said

obviously frustrated. “All suspicion and no evidence.”

“Not necessarily.

A flicker of hope flashed in her eyes. “You have solid evidence?”

“No, but you might.”

The flicker dimmed. “If that’s what you came for, then you’re wasting your time, Brad. Don’t you think I would have gone after

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the man myself if I could have proved he killed Michael?” She shook her head. “I was almost as obsessed as my father at first.

But after the threats started and I had Missy, I didn’t think the risk was worth it. Nothing was going to bring my son back and I wasn’t about to endanger my husband or daughter. I still feel that way.”

“What kind of evidence are you looking for?” Steven asked.

Brad stood, glancing out the front window at the same time.

Still no sign of Alex, he thought. He wished to God he knew if that was a good or bad thing. The uneasiness he felt earlier returned.

His attention returned to the two sitting at the table.

“My associate and I were able to find Corey Johnson’s laptop computer, courtesy of his old roommate. On it, he had a prologue for the paper he was writing that indicated he had found

significant proof that Russell Ferron either committed or hired someone to commit a double homicide, triple if you count the pilot of that plane. Unfortunately, the rest of the message was erased.

Alex and I believe he did that purposely and made back up CD’s that he gave to someone for safe keeping. Someone like your

father, Wendy.”

“Are you saying that Dad was killed because he had possession of those incriminating disks?”

“I can’t prove it but yes.”

“I took over Dad’s law practice after his death and personally cleared out his desk. I found nothing like that.”

“Did he give you anything before he died that might have had the disks inside?”

“Not that I remember.”

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Brad paused, wishing Alex was beside him. This was her area

of expertise, not his.

“Wait a minute,” Steven said, rising. “I just thought of

something.”

A few moments later he came back into the room carrying a

hard covered CD case and handed it to Brad.

“This was in my father-in-law’s car when they pulled the

wreckage up the hill. After the police did their investigation, they gave it to me. At the time I just put it in my own vehicle and forgot about it.” He glanced down at the scorched cover. “It’s amazing it survived at all.”

Brad turned it over in his hand, detecting the still-faint odor of smoke. “You look inside?”

“Yeah. Mostly country western tunes, a few audio books, but

there are about six or seven at the back that don’t have labels. I just haven’t taken the time to find out what they were. It’s a long shot but they could be your missing disks. If they are, it was a great place to hide them.”

“Only one way to find out,” Wendy said, rising. “The computer is in the den.”

They moved toward the small room to the right of the foyer.

Steven took the first disk and slid it in. Brad held his breath as he waited, hoping against hope that this would be the final shred of evidence they needed to nail Ferron. He was ready for closure, ready to move on with his life.

He glanced out the window once again, that same uneasy

sensation he had felt earlier pushing its way back inside his thoughts. Thirty years of living and it had only taken one pint-sized red-haired PI for him to fall head over heels in love. Yet

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something was telling him everything might hinge on what

happened today. Worst part was he wasn’t at all sure it would end the way he and Alex envisioned

“It looks like your hunch was right, Brad,” Steven said. “Take a look.”

Wendy and he both leaned forward and began reading what

Steven already had.

Mr. Rinaldi,

Keep these safe for me. They contain information that I firmly believe will serve to give the police enough evidence to arrest Russell Ferron for murder. It has been difficult but I finally have convinced them to meet with me next week so I can present my case. Thanks to your backing me up, they at least are willing to listen now.

Professor Spear has looked through my reports and, although

he says he’s impressed with my investigative skills, I can tell he thinks I’m reading way too much into all of this. My parents feel the same way. I’m not and I think, after talking to you several times, you won’t believe I’m imagining things.

Ferron knows I know now and he, or someone he hired, is

threatening me by phone daily. Although the authorities continue to be skeptical, they have tried to track the calls but have been unsuccessful. I’ve stopped answering them but the meaning is clear. I’ll feel better knowing you also have this evidence. After the police hear what I have to say, hopefully it will all be over. To tell the truth, I’m scared. Really scared. Yet, I can’t stop now. My roommate calls me obsessed and maybe he’s right. If, after you read what I have sent you, and feel the same way I’ll stop my

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investigation. However, I don’t believe you will. Russell Ferron is guilty of homicide and he needs to be punished. As we’ve

discussed, you’ll find I also have strong evidence that suggests he is also responsible for hiring someone to kill your daughter or grandson. I would appreciate your support when I meet with the police. I’m in way over my head here.

Thanks,

Corey Johnson

Wendy ’s gaze found Brad's, her eyes dark with sympathy.

“That poor kid.”

Steven slid in another disk, his jaw working as he leaned back in the chair. “Let’s hope what he has is as good as he thought it was. If it is, maybe this nightmare will finally end.”

Another typewritten page appeared and all three of them leaned forward once again and began reading.

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Alex stretched cramped muscles as she leaned back in the car seat. She hated stakeouts, hated the monotony and hours of

sitting in one place. The car was parked in a clearing she had found that hid it from sight and still managed to give her a view of the house through the light covering of trees. At least Brad had succeeded in gaining entrance to the Fox’s. She glanced at her watch. He had been in there for almost two hours which was more than she had expected. She had watched Steven Fox and his little daughter arrive home and was mildly surprised that Brad had

managed to convince the man to allow him to stay.

A soft smile played about her lips as she allowed her thoughts to drift to the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with. After years of keeping her heart whole, she had fallen hard and fast for someone who was, in many ways, exactly her opposite.

She tugged her coat closer, not daring to start the car to chase the chill that was beginning to invade the inside. Leaning forward, she poured herself a cup of the hot coffee she had purchased the last time she had filled the tank and took a sip, grateful for its warmth. Her thoughts wandered back to Brad. He hadn’t been

happy about being the one to ask the questions and she couldn’t blame him for that. Yet, she was the one with the police training so his role made sense.

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It went against his nature to be spontaneous, act on the spur of the moment. Yet being spontaneous was second nature to her. It allowed her to be in tune with her inborn gifts, allowed her to act on them. She sighed, acknowledging the sliver of doubt that

flickered through her at odd moments. Doubt that two people so different in personality and upbringing could make a life together.

She only hoped their love for each other would be enough to

overcome their differences.

Taking another sip of coffee, she put the cup down, sending her telepathy forward, needing to reassure herself that all was well inside that house. It was a gift that relied on intense concentration, intense focus. She allowed herself a moment to scan the area, making sure no one was in sight. Satisfied, she closed her eyes, letting the images filter in.

The visions played like a movie film starting with the foyer with its winding staircase gracefully rising upward and then moved to the big kitchen where two cups of coffee sat cooling although the room was empty. She could hear the murmur of voices and

followed them, mentally recognizing Brad’s.

The images disappeared as she focused on the bits of

conversation she could decipher.

“ …poor kid…didn’t know what he was getting into…pretty

complete data…”

There was a pause, the emotion flowing from Wendy’s voice as she spoke touching Alex as if she were standing next to her.

“…how could someone be so cruel, so inhuman? And how

could I have not known what an animal he was… before…before

Michael was…”

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The empathy and the connection were so strong that she

couldn’t stop the memories, Wendy’s memories, from continuing.

Instinctively, Alex fought them, sensing what was to come next.

Moments later, she was no longer inside the house but

standing outside on the curb, an unwilling spectator to a tragedy she had no wish to see. She could feel her heart racing, feel the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into her palms as she

clenched her fists.

She could smell the school bus exhaust as it rumbled down the road, could hear the sound of children’s laughter and voices through the open windows. It was a warm sultry day, the aroma of late summer hanging heavy in the air. She watched as the slim brunette walked down the sidewalk to stand near the corner,

waiting, an indulgent smile playing about her lips. The bus

squealed to a halt and children began to clamber off, laughing and shoving. One small boy separated himself from the group and ran into the woman’s waiting arms. She lifted him, swinging in a circle, love emanating from her embrace.

No! I don’t want to see this,
she told herself, trying to pull back.

Yet the images kept coming faster and faster.

The boy turned, waving to friends and then took his mother’s hand as they walked down the street. Toward the same house that stood in front of her now. The woman threw back her head,

laughing, and she could see the freckles on the boy’s face and the bright blue of his eyes as he sent a tooth gapped grin up at his mother. She recognized the shape of those eyes, the color…

Without being able to stop herself, she swiveled her head,

knowing she would see the man parked across the street, gun

pointed, aiming. She wanted to warn the woman, the child, but she

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could only watch in horror as, just as the trigger was pulled, Wendy Rinaldi bent down to tie her son’s shoe. She covered her face, trying to block a mother’s screams, the sight of the little boy lying crumpled on the sidewalk, blood everywhere.

She could feel the warmth of her tears as she was finally able to will the vision away. She reached for the door handle with shaking hands, needing the cold air to clear her head, needing a moment to control the intense anger that followed the horror. Her fists clenched into tight balls. If it was with her last living breath, she intended to make Russell Ferron pay for what he had done to that woman and her child.

She stepped from the car, stretching, and wiped the last of the moisture from her cheeks. Her arms felt heavy, her movements slow as she took gulps of fresh air to clear her mind.

Opening her eyes and finally feeling like she had some

semblance of control, she let her gaze traverse the area. The neighborhood was quiet at the moment, most people staying