Confess (The Blue Line Series Book 1) (22 page)

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine.” Helms grinned from the driver’s seat. He put the truck in drive and sped around the corner before he pulled back to the curb and killed the engine. He laid his arm along her headrest, and he turned. “Care to fill me in on the plan of attack?”

She turned to mirror him. “No attack. I plan to walk right in the police department and demand to speak with the Nashville detective before Dad or Mitch can stop me.”

Helms sat quietly, studying her face. “What?” she barked after finding him staring.

His laugh was light, but his face tightened. She’d known Helms since he was a first year rook tagging along with her older brother in boot camp. He’d been one of her father’s favorites.

“That’s your plan?” Helms’s voice brought her out of the thought.

“Hear me out before you say no.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “I know as soon as I walk in Dad’s office, he is going to talk me out of giving a statement. If I storm in and demand to be seen before he can stop me, they’ll have to listen.”

“Give a statement?” he repeated. The laugh that followed was dark and chilled her skin. “They’re on a witch hunt for a corrupt cop. What would they want from you?”

Her stomach twisted. “I thought you knew. You mentioned the department on lockdown when I called. I just thought…”

“What do you know, Lace?” The coldness in his voice made her sit back. “What is this meeting all about?”

Helms had always stuck her as clever. Maybe that’s why she’d just assumed he’d known about his father’s part in saving her life. That his father left the department to help cover up her kidnapping. The last few hours were blurring into a haze, but she was positive he’d mentioned the meeting when she’d called him only minutes ago.

Her stomach twisted tighter. She watched his reaction carefully. “The meeting to decide if Dad obstructed the Wray case.” She eyed Helms, trying to read the darkening look washing over his hardened face. “John told me everyone is waiting at the station, but I don’t want to give him the chance to talk me out of confessing. I want you to take me straight to the right people and put this nightmare behind us all for good.”

Helms went ridged and flexed his fists in his lap. Once he saw her watching, he stopped and plastered a grin over his face, but it did little to hide the disconnected look in his eyes.

“Brian?” The knots in her stomach married into a large, tangled ball. “If you’re worried about my father, I’ll tell him this was all my idea. You only went along with it to keep me safe because I threatened to go alone if you didn’t.”

“Why, Lace? What do you know about Wray that Nashville can’t find in one of your father’s secret files?”

She sucked in a breath and fisted a wad of vinyl seat in her hands. How did Helms know about the files her father kept at home? She’d guessed his father would have told him years ago being that he was the hero who found and saved her. He’d have been proud, and even though keeping her identity a secret had ended his career in Rebel Rapids, he would have been proud enough to tell Brain at some point.

She’d only said the truth out loud once, and it had cost her Mitch. What would this time bring? “Because I’m the only victim who survived. I’m the only person who can prove Wray didn’t kill those two women in the woods.”

Her words didn’t even reach him. He looked through her to something she couldn’t see.

“Brian, say something. You’re scaring me.”

His gaze snapped back into focus. A corner of his flat lips turned upward. His head stayed tilted to the side, scrutinizing everything about her. “What evidence do you have to prove it wasn’t him?” His voice sent a shiver of cold fear through her entire body.

If the feeling of unease swamping her wasn’t enough of a warning to get the hell out of his truck, the darkened look in his eyes was.

She reached for the door handle, the sudden need for space overpowering. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move for the back of her neck. He raked his fingers through her hair and grabbed the nape of her neck. “Brian...?”

Helms fisted a handful of her hair and yanked her backward in the seat. Before she could rally and fight him, he shoved her forward, sending her forehead into the dashboard.

Sharp pain radiated through her head. Everything went fuzzy. She tried to focus. Brian’s truck. A street sign. Mitch.
Crap
, her Dad was going to kill her. Something buzzed around her ear. She watched Helms’s mouth move, but the sounds coming out didn’t make sense. Was he talking to her? What was he saying?

God, please don’t hurt me again.

He picked up a white cloth from his lap and raised it to her mouth and nose. What was he doing? Was her nose bleeding? Then the smell hit her, the acidic burning, choking smell that snapped her brain back to focus. The same smell Wray used right before she blacked out as a kid.

Panic ripped through her, sending her arms flailing and her legs kicking, but there wasn’t enough room in the truck. She pulled at his hand on her face, her nails biting into his skin, but he didn’t let go. His mouth moved, but the ringing in her ears drowned out the sound.

Darkness closed in around the corners of her vision, blocking out the morning sun and grew until all she saw was black.

Then she was gone.

Mitch paced Chief Andrew’s office with his fists tight at his sides.

He’d rubbed the skin on his neck as raw as his patience and had started in on pinching the flap of skin between his thumb and finger. Anything to keep his building fear in check. “She just
slipped
out?” he directed at John, standing a few feet to Mitch’s side with his head bowed to his hands. Mitch didn’t try to mask the patronizing tone in his voice.

“She scaled the side of the house. I don’t call that
just slipping out
.”

“No.” Mitch turned to pace to small office. “I call that damned determined. But why?”

He’d known the second John entered the building something had gone horribly wrong. He felt it, like a negative current running through the air, charging his insecurities.

His time would be better spent walking through the evidence and forming a plan to find her, which would at least be productive, but he couldn’t focus past the officer standing across the room in near panic mode. All two hundred and fifty pounds of him, and John couldn’t keep tabs on his little sister.

The best he’d been able to do was order two rookie cops to hunt down Stetson at the dive bar he’d mentioned and hope he’d lead to Lacy.

Mitch pounded a fist on the chief’s desk and shook his head. Could he really put all the blame on John? John may have let Lacy slip out the bathroom window, but Mitch was man enough to admit he’d been the one who pushed her into running. He’d seen the way she looked at him after their argument over Wray. He’d seen the pity look in her eyes and the need to do something to fix the problem she blamed herself for starting.

Given the choice to save her family or put away a killer, Lacy would choose to come forward with the truth. He’d just assumed he’d be there when she had to make that decision. He’d be able to coach her through the process so she’d give just enough information to prove Wray wasn’t behind the murders without exposing her kidnapping or her father.

Then again, Lacy didn’t make keeping tabs on her easy. He should have factored that in when he let her leave with Connie. One thing was for damn sure. Once he found her, he was putting her on lockdown every damn time she stepped out of his sight.

“Has she ever done anything like this before?” He leveled his gaze on John.

John lifted his sagging head and puffed up his chest. “Lacy has never done anything like this. She’s always trusted us to know what’s best for her. Until anonymous tips about her past started surfacing.” John narrowed his gaze. “Tell us again how it wasn’t you who tipped off Nashville?”

“I didn’t tip off Nashville.” But someone had. That was clear.

They needed to find Lacy before Nashville used her to break their murder investigation wide open. Arguing wasn’t going to get that done. Mitch swallowed a breath and cooled his tone. Now if he could redirect John the same way. “You said she left her truck. Who would she trust enough to call for a ride?”

John ran a hand over his chin. “Connie, but I called her already. She hadn’t seen Lacy since her shift at Charlie’s last night.” John pushed forward in the chair. “She said she picked her up at your house.”

Deluna stuck his head in the office just in time to dissipate the accusation. The cool headed officer had been Mitch’s only ally since the news of Lacy’s disappearance broke hours before. “We’ve got a man on her cell records now. If she’s made any calls within the last few hours, we should be able to track the general area of her location.”

Mitch nodded and stinted the rage riding his tongue. They all wanted the same thing. Losing his temper right now wasn’t going to find Lacy. “What’s the last thing she said before she disappeared? Anything that could tell us what she was thinking?” He fielded the question back to John.

John sank into the chief’s desk chair. His hair stuck up in all kinds of weird angles from running his fingers over the strands. “She went to take a shower.”

“And you left her alone before you brought her in?” If he could just shake a helpful answer from the officer and alleviate the growing inferno building inside, Mitch could focus. He needed John working with a clear head, and that involved keeping his temper on an even keel.

John stood and circled the room. “I didn’t think she’d jump out a window to get away from me. Then again, I’ve never had any reason for my sister to run. Maybe I jumped the gun too soon.”

Jump the gun?
Crap
. “Did she know why she was coming to the station? Did you tell her about the call to Nashville?”

John dropped his head again. “I didn’t want her to hear about the investigation in a room full of officers, so yeah, I told her. She was more worried about Dad getting in trouble and about Helms finding out...” He trailed off and turned to stare out the window to the parking lot.

“About Helms finding what out?”

John’s face paled at the same second Deluna stuck his head in the office. “They found the Adams kid. He’s with Detective O’Neal.”

Finally, a break that could actually lead somewhere. “Great. You stay put.” He pointed to John before he shot out the door and down the narrow hall to O’Neal’s small office and the boy handcuffed to a plastic chair. Mitch grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him to his feet despite the tight cuffs.

“What the hell.” Stetson chocked on the last word as Mitch tightened his grip.

O’Neal stood and crossed from behind his desk. “Now hold on, detective. We follow procedures here.”

Mitch ignored the detective and focused on the kid wiggling in his hold. There was no way in hell this rat of a human had it in him to hurt Lacy, but he’d place high dollar bets he knew something that could lead them to her.

“Shut the hell up kid and listen. The bartender from the other night, the one you slashed the tires of, she’s gone missing, and if you know anything about it, you’ve got seconds to spill.”

Stetson wiggled his cuffed arm. “I don’t know anything.”

Mitch got up in his face and spoke slow. “You said someone told you about me. Someone from a bar. Who was he?”

“I told you, it wasn’t an exchanging names kind of place.”

“But someone there told you about me, right?” When the kid didn’t answer, Mitch synched his fist tighter around the collar. “Did someone also tell you to call the Nashville police department?”

Stetson’s gaze shot back to O’Neal. “He can’t do this shit to me, right? It’s police brutality or something like that.”

O’Neal snorted a laugh. “Or something like that.”

“So, you’re not going to stop him?” The kid’s voice rose as high as an eighth grader getting his first peek at boobs from the hole in the locker room wall.

“Not even going to try.” O’Neal folded his arms over his chest and leaned back on his desk, letting Mitch take complete control.

Stetson struggled against his hold. “On man. I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

Mitch pressed closer. “Told who? The guy in the bar?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Mitch twisted the shirt tighter. “Why make that call? What was in it for you?”

Stetson paused. “It got you in trouble didn’t it?”

If it wouldn’t cost him valuable time, he’d smack that shit-eating smirk right off the kid’s face. “And it got a girl missing. How are you going to feel when she turns up dead?” Mitch dropped the kid back to the chair and turned his attention to O’Neal. “Bring out the mug shot books and have him take a look. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Stetson laughed.

“You find something funny?” O’Neal snapped.

“Yeah.” He smirked. “I don’t need those books. The guy’s right there.” He pointed to a department picture hanging on O’Neal’s wall. All of Rebel’s finest dressed in their blues lined up in front of the department.

Fuck. Nashville had been right about the tampering. It had been an inside job. Mitch ripped the picture from wall and held it close to Stetson. “One of these guys? Point him out.”

“What do I get if I do?” The kid had a death wish.

“You get to keep breathing,” O’Neal answered before Mitch had the chance.

Stetson leaned forward in his chair and took a second to peruse the photo before pointing out a guy in the middle row.

“That’s the guy that told you about me?” Mitch held the picture up close to his face. “The guy who told you to call Nashville?”

“Yep. He’s one of you. That’s got to be a bitch.”

“Hold him,” Mitch ordered, taking the picture with him down the narrow hall back to the chief’s office and John.

He found John still sitting in the chair in the corner. “What does Helms have to do with the Richard Wray case?”

John ran a palm over his face. From the open office door, Mitch caught a glimpse of Chief Andrews approaching. His clipped steps and the determined swing of his arms only gave Mitch precious seconds. He pressed harder. “John. What do you know about Helms?” He’d punch the man if he had to. “Would he have any reason to hurt Lacy?”