Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (306 page)

“Damn,” he swore softly as he entered The Lodge.

“Mr. McAllister?”

Gavin started to ignore the call. He’d felt the young girl’s adoration when she checked him in. He was tired and all he wanted to do was go to his room and lie down. Instead he smiled. “Hello. Marisa, isn’t it?”

She grinned, pleased he’d remembered her name.

“I just wanted you to know if there’s anything you need, anything at all, all you have to do is ask, you know.”

Gavin stifled a laugh at the open invitation. She was every bit of thirteen going on twenty-five. He wondered for just a moment what she would do if he took her up on her offer. He would definitely have to watch himself around this one.

“Well, there is something you could check for me, Marisa.”

“Anything you want, Mr. McAllister. Anything at all.”

“A friend of mine was supposed to be here earlier this month. I just wondered if you could check the register and see if she checked in.”

“Sure thing. What day was it?”

Gavin had no idea what day, but the postcard had been postmarked the seventh, and Cory’s body had been discovered on the ninth.

“Check the sixth through the eighth.”

He watched her flip through the register slowly, deliberately, one page at a time, looking up at him with a smile as she turned each page. Gavin smiled.

“Hmm, that’s unusual. Someone tore out a page. Mr. Jones is going to be really pissed about that.”

Gavin leaned over the counter, getting a better look at the book. A page had definitely been torn out. “What day was it?”

“It looks like the seventh. Yeah. That’s strange. That’s the night Johanna …”

“Johanna?” She wanted to talk. They always wanted to talk, and he encouraged her with a gentle pat on her hand. Secrets. There were always secrets, and always someone eager to tell.

Marisa leaned over the counter and whispered, “Yeah, they said it was an accident, but I don’t think so.”

“Who said it was an accident?” Gavin whispered.

“Sheriff Burns. She investigated the accident and said Johanna had been drinking and that she lost control of the car. Everyone knows Johanna didn’t drink.” Marisa lowered her voice again and leaned closer. “I think someone killed her.”

“Why would someone do that?” Gavin continued to whisper, giving Marisa his full attention.

“Why would someone tear a page out of the register?”

Why indeed? Maybe not a mystery, but definitely a place to start.

#

Gavin followed the directions Marisa had given him as he drove north away from town. He sorted through the information he’d received so far. There was definitely something wrong here. Even if Johanna’s wreck had been an accident, that didn’t explain the missing page. Had Cory been here on the seventh? And if she had, who or what had she been looking for?

The accident site was only a few miles out of town, and he had no trouble finding it. Skid marks trailed for about ten feet prior to the point the car had left the road. The skinned bark on the large oak tree at the edge of the fence line told the rest of the story.

Small towns all had one thing in common—news traveled fast. Gavin wasn’t surprised to see headlights approaching. Nor was he surprised to see the sheriff pull up behind his car. He was surprised when she stepped into view. Millie had said she was pretty, but that was an understatement. Even with her flaming red hair pulled severely from her face, and without a trace of makeup, she was breathtaking. He had an overwhelming urge to free the long red hair, bury his face in it and smell its softness.

“You won’t find a story here, McAllister.” Her voice was cold, her green eyes scornful.

“What makes you think I’m looking for a story?”

“Your reputation precedes you.”

Gavin laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. “Oh, yes, the ruthless bastard.” He scanned her face, trying to find what it was about her that made it hard for him to think of anything but holding her.

“The only thing you’ll find here is a sad young woman who lost control of her car and died.” Sarah’s voice was filled with anger, pain, and something he couldn’t quite decipher.

“I thought she was drinking.” Gavin stated, watching the green eyes for a reaction.

Sarah didn’t answer, but turned away and started toward the Explorer.

“You’re not sure it was an accident, are you?” He baited her.

Sarah turned, hesitation and doubt written on her face, as she met his challenging gaze.

“If it wasn’t, that’s still no business of yours. Watch your step while you’re in my town, McAllister. One wrong move, one citizen’s complaint, and you’ll find yourself with an overnight stay and a one-way ticket out of here.”

Gavin looked at the marks on the tree, ignoring the challenge. “And what about Johanna? What about her pain? The dead don’t rest, Sheriff, until the guilty are punished.”

Their eyes met and Gavin felt something pass between them. For a moment he thought she had touched him. Just a gentle brush of her fingertips across his face. A feather-light kiss. A flicker of pain darkened her eyes.

“Johanna Nelson’s death was an accident. There aren’t any secrets in Glade Springs, Mr. McAllister.”

He watched her turn her back on him again, walking stiffly to her vehicle. He issued his own challenge. “Someone in Glade Springs has a secret, Sheriff. One worth killing for, and I’m going to find it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ella Mae Thomas placed the Nelson file in the drawer. She liked her job at the sheriff’s office. She liked the deputies, and she even liked the sheriff on most days. Sighing, Ella Mae closed the drawer. What she didn’t like was going home. What if he was home? She hated him. Hated this place.

“I’m headed home, Ella Mae. Leave Tommy a note to call me if he needs anything.”

“Okay, Deputy Cross.”

Joshua hesitated. Ella Mae had been here almost a week and he still didn’t know anything about her except that her husband traveled. She looked lonely, lost.

“You know, you can call me Joshua.” He grinned at her.

Ella Mae smiled shyly, blushing.

Joshua’s grin broadened. She certainly was a shy little bird. “Hey, Mary and I are thinking about taking in a movie and dinner out tonight. Care to join us?”

Ella Mae smiled again. “No, I have to go home.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to tag along.”

“Thanks, Deputy… Joshua.”

She stared longingly at the closed door. Joshua was nice, a good man. Dinner and a movie would be nice. But she had to go home. What if Philip was there? She never knew when he would be home. He’d be angry if he found out. She rubbed the bruises hidden by the long-sleeved blouse. Dinner and a movie wasn’t worth it.

Ella Mae wrote a quick note to Tommy, her heart heavy. How had she gotten herself into this? She knew the answer to that question. What had made her think a man as handsome as Philip Thomas could love a woman as ugly as her? She knew her features were plain, homely at best. She didn’t even have a good figure. She’d been so flattered with his attention, so blindly in love with him, she’d never questioned his motives for marrying her. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. There was no way out, no place where he wouldn’t find her. And if he found her…Ella Mae shivered in the warm evening air as she placed the note for Tommy on the counter, locked the door and headed home.

#

Carl Jackson scanned the daily report, but found nothing new. He hadn’t expected anything. His head ached and he absently rubbed the back of his neck. He’d tried to talk to Rob last night, but the alcohol did all Rob’s talking. Damn foolishness is all it was. What was Rob thinking blaming Gavin for Cory’s death? Pain sliced through his belly at Rob’s parting words: “What if it was me, Carl? What if Cory was killed because of me?”

A light knock jerked him from his thoughts. Chief Walsh opened the door, came in, and closed it behind him. Oh, shit, here it comes, Carl thought.

“How’s Rob doing, Carl?”

Carl avoided meeting the chief’s eyes. “He’s doing okay, sir. Expect he’ll be ready to come in any day now.”

“That’s good news. Have you heard from Gavin?”

Carl felt the chief’s steady gaze, knew he was watching him, waiting for a response.

“Talked to him last night.” At least that was true.

Chief Walsh placed a sheet of paper on Carl’s desk. “My door’s open, Carl, when you want to talk.”

Finally meeting the Chief’s gaze, Carl nodded.

After Chief Walsh left, Carl sat looking at the closed door for a long time. He should have told the chief about Gavin. Should have told him the truth about Rob. He’d been with the Bureau the majority of his life. He didn’t like breaking the rules. Chief Walsh was not only his boss; he was also his friend. Carl glanced at the sheet of paper the chief had placed on his desk. Forgetting his guilt, he felt a surge of excitement. Rob had damn well better be ready to go to work.

#

Rob opened the door on the third ring.

Taking one look at the bloodshot eyes, Carl cursed. “Jesus Christ, Rob, you gotta pull yourself together.”

“Why?” Rob turned away, stumbling through the litter on the floor.

“Because you’re my fucking partner, and I need you, that’s why.” Kicking a pile of dirty clothes out of his path, Carl slammed the door behind him.

Something must have penetrated the fogged brain cells, because Rob turned and really looked at him.

“What’s up?”

“Just maybe the best thing that’s happened in a long time. A lead on the Mother’s Day killer. Or maybe Cory’s killer.” Carl lowered his voice, trying to soften the blow of his words.

Sitting down, Rob placed his head between his hands. “Get Gavin. He’ll help you. I can’t.”

Cursing again, Carl pushed his way through the cluttered room to the kitchen. Coffee was what was needed now. Rob was still sitting where he’d left him when Carl returned ten minutes later with two steaming mugs of strong coffee.

“Get off your ass, boy. Gavin is out there somewhere risking his life. The least you can do is try to help.” He placed the cup of coffee in Rob’s shaking hands and tossed the trash from the nearest chair.

Rob grimaced at the taste of the bitter coffee. “What do you mean Gavin is out there risking his life?”

Carl hesitated. He’d promised Gavin he wouldn’t tell Rob, and he hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Don’t worry about that yet, we got work to do here.”

Rob raised his head, meeting the stony gaze of his partner. “Don’t tell me he’s hit again?” The words scribbled on the small pink card had haunted him.
Every day is Mother’s Day
.

“No, but he just might have been seen this time. I’m driving. You look like shit, Rob. The drinking has got to stop.”

Rob nodded. Carl had been his partner for ten years. They were family. “Let me get a shower.”

“Make it cold!” Carl yelled after him.

The cold water helped clear Rob’s head, but the coffee was making him nauseous. Rob held his hand over the cup. “No. more. Fill me in. Tell me what we’ve got.”

“Our last victim was twelve-year-old Katlin Kramer. Disappeared on the evening of the eighth.”

Rob nodded. He already knew all this. He felt a knife slice through his heart. The day Cory had died.

Carl glanced at his partner, feeling his pain and frustration. “Give me a chance, okay? I’m too old to hurry. Anyway, a kid came up to the parents this morning. Says he met Katlin in an alley on Center Street that night. He got mad when she wouldn’t put out. Left her there. Kid’s pretty messed up right now. Blames himself.”

Rob frowned, searching his memory. “Hell, it’s been almost three weeks. Why didn’t he speak up sooner?”

“Parents divorced. He’d been out of the country with his mom. Didn’t know about the girl until he got back this morning. Anyway, you missed the point. He left her on Center Street.”

The knife twisted, going deeper.

“That’s near Cory’s apartment.” Rob’s voice was soft, hesitant. “Carl, you don’t think …”

“Method’s different, but we can’t discount it either. The paper didn’t know what Cory was working on. She could have found something. And something the kid saw that night makes me believe she did. Says he saw a police officer driving away from the trash bin where Cory was found. Kid found it a little strange because he wasn’t driving a police cruiser. According to the kid, the police officer parked the car and then went toward the apartment complex carrying luggage.”

Rob tried to digest what Carl was saying, but the words kept getting jumbled. Cory would have told him. They’d studied the surveillance video on Cory’s apartment in connection with her death, and the death of the security guard. They had seen the cop entering and exiting. No face. Nothing to identify him with.

“She didn’t tell me what she was working on either. But I know she would have, Carl, if it had anything to do with this case. Cory would have told me.”

Carl heard the anguish in Rob’s voice. Cory knew they’d been working this case for five years. Five years of chasing a nameless, faceless, sick bastard. The only saving grace they had was that the news had never leaked about the cards and poetry. It was hard enough to look into the eyes of grieving parents without their knowing their child’s killer had left a card. The son-of-a-bitch was leaving bodies as gifts.