Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) (7 page)

“Mama says it’s because she’s a teenager and her ’mones get mixed up,” Dorothy said.

“Not ’mones. Hormones.” Brian picked up his milk and chugged the rest of it down. “And that’s just a dumb excuse. Dad said.”

“She’s upset and rightly so.” Anna stood and began picking up the dishes.

Angel got up to help. Gracie had an attitude. But she also had a point. Apparently Gracie prided herself on being honest. How much of Candace’s grief was genuine? How much an act?

Angel had almost finished clearing the table when Candace and Gracie came back in. They seemed to have worked things out between them. Gracie was more subdued, though she didn’t apologize for her outburst.

After taking off their coats, Candace sent Gracie into Angel’s old room to do her homework, then turned on the television set for Brian and Dorothy. Once the kids were settled, she came into the kitchen, offering to help Anna clean up so Angel could make a run out to the farm. “I don’t mean to rush you, but I like to have the little ones in bed by 8:00. That gives them some time to read before lights-out.”

Angel gladly handed over the dishtowel. “Is Gracie okay?”

“She’s upset and angry. I understand that.” Candace frowned. “She didn’t mean what she said. You know how kids her age can be. Their emotions are all over the board.”

Angel didn’t remember being that volatile, but then she hadn’t had an abusive father. And her father hadn’t been murdered. But Gracie’s reaction did concern Angel. Not all that long ago, she’d read about a case in which a fourteen-year-old girl had murdered her mother in a fit of rage. And another in which a thirteen-year-old boy had killed his parents in cold blood because they wouldn’t let him go to a party.

“He deserved to die,”
Gracie had said. Thinking about the comment now and the hard look that went with it sent a chill through Angel. Had Gracie’s anger reached the boiling point? Had she killed her father?

NINE

Wednesday, May 7

Dear Dr. Campbell,

My joy at ridding the world of one more abuser was short-lived as I watched the news tonight and saw the horrific details of the murdered girl from Florence. My heart aches when I think of the cruelty that poor child endured at the hands of her killer. Oh, dear God, why couldn’t I have known? Why couldn’t I have been there to stop him?

I know I shouldn’t beat myself up over it. Like you’ve often said, you can’t fix everything or everyone. You have to choose your battles. Perhaps that’s the hardest part, choosing one’s battles. It’s too late for poor Christy, so I must focus on those women I can help, the women right here in Sunset Cove. There are so many to choose from—so hard to determine which abuser will be the next to die.

Dragonslayer

TEN

A
ngel called Nick to let him know she was on her way out to the farm to return the squad car and to pick up clothing for Candace and the kids for their overnight stay. He told her it was about time.

Nick stood on the porch, eyeing her when she drove up, then coming down the steps to meet her.

“How’s it going?” She stepped out of the car and shut the door.

“Slow. Have to hand it to these people, they’re thorough. We should be wrapping things up soon. At least for the night.” He gave his watch an impatient glance. “I hope.” He stretched and rubbed the back of his neck, stretching the blue uniform tight across his muscular chest.

“Poor baby,” she teased.

He frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, smart mouth. You try pulling two shifts every day for two weeks. This is all your fault, you know. If you’d come back to work, the rest of us wouldn’t have to put in such long hours.”

The comment surprised her. Nick had encouraged her to take the time off. “No way am I taking the blame. Our fine citizens voted down the tax increases, and the powers that be started cutting where it hurts.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. And you’re right, I shouldn’t be blaming you. The Oregon State Police got it worse than we did. Speaking of which, where’s Detective Riley? I thought he was due back today. I was hoping to run some things by him.”

She shrugged, trying not to let her concern show. “He hasn’t called. I heard they’d had a break in the investigation involving that high school girl.”

“Yeah, glad I’m not working on that one. They found her in a shallow grave late this afternoon.”

“Oh no.” Angel leaned back against the car. “I was hoping . . .”

“Me too, but I had a hunch it would turn out this way—especially when I heard about the blood evidence in the trunk of the car they found.”

“I imagine Callen will have to stay there a while longer with everything breaking loose.” Angel didn’t bother to hide her disappointment.

“For sure. You could always go down there to see him.”

Angel shook her head. “I could, but I won’t. I’d just be in the way.”

“Well, fortunately, we aren’t going to need the state detectives or a lot of manpower on this one.”

“What do you mean?” Angel peered at him, then let her gaze drift toward the house.

“It’s an open-and-shut case. Obviously, his wife killed him.”

“Nick, don’t you think it’s too soon to make that kind of
assumption?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think she did it?”

“No, I don’t.” Angel couldn’t have told him when she’d come to that conclusion—or if she really had. “At least not yet.”

Nick shook his head. “Because she’s a woman?”

“No. Of course not. But there are other possibilities.” She didn’t mention Gracie, and wouldn’t—not until she checked some things out.

“You got some intuition thing going? Or maybe you know something I don’t.”

“It’s just something she said. Candace thought Phillip was doing better. She said he hadn’t hurt her lately. They were working things out, and he was seeing a counselor.”

“What she says doesn’t mean a heck of a lot. She’s probably wanting us to think that. You know how it goes.”

“Maybe I just don’t think you should rush to judgment on this.”

“Look, Angel. We’ve been friends for a long time. You were a pretty good cop. But you’re not in uniform. You’re a civilian, and that means your opinion is just that—an opinion.”

“My brain didn’t fall out when I gave up the uniform,” Angel snapped back.

“No, but you’re not a detective. And dating one doesn’t give you the right to act like one.”

“That is totally unfair.” Angel threw up her hands. “Fine. You don’t want my opinion, then figure it out on your own.”

“I plan to.”

Angel brushed by him. “I’m going inside to get some stuff for Candace and the kids.”

She paused at the entry and took off her shoes, noticing the huge amount of mud that had been tracked in onto the porch and entry. No wonder Candace insisted everyone leave their shoes at the door. Candace had said something about cleaning up muddy tracks. Had they belonged to Jenkins’s killer?

Oh, Candace, why did you have to clean things up? We might have been able to prove you didn’t do it.

Unless . . . Maybe she had cleaned up the prints because she recognized them. A woman comes home and sees her husband has been shot. Any normal woman would have called the police right away. She hadn’t. Candace had washed the floor, eliminating the muddy prints. Was it because she thought the prints belonged to Gracie? Maybe that’s what the look that had passed between them at the school had been about—a mother protecting her daughter.

On the other hand, the woman did seem obsessed with keeping a clean house. As she walked through the house and up the stairs, Angel was again taken aback by Candace’s housekeeping skills. Her own mother was a terrific homemaker, but even she couldn’t keep things this neat all the time. Angel went from room
to room, and each one, even those belonging to the children, was surprisingly tidy.

As a kid, Angel’s own room had been a disaster most of the time. She smiled, thinking about her mother’s insistence that at least once a week she should be able to see the floor. Sometimes Angel would push stuff under the bed in an attempt to tidy up. That worked for all of two Saturdays until Anna got suspicious about the lack of dirty laundry. Angel had been grounded for two weeks.

She knelt on the floor and lifted the dust ruffle on Gracie’s bed. The hardwood floor was spotless, gleaming from the scant light that managed to sneak in from the ceiling light. “Not even a dust bunny,” she said aloud. “Now that’s scary.”

“Hey, Angel. I thought I heard someone in here.” Jill, the CSI tech, came in just as Angel was getting up.

“Oh, hi.” Angel flushed, feeling like a kid caught in the act. “I was just noticing how neat everything is. Not normal.”

“I noticed that too.” Jill smiled. “Some women are like that. Me? I’m lucky if my house sees a dust rag once a month. Guess it’s a matter of priorities.”

“I guess.”
Or necessity.

“Did you get everything you needed?” Jill asked. “We’re about to lock up.”

“Yeah. I think so.” She took another look at the two suitcases Candace had told her she’d find in the master bedroom. Along with the clothes, she’d tucked in a couple of stuffed animals from each child’s room. In Gracie’s, she looked around and picked up a handheld CD player and headset along with a couple CDs. Just as she was leaving, she grabbed a teddy bear off the bed. “Just in case,” she told Jill.

“Nice gesture.”

“Jill . . .” Angel hesitated, not sure how her request would be taken. “You probably heard that I’m on leave from the Sunset Cove PD.”

She smiled. “Nick told us. Said you’d taken leave—of your senses.”

Angel laughed. “Nick’s just jealous. Anyway, I was wondering if you could keep me in the loop on this. Since I was the first one to talk to Candace and call it in, I’d like to know what you find.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She bit into her lower lip. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I could lose my job . . .”

“Sure. I understand. Um, don’t say anything to Nick about my asking. He’s a bit testy about my being interested in the investigation.”

Jill nodded. “I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s probably overworked like the rest of us.”

“Do you think Candace killed her husband?”

“Tough call. If she hadn’t cleaned everything up, we’d be able to come closer to answering that.”

“I’m not sure why, but I don’t think she did it.”

“You may be right. At this point I couldn’t even venture a guess. We’ll know more when we process the evidence—which may be a while. We’re backed up six weeks at the lab.”

“That’s a long wait.”

“Don’t I know it. But we’ll do some of the preliminary work-ups. That will help.”

After saying good-bye, Angel hurried downstairs, where she traded keys with Nick and placed the bags in her trunk. She climbed into her own car and waved at Nick and Terry as she started the engine.

After dropping the suitcases off at her parents’ house, Angel headed to Callen’s house to feed Mutt. Halfway there, her cell phone rang.

“Callen.” If hearts could dance, Angel would swear hers was doing a jig. “Where are you?”

“Still in Florence. We had a breakthrough today.” He sounded tired, and Angel wished she could feed him soup and massage his shoulders.

“I heard. Nick said you found her body.”

He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry. I kept hoping it would turn out differently.”

“Looks like she’s been dead for about two days.”

“Any idea who did it?”

“We have a car and are tracking down the owner.” He cleared his throat again. “Angel, if you don’t mind, I’d just as soon not talk about the case. Tell me about your day. How are you liking the life of leisure?”

“What leisure?” Angel filled him in on the Jenkins murder. “I wish you were here. Nothing against Nick, but the Sunset Cove PD could use your expertise.”

“Ah, so it finally comes out. You only want me for my brains.”

“Shoot,” she teased, “I didn’t mean for you to find out so soon.”