Officer on Duty (Lock and Key Book 4) (7 page)

The sound of her humming sent bile creeping into Beverly’s throat. She swallowed it, clenching her fists even tighter. To listen to her, you’d think the girl didn’t have a care in the world.

Unbelievable.

Beverly shoved her disgust onto a backburner and made her move before she could lose the advantage of surprise, lunging forward and swinging her purse with all her might.

It hit the girl between the shoulder blades, not the back of the head, as she’d intended. Still, her target fell forward beneath the weight of the brick concealed inside.

A shriek escaped her, then a muffled curse as she hit the linoleum.

Beverly had earned herself a split second, and she took advantage of it.

“Stay down!” she said, her gaze snagging on the knife block on the nearest counter.

The girl was maybe twenty pounds lighter than Beverly, and she was fully conscious, already trying to push herself up. If they tangled, it could end badly. Thinking ahead, Beverly seized one of the handles protruding from the knife block.

The knife she withdrew was long and pointed. She wasted no time in thrusting it at the girl on the floor, cutting imaginary gashes in the air. “Stay down!”

She screamed.

Beverly gripped her purse strap tighter and considered hitting her again.

She decided to be generous. This would go better if the girl saw that she was reasonable. “Be quiet, or I’ll have no choice but to knock you out cold.”

The girl turned her head to look at Beverly, blue eyes wide as she pressed her palms against the linoleum.

At least she wasn’t humming anymore.

“I’m here to talk to you. Sit up. This will go fine if you cooperate.”

The girl’s gaze settled on the knife, and after endless seconds, she pushed herself up and sat balled against the cabinet beneath the sink. In the fetal position.

How ironic.

Beverly bit down on her lower lip, tasting blood.

“You were in the parking lot at the clinic,” the girl said. “I saw you. Did you follow me? What the hell?” Even after she stopped talking, she couldn’t shut her mouth – it gaped open.

Beverly nodded. “You went to that place for help. Well, I’m here to give you the kind of help they won’t offer you.”

“What are you talking about? If you’re trying to rob me, there’s some money in my top dresser—”

“I’m not here for money.” Beverly’s lip curled. People with no moral standards always assumed that others were the same way. “I’m not a thief.”

The girl just stared, mouth open, like a fish.

Beverly drew a deep breath. “I’m here to stop you from making the worst mistake of your life.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The girl’s eyes shone, visibly wet. Soon, the tears would be streaking down her face.

She cried when threatened, and yet she had no regard for the innocent life at her mercy. It was nauseatingly pathetic.

“I saw you at that
clinic
.” Beverly’s knuckles went white against the knife handle. “You’re about to make an awful mistake. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“Lucky?”

“To be pregnant.”

The girl’s jaw dropped even lower. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

“Girls like you always lie!” Her jaw ached, and her pulse pounded in her temples, drumming up a deep ache. This girl was just like Sarah: secretive and deceptive, assuming she could play Beverly for a fool.

Beverly would be lucky to get an honest word out of her. She had to try, though. Because if she didn’t, no one else would.

“I went to the clinic for birth control. I don’t have health insurance.” Tears were streaming down her face now.

“Is that why you want to get rid of the baby? You don’t want the hospital bills?”

It was a ridiculous excuse. Beverly certainly hadn’t given birth in a hospital. Why did this girl think she was so special?

“There’s no baby!” She choked out her words between sobs. “Lots of women go there for cheap contraception. I should know – I volunteer there every other Saturday!”

The tension in Beverly’s jaw ratcheted up, and her head pounded. “You’re one of them.”

“What?”

“You work there.”

“No. I volunteer, for the experience – I’m a nursing student.”

“Do you…” Beverly sucked in a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how much blood is on your hands? How many lives you’ve ruined? Do you even
care
?”

She made some excuse, but Beverly didn’t hear the individual words. The blood rushing in her ears was too loud.

Her head spun. She hadn’t known, hadn’t realized how far gone this girl was. Could she even be saved?

All her hopes and plans for the girl blurred, sucked into a black hole of doubt. She’d waited in the clinic parking lot for nearly an hour, and had chosen this girl who’d walked alone. She’d been so full of certainty and purpose when she’d laid eyes on her, then trailed her home, certain she could make a difference.

Now, though…

The girl launched herself up from her position on the floor, lunging at Beverly’s legs with a shriek.

Beverly hit the floor, the impact shooting through her ribs and knocking the breath out of her lungs.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe, and could barely move. The girl’s hair was in her face, and her bony knuckles collided with Beverly’s jaw.

But Beverly still had the knife.

And now, she had no choice but to use it.

It was a shame. This wasn’t what she’d wanted, what she’d planned. But the girl had forced her hand. For the second time in a row, things had gone wrong because of a selfish girl’s stubbornness, her inability to listen.

She twisted onto her side, shielding her face with one hand while she swung the blade with the other.

She wouldn’t give up. Next time would be better. She’d find the right girl, and she’d make a difference. This was only a test, and she would persevere.

Her purpose was too important to abandon.

* * * * *

Brianna Haynes became a local media darling in the way only pretty young dead girls did. Facts previously known only by her friends and family became public fodder, pieces of her short life crystallized and fed to a curious public like bread crumbs they all hoped would lead to answers.

She’d played the saxophone in her high school marching band, then gone to community college for two semesters before taking what her family said had been meant as a break. During that time, she’d worked at a clothing boutique in Wilmington, down by the river walk.

She’d enjoyed her job – had always loved fashion, according to her mother. Her closet still held dozens of sun dresses and shoes to match. Her family couldn’t bear to give them away. Not yet.

She’d had a couple boyfriends, but had never been too serious with any of them. They’d all been considered by police and cleared of suspicion.

Nobody knew who’d murdered her, and before public curiosity could cool, somebody else died.

“Hell,” Richardson said, “we’re gonna have this county all to ourselves. Tourists will be running in the opposite direction.”

Tourism was important to Riley County. This time of year, the beaches swelled with people from all over the country – vacationers seeking the reprieve of the quiet, mostly undeveloped seaside south of Wilmington.

“Doesn’t make much difference for us,” Jeremy said, his tone wry as he thought of all the overtime he’d worked the summer before, “but it’s shitty for local business owners. Feel bad for ‘em taking hits like this two summers in a row.”

Of course, his pity for local entrepreneurs was overshadowed by what he felt for the two dead women. Unlike Brianna, Kaylee Wright – twenty-six years old – had been discovered dead in her home.

Also unlike Brianna, she’d been stabbed to death, not bludgeoned in the head or strangled. But the crimes were so close together, both in terms of time and physical distance, that it was hard to believe they weren’t related.

People just didn’t die violently very often in a town as small as Cypress, and the victims had both been females in their twenties.

Richardson seemed convinced that the same person had murdered them both.

“I hate that someone else was killed,” he said, “but between two murders, something concrete’s gotta come up. Riley County might not be more than a wide spot in the road, but we’ll have this fucker in custody soon.”

Jeremy nodded, his agreement escaping as a grunt. He agreed – both that ‘this fucker’ would be caught soon, and that the moniker was appropriate for whoever had killed Brianna Haynes and Kaylee Wright.

It probably had been the same person – most likely some piece of shit who’d gotten his jollies watching violence unfold in Riley County the year before and had decided to use the tragedy-touched town as his hunting grounds. The different methods of murder might’ve been an attempt to confuse investigators.

The thought made Jeremy want to break bones.

Instead, he pulled up in front of a convenience store on the outskirts of Cypress. Someone had shoplifted some motor oil and snacks, and the owner had caught it on surveillance footage. It was the kind of crime he wished was all the county had to worry about.

* * * * *

It was a delight to answer the door on Thursday evening and find Jeremy Connor standing there in uniform.

Lucia’s heart faltered, pumping a dual surge of glee and concern through her being.

“Is everything okay?”

She couldn’t think of a reason why he’d come to her house directly after work without even bothering to change.

Not that she was complaining. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anything half as hot as him in uniform.

“You’re not in any trouble with the law, if that’s what you mean.” He flashed her the barest hint of a grin, and then his expression went sober. “I assume you’ve heard about the second woman?”

Her heart sank, and even the sight of North Carolina’s hottest police sergeant couldn’t keep her spirits from following. “Unfortunately. It was all over the news today.”

“Well, no one’s been arrested, and I wanted to stop by to make sure you were aware of what happened.”

“I heard she was killed in her own home.” Lucia frowned. “So sad.”

“There were no signs of forced entry. We think she left her door unlocked. Either that or opened it for someone she knew or trusted for some reason. Until whoever did this is apprehended, we’re advising all women to take special care, especially women who live alone, like she did.”

Lucia swallowed a sudden knot, and it was followed by a contradictory spark of warmth. Jeremy had stopped by just to advise her to take care and lock her doors?

“I always lock my doors; you don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Living in a small town gives some people a false sense of security. You’d think after last year, people would realize that crime can happen anywhere.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” She’d watched the action unfold on the news from nearby in Wilmington, as shocked and wary as everyone else in the area. “Was it the same person who killed both women?”

“We don’t know yet. Possibly.”

She nodded, unsure which would be worse: a serial murderer, or two killers operating in Cypress.

“I won’t keep you; I just wanted to make sure you were up to date. Be safe.”

“I will. Thanks.”

She watched him walk away. The dark uniform was a perfect fit; in addition to showcasing his masculine figure, it let her see that there was a certain tension to his movements, a wariness.

Was he really that worried about her? Or maybe Paige, or his mom?

As she closed and locked her front door, it hit her: Jeremy had lost a woman he’d loved before, hadn’t he?

Paige’s mother. She didn’t seem to be in the picture, so what did that mean? Was she dead?

The thought made her heart even heavier. Gazing out the window, she watched him climb his porch steps and enter his house, no doubt locking the door behind himself.

He was obviously strong and capable. A sworn protector who’d devoted his life to defending others.

But what about him? She had no doubt he saw himself as a shield between life’s harsh realities and the people he loved.

That created a problem, though: there didn’t seem to be anyone left to watch out for him.

Oh, she had no doubt his co-workers had his back. But there was more to life than lights and sirens and tactical responses.

Beneath the bulletproof vest, he had a heart like any other person, and she couldn’t help but think it must be lonely.

* * * * *

It was the type of call Jeremy had responded to numerous times before: a missing minor. Today, it stirred up thoughts of the two recently murdered women and put him on edge.

When he got to the small house just outside of town, he didn’t waste time getting out of the cruiser and heading for the front door.

Richardson came with him.

The house was white, or at least, it was meant to be – dirt and time had turned the siding a grainy shade of grey. There were no flowers in the flower beds, and the ‘W’ was worn off the welcome mat.

He stood by the old mat and knocked.

Deep barking immediately started up in the heart of the house.

He and Richardson exchanged a brief glance.

Dogs. Jeremy liked them in general, just not when he was at work and they sounded like they wanted to rip his head off. At least this one’s owner had had the sense to make sure it was in the house.

He hoped that meant it was secured. Judging by the sound of its barking, it was big.

The sound of a latch being undone came from inside, but the barking didn’t get any closer. Nor was there any sound of nails scratching against the door. Still, he watched it open carefully, wary of a charging dog.

A woman came into view.

“You’re here,” she said, gripping the doorframe and peeking around the edge. “Thank God.”

“We understand your daughter is missing,” Jeremy replied.

Somewhere inside the house, the dog kept barking.

She drew a quick breath, nodded and flung the door all the way open. “She went to the beach with a friend this morning and was supposed to be back by two. It’s five-thirty now, and I can’t get ahold of her. We were supposed to go shopping – she’d never miss that on purpose.”

The woman was 40-ish, with hair that was dark at the roots and bleach-blonde everywhere else. She tucked a dry lock behind one ear and chewed her lip.

“How old is she?”

“Just turned sixteen.”

The dog’s barking reached a fever pitch, inciting the beginning of a headache between Jeremy’s eyes. “Ma’am, is your dog secured? It doesn’t sound too happy that we’re here.”

“Oh, he’s all bark and no bite. But yeah, I’ve got him shut in the kitchen. No need to worry.”

No sooner had she spoken than a crashing sound came from where the kitchen must’ve been. A gate – it looked like the kind used to keep babies off stairs – flew through the living room, followed by a brown blur.

The house was small and the dog was large and fast. It was at the door before anyone could blink.

It bowled its owner over, and she went down with a shriek.

Jeremy moved, but not before the dog latched onto his lower leg.

The pressure was immediate and crushing. A groan twisted up just below his breastbone and tried to escape, but he was breathless. He reached for his weapon by instinct.

“Shit!” Richardson was a blur of sound and movement behind him.

Saliva flew from the dog’s mouth as it shook its broad head. Jeremy barely kept his balance.

He was a hairsbreadth away from falling on his ass when the dog yelped, let go and convulsed.