The Devil Wore Sneakers (10 page)

“Witnesses have reported a man resembling Hastings hitchhiking near the Canadian border. Law enforcement believed he was headed north, out of the country and—”

Lucy gripped the edges of the chair. “Matt
is
in town. He left me the holy card. You have it as evidence.”

Sullivan frowned. “I was going to add that after my discussion with Detective Cassidy, the theory has changed. We’ll find him, Miss Watson. Strangers stand out in Barley like a hunter at the petting zoo.”

Liam fought the urge to get in the chief’s face. “Sullivan, have you considered whether Hastings shot Ryan? He’s a sicko, and maybe in his mind, he was getting even with Lucy.”

“His profile shows women are his victims, not men, McAllister.”

“Killers change their habits.”

“Rare. I’m hoping forensics will give us a lead off the pennies. I’ll contact you as soon as the report comes in.” The chief stood to signal the end of the meeting. “Take care, Miss Watson.”

Liam and Lucy walked through the station in silence.

Once they reached the sidewalk, she paused. “I’m trying to understand what happened. You saw Bella at the Moose the night my brother was shot?”

“Unless she has a twin, Bella was there. Sullivan told us your brother died as late as midnight. Bella left when I locked up. Since Ryan’s house is a fifteen-minute drive, the chief can’t wipe her name off the list without removing mine. She could’ve borrowed Hank’s truck while he was taking a shower, or whatever he did after work, and sped over to Ryan’s. What Sullivan needs is solid evidence.”

“He wants the ‘smoking gun.’”

“Right.” Liam sent a searching gaze over the two blocks of Main Street. The sunlight reflected off the front windows of businesses where “Open” signs hung and encouraged customers to enter. The sound of small machinery from a side road filled the crisp air.

“What’s wrong?” She tensed beside him.

“Nothing. I was thinking how ordinary the day seems. Let’s stop for your new phone and then we’ll go pick up a bureau for the apartment from my parents’ storage.”

A green sedan swerved to the curb, and a tall, middle-aged man in jeans and a white shirt jumped out, leaving his door swinging.

Liam moved closer to Lucy, ready to block her if needed. Over his shoulder he asked, “Is that Matt?”

“Matt? No.”

The guy marched to the sidewalk. “Lucy Watson! I have a few words for you.”

Liam pushed in front of her. “You can speak to me.”

“Who are you?” The man turned his contorted face to Liam.

“Who are you?” Liam demanded.

“I’m Art Smith.”

Lucy dodged around Liam to meet Art Smith’s scowl.

“It’s a good thing Ryan Watson isn’t alive,” Smith spit, “or I’d kill him myself.”

Whoa, this man was a wacko. “Listen,” Liam said in a calm voice. “Why don’t we go inside where’s it’s private and talk.”
And the officers carry weapons.

Mr. Smith threw a fist in the air, ignoring Liam’s suggestion. “I don’t care if your brother is dead. I’m not overlooking what he did to my little girl.”

Lucy blinked rapidly. “What did he do?”

Smith leaned toward her. “Your brother was having sex with my teenage daughter.”

Chapter 12

Lucy pushed the hair from her face as wave after wave of shock hit her.
Ryan, why did you choose a young girl out of all the women on this planet?
“Mr. Smith, you’re upset, but—”

“I’m beyond upset!” Art spit at her. “Ryan Watson was a pedophile who took advantage of naive girls and his position as teacher. My daughter is sixteen. How would you feel?” The man stepped closer, looming over her.

“Listen,” Liam said, shadowing Art. “I understand your anger. I’d be half out of my mind, but Lucy’s innocent. She never harmed your daughter. You should talk to the police.”

“I will, and I’ll expose Watson’s true, sick nature. The girls at the high school are crying and calling him an awesome teacher. What kind of educational facility hires perverts like Watson? Instead of teaching students, your brother was preying on them.” Art Smith’s face reddened, and he looked ready for a stroke.

“Mr. Smith, please calm down,” Lucy begged. “I understand—”

“You understand nothing. Imagine what he’s done. If he slept with my daughter, he probably abused other girls. The police should be aware of what type of lowlife he was.”

Liam seemed to grow two inches in front of her. He leaned into the man’s face. “Be careful. You can be sued for defamation of character.” Liam yanked the station door open. “The clerk will direct you to the chief’s office.”

“You bet I’ll speak to the chief and then the news media. Miss Watson, your brother deserved to be fired and run out of town. He betrayed the parents and his students’ trust. The school needs to learn accountability.” Art stalked through the entrance.

She inhaled a shaky breath. “Ryan seduced kids he taught? I guess he didn’t straighten out as much as you thought, Liam.” She scanned the area. “I hope no one heard Art.”

Across the street, the desk clerk from the Barley House stood on the porch, staring at them.

She turned to Liam and whispered, “Too late. It’ll be all over town in a few minutes.”

“Yup. People are watching us.” Liam inclined his head in the other direction.

A small group had gathered on the edge of the sidewalk at the grocery store. Lucy groaned.

“Let’s go.”

They climbed into Liam’s silver pickup. Lucy shot a last glance at the spectators, who continued to stare at them. “I guess they don’t want to miss anything. Mr. Smith won’t need to put it in the paper with the scene he threw just now. Do you know him?”

“We never met. Can’t say I care to meet him again.” He pulled into the road and hit the gas. “Smith could change his mind when he calms down, and I can think of one thing that might distract our audience.”

“What?”

“Us. Our spectators will scratch their heads, wondering what we’re doing together and why
we
were coming out of the police station. Barley loves that kind of gossip.”

“You’re right. Did you have a clue Ryan was sleeping with his students?” Queasiness rose into her throat. Nope, not giving into the sensation. She gritted her teeth.

“Ryan never would. He talked about the frustrating kids in his classes. Then we agreed we hadn’t been easy either and had a couple of laughs over our high school memories.”

Her head hurt, but she didn’t have time for a headache. “Knowing Ryan, he wanted the teenagers to love him, but would he sleep with them? I mean, that’s asking to go to jail.”

“Ryan wasn’t stupid, but he did take risks.”

“Would he hook up with an underage girl?” She knew the answer. Ryan wanted anything forbidden. Still, he’d made a new life for himself. Why ruin it?

Liam stopped for the one traffic light on Main Street before he spoke. “He wouldn’t risk his job. He told me it was perfect for him, and he’d keep teaching until he was old like the science teacher nicknamed Mr. Magoo.”

The signal changed to green, and he hit the pedal. “We’ll stop now for your new phone.”

She nodded. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up.” A thought struck her. After five years of separation, Liam’s reasonable words could persuade her to agree with him. She should be careful.

* * *

Liam rolled up the sleeping bag and stuffed it under his office desk. He winced as he straightened. The couch springs were winning the battle of the muscle spasms. A run would work out the kinks in his neck. He paused and listened for footsteps overhead. Lucy’s footsteps. She lived only a floor away.

He ran a hand over his damp hair. At least he had a shower downstairs. Maybe the former owner spent a few nights here, too.

Liam needed one more thing before he was ready for his day. He’d left his new toothbrush in his truck. Time to face the cool March morning.

He headed outside. The sound of cars braking on the street carried across the air. He bet the turkeys had strayed into the road again on their hunt for food. The snow still covered most of the woods, and chow was scarce.

When he was younger, the cold weather had meant one thing— hockey. He’d lived and breathed the sport. Each winter, his father built the rink in the backyard where Ryan had learned to skate as soon as he could walk. During breaks, he’d warmed up by the fire pit.

Maybe he’d lace up the old skates once the police arrested Ryan’s killer and life returned to normal. Art Smith’s accusations outside the station had opened up the possibility of Ryan’s killer being connected to the high school. Who did Sullivan suspect now? Lucy had begged off talking about the incident after they borrowed Aunt Tildie’s bureau from the storage unit. She…

He stopped by his truck. The door wasn’t shut all the way. He always locked it.

Don’t touch,
warned the voice in his head.

He peered inside. His registration, gas receipts, and order forms for the Moose lay scattered over the seats and floorboards.

What in the name…?

The glove compartment was wide open, and a silver plate sat on the driver’s seat. Why was that in his truck?

He angled closer. A card with a picture of a man’s head lay on the plate. Shock stung him. Below the image he read: “I bring you the head of John the Baptist.”

Hastings.
The bastard was trying to intimidate him. Liam dug in his pocket for his cell and scanned the yard. Was he near, laughing and getting his kicks? He hit the emergency number. One advantage of living in the center, law enforcement arrived within minutes.

In less than an hour, the two officers who’d responded left with reassurances of finding the culprit. They had canvassed the downtown area and alerted the residents about the prowler. They asked Liam to keep the knowledge of the platter and holy card to himself to help law enforcement identify the actual perp.

On the corner, Lucy joined Gage, Flo, Hank, and Father Francis after the police questioned each of them. When the officers left, Liam escorted Lucy to her apartment. His neighbors and coworkers stayed behind, exchanging more stories about customers.

Once he and Lucy reached the upstairs, he offered to stay with her, but she shooed him away.

He paused on his way down the stairs. Who the heck was John the Baptist? As a kid, he’d always been embarrassed that his family didn’t attend the local church. Now he had another reason to regret his lack of religious background. Liam plugged the name in the search box on his phone and clicked on the link.

“King Herod ordered John the Baptist beheaded because he feared his influence over the people would lead them to rebel. His head was brought to the king on a silver platter.”

Gory. Liam headed to his office, mulling over the information. Was Hastings afraid of his power of persuasion over Lucy?

He had just entered his room when someone banged on the rear door. The police had made an arrest already? He strode to the back hall and opened up.

Gage swept a shock of brown hair off his forehead and smiled at him. “I’ve got a present for you.” He held out a revolver. “It’s a .357 Magnum. I know you’re not into guns, but you’ll scare off a lot of people by waving this sucker around.”

“Where did you get it?” Liam stared down at the scratches and dent on the butt of the weapon. “Did the last owner whack a few heads with the grip?”

“A friend of mine, who’s kind of a hermit up by the border, sold it to me. Don’t worry, he used it for target practice, and opened a few cans when he couldn’t find an opener. He is a little out there, but law-abiding.”

Liam turned the Magnum over in his hand, getting the feel of the gun.

“I never fired it. If I hunt, I use my rifle. Consider the gun a loan. It’s good to have, just in case.”

Just in case. Great logic. “Has anyone—”

Gage shook his head. “No one’s approached me with any rifles for sale. Sorry, man, I heard about the missing ones from Ryan’s house.” He handed him a holster. “To carry the .357.” Gage slapped Liam on the back. “Be safe, McAllister.”

Liam locked up and went inside to contact the insurance company. Two hours later, he sat with Lucy at the Moose’s bar, drinking tea. Hank and Sadie had arrived and were hanging out in the kitchen, getting ready for the lunch group.

Lucy’s dark brows slanted in a frown.

“You had an exciting first morning in your apartment,” he said to her. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“The bed was comfy. Aunt Tildie’s chair looks nice in your living room.” She shifted toward him on her stool. “I’m sorry about your truck.”

“Why are you apologizing? Hold on, did you sneak out and mess with my pickup?”

“I know you’re not serious.”

He was unable to resist a quick, affectionate brush of his fingertips across her hand. The contact caused his blood to surge.

Lucy seemed as affected. She bit her lip and blushed. Her response tempted him to lean over and kiss her.

Keep it under control,
he told himself. He launched into news about his truck. “I’ve already emailed the info to my insurance company. They’ll pay for the repairs.”