'Til Death (A Rebel Ridge Novel) (23 page)

“Mrs. Duggan, just tell us what he said from start to
finish.”

She nodded, pulled a handful of tissues from the box and then
dabbed at her eye. “It all began a few days ago with a visit from my brother
Prince White. As you know, the police have been searching for his body ever
since they pulled his pickup from the Kentucky River.”

One of the detectives stopped her. “Yes, ma’am, but what does
that have to do with your assault and the phone call today?”

“I’m getting to that,” she said. “Anyway, as I was saying,
Prince showed up at my house demanding money. He said the law was after him for
stalking a woman named Margaret Lewis and he needed to get out of town. I told
him to leave or I’d call the law on him myself. Then he told me if I didn’t help
him, he’d hurt Wesley. I panicked. I gave him all the cash I had, which was over
six hundred dollars, and he left. Then the police called me to say he’d drowned,
and I thought that was the end of it.”

She’d cried so long her whole body was shaking, so she stopped
to take a sip of water. The simple act made her lip begin to bleed again, which
emphasized the damage she’d suffered during the attack. Everything was going
according to her plan. She could tell by the looks on their faces that she had
the detectives in the palms of her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she dabbed at a dribble of blood on
her chin. “Last night I was still so terrified by what had happened to me, and
then, when I learned what had happened to Wesley, I panicked. I wasn’t entirely
truthful with you then, but now I’m telling you the rest of what I should have
told you last night. I knew my attacker. It was my brother Prince. He isn’t
dead. He faked his death, then came by to get more money from me, and when he
found out Wes had moved out and frozen our bank account, he went crazy. He asked
me where Wesley was, and I wouldn’t tell him. That’s why he beat me. My brother
is the man who shot Wesley, and he’s the one who just called me and threatened
my life. He’s crazy. When he finds out that I told you, he’ll kill me, too.”

Lucy turned her tears into gut-wrenching, body-trembling
sobs.

“Why is this happening? I’ve spent my life trying to live down
the family into which I was born, but no matter how hard I try, they’re always
in the background, committing one ugly deed after another, and pulling me and my
reputation down with them. I wish he’d killed me, too. I can’t go through all
this without Wesley.”

“But, ma’am, your husband isn’t dead. He’s still in intensive
care. I don’t have an update on his condition, but while there’s breath there’s
hope.”

Lucy rolled over onto her side—groaning in genuine pain, though
she would have faked it for effect if she’d had to—and covered her face.

“That’s enough,” the nurse said. “She’s under too much stress.
You’ll have to leave.”

One of the detectives paused. “There will be a guard on her
room at all times until we apprehend the accused.”

The nurse nodded. “I’ll inform the head nurse and Mrs. Duggan’s
doctor.”

Within moments the room was quiet, except for Lucy’s sobs. The
nurse came back and injected her IV with pain meds and a sedative. Lucy cried
for a little while longer, just to make sure the guard out in the hall heard
her, and then closed her eyes and gratefully let the meds take her away.

Sixteen

L
incoln was so focused on reading about the
unsolved bank heist that he didn’t realize Meg was setting the table around him
until she put the hot casserole on a trivet and he smelled the aroma of melting
cheese. He stopped and looked up.

“Oh man, that smells good.”

Meg leaned over his shoulder. “What did you find?”

He pointed to the article he’d pulled up on her laptop. “There
were two armed men wearing ski masks and camo-style clothes. One had a handgun,
one had a rifle. No automatic weapons, which makes me think it was
amateurs...although this
was
a little over eighteen
years ago, before automatics became so commonplace. Also...see here...they had a
good description of the getaway car and even a tag number. All that and they
still never solved it. Hmm, it was a Wisconsin tag. Probably not what we’re
looking for, but we’ll mark it just the same.”

“Bookmark the site,” Meg said. “We’ll send it to the sheriff
and let him read it. He can always get more details for us.”

“Good idea,” Linc said, and closed the laptop and pushed it
aside. He eyed the food she had put on the table and then grabbed her hand. “Is
this a preview of what I can expect for the rest of my life?”

She kissed his ear and then gave him a hug. “It is if you want
it to be.”

He pulled her into his lap and kissed the hollow at the base of
her throat.

“God, you are a stunning woman.”

She rubbed her thumb along the curve of his lower lip. “Well,
thank you very much,” she said softly, then kissed the spot where her thumb had
been.

There was a knot in Linc’s throat that made it suddenly hard to
speak. He coughed to clear his throat and said, “You asked me what I want. I
want to be happy, and live to be an old man with a whole lot of kids and
grandkids, and I want you standing right beside me until I’ve taken my last
breath.”

“Oh, Lincoln. You always took my breath away, and you just did
it again.” Tears welled as Meg buried her face against his neck.

The faucet at the sink was dripping into a bowl of standing
water. The soft plink, plink, plink was like a metronome, marking off the timing
in their lives. They’d lived, loved and lost once. Finding each other again and
shooting for the same goal was scary as hell.

Honey barked once. It broke the tension of the moment as Linc
looked up.

“What does one bark mean?”

Meg smiled. “Bird. Squirrel. Rabbit. Some critter too close to
her territory.”

He chuckled. “So now I’m forewarned that you will know my bark
as well as you know your pup’s.”

She laughed. It broke the tension of the moment so that they
got to the food without any more tears. Linc was spooning the hamburger
casserole onto his plate when Honey began barking in earnest.

“Not a bird,” Meg said, and got up to see who was there. A
quick glance out the window and she called back, “It’s Quinn. Set another
plate.”

Lincoln’s heart skipped a beat. He’d heard enough from Meg
about Quinn’s recent history to know that he would be the most suspicious member
of the family. And yet he
had
helped Meg do that
research. He sighed. First one-on-one with a family member and it
would
be the hard-ass.

When he heard a male voice in the living room, he turned around
to see Meg coming back with Quinn at her side. She was smiling, but he could
tell she was anxious on his behalf. There was no way to get over this other than
to get through it. He went to meet Quinn with his hand outstretched.

“Quinn. It’s been a long time,” he said.

Quinn blinked, then grinned. “Damn, man. Talk about growing up.
I hope you’re through or your head is gonna go through the roof.”

And just like that, the tension was over. “Yeah, I’ve been
getting that a lot.”

Quinn handed Linc a folder. “After I gave Meg that list, I
thought you should have these, as well. They’re printouts of the crime
reports.”

Linc’s expression brightened. “Thank you! We were going to take
the list to Marlow after we ate and get him to do this. You just saved him
and
us a lot of time.”

“I should have thought of it before,” Quinn said.

Meg poured another cup of coffee and set it on the table, then
dished up some casserole for her brother.

“Linc. Tell Quinn your news.”

“I hope it’s good,” Quinn said as they sat back down.

“It was for about three minutes, but now I’m not so sure.”

Quinn frowned. “I don’t follow.”

Linc repeated what he’d told Meg about Wesley’s confession,
then explained that he’d been shot and was in intensive care, and that Lucy had
been attacked in her home at around the same time.

“Holy...” Quinn shook his head. “I am stunned. All these years,
they knew it was a lie and let you go down for it.”

Linc shrugged. “I’m not sure Wesley knew until I confronted him
the other day. And I’m sorry to say I don’t believe for a minute that Lucy is
innocent in what happened to Wes.”

Quinn nodded. “Yeah, considering he just sold her down the
river with his own confession, I can see why. At least this gives the
authorities a new starting point. If you are no longer a suspect, they have to
look elsewhere and...” All of a sudden his eyes widened. “Is this why you wanted
these reports? But how does—”

“I’m not sure yet, but my gut tells me there’s a connection.
The White family’s home was in foreclosure until two weeks before Dad’s death.
All of a sudden the place was paid off and they began fixing it up.” Linc
repeated the rest of the story, down to the fact that Fagan had called in the
fire and the other two had been on the scene to help fight it.

Quinn chewed and swallowed. “But they were Lucy’s family.”

“But she wasn’t there and they knew it.” Linc explained the
dynamic between his dad and the Whites.

“Okay. That changes things some.”

Linc nodded and took a bite himself, then rolled his eyes.

“This is really good, Meg.”

She smiled as she dug into her own supper.

“Don’t brag on her too much,” Quinn drawled. “She’s already got
a big head about her cooking.”

She gave him a hard stare. “I so do not.”

Linc laughed, remembering the sibling squabbles. “It’s
gratifying to know some things never change.”

By the time they were down to dessert, Quinn was more than
impressed with what Lincoln Fox had done with his life. The family would be
thrilled to know about Wesley Duggan’s confession, as well as the fact that
Lincoln was solvent and a business owner.

Meg put the cookie jar on the table and refilled coffee cups.
“Molasses cookies. Made them yesterday. Help yourselves.”

Quinn took out a couple while covertly eyeing the byplay
between his sister and Lincoln Fox.

“So, once you get all this mess cleared up, are you planning to
stay or go back to Dallas?” Quinn asked.

“I plan to rebuild at Grandpa’s place.”

“You didn’t exactly answer my question,” Quinn said.

“Quinn, mind your own business,” Meg muttered.

“I just wanted to know where my sister was likely to wind up.
If you move, we might actually miss her.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God! Quinn! Stop talking! Put a
cookie in your mouth and chew.”

Linc grinned. “Don’t worry, the road between here and Dallas
runs both ways. I can handle business from almost anywhere as long as I touch
base now and then. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get homesick.”

Quinn stuffed a whole cookie into his mouth and nodded. “Good
to know,” he mumbled.

Meg bopped the back of her brother’s head. “Don’t talk with
your mouth full.”

Linc grinned. Today just kept getting better.

* * *

Sheriff Marlow frowned as he hung up the phone. The one
good idea he’d had in weeks, and he’d waited too long to act on it. He wouldn’t
be talking to Bobby Lewis about anything, because Bobby Lewis was dead. He’d
succumbed to cancer last night, and the warden had already notified the family.
Hell of a deal. Now he would have to wait until after the funeral to talk to
Claude and Jane to see if they had any notion of why Bobby and Prince had
talked.

He glanced at Lincoln Fox’s file, picked up one of the reports
and began making notes. A few minutes later the door opened. When he saw the
couple who walked in, he closed the file and stood up, struggling as to how to
break the news to Meg Lewis that her ex was dead.

“Have a seat, you two,” Marlow said. “Meg, I’m glad you’re
here. I have something to tell you, and I’m not sure how you’re gonna feel.”

Linc glanced at Meg and then took her hand.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I just talked to the warden at the prison where Bobby was
housed. I’m sorry to tell you that he passed away last night. I was hoping to be
able to talk to him, but that can’t happen now. I still want to talk to Claude
and Jane, and see if they have any inkling of what was going on, but I won’t do
that until after they bury their brother. Once again, it’s hurry up and
wait.”

Linc glanced nervously at Meg, unsure of how she was going to
react.

She frowned. “I’m sorry he’s dead, but I already knew that was
inevitable. As for being sad that he’s gone, I’m way past that stage.”

Marlow was relieved, and so was Linc. Both men settled deeper
into their seats.

“So how can I help you?” Marlow asked.

Linc handed him the file Quinn had brought and once again
explained his theory about the Whites’ windfall having something to do with his
dad’s murder.

Marlow listened politely but was frank about his opinion. “I
think you’re reaching here, but I’m happy to look these over and give your idea
some thought.”

Meg leaned over and pulled out the robbery they’d been focusing
on. “Take a look at this one,” she said. “The timing and the amount of money fit
the scenario Linc was thinking about.”

Marlow picked it up and scanned it, and then all of a sudden he
looked up at Linc with shock on his face.

“Son of a bitch!” He glanced at Meg. “Sorry, but I think you
two have stumbled onto something.”

Linc leaned forward. “Why? What did you see?”

Marlow pointed at the spot where the tag number was mentioned.
“I recently saw that very license tag.”

Linc stood abruptly. “Where?”

Marlow spoke before he thought. “In the barn on the Whites’
property...nailed onto the wall to cover up a hole.”

Linc grabbed Meg’s hand. “We’re leaving now.”

Marlow was on his feet. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“To get Fagan. To make him talk.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Marlow said. “You leave this up to
the law to handle.”

Linc turned on him. “Like hell. The last time I left my life up
to the law, I ended up in prison.”

Marlow rolled his eyes. “Then wait, damn it. Let me get my
deputy. I’ll let you, and only you, accompany us, but that’s it. Otherwise I’ll
lock you up right now. Understand?”

Linc strode back to where Marlow was standing, so furious he
was struggling with the urge to punch the man. It was the same helpless,
railroaded feeling he’d had when his grandfather had given him an ironclad alibi
and the law had completely ignored it.

It was Meg who calmed him down when she took him by the hand.
“Linc, you want this done properly so the court can’t throw out anything Fagan
might say because he claims he was coerced. Right?”

Linc took a deep breath. When he spoke to Marlow, the threat
was still in his voice.

“If you don’t ask the right questions, I will. This is my life
the law screwed up, not yours. Do
you
understand
me?
”

“Fair enough. You can ride in the cruiser with Deputy Eddy and
me. Meg, you drive his truck home. I’ll drop him off at your place when we’re
done.”

Meg gave Linc’s hand a quick squeeze. “Yes, I will. Okay,
Linc?”

He was still looking at Marlow as he dug out the car keys and
handed them to her. “Drive careful.” Then he turned around and took her by the
shoulders. “I’m sorry. I swear to God, once this is over, I will never lose my
temper again.”

She cupped the side of his face. “Don’t make promises you can’t
keep, Linc. I don’t care how mad you get, as long as it’s not at me.”

Ignoring the fact that Marlow was watching, he kissed her.

“Like I said, drive careful.”

“I will. See you soon.”

She left the office, leaving Marlow and Linc alone.

“I need to radio Eddy and have him come in,” the sheriff
said.

“Where is he?”

“Gassing up the cruiser. Timely task, as it turns out, wouldn’t
you say?”

Linc shoved his hands in his pockets and started to pace, while
Marlow had a conversation on the phone and then began digging through a file
cabinet. Linc didn’t pay any attention to what the sheriff was doing and was
still pacing when the deputy came in the back door.

Marlow rolled a piece of paper out of his old typewriter and
then stapled it to the others on the desk. “Let’s go,” he told the deputy. “I’ll
fill you in on the way.”

When Linc followed them, Eddy stopped. “Where’s he going?”

“With us, and I’m driving.”

Eddy handed him the keys.

“We have to stop at Judge Early’s office to get this search
warrant signed,” Marlow said.

They buttoned up their coats and headed out. The day was clear,
but the wind was sharp. A good day for rabbit hunting, Marlow thought, but it
would be even better if they were able to take down a criminal instead.

* * *

Fagan White was on a mission. He was turning his grief
over his brother’s untimely death into a motive for change. For the past
twenty-four hours he’d been hauling crap out of the house and burning it in a
fire pit in the bare ground out back. He’d cleaned out the old fireplace and had
a fire going in it as he worked. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans were going
into garbage bags to recycle down in Mount Sterling. He’d swept cobwebs down
from ceilings that had been there so long they were crumbling. He cleaned the
trophy heads mounted on the walls, then began sweeping dirt off the floors.
After he’d dusted the entire house, including windowsills and blinds, the dogs
were banned. As soon as he made the last trip out to the fire pit, he got down
the mop and bucket and set to work.