ToServeAndProtect (4 page)

Dustin stopped at the nurse’s station where he was
told Ms. Porter had been moved. Since she had lost consciousness, the physician
wanted to keep her for a twenty-four hour observation period. Her physical
injuries appeared minor, nothing that wouldn’t heal within a couple weeks. The
deepest cuts in her feet and hands had been taped with butterfly stitches.

Officer Jasper sat outside her hospital room.

“Ms. Porter still asleep?” Dustin asked.

“Must’ve been a strong sedative, or maybe she’s wiped
out from a long night.”

Dustin cocked an eyebrow. “Killing can take a lot out
of a person.”

“Then you think she did it?”

Dustin shrugged. “Too soon to say. But you can take
off. I’ll talk to her when she wakes up. No need for both of us to wait.”

Richard stretched his arms over his head. “Thanks, can
I get you something before I split?”

Dustin shook his head. “I’m going to see if she’s able
to give a statement.” He opened the door and let it gently close behind him.

Inside the woman’s hospital room, Dustin couldn’t tell
if she was awake because her back was to him. Breathing slow and even and lying
perfectly still, he decided she was still asleep. He sat in the chair at the
foot of the bed and picked up a magazine.

“I’m awake.” Her voice was low and even.

Dustin closed the magazine and walked around the bed
until he was standing in front of her. She appeared frail, lying beneath the
thin blanket. He could easily see the outline of her long and willow-like
limbs. She had the body of a ballet dancer, and a face made from porcelain. At
the moment, cracked porcelain with scratches and bruising. Ms. Porter was
classically beautiful with golden, sun kissed, shoulder length locks. She
hardly looked strong enough to claim responsibility for the gruesome scene in
her father’s bedroom.

He had learned from years on the force that looks
could often be deceiving. The housewife with three little kids could be
president of the PTA and one-day make a stew out of her unfaithful husband. The
newspapers were full of stories about children killing their parents for money,
spite, and sometimes even for the thrill.

“Is my father dead?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me.” Dustin chose to take his
position in front of the window, knowing she’d find it difficult to see his
face with the sun behind him. He wanted to watch her expression for signs of
deception. Not only was she the only witness, she was his prime suspect.

Cringing in pain, she turned onto her back. With her thumb,
she pushed the bed control and leveraged herself into a sitting position. Her
eyelids fluttered closed. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Dustin leaned his
back against the window and folded his arms across his chest. The glare of the
bright summer sun cast his shadow across the room. “Do you mean you don’t know
if your father is alive, or are you alluding to something else?” It was still
possible that it wasn’t Dr. Porter’s blood spilled all over the bedroom,
although no one had located the man. “I’m going to need a statement.”

McKenna shifted her glance to the sun peaking over the
mountains as morning swept across the valley. Her hair was damp after a kind
nurse had helped her wash off her father’s blood. Laying on clean cotton
sheets, and a sterile hospital pillow didn’t change the fact that she could
feel her fingers sticking together. The metallic taste of blood still clung to
her lips, and her body felt dirty.

She closed her eyes as a tear slipped onto her cheek. Since
she was lying in a hospital bed, she had to believe Elliot had really been in
his bedroom. This was a very realistic nightmare.

She finally took an opportunity to glance at the
detective standing in front of her. He tried to look unassuming, but the wide
spacing of his feet and the stiffness of his shoulders depicted a man who was
agile in movement and alert to his surroundings.

The accusing wink of his gold detective badge clipped
to his waistband caused a fluttering in her stomach. Fearing he’d misread her
body language, she looked away. Yet she felt the intense stare of his hazel
eyes drilling into her. She ran her finger along the edge of the blanket.
Swallowing hard she forced the lump from her throat. “Am I under arrest?” Her
voice cracked nervously.

“Not yet. I need to know what happened in your house.”

A heavy sigh shuddered from her chest. “There was so
much blood.” Her eyes closed, but the horrific images filled her mind. “I—”

“Wait”

She lifted her gaze to his face.

“If you’re going to make a confession, I need another
officer in here with us.”

“Confession?” Her fingers stilled. “I think I need to
talk with an attorney.”

Dustin slid his hands into his front pockets, keeping
his thumbs out. Damn. Aloof and playing it cool, McKenna was obviously familiar
with her rights. Now that she had asked for an attorney, anything he might have
coaxed out of her would be inadmissible. Attorneys only complicated a formal
interrogation, if that’s where they were headed.

He hated to admit she looked guilty. Young,
attractive, her whole life ahead of her and she just might spend it
incarcerated…or worse. Capital crimes were eligible for the death penalty.

Pausing, he let the heavy weight of intimidation
settle on the moment. Her uneasiness grew more acute. Avoiding eye contact,
nervously fidgeting with the blanket, and he couldn’t overlook the fact that
she was covered with injuries. All these led him to believe she was present for
whatever happened at 634 Mountain Ridge Drive.

“You’re not under arrest, Ms. Porter.” He stepped away
from the wall. “I heard the hospital is going to keep you until tomorrow
morning. After you’re discharged, come down to the station and ask for me,
Detective Pearce. I’ll be working your case with my partner, Detective Jones.”
He handed her his card.

McKenna rubbed a finger across the embossed lettering.
“Thank you.”

Dustin turned to her before walking to the door.
“Don’t thank me. You’re a person of interest in the case. Don’t leave town, and
let us know where you’ll be. If you make me come looking for you, I’ll arrest
you.” As quietly as he entered her room, he left.

McKenna could breathe now that the detective’s encompassing
presence had vacated. When he had come through the door, her room suddenly felt
warmer than the yoga studio. The heat from his eyes had not been remotely
friendly, but instead, had filled her with fear. She had seen that look before.

There had been another night with a different
detective. The victim had been her high school boyfriend, the man she was to
marry someday. And just as surely as Scott’s parents had found her at fault,
Detective Pearce presumed she killed her father. Of that, she had no doubt.

However, there was another emotion firing her blood.
The breadth of his chest, the sculpted biceps in his crossed arms, he probably
had a wife who took comfort in his imposing strength. Of course, he wouldn’t
stare at a wife with the stern narrowed eyes he’d laser beamed on her.

McKenna picked up the telephone and dialed the one
person she knew she could count on. Although Dawn wouldn’t be very helpful, at
least she was a friendly voice that didn’t drip with accusation.

As soon as she heard her on the other end, the dam
gave way and McKenna’s eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, god, they think Elliot’s
dead,” she cried. “And so do I.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Elliot’s dead. Oh, god, he’s dead.”

“Mickey?”

“Yes.”

“Calm down.”

McKenna gulped in air. “I can’t.”

“Then just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Elliot was murdered, Dawn. I walked into the crime
scene. My father is dead!”

“What?” McKenna heard Dawn’s exasperation. Hell, she
understood the frustration. All she really knew was that something horrible had
happened in her home and now she was in the hospital and a detective had told
her not to leave town. “What are you talking about? Where are you?”

“At the hospital. A detective was here. I could tell
he thinks I killed my father.”

“Oh, shit. What happened? Wait. You just need to stay
calm. Listen to me. Take deep breaths and pull yourself together. I’m on my
way.”

“What do you think my chances are of beating a murder
rap?”

“You aren’t going to have to beat anything. Elliot
wasn’t murdered. Although I’ve wished him dead a few times.”

“Don’t say that! Next thing you know the cops will be
after you too.” She sighed into the phone. “Something happened, and I think the
detective believes I’m responsible. He told me not to leave town.” Her voice
raised as the gravity of the situation became more real.

“You weren’t planning a trip anyway.”

McKenna chuckled. She loved Dawn’s unwavering positive
attitude, but she hadn’t endured Detective Pearce’s scrutiny. She hadn’t seen
Elliot…McKenna squeezed her eyes tight and forced the bloody picture from the
back of her eyelids. Her heart rate spiked, and the taste of bile filled her
mouth.

“I’ll see you soon.” Flinging back the covers, she
dropped the phone, stumbled to the bathroom, and emptied her stomach.

An hour later, McKenna related the night’s events to
Dawn. From the grizzly crime scene to waking up in the hospital, she replayed everything
she remembered. Dawn sat on the end of the hospital bed and listened without
interrupting. McKenna cried when she described the scene in her father’s
bedroom.

Dawn strode to the window and fully opened the blinds.
“There’s a cop watching the room.” She turned and looked hard at her friend.
“Mickey, you’ve made yourself suspicious. Think about it. You’re the perfect
suspect. You don’t have a boyfriend, you’re twenty-five, and still live with
your dad. By any standard, you’re unusual. You don’t let anyone get close. You
don’t have a man in your life.

“I know you could never hurt your father, but the two
of you live pretty strangely. Even you have to admit it’s odd for a beautiful
girl to shut herself out of life to live with someone who barely speaks to
her.”

McKenna tried to rub her tired eyes with her bandaged
hands. “It isn’t so strange when that’s all you’ve ever known. And the way I
live isn’t the problem. Something happened to Elliot.” McKenna draped her legs
over the edge of the bed. “The detective who was here made his opinion
perfectly clear. Dawn, I will not be a suspect.” She stood holding onto the
bedrail for support. “I don’t know what happened in that room, and I don’t have
anything to hide.”

“But you don’t have an alibi.” Dawn’s words stopped
McKenna from reaching for her stiff pants caked with drying blood. “No one
knows better than you how that little detail turns cops on.”

McKenna tried not to think about the trail of evidence
the police were following. They found her lying in a large pool of blood,
covered with injuries that she supposed, could be interpreted as defensive. Or
perhaps the detective might think she’d received her injuries while she
brutally murdered her father.

She could guess what churned in the detective’s mind.
Spoiled little bitches brought up without thought to those who didn’t fulfill
their every whim could easily kill without remorse. All one had to do was
remember the Menendez brothers.

“I’m going home.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Tomorrow I’ll tell the police what they want to hear. I’ve done it all before.
Cry when it’s expected, yell when they push, and in the end, hope I come out
clean.”

Dawn took McKenna’s face between her hands. “You
listen to me.” Her voice was strong and steady. “You won’t say anything until
we figure out a plan. You need an alibi, and now you’ve got one.”

“Lying only makes me look guilty.”

“No, lying is your only chance. An orange jumpsuit at
the state prison will make you look guilty.” Dawn pulled her into a tight
embrace. “You find your backbone, Mickey. You hold your head up high when we
walk out of here and don’t you dare look at the fraternity of police officers
waiting outside this room.”

“I’m on a twenty-four hour observation. The doctor
won’t release me.”

“Bullshit. He’ll do exactly what you tell him. It’s
time you acknowledge money has power, and contrary to what you pretend, your
purse is now overflowing.”

“Great, I have money. Another motive and a lot of good
it will do me locked up.”

“Shut up and listen to me. I’m good with split-second
decisions and ours is made.” Dawn crossed the room to the chair. “I stopped at
a department store on my way over. You will look like the daughter of one of
Olden’s richest residents.” Her tone left no room for arguments as she pulled a
peach colored pantsuit from under plastic.

“Peach? I should be grieving. Black would be more
fitting.”

“Black washes you out. This is somber enough.”

McKenna sat down and covered her face with her hands.
Her shoulders heaved as tears streamed from her eyes. “Why is this happening?”