Vendetta (29 page)

1

8:25 am
Nashville suburb

Nikki Boyd slid out of her white Mini Cooper as two bagged bodies were being wheeled from the one-story house nestled in one of Nashville's nicer suburbs. Her stomach clenched. Even after nine years on the force, the emotional challenges of the job had yet to make her completely calloused. It was impossible not to personalize some of what she saw. The cases she couldn't solve. The brokenness she couldn't fix.

Tamping down those thoughts, she started down the walk where half a dozen police cars and the local medical examiner had parked in front of the taped-off crime scene, allowing both uniformed and plainclothes officers to take over the sleepy, tree-lined street. One of her teammates, Jack Spencer, stood waiting for her on the curb in a gray jacket and a white dress shirt paired with a trendy blue and orange paisley tie.

“Morning,” she said, holding up a takeaway box from her parents' BBQ restaurant. “I was having breakfast with my mom
and sister-in-law when the call came in. Thought you might like a couple of my mom's homemade cinnamon rolls to celebrate your first day back to work.”

Five weeks ago, he'd gotten shot in the middle of a hostage situation that had almost gotten both of them killed.

“You can't imagine how happy I am to be back on the job,” Jack said. “Though next time, you might want to remind me to duck when someone decides to take a shot at me.” He laughed, then took the offered takeaway box and dropped it into the backseat of his car. He slammed the door shut. “I love your mom's cinnamon rolls.”

“I know.”

“How's that little niece of yours?” he asked.

Nikki smiled at the question. “Five weeks old tomorrow and a perfect little angel.”

She started for the house beside him, then stopped, noticing the red marks around his wrist and the fact that his face looked a bit . . . chalky. She pulled up the sleeve of his jacket a couple inches, revealing a line of ugly splotches. “What in the world happened to you?”

He frowned, then moved his arm away in order to pull down the jacket sleeve. “It's nothing.”

“Nothing? Are you kidding me?” she asked. “That looks horrible.”

“I was in the middle of a session with my allergist when we got the call to come in.”

Nikki pressed her lips together in an attempt not to smile. It hadn't take long for her to discover that not only was Jack a magnet to anything that stung, bit, or floated in the air, he was also a bit of a hypochondriac.

“It's not funny,” he said, heading toward the crime scene.

“I didn't say it was funny. I'm just curious as to why you got retested. I thought you went through that a few months ago.”

“The previous tests were . . . inconclusive.”

Nikki matched his stride as they walked down the sidewalk toward the house, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't, she decided to change the subject. “Any clue as to why we are getting involved in a double homicide?”

Homicide detectives handled murder cases. They typically did not.

“You know as much as I do at this point,” he said as his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket. Checked the caller ID, then put it back in his pocket without answering.

“What about Gwen?” she asked.

“Boss asked her to go to the precinct. We'll meet her there when we're done here.” Jack flashed his badge at one of the officers. “We're here to see Sergeant Dillard.”

The officer nodded. “He's expecting you. He's there at the front door talking with the ME.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks.”

Sergeant Dillard stepped away from the ME as they walked up the sidewalk. The older man stood a couple inches shorter than Jack's six foot two, with a slight pudge around the middle.

He shot them both a friendly smile before shaking their hands. “You two are with the missing persons task force?”

“Yes. We were told to report to you, but . . .” She caught the flashing lights of the ME's vehicle as they finished loading the bodies into the back of the van. “I'm still not sure why we're here.”

“I opted to call your team in because I've got two dead bodies
and
two missing persons. This house belongs to Mac and Lucy Hudson, but those two men in body bags aren't the homeowners.”

Jack's brow furrowed. “Then who are they?”

“Haven't been able to ID the bodies yet, so at this point, your guess is as good as mine. We've been here over two hours
processing the scene, and my team's still trying to come up with a timeline of what happened. If you want to come inside with me, you can see for yourselves.”

Nikki slipped on the offered gloves and booties, then stepped into a ransacked living room behind Jack. She sucked in her breath at the scene surrounding her. The scent of death permeated the space. Dozens of yellow markers had been set up in the aftermath of whatever had happened in the house. Bullet fragments, shell casings, and fluid samples were being recorded by CSU. Blood pooled on the hardwood flooring and had seeped onto a rug in the center of the room. A couple of slugs had hit the far wall and splattered blood against its creamy beige finish.

A shiver shot through her. Things like this weren't supposed to happen on a quiet street in the suburbs.

But they did.

“As you might have guessed,” the sergeant said, “both men presumably died from gunshot wounds.”

Nikki's gaze scanned the rest of the room that had been completely trashed. “Do you have any idea when the shootings took place?”

“Rigor mortis was completely set in on the two bodies we just took out,” the sergeant said. “The ME said we're probably looking at sometime yesterday evening, though we'll have to wait to hear back from him after the autopsies.”

“Yesterday?” Nikki glanced at Jack and then back at the sergeant. “At least a half a dozen shots are fired in a sleepy suburb and the authorities are just showing up now? You can't tell me no one heard a disturbance.”

“That's exactly what I'm saying. Our initial findings show there were at least three weapons involved, including that of the homeowner, Mac Hudson.”

“So Mr. Hudson was defending himself?” Jack said.

“That's my best guess. According to the records we pulled, he owned two handguns, and one of neighbors said he spends a lot of his free time down at a local shooting range.”

“So what are you thinking?” Jack asked. “The homeowner shoots the intruders, killing them, and then what? Panics and runs?”

“That's one of theories we're looking at,” the sergeant said. “But here's why we brought you in. A call came through to 911 last night, and we've finally been able to identify the caller as Mac Hudson.”

“Why did IDing the call take so long?” Nikki asked.

“The call came through on a prepaid cell phone,” the sergeant said, “and he must've been indoors. The operator wasn't able to get a location.”

He pulled out his smartphone and played the file.

911. What is your
emergency?

I need help. They're going to kill me.

What is your location, sir? .
 
.
 
. Sir, I need
you to tell me your location so I can send
someone to help you.

My wife . . . Lucy . . . Please . . . you have to find her . . .

His voice sounded panicked. Someone scuffled in the background. Then nothing.

“So the wife was kidnapped?” Nikki asked.

“Implying there was a third intruder,” Jack added.

“Agreed, but this is all we've got,” the sergeant said. “That and the fact that he was using a prepaid cell instead of his regular phone when he called 911, which is also odd.”

“Is the rest of the house trashed like the living room?” Nikki asked.

Dillard nodded. “Most of it. Yes.”

“A typical burglar uses a search pattern—master bedroom,
bathroom, living room—a quick sweep for electronics and valuables,” Jack said. “No more than a minute to break in, and out in under ten. But in this case, the entire place is trashed, and they certainly didn't try to cover their tracks.”

“Because they were looking for something specific,” Nikki said.

She worked through the limited information the sergeant had just given them. What had been worth searching for that had ended up costing them their lives?

“But something still seems off,” she continued. “Going with the theory that the homeowner killed a couple intruders and ran, my question is why run? If Mr. Hudson owned two guns, legally, he should have known that when facing imminent danger of death, he's allowed to use deadly force. If this was a simple burglary, he had every right to defend his property.”

“And if he did run, where is he now?” Jack asked. “And what did he mean, you have to find her?”

“Those are the questions I'm hoping the two of you will help us answer,” Sergeant Dillard said.

“What do you know about the Hudsons?” Nikki asked.

“I've got officers canvassing the neighborhood now. From the limited information we've been able to gather so far, we know a couple things. As of eight this morning, Lucy's boss told us she didn't show up for work, which apparently isn't like her. Same is true for her husband. He never showed up at work today.”

“What else do you know about them?” Nikki asked. With every missing person case, time was of the essence. They needed to get through the basic facts as quickly as possible.

The sergeant flipped open his notebook. “The profile I have so far is sketchy. No children. No family in the area. They were friendly to their neighbors, though kept to themselves. According to the next-door neighbor, Mac Hudson is a research scientist who works for Byrne Laboratories. Lucy's a kindergarten
schoolteacher who works a couple miles down the road where she's been teaching the past five or six years.”

“And beyond this 911 call, no one heard anything?” Nikki asked.

“At least two of the neighbors are retired and on vacation. The weather's been pretty warm the past few days, which means people have their windows shut and their air-conditioners on.”

She picked up an eight-by-ten framed wedding picture of the couple off the mantel. They looked happy. Content. Lucy smiled up at the camera beside her husband, a radiant bride with her ebony skin, long, straight hair, and a stunning white dress.

Nikki set the photo back down and glanced around the living room. The neutral-colored throw pillows on the grey suede couch had been ripped open. Accent pieces from the coffee table had been knocked to the floor, and an embroidered wall hanging that said “Happily Ever After” had fallen to the ground, its glass cover shattered.

Something had gone terribly wrong in their fairy-tale world.

“What about their cars?” Jack asked.

“Mac's car is still in the garage. Lucy's is gone.”

“And who initially made the 911 call this morning?” Nikki asked.

“A neighbor found their two dogs wandering around her yard and realized no one was home. She went into the backyard planning to lock them up in the house with the spare key the Hudsons had given her and discovered the dead bodies.”

“I'd like to see the rest of the house,” Nikki said. “Then we can talk to the neighbor.”

They started toward the back of the house to the master bedroom. Once again, the room had been ransacked, but makeup, toothbrushes, and a contact lens case were still sitting on the bathroom sink. If either of them had run, they hadn't taken the time to take anything with them.

The second room had been set up as an office and looked even more disheveled than the master bedroom. Files were scattered across the floor, alongside books and reference materials. A broken laptop lay on top of the pile.

“The last room is an unfinished nursery,” the sergeant said as they moved on. “Doesn't look like it was touched.”

The room was empty except for a pile of baby clothes, a bassinet covered with white lace, and a few baby blankets.

“Is Lucy pregnant?” Nikki asked.

“If she is, no one has mentioned it,” the sergeant said. “Our crime scene unit will finish going through the house, then we'll pass on whatever we find.”

“Great,” Nikki said. “What's the name of the neighbor who called 911?”

The sergeant glanced at his note pad. “Colleen Jeffers. She lives in the house next door. She's pretty shaken, considering she was the one to discover the bodies. According to her, she and Mrs. Hudson are good friends. Last time I saw her, she was standing on her front porch.”

“Sergeant Dillard?”

Someone from the other room called the officer.

“I need to go for now,” he said. “We'll keep you in the loop.”

Jack glanced at his phone as they headed for the front door, then shoved it into his back pocket.