Worth Dying For (A Slaughter Creek Novel) (7 page)

Skid’s. Viola’s. Then Bessie’s.

Sweet little Bessie, the scared little kid who’d turned to the alters for help. Viola, the hussy who liked sex and men. Skid, the violent teenager full of rage.

She’d managed to stifle those voices, but a new alter was fighting to take control.

Rachel, a religious zealot, had started talking to her. Rachel called Amelia a whore for seeking comfort in a man’s arms.

Because he’s the wrong man.

He was part of the project.

Six.

Ting. Ting. Ting.
The wind chimes tinkled.

She hadn’t known that when she’d met him in the park a few weeks ago, though. She was deep in therapy, working hard to merge her multiple personalities, and she’d been painting a scene from her mind—one where she’d been strapped to a table and the Commander was standing over her.

When she’d glanced up, Six was standing in the shadows, watching her. She’d been terrified at first, afraid he was working for Arthur Blackwood.

But he’d told her how beautiful her painting was. How real. How much depth it had.

Then she realized he was familiar, that she knew him.

She admitted that her painting felt real because she’d lived that scene. Then she shared her story, that she’d spent time at Slaughter Creek Sanitarium. That she was purging her hatred on canvas for the man who’d stolen half her life so she could finally be free of him.

He smiled and assured her that he understood.

Something about him had drawn her to his side. To his bed.

Of course he’d felt familiar and understood—he’d been there with her. They’d shared a childhood that most people couldn’t imagine, much less understand.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she searched the woods. Images of the Commander flashed behind every tree. His evil eyes glaring at her. His icy, hard voice ordering her to kill herself.

Sadie had saved her that night.

Amelia owed it to her twin now to be strong. But what if
he
came back for her?

Her phone buzzed, and she skimmed the text.

Meet me at midnight
.

Amelia began to tremble. What was she going to do?

At first the sex with Six had been exciting. Exhilarating. He’d made her feel special. Wanted. Desirable.

Until his dark side had emerged. A dark side that she’d also been drawn to. Or at least Viola had. Viola had a penchant for rough, violent sex.

Knowing Six’s dark side, she’d wondered if he’d killed the woman in the newspaper, Ester Banning.

If so, she had to tell Sadie and Jake . . .

But how could she betray Six? He’d suffered too much already, just as they all had.

She rubbed her arms to ward off a chill. She’d meet him and find out.

But another voice reverberated inside her head, one she didn’t recognize, whispering a warning that meeting him was dangerous.

That if he’d murdered Ester, he might turn his rage on her at some point.

She’d worked too hard to survive to die now.

Chapter Seven

L
iz searched Ester’s desk drawer while Rafe walked next door to begin canvassing the neighborhood, in case any of the residents had known Ester or had seen the killer.

In the drawer, Liz found past-due receipts for rent, power, and phone bills, along with a checkbook that indicated Ester had been overdrawn. She looked for an address book, computer, or cell phone, without any luck. When she picked up the handset for the house phone, there was no dial tone. The phone company had probably discontinued service.

Beneath a bag of rubber bands and a box of paper clips, she found a business card with the logo for the health care company HomeBound–the same company she’d seen in Truitt’s picture—printed in bold letters at the top.

Liz stuffed the card into her pocket. She’d pay them a visit.

A fake leather purse lay on the floor next to a wooden chair in the kitchen. She rummaged through it: lip gloss, Kleenex, a wallet with a driver’s license. There were no credit cards and only a few pennies in cash. Keys to the apartment were inside, but no car keys.

She dug deeper and found a phone number scribbled on a piece of paper. Curious, she punched in the number.

“Hayes State Prison,” a voice answered.

Suspicions rose in her mind—that was the prison where the Commander had been incarcerated.

Rafe directed the crime team to rope off Ester’s house and search for forensic evidence.

The two units next to Ester’s were empty, but lights were on in the third. A young woman in her twenties answered when he knocked on the door, two toddlers hanging on to her leg.

He identified himself and explained about the investigation. “Did you know Ester Banning?”

The woman ushered the kids behind her as if to protect them. “I spoke to her in passing a couple of times, but we weren’t friends.”

“What did you think of her?”

She stooped down, told the kids to go into the den and play, and waited until they’d run off before answering him. “She didn’t like children,” she said. “One day the boys were playing outside and tossed a plastic ball into the yard in front of her place. She went ballistic. I thought she was going to hit little Barry.”

The more he heard, the less Rafe liked Ester. “Did she have any visitors? A man maybe?”

The woman shook her head. “I never saw anyone over there. I don’t think she had many friends. She was . . . she seemed bitter about something. Angry all the time. I couldn’t believe she was actually a nurse.”

Rafe frowned. “How about last night? Did you see anyone there?”

“I’m afraid not. My husband was out of town, so the kids and I stayed at my sister’s.” She gestured toward her apartment. “This is just temporary, you know, till my husband finds work again.”

Rafe handed her a business card. “Call me if you think of anything else. And, ma’am, please be careful.”

Her eyes widened as if it had never occurred to her that she might be in danger. “You think whoever killed her might come back here? Is he targeting residents in the complex?”

“No, the murder was personal. But a dangerous prisoner has escaped the state pen and hasn’t been recovered.”

She chewed on her lip, with a wary expression, then shut the door, and he heard the lock turning. He walked to the next unit and knocked, and an elderly man answered. Once again Rafe explained the reason for his visit.

“Did you know Ester Banning?”

“That’s that woman they found at the creek?”

Rafe nodded. “It appears she was abducted from her apartment.”

“Jesus, what is this world coming to?” The man rubbed his comb-over with a shaky hand.

“Did you know her?”

“I saw her coming and going, but she didn’t speak. I thought that was odd, being she was a nurse. I sure as hell wouldn’t want her tending to me if I was sick.”

His comment confirmed everything else Rafe had heard. He thanked the man and canvassed the rest of the units, but no one else was home.

When he made it back to Ester’s, Liz met him outside. “Did you find anything?” she asked.

“Nothing new. Apparently Ester wasn’t very friendly, disliked children, and wasn’t the compassionate kind.”

Liz flashed a business card at him. “Then why did HomeBound hire her?”

An hour later Liz and Rafe entered the office for HomeBound, identified themselves, and explained the reason for their visit.

The director of the center, a man in his early thirties with thick black hair, a goatee, and wire-rimmed glasses introduced himself as Charles Samson. He seemed young to be in the position of director.

“Mr. Samson, how long have you worked at HomeBound?”

“A few weeks.” He gestured for them to take a seat in his office. “I took over when the former director retired because of health concerns.”

Liz showed him Ester’s photograph and the business card she’d found at Ester’s. “Did you hire her?”

The young man studied the picture for a moment. “She applied a couple of weeks ago. We were checking her references, but when I called to follow up, she didn’t return my call.”

“So you didn’t give her an assignment?”

“No, we were still checking her references. Why?”

“She was murdered.”

Mr. Samson’s jaw dropped. “When? How did it happen?”

“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” Liz said. “You met her in person?”

Mr. Samson nodded. “She said she’d moved to the area and needed work. We’re always trying to fill spots for patients in need.”

“How about her references?”

He clicked a few keys on his computer, then looked up at her. A scowl slanted his mouth. “Hmm . . . my assistant made a note that she called both references, but there was no one at the facilities by the name she gave.”

“She didn’t expect you to check her references?” Liz asked.

Samson’s brows furrowed. “Actually, the references were over ten years old, so no surprise that the people she listed no longer worked there. We planned to follow up and see if she had more current addresses for them.” He stood, then buttoned his jacket. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything else about her. I hope you find the person who killed her.”

They thanked him and headed to the car. “That was a dead end,” said Liz.

A heartbeat passed. “Let’s talk to Truitt. Maybe he’s ready to spill his guts.”

Liz hoped he was right. Still, she had more questions, so she phoned the prison and asked the head of security about the call Ester had made to the prison. It took him a moment to find the recording.

“What did she want?” Liz asked.

“To see if Commander Blackwood was allowed visitors. Of course she was told no.”

“Did she say why she wanted to see him?”

“No. She just hung up when she discovered that his visitors were restricted.”

Damn. With Ester dead and Blackwood missing, they might never know why she wanted to see him.

But Liz would bet her job that it had something to do with the project. And it might have something to do with the reason she was killed.

Rafe drove toward the Slaughter Creek jail, contemplating their conversation with Samson. When they entered, the deputy greeted them with a grimace.

“That pig farmer bellowed the whole way here.”

“What did he say?” Rafe asked.

The deputy shrugged. “About how unfair it was that we brought him in. He kept yelling that the Banning bitch deserved to die.”

From what he’d heard so far, Rafe couldn’t argue. But he didn’t believe in letting people take the law into their own hands.

Except . . . he wanted to do that to the sadistic man who’d hurt Liz.

“We’ll question him now.” Rafe and Liz stepped through the doors leading to the back while the deputy moved Truitt from his cell into the interrogation room. Liz paced the room, her body jittery.

“It’s scary to think that HomeBound was about to send Ester out to tend to another patient. Makes you wonder about the health care industry.”

“There are good people and bad in every business,” Rafe said.

The door opened, and the deputy escorted a handcuffed Truitt inside. His jowls were red with anger, his scowl menacing. “You got no right to hold me!” he yelled.

“Sit down,” said Rafe.

Liz situated herself in a chair across from him. “All you have to do is answer some questions. Help us clear things up.”

Rafe propped his hands on the table and leaned forward, hoping to intimidate Truitt as he slumped into the chair. “Tell us what happened. When did you decide to kill Ester? Was it after the lawsuit?” Rafe laid the settlement agreement they’d confiscated from Truitt’s house on the table.

“You had to be insulted when they gave you that pitiful offer,” Liz said. “As if ten thousand is enough to pay for your mother’s life.”

Truitt’s eyes flickered with rage. “You had no right to look through my stuff.”

“We had every right,” Liz said. “Ester Banning mistreated your mother. You hated her and had a motive to kill her.”

“That don’t mean I did it!” Truitt stood and slammed his fists on the table. His handcuffs jangled in the silence that followed.

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You obviously have a violent streak.”

Sweat trickled down Truitt’s jaw.

“If a caretaker, especially a nurse who I trusted, hurt someone in my family, I’d want to get back at her,” Rafe continued.

Truitt’s eyes darted to the door, but a second later he must have realized that escaping was impossible, and he dropped back into the chair. “All right, I admit I hated the mean bitch. And I’m not sorry she’s gone. But I didn’t kill her.” He gestured toward his fingers, which he spread out on the table. “My hands are clean of that.”

Rafe noted the dirt under the man’s nails. “Then you won’t mind if I scrape beneath your nails to make sure there’s no human tissue or blood there.”

A vein pulsed in Truitt’s forehead. “Go ahead. If that’s what it takes to clear me, have at it.”