Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing (4 page)

Despair threatened to overwhelm Avery. She understood the lawyer’s point, but she had to do something.

“Can’t you argue that someone else came in, killed Wade Mulligan and left?”

“With you in the room?”

Avery closed her eyes, panic flaring. If only she could remember everything that had happened that night...

“The social worker and doctor who examined me afterward can testify that I was traumatized, but that it was possible.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Tierney, I want to help. But I need more.”

Determination rallied inside her. Then she’d get more.

Footsteps pounded the floor, and she looked up and saw the handsome-as-sin Texas Ranger appear in the doorway. His square jaw was solid, strong, set. Grim.

His eyes were dark with emotions she couldn’t define.

He didn’t believe Hank. He wasn’t going to help her.

She could see it in his eyes.

Hank’s scarred face haunted her. She’d let him down years ago when she told the police she’d seen him stab Wade. And then again when she stayed away from the prison. When she let holidays and birthdays pass without sending cards or writing or paying him a visit.

If Ranger Ward wouldn’t investigate, she’d do some digging around on her own.

Chapter Four

Jaxon’s insides were knotted with tension. He believed Hank Tierney.

But he would be in hot water with his boss if he challenged his opinion and the verdict that had landed Tierney on death row.

Landers also knew Jaxon’s past and would question his objectivity regarding the situation. Hell, the man had practically dragged Jaxon from the gutter himself.

Jaxon owed him.

But...Avery had sounded upset, and the way she described that night sounded so heart wrenching that she couldn’t have made up what had happened or been acting.

Could she?

Unless...she’d been so traumatized that the details of the evening were distorted to the point that she believed the story she’d told.

Or...there always the possibility that she and her brother had concocted this story at the last minute to create enough reasonable doubt that the governor would have to grant a stay and retry the case. And if they both stuck to their story, it was possible they could garner enough sympathy to convince a jury that Hank was innocent. That they were both victims.

Which he believed they were.

Avery dropped the phone into its cradle. “You aren’t going to help me, are you?”

Jaxon’s lungs tightened. Damn if she didn’t have the sweetest voice.

He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. What the hell was wrong with him? When had he become such a sap?

“I will investigate,” Jaxon said, knowing he was jeopardizing his career, but that he had to know the truth. “I’d like to talk to the foster mother you lived with at the time.”

Avery’s eyes widened in surprise. “I have no idea where she is. At the trial, she said Hank and I ruined her life.”

They had ruined her life? “What happened to you after the trial?”

“They placed me in a group home. I never heard from her again.”

“She and her husband should have been prosecuted for child abuse and endangerment.” And the old man for rape.

“Did you tell the social worker about the abuse?” he asked.

Avery averted her face. “No. I was too ashamed at the time. I thought...that I did something wrong. And Wade said if I told, he’d kill me and Hank.”

He wished Wade were alive so he could kill him himself.

Worse, if the social worker hadn’t documented evidence of abuse, then it was Avery and Hank’s word against a dead man’s. A prosecutor would argue that they’d invented the story to save Hank.

But he didn’t think Avery was lying about the abuse. That kind of pain was hard to fake.

Besides, any woman who stood by and allowed abuse of any kind to take place in her home was just as guilty as the perpetrator.

Although psychologists argued women were too afraid physically of their abusers to leave or stand up to them. And they often felt trapped by financial circumstances.

Worse, if a woman sent her abuser to jail, when he was released he often went straight home and took his anger out on her all over again.

It was a flawed system, but if it were his child, he’d die to protect him or her.

“I’ll find her,” Jaxon said. “I’d also like to speak with the social worker who placed you and Hank in that home.”

Because that social worker should have realized what was happening and stopped it.

* * *

A
VERY
COULDN
’
T
BELIEVE
the Ranger’s words or that his voice sounded sincere. But something about the man’s gruff exterior and those deep-set dark, fathomless eyes, told her that he was a man of his word.

Not like any other man she’d ever known.

Don’t believe him,
a little voice in her head whispered.
Men who make promises either lie or have their own agenda.

He’ll want something in return
.

She was not the kind of girl to do favors like that.

“You really are going to talk to them?” she asked.

He tipped his Stetson, a sexy move that spoke of respect and manners and...made her heart flutter with female nerves.

Good heavens. She had to get a grip. Jaxon Ward was a Texas Ranger. And she needed his help for Hank.

Nothing more.

He took a step closer, his masculine scent wafting toward her and playing havoc with her senses. “Hank said he stabbed Wade Mulligan, but that he was already dead. If you didn’t deliver the deadly blow and Hank didn’t, that means there was someone else in the house.” The silver star on his chest glittered in the harsh lights. “Who else might have wanted the man dead?”

Avery had desperately tried to forget everything about the man. But if she wanted to help Hank, she had to confront the past.

“Avery, can you think of anyone?”

“His wife,” she said, her heart thundering. “If she knew he was coming into my room, maybe she tried to stop him.”

Jaxon’s expression was grim. “That makes sense, but didn’t she have an alibi for that night?”

Avery’s head swam. “She claimed she was at her mother’s.” Panic began to claw at her chest. “Maybe Joleen lied about going to her mother’s. Or she could have come back for some reason, and she saw Wade tie up Hank and come into my room. Then she slipped in and killed him.”

Although even as she suggested the possibility, despair threatened. The problem with that theory was that Joleen hadn’t cared for her or Hank.

She certainly hadn’t loved them enough to kill her husband for them.

* * *

J
AXON
GRIMACED
. D
ISCUSSING
the case would definitely reopen old wounds for Avery, but questions had to be asked and answered. “Do you know if Mrs. Mulligan continued to take in foster children after her husband was murdered?”

“I have no idea what happened to her,” Avery said.

“What about the social worker who placed you with the Mulligans? What was her name?”

Avery rubbed her forehead as if thinking back. “I...think it was Donna. No, Delia. I don’t know her last name.”

“There should be records,” Jaxon said. “What do remember about her?”

Avery shrugged. “Not much. She gave me candy on the ride to the Mulligans’ the day she dropped us off.” Her voice cracked. “But I don’t remember her coming back to visit.”

Jaxon bit back a response. “Did she testify at your brother’s trial?”

Avery rubbed the scar around her wrist. “I don’t think so. But I was so young that they didn’t let me inside for some of the trial.”

That made sense.

“I’ll pull the transcripts from the trial and review them, then question her.”

Avery squared her shoulders. “I’d like to go with you to see her.”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Avery folded her arms, a stubborn tilt to her chin. “I may have been a child then, Sergeant, but I’m not anymore. My testimony put my brother in prison, and got him the death penalty. Now that I know he’s innocent, I have to make things right.”

Jaxon lowered his voice. “Avery, do you think it’s possible that Hank twisted the truth because he’s afraid to die?”

She shook her head. “No. Hank’s not like that. He always owned up to things he did wrong. Even if it meant he’d be punished for it. Besides, he just said that he confessed because he thought I killed Wade.”

Oddly it sounded as though Hank Tierney had character, that he wasn’t the bad seed the prosecutor had painted him to be.

And if a jury heard his testimony now and heard Avery’s story, they might let Hank Tierney go.

So why hadn’t the D.A. and Tierney’s defense attorney pleaded not guilty and put the kid on the stand?

Dammit, he needed to see the autopsy report for Wade Mulligan. If someone else had delivered the fatal stab wound before Hank Tierney had unleashed his rage, it might show up in the autopsy report.

* * *

A
VERY
’
S
PALMS
BEGAN
to sweat at the idea of dredging up the details of the past. Already she felt drained from the day’s visit with Hank and now this Texas Ranger.

And if she helped Hank—and she
had
to help him—this was only the beginning. Everyone in the town—hell, everyone in the state—would know her sordid story.

Taking a deep breath to fortify her resolve, she lifted her chin. “Please. It’s time for me to face the past. Maybe seeing Joleen Mulligan and the social worker will jog my memory of that night.”

“That’s possible.” Sergeant Ward’s dark eyes met hers. “But are you ready for that?”

No. She wanted to run as fast as she could and as far away as possible. But Hank’s troubled voice claiming he was innocent, that he’d taken the rap to save her from arrest, echoed in her ears. There was no way she could allow him to be put to death when he’d confessed to protect her.

“Yes. I have to do this, Sergeant.”

“All right. Give me your number, and I’ll call you when I locate them.”

Avery recited her cell number, and he entered it into his phone.

The dark, handsome Ranger tilted his head to the side. “One thing, Avery—I will look into Hank’s story, but I can’t promise anything. It’s almost impossible to get a murder conviction overturned this late in the game.”

“It’s not a game,” Avery said, her senses prickling. “This is my brother’s life.”

A heartbeat of silence stretched between them. “I know that. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” He pierced her with a dark look. “And if I find out either of you is lying and using me, I won’t hesitate to tell the judge that, either.”

Her heart hammered against her breastbone. “Hank and I aren’t lying,” she said. “Hank didn’t kill Wade Mulligan. That means that the real killer has been walking around free for twenty years thinking he got away with it. And I can’t live with that.”

A muscle twitched in his strong jaw. “You may have to. Sometimes the justice system fails.”

Yes, it had done so twenty years ago.

But she’d do everything within her power to change that now.

* * *

J
AXON
’
S
PHONE
BUZZED
as soon as he left the prison. His director.

Still contemplating what to tell him, Jaxon let the phone roll to voice mail.

Wind whistled across his skin as he climbed into his SUV and pulled from the parking spot. He’d worked in law enforcement for ten years, yet the razor wire and armed guards made sweat bead on his skin. He liked the law, thought the system worked for the most part.

But occasionally a case went wrong. An innocent victim fell through the cracks.

Hank Tierney had been locked up since he was a teenager. Should he have been free all this time?

Had his life been stolen from him by someone who’d murdered his foster father, then walked around free for twenty years while he lived in hell?

Chapter Five

On the way to Cherokee Crossing, Jaxon stopped for lunch at a barbecue joint, wolfed down a sandwich, then looked up the number for the attorney interested in Tierney’s case. The receptionist patched him through immediately.

“Sergeant Ward, I talked to Avery Tierney earlier. She said you were investigating the murder conviction.”

“I am,” Jaxon admitted. “Did you find anything that might exonerate Hank?”

“Nothing specific,” Ms. Ellis replied. “I just had a feeling when I read the story that there was more to it. Foster-care kids get bum deals. I wanted to know more.”

“You may be right.”

“Listen,” Ms. Ellis said, “if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. If that man is innocent as his sister claims, he deserves justice.”

He agreed with her on that. “Thank you. Call me if you learn anything that might be helpful.”

He hung up, then used his tablet to access police databases and search for Joleen Mulligan. It didn’t take long to find her. She had a rap sheet.

Two DUIs and an arrest for possession of narcotics. She’d also been dropped as a foster parent after Mulligan’s death, so she’d resorted to government assistance and project housing.

Jaxon phoned a friend with social services—Casey Chambers, a young woman in her twenties whose parents had been killed when she was twelve, throwing her into the system. She’d seen enough of it to want to help other kids get out like she had.

“Hey, Jaxon, what can I do for you?”

“I need some background information on a case that came through the social service agency twenty years ago.”

“What’s this about?”

“The Hank Tierney murder conviction.”

“You’re looking in to that?” Casey made a soft sound in her throat. “I’ve seen the protestors, and I heard some young lawyer was asking questions, too. Is that true?”

“Yeah. I was at the prison and some questions have come up regarding the conviction. I need contact information for the social worker who placed Hank and his sister, Avery, in the Mulligans’ home. Her first name was Delia.”

“That was a long time ago and the agency has a pretty high turnover rate. Burnout and all.”

“I understand. But can you find it?”

“I’ll see what I can do and get back with you.”

“Thanks, Casey.”

“Jaxon, what do you think? I read about the murder and the guy’s confession. He admitted to stabbing the man. But something doesn’t ring right to me.”

Avery’s pain-filled eyes taunted him. “I know. That’s why I want to talk to the social worker.”

A hesitation. “Jax?”

“Don’t repeat that to anyone,” he said. “Just get me that information.”

“You got it.”

The waitress brought his check, and he paid the bill and left her a nice tip, then drove toward the courthouse. The land seemed even more deserted with winter taking its toll. Everything looked desolate, deserted, dry, almost like a ghost town.

Cherokee Crossing looked like a throwback in a Western movie with a bar/saloon in the heart of town, and a tack-and-boot store beside it. Life moved slower here. Residents told stories about the Cherokee Indians being the dominant tribe in the area, and the canyon that had literally and figuratively divided the Native Americans and early settlers.

The town had been built to bridge that gap.

Jaxon parked in front of the county courthouse, noting the parking lot was nearly empty. It was four-thirty; people were heading home for the day. He parked next to a pickup, then strode up the sidewalk to the courthouse steps. He identified himself, then went through security and headed to the clerk’s office.

He greeted the secretary, reminding himself to use his charm. Death penalty cases were always controversial and stirred emotional reactions on all sides.

Alienating people would not get him what he wanted. Avery’s tormented expression haunted him. He hoped to hell he wasn’t being a sucker and being lured into believing an act.

Maybe the social worker could shed some light on the situation. He also needed to review the trial transcripts, study the way the lawyers handled the case, make sure nothing was overlooked or evidence hadn’t gotten lost, misplaced or intentionally omitted.

Roberta, the clerk in charge of records, was always friendly and knew more about the goings-on in the courthouse than anyone else. She’d also worked with the court system for thirty years.

Jaxon had only been a year older than Hank Tierney when Hank was arrested. That was probably one reason he remembered the case so well.

It had been all over the news. Jaxon’s uncle, the only living relative he’d had at the time, was disabled and had watched the story with him, then had a come-to-Jesus talk with Jaxon. He’d told him he was going to end up like Hank Tierney one day if he didn’t get his act together.

Unable to raise him, that uncle had shipped Jaxon to a military school, where he’d learned to be a man. He’d hated it at first.

But looking back, he now saw that that school had saved him from going down the wrong path.

“Hi, Roberta, I need some help. Can you get me a copy of the transcripts of Hank Tierney’s trial twenty years ago?”

Roberta’s eyebrows climbed. “The Tierney man who’s about to die?”

“Yes. My director wants me to review the matter because of some young lawyer looking to get the conviction overturned.”

Roberta sighed. “I always felt sorry for that boy and girl. Folks said the boy was scary, that he stabbed that man a bunch of times, but if you ask me, something else was going on in that house. Something nobody wanted to talk about.”

“You remember the trial?” Jaxon asked.

“Of course.” She reached for a set of keys in her drawer. “Never forget how terrified that poor child looked when the reporters pounced on her. That young’un was scared to death. Something bad happened to her, I tell you. Children don’t look like that unless they’ve seen real-life monsters.”

True.

She ambled around the side of the desk. “Those files are old, Sergeant. They’ll be archived downstairs.”

“That’s fine. Can you find them and make a copy for me?”

“Sure. But it might take a few minutes.”

“No problem. I’ll be glad to wait.”

She maneuvered her bulk toward the door and walked down the hall. Jaxon phoned Avery. She answered on the third ring. “Hello.”

“Avery, this is Sergeant Jaxon Ward. I found an address for Joleen Mulligan. I’m going to visit her tonight.”

Her breathing rattled in the silence that fell between them. “I’ll call you after I talk to her,” he said.

“No,” Avery said in a shaky voice. “I want to go with you.”

Jaxon gritted his teeth. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“No,” she said softly. “But I’m the reason my brother is in this mess. It’s my place to get him out.”

A wealth of guilt underscored her words.

Jaxon found himself wanting to erase that guilt. But that might not be possible. Chances were slim that they could get her brother’s execution postponed, and even slimmer that they could prove him innocent and free him.

* * *

A
VERY
LOWERED
HER
head between her legs and inhaled slow, even breaths just as her therapist had instructed to do to ward off panic attacks.

That had been years ago, although occasionally old fears swept over her when she least expected it. The least little thing could trigger a reaction.

A sudden dimming of lights. A noise. The sound of someone breathing too hard. The smell of smoke or...body sweat.

And cologne, the one Mulligan wore. The musty smell hadn’t mixed well with the rancid odor of his beer breath.

“Avery?”

The Texas Ranger’s voice startled her, jerking her back to reality. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to pick you up, or do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

Her first reaction was to meet him. She didn’t like to be in enclosed spaces with men. But Jaxon Ward was a law officer, and he was trying to help her.

He’d think she was strange, rude, maybe paranoid or unstable if she balked at riding in the car with him.

“I’m almost to my house if you want to meet me there.”

“Fine. I’m at the county courthouse. It’ll probably be a while before I leave. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“That works.” She needed that hour to pull herself together. Maybe do some yoga to relax and focus her energy on her well-being.

On the fact that she had survived the Mulligan abuse and family years ago, and she was an adult now. Joleen Mulligan couldn’t hurt her.

She wouldn’t let her.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Roberta returned with the files, it was already getting dark outside.

“I had to dig deep,” Roberta said. “But you have to sign in to have access, and that took a while. The guard in charge asked a half dozen questions. Said you were the second person in two weeks to ask for a copy of the trial transcripts and copy of the police investigation report.”

“Did he mention who else made the request?”

“That lawyer, Ellis. Said she was gonna talk to Hank Tierney, too.”

“Thanks, Roberta,” Jaxon said. “You take care.”

Roberta caught him by the arm before he could leave. “You do right by them, Mr. Jaxon, you hear me? They were just kids when all that went down.”

She was obviously sympathetic to Avery and her brother.

“I will,” he said, although he couldn’t make any promises to her, either. When Landers found out what he was up to, he might pull him from the case.

Or fire his butt.

Tension knotted his shoulders as he carried the file through the building and outside to his SUV. The sky had turned a dismal gloomy gray while he was inside, the sound of thunder rumbling.

Texas temperatures could drop quickly, and the chill of the night was setting in.

He checked his phone for Avery’s address as he climbed into his SUV, his pulse quickening when he realized she lived only a few miles from the government-funded project housing where Joleen Mulligan had spent the past few years.

As he expected, traffic was thin. The storm clouds gathered and rolled over the horizon, making it look bleak for the night. He maneuvered through the small town, around the square, then turned down Birch Drive, a street lined with birch trees.

The houses were small, rustic and quaint, but even with winter, the yards looked well-kept. A few had toys indicating small children, a Western theme evident in the iron mailboxes that all sported horses on the top of the barn-shaped boxes.

Avery’s house was the last one on the right, with flower boxes and a windmill in the front yard. He couldn’t see the back, but it was fenced in, which surprised him since the land didn’t back up to anything else. Then again, she might have a dog.

He pulled up behind a Pathfinder and shifted into Park, then climbed out, reminding himself that he was here on a job.

Not because meeting Avery Tierney sparked an attraction that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hell, the woman had been abused as a child. That fact alone warned him to keep his distance. He had no idea what kind of scars she carried inside her, but he’d bet his life trusting men wasn’t high on her list.

A bad side effect of foster life—kids grew up learning not to get attached. They were shuffled around so much, and it hurt too much to leave friends and people behind.

Besides, Avery was a case, nothing more. At least if he investigated, maybe he could sleep without those wounded, pain-filled eyes haunting him, telling him that he should have done something other than accept everyone’s word that Hank Tierney deserved to die.

He punched the brass doorbell, then heard footsteps clattering inside. Seconds later, Avery opened the door.

He grew very still when he saw her pale face. Obviously today’s visit at the prison had done a number on her.

What would facing the woman who should have protected her from that monster Mulligan do to her tonight?

* * *

A
VERY
PASTED
ON
a brave face, determined not to let Sergeant Ward see how the idea of confronting Joleen Mulligan was affecting her.

“Are you ready?”

She clutched her purse strap and nodded, but her heart was pounding as she locked the front door and followed him to his vehicle. She reached for the door handle and startled when he beat her to it and opened it for her.

Her nerves raw, she twisted her head up to look at him.

“I’m just opening the door for you,” he said. “Relax, Avery. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question flew from her mouth before she could stop herself from asking.

His dark eyes met hers, a sea of emotions swimming in the depths. She knew nothing about him except that he’d come to see Hank today.

She didn’t even know the reason for his visit.

“Because I want justice served,” he said in a gruff voice. “If it turns out your brother is innocent, I’ll do whatever I can to free him. If it turns out he’s guilty or if he’s lying and using me, I’ll watch while he dies.”

His words hit her like a physical blow. Yet she admired his honesty.

If a man said what he meant, then maybe he’d do what he said.

She was counting on that.