Dark Hearts (20 page)

“Probably his kid's,” Osmond said.

The deputy looked surprised.

“She was with him. She hid and came out after the shooter left. He doesn't know it, but he's left a witness alive. We have to make damn sure he doesn't find out about this one. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the deputy said.

“Have you searched Ledbetter's truck?”

“No, sir. The door was open like that when I drove up. I just started securing the scene.”

“Good job. The coroner has been notified. The crime scene crew will come with him. I'm going to talk to my witness,” he said and walked over to the group. “Mrs. Ledbetter?”

Bonnie Ledbetter's eyes were swollen from crying, and the little girl standing beside her looked scared to death, but the men with them were hard-eyed, stone-faced mountain men who looked ready to go to war.

“Yes, I'm Bonnie Ledbetter. This is my daddy and my brothers, and this here is Lila. She saw her daddy get killed.”

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Osmond said, and then turned to Bonnie's father. “Gentlemen, I understand your concern, but I would feel better if you put your weapons up.”

“No, sir. We'll just wait here while you do your talkin' to Lila and Bonnie, and then we'll be escortin' her home. And nothing personal, but just so y'all know, there will be full-time guards on her home until you get Jacob's killer behind bars.”

Sheriff Osmond saw the grief and anger in their eyes and understood. “Then, may we use the bed of your truck for them to sit in while we talk? You're welcome to stand with her. All I'm going to do is take their statements.”

The man nodded.

Sheriff Osmond walked under the crime scene tape and took Bonnie's elbow, then escorted her to a seat in the truck bed. One of the men lifted Lila up beside her mother, and the sheriff pulled out a recorder.

“For the record, this is an interview with Bonnie Ledbetter, wife of the victim, Jacob Ledbetter, and their daughter, Lila. Lila was present at her father's murder.” He held the recorder close to Lila. “Please state your name and age for the record, child.”

The little girl's blue eyes teared up again as she looked fearfully at her mother. Bonnie nodded.

“My name is Lila Ledbetter. I am ten years old.”

“Thank you, Lila. Now, in your own words, tell me what you saw when your father was shot.”

Bonnie put her arm around her daughter for comfort.

Lila began to talk.

“I begged to come with Daddy. He said it might be serious business and I had to stay in the truck when we got to Lassiter's Corner. We talked about Thanksgiving with Granny on the way here.”

Her features crumpled as she looked up at her mother. “We won't have any Thanksgiving at Granny's now, will we, Mama?”

“We'll talk about that later,” Bonnie whispered. “Just finish your tale.”

Lila nodded, wiped her eyes with the hem of her T-shirt and looked back up at the sheriff.

“When we came up on the corner, I saw the car. It looked like a car you drive to church. It was kind of a silver-gray color, and as soon as we saw it, Daddy started acting funny, like he recognized the man. He told me to get down on the floor and don't get up, no matter what I heard, so I did. He got out of the truck with the package. I heard him say to the man, ‘I never thought I'd be seein'
you
. I brought the package.' I heard the other man say, ‘I brought the money.' Then I heard one shot. It scared me, but I peeked over the dash and saw a man running back to the car. He got in, turned around and drove away really fast. I got out and saw my daddy and cried, and then I ran home to get Mama. The end.”

“That's very good. You remembered a lot. This will help us catch the man who killed your daddy.”

Lila nodded.

“Do you remember what the man was wearing? The one who shot your daddy?”

“Brown pants and a jacket the color of my daddy's best suit.”

“That would be beige,” Bonnie offered.

“Do you remember the color of his skin?”

“White like mine,” Lila said, holding up one bony white arm.

“What about his hair? What color was it? Was it short or long? Was it straight or curly?”

Lila closed her eyes, and the sheriff knew she was picturing the events again in her mind.

“His hair was short like the preacher's hair. It was just brown, and it was straight.”

“Could you tell how old he was? Was he skinny or was he fat? Did he run with a limp or anything else noticeable?”

“He was average. I don't know how old. Just way older than me.”

“Thank you, Lila. Do you remember anything else? You said you saw the man turn the car around. Did you get a look at his face when he turned the car?”

Lila shook her head. “The windows were dark.”

“Anything else?” the sheriff asked. “Anything at all? Was there a bumper sticker or something else on the car that would help us identify it?”

“A shiny piece of paper on the bumper.”

“Was anything written on the paper?” Osmond asked.

Lila frowned a moment, and then shrugged. “I didn't see anything. It was just shiny paper, like aluminum foil.”

“Thank you, Lila.” Osmond lifted the recorder toward his mouth and spoke into it. “The next person I'm speaking to is Bonnie Ledbetter, the victim's widow.”

Bonnie lifted her chin. Her daddy was standing beside her, and when the sheriff said her name, he put a hand on her shoulder to remind her she wasn't alone.

Bonnie waited.

“Bonnie, what do you know about the package that Jacob was delivering?”

“What I know is that it was about the size of a shoebox and we found it on Moses' table. That was Jacob's grandfather. There was writing on the package that said ‘one thousand dollars due,' but there was no name or phone number to contact. Yesterday evening a man called Moses' house while we were there. It was about the package. Jacob agreed to bring it down today. And now he's dead. That's what I know.”

“You have no idea what was in the package?” Osmond asked.

“No, sir. No one unwrapped it. Moses didn't have anything valuable to sell, but he had a valuable skill. He blasted coal for the Colquitt Mines up in Georgia before he retired and came home. He knew how to make bombs. Jacob thought that might be what was in the package, but we didn't
know
.”

“Can you tell me anything else that might help?” the sheriff asked.

Bonnie shook her head.

“Are you done with my girls?” the big man asked.

“Yes, we're done, and again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

“What about their truck and Jacob's body?” Ledbetter asked.

“They're part of the crime scene. We'll tow the truck, and the victim's body needs to be autopsied first,” Osmond said.

Bonnie let out a soft wail. “Why do you have to cut up my Jacob's body? You can see how he died. There's a hole in his head.”

“I am sorry, but it's the law. We'll be able to find out more about the bullet and the gun that shot it, and that will help us catch the killer,” Osmond said and offered her a card. “This is my card. You can call me anytime you want. Okay?”

Bonnie took the card as her father picked up Lila and put her in the cab of the pickup. Once Bonnie was in the truck, they drove away.

Sheriff Osmond was about to call Trey Jakes when the coroner arrived. He pocketed his phone for the moment and went to help get everything set up.

* * *

Trey parked near the front of the hospital and headed in on a run. There was a panicked feeling in the pit of his stomach, a certainty that this was likely to get worse before it got better. He ran into Sam in the lobby, heading for the elevator.

“Walk with me,” Trey said.

Sam thought about the pain meds in his pocket, then hoped Lainey could wait a few minutes more.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked.

“To talk to hospital security,” Trey said. When they reached the hospital director's office, he knocked once and walked in.

The secretary looked up, clearly startled to see the chief of police standing in front of her desk.

“I already called the director. I'm supposed to meet your head of security here.”

The director stepped out of his office. “Chief Jakes, come in,” he said.

Sam and Trey followed him into his office.

“Chief Jakes, this is Aaron Peters, our security chief.”

Trey nodded. “I know Aaron. This is my brother, Sam. He owns Ranger Investigations in Atlanta. He came home to help after our mother was killed.”

“My sympathies to both of you,” Aaron said.

“Thank you,” Trey said. “Now, as to why we're here, we have reason to believe the person who committed the recent murders is still at large. We also suspect he's going to make an attempt to silence the only witness against him, who happens to be our sister, Trina, currently a patient here in the hospital. We've had private security on her room since she got here, first in ICU and now in a private room on another floor. She's beginning to wake up. Once she does, she can put a name to the man we're after, and he knows it.”

“What do you need from us?” Aaron asked.

“You need to put immediate security at every entrance. We have reason to believe that since he can't get to his witness inside the hospital, he may try to take her out with a bomb, which would endanger everyone here.”

“Oh, hell,” Aaron muttered.

The director looked horrified. “How do we protect our staff and patients from something like that? Who do we watch for?”

“We don't know,” Trey said.

“Just monitor everyone coming in and out, check everything they're carrying. Our sister is waking up. As soon as she does, we'll have a name and can make an arrest. Just help us buy time.”

The director nodded. “Yes, of course. Aaron, get this in place immediately. Hire extra security if you need it.”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron said, and left the office.

“Is there anything else we can do for you?” the director asked.

“No, but we'll be in touch,” Trey said.

They were back out in the hall before Sam spoke.

“You do know this is crazy. Can't we move Trina? Just get her away from this hospital?”

“No. For all we know the killer's got this place staked out, and she'd be too vulnerable in transit. She's still safest here, where we can control the site and keep him from getting in.”

“We're trapped,” Sam said. “As trapped as if he had us pinned down and under fire. I don't like it. I don't like it at all.”

“I know, but we're doing all we can right now.”

“If we're right and our killer has a bomb, that's a whole other story,” Sam said. “The collateral damage could be catastrophic, Trey. He could destroy this entire hospital with nothing more than a handful of the right kind of explosives.”

“A bomb that small? How?” Trey asked.

“Because there are so many explosive elements already within these walls. All it takes is one good explosion to detonate the rest, understand?”

Trey paled. “The oxygen!”

“And dozens of other combustibles,” Sam said. “One properly placed load can detonate everything here. The casualties would be seventy-five percent or higher, and the survivors would most likely be severely injured.”

“Would it take someone with experience in explosives?” Trey asked.

“Not necessarily. If the bomb was built with a simple activator switch on a timer, then anyone could plant it.”

“Can anyone just turn off the switch?” Trey asked.

Sam shook his head. “That's not how they're wired. It would have to be defused. I guess it's a good thing I came home, huh?”

Nineteen

S
am had gone upstairs long enough to give Lainey's medicine to the guard and update him, and then he'd hurried back down. He was walking the building's perimeter, looking for easy access from outside.

Trey was in the hospital parking lot waiting on his officers to arrive when his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, Trey, I have some more info about the killing at Lassiter's Corner.”

Trey recognized the sheriff's voice and pulled out a notepad. “Go ahead, I'm listening.”

“My witness said the killer's car was silver-gray. She said it was the kind of car you drive to church, whatever that means to a kid. Oh, and it had dark windows. She only saw the killer from the back. She said he was way older than her. That his hair was cut short, like her preacher's hair. That it was brown. And she said there was shiny paper, like aluminum foil, on the rear bumper when he drove away.”

“Ironic that her points of reference all have to do with church and preachers, and she was describing a killer. No wonder we can't figure out who he is. Being able to move about in the community with that kind of persona is flying under heavy radar.”

“Huh. I didn't think of it like that,” the sheriff said.

“So how long ago do you think the killing happened?” Trey asked.

Osmond checked his notes. “She called it in close to four, but the killing would have been earlier, because it would have taken Ledbetter a while to get down the mountain to his meeting, then add the time lapse for the little girl to run home up the mountain. I think it's about four or five miles up to their place. The killer has probably been on the move for at least two hours with his package now.”

“Okay, thanks,” Trey said and disconnected.

Before he could call Sam with the descriptions of the killer and his car, Trey's officers began arriving, and he let the thought slide.

* * *

The killer walked in with a beautifully wrapped gift box, smiled at the woman at the information desk, spoke to a doctor in the hall and moved on through the hospital to the chapel without notice. He wasn't expecting anyone to be there, so when he walked in and saw a couple on their knees in prayer, he paused and frowned. He couldn't just set the box down behind the little pulpit, as he'd planned, without being seen, so he sat down on the far side in the shadows, bowed his head and pretended to pray while waiting for them to leave.

* * *

Lee woke stiff and hungry. He stretched as he stood, then felt Trina's forehead for signs of fever. As he did, he noticed Lainey had fallen asleep in the recliner on the far side of Trina's bed. He checked his watch, then decided to run down to the cafeteria and get some food to bring up to the room.

He slipped out quietly, and then stopped at the door.

“Hey, Cain, I'm going down to the cafeteria. Can I bring you back some coffee, or something to eat?”

“No, I'm good, but thanks,” Cain said.

“Lainey's still with Trina, but they're both asleep,” Lee said.

“Okay. No problem,” Cain said.

* * *

Lainey was dreaming that she was being chased by the panther when she suddenly woke. It took her a few seconds to realize someone was moaning.

Trina! She was trying to wake up.

Lainey jumped up from the recliner and hobbled over to the bed.

Trina was grabbing at the sheet as if trying to hold on to something. Her heart rate was climbing, making the monitor beep faster, and her eyelashes were fluttering against her cheeks.

Lainey reached for Trina's hand, thinking if she felt human contact she might calm down.

“Trina, honey. It's Lainey. I'm right here beside you. You're okay.”

Trina's fingers curled around Lainey's hand.

“I'm here,” Lainey went on. “Your brothers are close by. You're safe.”

Trina's eyelids fluttered again.

Lainey could see how desperately Trina was trying to wake up. She remembered that feeling from her own surgery, that sense of trying to wade through a muddy morass just to get to a place where she could open her eyes.

But Lainey also knew how crucial it was to get the answer they were all waiting for and decided to see if Trina was able to communicate yet.

“Trina, honey, do you remember what happened to you?” she asked.

A tear rolled out from under Trina's eyelid.

“I'm so sorry, Tink. We're trying to find the man who shot you. Can you tell me who it is? Can you say his name?”

Lainey watched Trina's lips. They were barely moving, and she was moaning again.

“Was it Marcus Silver?” Lainey asked.

Trina tightened her grasp on Lainey's hand and shook her head in denial.

“Not Marcus, okay.”

Trina eased her grip.

“Then, who was it, honey? We have to know so we can keep you safe.”

Trina inhaled, her nostrils flaring slightly. When she exhaled, Lainey heard the word
son
.

She frowned. “Son? Did you say
son
?”

Trina squeezed her hand again.

All of a sudden Lainey gasped.

“Oh, my God! Are you trying to tell me it was T. J. Silver who shot you?”

Trina sighed. Tears rolled out from beneath both eyelids as she squeezed Lainey's hand again.

“T.J. shot you and Betsy?”

Trina sighed. It was so soft Lainey almost didn't hear it, and then she heard the word
yes
. Then the moment was gone and Trina was back inside her own head.

Lainey grabbed her phone and took off toward the door, got the guard and pulled him into the room.

“What's wrong?” Cain asked.

“Trina just woke up and told me who shot her. It wasn't Marcus Silver! It was his son, T.J. Do you know what he looks like?”

“No,” Cain said. “But nobody is going to get to Trina, I swear.”

“I'm calling Sam and Trey. Tell Lee when he comes back. He'll know who he is.”

“Will do,” Cain said, then followed Lainey out and took a stance at the door as she disappeared down the hall.

* * *

The couple in the chapel was still praying when someone came into the room looking for them. After a whispered conversation, the three of them left together. It was the opening T.J. had been waiting for.

He grabbed the gift box, hurried down the aisle to the small podium and knelt down behind it to remove the lid of the box. He looked down at the clock face with no small amount of trepidation, then flipped the switch to start the timer.

Fifteen minutes.

Time enough for him to be far, far away when the bomb went off. He put the lid back on the box, shoved it into the hollow space below the podium and took off up the aisle in haste. He slipped out of the chapel and started toward the hall leading to the lobby just as Lainey Pickett got off the elevator right in front of him.

* * *

Lainey's hands were trembling as she put in a call to Sam, and she was moving toward the elevator as it rang. Just when she thought it was going to go to voice mail she heard his voice.

“Hello?”

“Sam! Sam! It's T. J. Silver.”

Sam actually stumbled. “What? What are you saying?”

“Trina woke up. I asked her again if Marcus Silver shot her. She could barely communicate, but she finally said the word
son
. I wasn't sure I understood, so I asked her point-blank if T. J. Silver shot her. She was crying as she said yes.”

“Oh, my God, oh, Lainey! Thank you. Where are you?”

“I'm in the elevator on the way down to the lobby.”

“I'll meet you just outside the front door,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She was just about to answer when the elevator doors opened and she found herself face-to-face with T. J. Silver.

“Oh, hello, T.J.,” she said.

Sam heard every word.

“Is he there?” he whispered.

“Why, yes, that's right,” she said, frantically trying to hide the panic she was feeling.

“Oh, shit! Keep moving. I'm on the way.”

“I will, love you, too,” she said, and then fell into step just behind T.J., despite his obvious attempt to ignore her.

He was moving quickly, and Lainey had no excuse to slow him down.

* * *

Sam called Trey on the run.

When Trey answered, Sam started right in. “Trina woke up. It's T. J. Silver, and Lainey has eyes on him in the lobby of the hospital. He's heading for the exit, which probably means he's already planted the bomb. Come in from the back. I'm going in the front.”

“Got it,” Trey said, and began directing his men as he put in a call to hospital security.

* * *

Lainey was almost running to keep up with T.J., and her ankle was throbbing because of it. The moment she saw Sam appear on the other side of the revolving door she stopped. He would take it from here.

T.J. was mentally counting steps to the exit when he saw Sam Jakes coming toward him, and the moment he saw Sam's face his heart dropped. He knew. He didn't know how, but he knew.

T.J. turned to run back the other way and saw two Mystic police officers coming his way through the lobby. When he turned to head the opposite way toward the gift shop, hospital security was already there and walking toward him.

T.J. shouted, enraged that he'd been caught. Then he saw Lainey Pickett backing toward the wall and knew what he had to do. He practically leaped in her direction. She was Sam Jakes' woman. He would make Sam back off or make him sorry.

Before Lainey knew what was happening, T.J. had her around the neck.

“If anyone comes a step closer, she's dead!” he shouted.

Sam stopped just inside the lobby. “Don't hurt her, T.J. You've hurt enough people. Don't hurt her, too.”

Lainey was struggling, trying to get free, when T.J. tightened his grip and put his mouth against her ear. “Be still or I'll break your damn neck like a toothpick,” he said softly.

Lainey froze.

T.J. was trembling, trying to figure out how to get out before the building blew.

And then he heard a voice behind him and felt the cold end of a gun muzzle up against the back of his neck.

“Where's the bomb, T.J.?”

Lainey's heart skipped. It was Trey! “I saw him coming down the hall from the chapel,” she said.

T.J. screamed, “You bitch!” and hit her in the back of the head with his fist.

Sam rushed forward, catching Lainey just before she hit the ground. A few feet away Trey had T.J. facedown on the floor and was in the process of putting him in handcuffs.

T.J. kept screaming, “Okay, okay, you got me. Drag me out of here and lock me up. I give. I won't fight.”

Sam had Lainey in his arms, scared to death that she'd been hurt, but the minute T.J. started begging to be taken to jail, he knew time must be running down on the bomb.

Lainey groaned.

Sam held her close. “Thank God,” he said, and carried her to a nearby bench. “Honey. Can you hear me?”

She reached for the back of her head. “What happened?”

“Look at me,” he said.

She opened her eyes.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

She frowned.

“Either I've gone blind or you forgot how the trick works. I don't see any fingers.”

He cupped her face and then kissed her. “I love you more than you will ever know. Stay here a second.”

He ran toward Trey, who now had T.J. on his feet.

Sam grabbed T.J. by the handcuffs. “Trade you,” he said to his brother. “Get Lainey out of here and start evacuating the hospital. This little son of a bitch is going to show me where he hid the bomb, and if he doesn't do it in time for me to defuse it, I'll cuff him to the nearest piece of furniture and run.”

Trey turned and ran toward Lainey, then picked her up in his arms as he headed for the exit, shouting orders to his men and hospital security as he went.

Visitors were running out the door, while the staff ran back toward the patients. They'd heard the words
bomb
and
evacuate
, and didn't need orders. They knew what to do. Moments later the fire alarms began to sound on every floor.

T.J. was screaming and begging as Sam grabbed the handcuffs and started dragging him backward toward the chapel.

“Stop! You're breaking my arms! You can't do this! I don't want to die!”

Sam yanked T.J. onto his feet and slammed him against the wall. “Did my mother beg when you stuck the gun in her face?”

T.J. moaned.

Sam grabbed him by the neck with one hand and grabbed his handcuffs with the other, and started pushing him toward the chapel.

“Walk faster!” Sam yelled, pushing T.J. so hard he began to stumble. “Keep walking or I'll break your damn neck and find the bomb by myself!”

T.J. shrieked and then began to cry. “I don't want to die. Please. We need to leave.”

“Is the bomb in the chapel?” Sam shouted. “I swear to God if you don't tell me now, I'll shoot you where you stand.”

T.J. was too scared to move and would have dropped to his knees but Sam yanked him back up.

“Yes, yes, it's in the chapel!” T.J. shrieked.

Sam took off down the hall, dragging T.J. with him. Once they were inside the chapel Sam yelled at him again. “Don't make me look for it!”

“Behind the podium,” T.J. cried.

Sam dragged him down the aisle, and then slammed him facedown beside the podium. When Sam pulled the beautifully wrapped box out in front of his face, T.J. shrieked again.

Sam slapped the back of his head. “Shut up. I need to concentrate.”

T.J. sucked up the curse on the tip of his tongue.

“And don't fucking move,” Sam added.

T.J. closed his eyes.

Sam felt along the bottom of the package for wires, and when it felt clean, he slowly lifted up the lid. He saw the clock face, the load of dynamite and the time left.