Devils Among Us (Devin Dushane Series Book 1) (17 page)

Devin’s fingertips tapped out a hyper rhythm on the steering
wheel as her brain spun. “Shane, the names of anyone involved with moonshine in
the area are in those files. If Laney stumbled into something she shouldn’t
have, that person is in those files. What could have happened that would have
warranted killing her in such a brutal way and trying to kill Henry so many
years later to keep it quiet?”

Shane was silent for almost a full minute before he spoke.
“You aren’t still on that whole conspiracy theory kick, are you?”

“If by conspiracy theory you mean I don’t believe it was
some huge cosmic coincidence that someone tried to burn down my neighbor’s
house with him in it at the exact same time my house was broken into and my
case files about said neighbor were rummaged through, then yeah, you could say
I’m still on that kick.” They were at a stoplight and she looked over at him as
if analyzing whether he even had as many brain cells as an amoeba.

Shane rubbed his temples with one hand. He hated debating a
stone wall. The wall never moved, and you just ended up battered and bruised
for your efforts. What was the definition of insanity again? Repeating the same
behavior over and over…

“Devin, nobody was in your house. You’re just used to there
being criminal activity everywhere you turn. It’s not like that in Fenton.”

He was very lucky that they were pulling into her driveway,
because he could have had a long walk back to his truck. Devin got out slamming
the door, and they met leaning across the roof of her mustang. Her eyes were
black with fury and the mahogany hair that had glowed like a halo earlier
seemed to boil like impassioned flames around her shoulders, surging with her
rage.

“Don’t talk to me like the victim from one of your cases
that you think is cracked.” She was using the pointer finger on her right hand
like a weapon, jabbing the air and sending ill will in his direction. If she
used any more force her wrist might snap. “I am a decorated police detective. I
take the cases no one else can solve. When there is no evidence, no leads I can
see things no one else thinks to look for. I can
feel
my way through a
crime scene.” She pulled her bag over her shoulder and set the car alarm. “So
don’t stand there and try to say that I can’t tell when someone has been in my house.”
Devin was up on the porch now scratching Bo behind the ears, who was staying
with her until Henry was well enough to take care of him. “If you want to bury
your head in the sand and pretend the wind did it, like a two-year-old, be my
guest. But mark my words, this will come back to bite you in the butt.”

“Devin, would you just calm down for a minute? I didn’t mean...”
Shane was trying to follow her up on the porch.

“Bo, kill!”

“Whu? Ha! Devin he’s a fifteen-year-old hound beagle mix, I
don’t think he’s gonna…”

A low growl rumbled out of the dog’s chest. Shane looked
down at the dog and threw up his hands in exasperation. “Oh, really? Now you
want to play Rottweiler?”

Devin just smirked and turned to unlock her door. Shane
reached across the barking dog and grabbed Devin’s arm and yanked her towards
him. “Please,” he begged, “give me just a second to explain.”

Devin’s keys clattered onto the concrete porch floor. Her
voice was a low chilly whisper and her face went hard. “Take your hands off me
right now.”

If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it. “I just always
say the wrong thing, or it comes out wrong, or you take it the wrong way…” He
probably didn’t even realize that he was gripping her so tightly that his
knuckles were turning white.

Devin was pushing into him, backing him towards the porch
railing.

“
Shane
. I am not playing with you. Let go, or you are
going to fly off this porch.” She didn’t let him say another word, when he
didn’t instantly let go, she wrapped her hand around his right forearm that was
gripping her so tightly and twisted the arm and shoulder harshly backwards. Her
sharp right jab caught him in the left eye and snapped his head back. He
dropped his hand from her as he stumbled in backwards into the railing. The
only thing Devin had left to do was calculate how hard she needed to kick him
in order to pitch him over the porch railing without breaking his sternum. She
settled on a gut kick to be safe—the spinning round house was just to show off.
She leaned over the porch railing and scowled down at him gasping for air on
the ground. “You’d better not be smashing any of my geraniums.”

“Yes ma’am,” he gasped out the words and then raised two
fingers to his forehead in a little salute. “Keep my hands to myself, got it.”
His hand dropped back to the ground.

She sighed in exasperation. “Would you like some ice?” “Yes,
pleeaase.” It came out in more of a moan than a gasp.

Because of Shane’s work schedule, it would be two days
before they could meet at his aunt’s to go thru Bailor Whitlock’s boxes. In the
meantime Devin had been keeping a close eye on Henry. The doctors hadn’t shared
her concerns for his cardiac health, but sure enough, last night he’d starting
having chest pain which changed everything, and today he was getting a whole barrage
of tests. He had no family to speak of other than a few cousins twice removed
in California that he’d never met before. So Devin hung out at the hospital
waiting for test results and keeping Henry occupied with tales of strange
arrests and games of poker. He returned the favor with stories of the stunts
her father had pulled as a teenager.

After lunch she was languishing in the radiology waiting
room, flipping thru a magazine evaluating the red carpet fashions at the 1982
Academy Awards, while Henry was having a CAT scan.

A familiar voice piped up from behind her. “I think they
could have laid off the shoulder pads, but that’s just me.”

“Adam! What are you doing here?” Devin was thrilled to have
someone else to talk to and lit up like a child on Christmas morning when she
saw him.

He squatted down and leaned on the back of the orange vinyl
waiting room chairs so he could be on the same level with her. “A little birdie
told me you were up here with Henry, and I thought you might be getting a
little stir crazy by now and could use a visitor yourself.” He had been tracing
the edging of the seats with his thumb instead of looking at her. He looked up
now with a crooked grin and ears that were turning pink. “I happen to know that
the cafeteria makes a mean frozen yogurt, and I don’t want to brag...” he
paused to polish his knuckles on his shirt, and then rushed through the last
part of his proposal, “but, I have my own private picnic table.”

Devin flung the magazine over her shoulder without bothering
to see where the fluttering pages landed. “Why are we still here?”

The frozen yogurt in the cafeteria consisted of a self-serve
machine with three choices: vanilla, chocolate and the fruit of the week, which
turned out to be peach. The toppings bar would put most ice cream parlors to
shame with every candy, fruit and nut known to man. Devin began making gagging
noises when Adam added what looked like crushed candy canes and gummy bears to
his peach yogurt. Not very khaki!

“That is repulsive! You’re like the boys in elementary
school that used to eat the worst things possible just to gross out the girls.”

He laughed at her wrinkled up nose. “Don’t knock it, you
are
going to try it! Once you get over the idea of it, there’s this refreshing
burst of summer flavor.”

Devin gave him a questionable once over laughingly gauging
his mental stability. “Yeah…I’m gonna take your word for it and stick to good
old fashioned chocolate, hot fudge and peanut butter cups.”  

She was surprised when they passed all the tables in the courtyard
and he led her around the corner to a private picnic table tucked away
underneath a beautiful oak tree. She’d been shocked though that the table actually
had an engraved plaque that read “Reserved for Detective Adam Lentz”

“So how did you score your own picnic table?”

He worked his frozen yogurt over a bit to keep it from
dripping before he answered her. “I wish it was nicer story, that I could just
tell you I’m that well liked.” He wrinkled his nose at her and gave her a
half-hearted grin. “Unfortunately, sixty percent of our cases involve children
in some way. Whether it’s a situation where the kids are witnesses to a crime,
they’ve committed a crime, or children are being removed from the home because
both of the parents were mixed up in something. Then, of course, you have your
standard domestic situations, neglect, abuse whether it be physical, mental or
sexual.” He had choked on the last words as if they were so vile they couldn’t
pass through his throat without becoming stuck.

They were both quiet for a few minutes eating their frozen
yogurt and studying the hospital’s flowerbeds quivering in the breeze.

“When we had a kid that needed to be interviewed I would
bring them out here for frozen yogurt, and we would talk. It was never like an
interrogation, and the kids felt more comfortable opening up under a tree than
in a conference room or precinct. It just sort of became my thing.” His warm
smile was genuine and hers matched as she leaned a shoulder into his.

He gave up trying to coax her into having a bite of his sundae
and strode over and pitched the remains in the trash. When he came back he sat
on the bench next to Devin, but with his back leaning against the table top.

 “I think that’s wonderful what you do with kids. I’m not
very good with miniature people myself.”

He looked confused. “What? I thought kids would love you.
All those girls at the self-defense class thought you were cool.”

“Um, yeah. Kids love me, but I don’t know what to do with
them. I raised my brother from the time he was nine, and let me tell you, that
did not turn out so well.” The sun shifted further onto them so Devin turned
around on the bench as well and stretched her legs out into it and tipped her
face up into the light with her eyes closed. “So I do not do the kid thing.”

“What about your godson?”

She was still soaking up the sun. “Hmm, that’s different. He
has parents to raise him. I just come in to spoil him with gifts and play
dates.”

He flicked a rogue gummy bear off the table top just inches
past her ear. “So you’re like a hip young grandma?”

She raised her head to lift an eyebrow at him. “Watch it. This
hip young grandma can kick your butt.”

“Yeah I know. Shane’s still limping around the office.” He
paused as if debating if he should keep his mouth shut. “Personal space issues?”

“You could say that.” Devin smirked as she closed her eyes
again. “I don’t deal with a lot of children in my cases. I see mostly serial
crimes, rape and murder, occasionally robbery if it’s something really high
end.”

Adam had gradually let his leg slide over until now his
thigh was resting against hers. He began playing with a strand of her hair, and
she found she didn’t mind. “Do you have a special unit for child cases?” he
asked.

“No, we handle it in Major Crimes. Those cases just don’t
get assigned to me anymore because of all the bureaucracy.”

“What do you mean,
bureaucracy
?”

“You know, ‘Devin you can’t punch the child molester,’
‘Devin you can’t break the child molester’s nose,’ Devin you can’t threaten to
cut of his…’ I mean there’s just so much red tape in dealing with those cases.”

Adam’s laugh burst out from deep within his belly, but he
quickly slapped a fist over his mouth to contain it. Devin cracked an eye to
study his shaking shoulders.

I bet there’s a lot about Adam that he keeps contained
under all that khaki.

When he could finally speak calmly, Adam turned and picked
up her trash from the table. “You know the best part about that? I’m not sure
that you weren’t dead serious!”

Devin just gave him a mischievous little grin and shrugged
her shoulders.

It was mid-afternoon when Devin arrived at Aunt Frannie’s.
The bank thermometer read ninety-seven degrees. There was a note on the door
from Shane to come on in and make her way down to the basement. As she peered
thru the doorway, Devin thought they were using the term
basement
awfully loosely. More like dark creepy dirt hole with nasty crawly things. The
wooden planks that formed steps didn’t look like they could support the nails
that were in them, let alone a person. Devin gingerly picked her way down,
testing each spot before putting all her weight down.

“I hope you like spending eternity in a dark, dank dungeon
my dear! Mwahahaha!”

Devin wrinkled up her nose. “Not quite right. Your sinister
laugh needs work.”

Shane cocked his head to one side pondering it, “Yeah, you’re
right. It needs something.” His smile sparkled out through his crystal blue
eyes, and cobwebs decorated his hair. “Seriously though, watch your step.
You’ll break your neck on that thing they call a staircase.”

He had set up two milk crates for them to sit on and had all
the boxes pulled out and ready under the room’s single hanging lightbulb.

“And here I thought Richmond had cornered the market on
creepiness, but no, no, Fenton has its own little pit of nastiness.”

Shane’s face lit up. “Oh, do not tell me that Miss Tough as Nails,
raised in the streets, is scared of cellars?”

“No, I am not scared of cellars. I dislike dark slimy
corners where I can’t see what might be coming at me. Cellars just seem to have
a plethora of those.”

Shane was still glowing. “I can’t believe it. The chink in
the armor, the Achilles tendon, the—”

“—kick in the groin.”

“Got it. Let’s get to work. The boxes on the left are the
earlier years of his career, but these four boxes are all from 1960–1965 and
are loaded with material.”

Devin slid the top off the box closest to her and let a low
whistle. “Your uncle Bailor was a busy man.”

Shane grinned. “It was a good time to be making hooch.”

At first everything they found was ‘look at this!’ and ‘what
do you think of this’. But they quickly realized at that pace they would be
there all day. So instead when they found a particularly interesting case they
wrote out the name and date and set the file to one side. After two dusty hours,
they each had a dozen or more interesting cases and at least forty names
between them of local boys or families that had been affiliated in some way.

Devin tossed down her pen in irritation and stretched her
arms. “I think all we’re going to get out of this work is the smell of musty
boxes in our hair.” She drew her ponytail across her nose for a whiff and
grimaced tossing it away again. “This suspect pool is just too broad.”

Shane rubbed the bridge of his nose and blinked his eyes a
few times. “I know what you mean. I haven’t found anything spectacular that
stands out as a reason to kill somebody, but I suspect that caffeine withdrawal
might be a good reason. Do you want something to drink?”

“A drink might make me slightly less crabby.”

“Maybe you should come out of this hole and see the light of
day too.”

She shook her head and pulled the last box towards her. “No,
I want to get this over with, so I’m going to push through and keep digging.”

Shane jogged up the stairs as quickly as he dared, and Devin
began flipping through the files again.

Isn’t there just one interesting looking piece I could
start with in this box?
 Actually, there was. About a third of the way back
was a thick, dark brown accordion-style folder. The two-inch thick folder had a
standard manila file tied to it with string, and the file was marked “Hank
James Maddox.”

Some people might have savored the moment, letting the
anticipation build, fearful of what they might find. Others might remove the
string with shaking hands. Devin was not any of those people. She yanked the
string away so quickly it had almost disintegrated by the time she had the file
open and was reading over the first document. It contained all the paperwork on
how Henry had been flipped as informant on the moonshine business. There were
word-for-word records of conversations, photos of stills and hot rods, notes
from the detectives, and signed deals from the Commonwealth’s Attorney. There
was one thing missing—the name of the sixth driver, the one Henry had referred
to as ‘the new kid’. All of the other suspects were listed by name, but
anywhere the name of the sixth driver appeared it had been blacked out.

Shane returned with their drinks scurrying down the steps as
if he were on the open face of a cliff. “Whew! I made it through the
treacherous journey to bring us parched souls down in the catacombs a cool
beverage.” When she didn’t respond he peeked over her shoulder to see what she
was engrossed in. “That looks like the letters my granddaddy would send home
from the South Pacific during the war. The Army screened all the letters to
make sure no bit of information that could give away position or secrets got
out and would mark through those sections with a black marker. What is that?”

“It’s a file on Henry. Was your Uncle, Henry’s handler?”

“No. He would have worked on the bust and crossed paths with
him, but he was not a handler for informants.” Shane crouched next to her for a
better look. “Can you tell what information is blacked out?”

“Yeah, the name of the last moonshine driver. Anything to do
with him or her has been completely blocked out—name, age, address, vehicle you
name it.” Devin handed one of the papers over to Shane for a closer look, but
he took it without seeing.

“Her? You think Laney could’ve been the last driver?”

“Maybe. We know she had the driving ability, and if she had
been doing moonshine runs already, Henry would have brought her in on this just
to keep her close by and safe that night.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possibilities.
“Whoever she drove for on a regular basis may not have liked her doing
freelance work.”

Devin was nodding along. “It’s possible. But jealousy is a
strong motive too. Dean told me he had argued with Laney earlier in the evening
when she refused to be the getaway driver in his little robbery scheme. If he
found out she was willing to break the law with Henry instead, he might have
been angry enough to commit murder.”

Devin and Shane looked down in silence at the file spread
out before them. The damp air in the basement became heavier with everything
they weren’t saying. If Laney had been the sixth driver, any evidence had been
removed from the file. If her murder was related to the bust that night, it had
been covered up.

Both Devin and Shane jumped when a door slammed upstairs.

“Ice-cool law professionals we are.” Devin mumbled. Shane
gave her a grin and held up an over exaggerated shaking hand to show his
steadiness.

There was a shuffling at the top of the basement steps and
then a fluttery southern voice called down. “Shannon? Is that you?” Shane
instantly turned a crimson so deep a sunburn would have looked pasty in
comparison. Devin’s eyes went wide and she silently mouthed, “Shannon?” Shane
bolted to the steps.

“Yes, ma’am it’s me, Aunt Frannie. We’re almost done, and
then we’ll be out of here real soon.”

Apparently Aunt Frannie was in a hostessing mood. “Oh, honey,
y’all take your time, no need to rush. Would you and your friend like a
sandwich or a glass of tea?”

Shane rolled his eyes complaining more to the basement floor
than Devin. “Translation: Bring her up so I can get a look at her.” He directed
his next comment up the stairs. “No, ma’am, we’re fine. I just got us some
drinks.” It took a few more minutes of reassuring before Shane’s aunt believed
that her guests were as comfortable as possible in the cellar. He returned to
his milk crate, asking her for the first time “You’re not hungry, are you?”

Devin studied him for a second, tempted to tell him she was
faint with hunger. Then with a wicked grin. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, Shann—”

He cut her off with a murderous glare.
“Don’t you dare.”
She pressed her lips together in a tight line to repress her laughter, but her
eyes were watering with the effort. He smirked at her as he stacked up the
boxes they had finished with. “Oh, like your name is so much better! It sounds
like a guy!”

“Maybe we should switch, a guy’s name on a girl is cute, but
a girl’s name for a guy just sounds wimpy.” She was snickering now as she
dropped Henry’s file back into the box.

“Haha, you’re hilarious. Why do you think I had it legally
changed to Shane? I just can’t get the family to cooperate.” He rolled his eyes
up to the ceiling.

Devin glanced at her watch and cringed. “As much fun as it
is hanging out in this dirt pit, I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to speak to the
Fenton Neighbors Club in an hour, and I’m obviously going to have to take a
shower first.” She stood up and tried to brush the cobwebs off her clothes, but
it appeared to be a lost cause.

“What will you be talking to the old biddies about this
evening?” Shane arched an eyebrow and gave her one of his altar boy smiles.

She held up a threatening fist.

“I will be speaking to these vibrant members of the
community about safety when travelling into the city. They’re taking a bus trip
to D.C. in a few months to see a show and do some shopping, and I’m going to
give them tips on how to avoid unsafe situations, not get their purses stolen,
that sort of thing.” She punctuated her sentence by sticking out her tongue
again. “So, can I take this box home with me and finish going through it later
tonight?”

Shane studied her intently for a moment, then squinted his
eyes in concentration and leaned towards her. Devin leaned away reflexively,
about to ask him what he thought he was doing when Shane’s hand shot into her
hair and pulled out something that was wiggling. He grinned and held it up for
her to see.

“You had a little friend hitchhiking along.”

Devin leapt backwards shaking her hair out with both hands.
“Ewww! This is why I hate cellars! Are there anymore?”

“Please tell me that the cop that has been stabbed, shot and
injured in every way possible in the line of duty, did not just squeal like a
little girl because there was a granddaddy long leg in her hair?”

“Oh, shut it! Spiders are just crawly, sneaky little
creatures of the devil. Like you’d love it if it were crawling on you.” She was
still running her hand through her hair. “So, can I take the box?”

“No.”

Devin’s warm brown eyes turned dark with irritation, and she
huffed out an exasperated breath. She was about to tear into him for his lack
of trust in her and his obvious doubtfulness in her competency as a detective.
Deep down men were all chauvinist pigs.

Shane cut her tirade off with a laugh. “You know, you’re
really gorgeous when you’re furious. In like this angry supermodel way.”

“How ’bout the, ‘I’m going to strangle you’ look. What’s
that do for you?”

He just grinned. “I meant no, you can’t take the box,
because I’ll bring it over with a pizza later tonight for the two of us to go
through it together.”

Devin shifted her weight on to one foot cocking her hip out
and folding her arms across her chest defensively. “Gee, that doesn’t sound
like you have a hidden agenda at all, considering that plan makes no sense! I
could go ahead and take the box now and go through it after my dinner meeting
all by my lonesome.”

“But my lady, there are a few holes in your logic. First
this box is filthy and could be crawling with more spiders or possibly killer
dust bunnies. Secondly, I have attended meetings of the Fenton Neighbors Club
and they tend to serve crustless cucumber sandwiches and watercress salad. So
if I could offer you aid and spend some more time in your charming company,
well that’s an evening well spent.” He was leaning in close again and offering
that startling smile that probably left most women dazzled. Devin just leaned
away again with an expression like he was waving a fish in her face: half disgusted,
half confused.

“You had me at the crawling spiders. Be at my house by eight
o’clock with pepperoni and extra cheese on my half.”

At seven fifty-five Devin heard the rumble of a diesel up
the street and hurried on to the porch. Shane had been right about the food at
dinner—delicate little cucumber and pimento cheese sandwiches, melon balls and
apparently because last month’s meeting had been about finding food in nature,
what appeared to be celery stalks were actually pieces of tiger lily stems. She
was starving.

Shane barely had the emergency brake set when Devin yanked open
his passenger door and scampered up into the cab of his truck in her bare feet
in search of the pizza.

“Well, hello to you too!”

Devin seized her prize, bringing the box up to her nose and
inhaling deeply. “Mmmhhhh!” She spared Shane a sideways glance as she slid off
the seat and out of the truck. “You are my new favorite person.”

He laughed as he pulled the dusty box out from behind his
seat and followed her up the sidewalk. “I do hear that
a lot
from the
ladies.”

“Wow, there really is no end to your delusions.”

They sat crossed legged on her ancient floral couch, eating
off paper plates. She used the pizza box as a barrier between them. Shane
cocked an eyebrow as he watched hot grease drip down to her elbow as she
scarfed down her second piece. Devin never missed a beat as she licked the drip
off her elbow, sucked some sauce off her thumb and reached for her diet soda.

“I never claimed to be some delicate lady.” She paused to
take another huge bite. “So if you’re expecting dainty manners go to a tea party,
just leave the pizza and files would you?”