Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) (5 page)

“Yes, you were,” Walter interjected, his voice quite agitated. “The question is what you were doing there…”

“Walter!” Ellis surprisingly reprimanded his client. “I thought we agreed how to handle this.” He sat on the corner of the desk and leaned toward Riley. “Riley, we need to clarify exactly what happened this morning.”

For a moment, she stared at the both of them incredulously. “You know why,” she said to her uncle when she found her voice. “Freddy said you asked him to pick up some papers of yours that Mrs. Barlow accidentally took after she left.”

”I did no such thing! I would never send a pothead to collect papers for me.” Walter was angry now. He pointed at Ellis. “Why do you think I have him on retainer? Have you lost your ever fucking mind?”

Taken back by his intensity, she murmured feebly, “It’s what Freddy said.”

“And you believed him? Look where it got us!”

Ellis raised his hand to calm the rising situation. His face expressed his own frustration. “It would serve no purpose to draw your uncle into this mess and have things escalate from bad to worse.”

There was a long pause before she replied. “I won’t lie.”

Ellis cleared his throat. “So, look, Riley, the deal is both you and your uncle need each other at the moment.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Freddy wrecked your Jeep, Riley.” Ellis then added, “He was high as a kite.”

“High? No way,” she said, trying to make sense of all that had happened.

“If you don’t trust your uncle, trust me,” Ellis asserted. “I saw Freddy myself. Luckily, I got to him before the police and was able to get him to the hospital. He was messed up bad. I had to place him in the lockdown unit.”

Riley said nothing as she thought back to the morning. It was hard to focus. All she kept hearing was his scream from within the house… All she kept seeing was a dead man lying in the doorway.

“We need to contain an impending catastrophe. No one here believes that Freddy did anyone harm, but there are questions that the police are going to want answers to.” Ellis sat down in the chair next to her and took her hand. “It would be my assumption that Freddy was desperate for a fix and went there to burglarize the house, thinking that Helen wouldn’t press charges against him if he was caught. He used you for an unwilling accomplice.”

“In broad daylight? That makes no sense,” Riley insisted. “You weren’t there. He wasn’t high.” She looked at her uncle. “Freddy was trying to help you. He talked me into driving him. He said it was important to you.”

“Freddy has always been a great manipulator.” Ellis’s solemn tone brought her attention back to him. “Riley, he was caught ransacking Mrs. Barlow’s bedroom while she lay dead on the floor. Freddy’s prints are all over the crime scene, from which he ran and stole your Jeep.” He shifted his position and looked straight in her eyes with his intense, dark ones. “What if the police believe he killed them last night and came back to give himself an alibi…to explain why his prints are all over the scene?”

Riley sat back, not believing a word of it. She knew her cousin well enough to know when he was high. He would have been nervous and anxious. She shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a minute. I was with him this morning. He was trying to make amends to me…”

“That’s exactly what we can tell the police. That Freddy was trying to make amends. You can confirm it.”

“Confirm what?”

“What you two were doing at Helen’s home this morning. I believe it is very feasible that Freddy was reaching out to all the people he feels he’s done wrong, which includes Helen.”

“Yes…yes…” Walter agreed. “It’s believable.”

“As long as Riley confirms Freddy’s statement,” Ellis added. “It’s important to show family solidarity at times such as these.”

She laughed humorlessly. “Solidarity? Am I to forget all that has happened? Ignore the fact that I’m about to be kicked to the curb…or ever forgive—”

“No, you’re right. There has been too much senseless bickering.” Ellis spoke firmly. “Obviously, Walter is willing to make concessions to bring the family back together. He has agreed to immediately put a hold on all legal proceedings dealing with the estate of your grandmother until this situation has been contained.”

“Cut to the chase. What are you telling me?”

“That you may live in your grandmother’s house without fear of being evicted until a time that a settlement can be arranged.”

Silence. Riley stared at the two men with the startled realization they were blatantly attempting to bribe her. She hesitated.

“Your Aunt Cora wants you to attend the gala in honor of Mother at the Museum of Fine Arts,” Walter offered.

Taken back, she was at a loss for words. She finally managed, “It was made perfectly clear to me last month that I wasn’t welcome.”

Walter sighed, a long-suffering sigh. “After careful consideration and discussion, Cora and I realized Mother would want you there. I have already seen to all the necessary arrangements, along with a limousine to pick you up Saturday night. Of course, you will be included with the family.”

“This is a major gesture on your uncle’s part to repair the damage that has been done to the family,” Ellis emphasized, playing down her unwillingness. “Moreover, Riley, we need to think of Freddy. Do you really think he is capable of murder? Do you think he could survive an investigation?”

“Don’t play on my emotions,” she warned, not bothering to hide her skepticism. “I won’t be manipulated.”

“So you think Freddy killed both Helen and her son?” Ellis pressed her hard.

“You know I don’t think Freddy killed—”

“Then it is settled.” Ellis’s eyebrows rose with a thin, patronizing smile. “I will have Cora make all the necessary arrangements. But, Riley, remember the importance of taking a low profile concerning this morning’s unfortunate incident. The press would make a field day of Helen’s association with the family. I am already going to have to investigate why Josh Kincaid was already at the scene.”

“Josh Kincaid?”

“The man who was with you at the scene. He didn’t introduce himself?”

She looked at Walter and then back at Ellis. For years, both men had been a thorn in her side, throttling her inheritance away from her, trying to dictate what she could and could not do…like they were doing now…trying to control her…

They assumed they had silenced her. Infuriating, that’s what it was. Impulsively, she said under her breath, “He didn’t have to.”

“That’s good…good…you recognized him from TV.” Ellis nodded his head in his arrogant way, confident she wouldn’t have incriminated Freddy.

Her nerves frayed. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that haughty, conceited smile off Ellis’s face. She said simply, “No, not exactly. We’re seeing each other. I’m dating Josh Kincaid.”

She succeeded.

The only thing
Riley was certain about was that sleep would not come easy. When she closed her eyes, she saw dead bodies. Still and motionless…with a single bullet hole in the head. The dead men’s faces merged into one…her daddy….Daddy.

Consciously, she realized her mind was mingling the past and present, but it did little to alleviate the shock, the pain, and the fear she felt. She relived the scene time and time again.

Wearing only a T-shirt and gym shorts, she cuddled on the couch with Bailey and watched reruns of
The Big Bang Theory
. The comedy had done little to divert her attention away from the day’s events.

The drink she held in her hand was another matter. She had just downed her second shot of Jameson. With any luck, the bottle that sat in the middle of the coffee table would erase the memories that had been haunting her…at least until morning.

She rubbed her face with her hands. Nothing made sense, but it hadn’t for a long time.

God, she was tired. Sick and tired. Since the day she found her father with his head down on his desk, lifeless, she had constantly fought to keep from falling into an abyss of despair. Time and time again, she had to pick up the pieces of her life.

Now, her resolve was challenged once again.

The day had started with such promise. How had it gone to shit so quickly? Poor Mrs. Barlow dead. Freddy in a psychiatric lockdown unit. Her Jeep totaled.

At least with the arrangement with her uncle, she wouldn’t be homeless. Not that it helped much. Her roommates, her extra source of income, had all left to find other places to live, except for Lonnie. But he, too, would be leaving soon.

Moreover, she wasn’t under any illusion. This was only a temporary arrangement. The minute Walter felt he had no need for her, the offer would be rescinded. She expected it.

This time, though, she would be prepared…she had to be. There wouldn’t be another chance. It was now or never.

She poured herself another drink. Before she got it to her lips, Bailey leaped to the floor and barked at the front door.

Footsteps.
Her breathing quickened. She listened while mentally calculating how long it would take for her to make it to her bedroom where she hid her gun.

The doorbell rang once. Tension gripped her chest. It rang again.

“Riley—Riley Ashcroft. It’s Josh Kincaid. Your houseguest, Lonnie, said you were home.”

“Back, Bailey. Sit,” Riley commanded her dog. She eased to the door and glanced through the peephole.

She opened the door slightly. He wore a polo shirt, jeans, and sneakers; his long fingers clenched a wine bottle and a pizza box.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.

His thick, sandy-blond hair was combed back off his angled face. As he leaned against the doorframe, his vivid blue eyes danced with mischief.

“I thought my girl might like dinner.”

His deep voice was smooth and silky. Catching her off guard with his charm, he moved closer. With her hand still on the open door, she stared in disbelief as she watched him maneuver his way into her home and now stood in the middle of her living room.

“You really should close the door.” Josh set the pizza and wine down on the coffee table. He took the glass from her hand and drank down her whiskey.

She slammed the door. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Good stuff.” He sat the glass down. “I have to apologize. As you can see, I brought wine, but you’re right. It’s a whiskey kind of night.”

Walking briskly across the room, she grabbed the bottle out of his hand.

He shook his head. “Naughty, naughty. Don’t be rude to your guest, especially after the conversation I just had with my boss.”

His gaze met hers. He suddenly turned serious.

She refused to be rattled. “And that has what to do with me?”

“Seems he wanted to warn me about my girlfriend.” He paused and looked at her with those eyes. “Are you, Riley? Are you my girlfriend?”

Slowly, she lowered the bottle back on the table and took a step back. “No. Of course not. I don’t even know you.”

Kincaid gave a slight shrug. “I thought it strange myself, but there again, there could be worse things in life.” He bit his lower lip and shook his head. “Another strange coincidence. Since I’ve left work, I swear I’ve been followed by a black SUV…it followed me here.”

The room fell into a tense silence. All the years embedded in her to protect the family at all cost from the outside world warred within her. She had crossed a line, but from here, there would be no turning back.

Ignoring the thought she might regret it for the rest of her days, she returned his gaze. “It’s Ellis.”

“Your family’s lawyer?”

She nodded. “He’s checking out what I told him.”

“That we are seeing each other.”

“I’m sorry if it caused you any inconvenience.” She frowned at him. “At the time it seemed like a good idea.”

Reaching out, he gripped her arm and whirled her into an embrace. He whispered in a deep, hoarse voice, “Why? You must have known it would flame my curiosity about a possible Ashcroft connection to this mess. Why would you want me to investigate your family?”

His grasp on her arm tightened; his eyes bore into hers, demanding an answer. Hardly daring to take a breath, she answered, “Because someone needs to.”

Loosening his grip, he ran his hand through her hair and pulled her face to him until his lips were on hers. He kissed her, a long, deep kiss. Not one, but two…three. His hand slid from beneath her hair, down to her shoulder, where he nudged her body into his.

His arms rounded her as her breasts pressed against his chest. Her body molded to his.

Somewhere in the insanity, she lost herself, mesmerized by his touch…his kiss. It had been too long since someone had held her in this manner. Her lips opened, allowing his tongue to sweep within.

Was it the whiskey or was she just crazy? She wanted this.

Slowly, he withdrew. Smiling broadly, he walked over to the window. With one hand, he swept the curtains closed. “That should be sufficient evidence for Ellis and your uncle at the moment. Now let’s talk.”

* * * *

“No, I kid you not. She believes she is a psychic.”

Sitting on the couch with her feet underneath her, Riley giggled. Like this, she had an air of vulnerability that lit up her face. He smiled.

Even though he knew he had manipulated the situation to his advantage, he hadn’t the slightest twinge of guilt. The story always came first, but his instincts led him to believe that the woman in front of him was a victim.

Though in honesty, that could well be the Jameson talking or the longing that filled him.

He noticed the moment he walked into the room she was braless. Her hardened nipples pressed through the material of her T-shirt; her shorts rode up her supple thighs. Of course, she hadn’t been expecting him, but undeniably he was attracted to her.

Watching her now, there was no lying the kiss lingered in his thoughts. The way she kissed him back, he had no doubt the feeling was mutual.

Over the last hour, they had drank and ate, quite at ease with each other. To his surprise, he found himself talking of his family. More surprising was the fact he never talked about them to strangers.

“Surely you are joking.”

“I assure you I’m not. A pleasant woman, but let’s just say a little eccentric.”

If the truth be known, his family had been one of the reasons he had moved back to Boston when the job at FOX27 opened. The former Sally Mabrey had married his father last year. The sixty-year-old widow was a medical technologist at Beth Israel Deaconess, where she worked the nightshift. A mother to two grown men: one a state trooper, the other a med-flight pilot.

His parents divorced when he was three. He had no memories of them ever together, nor could he ever imagine that they ever had much in common. His father was blue collar through and through; his mother, sophisticated and refined.

George Kincaid was a fiercely opinionated and stubborn man. Retired now from the state where he worked on the highway department for over thirty years, he had never been the ambitious sort. No, Kincaid had gotten that trait from his mother.

Alice Reed had left his father without looking back, eventually marrying an investment manager at Fidelity. She made it perfectly clear she wanted status and position. Other than living in the wealthy community of Duxbury, George Kincaid had failed miserably.

Not that Kincaid could complain. Neither parent said a bad word about the other, although in all probability it had more to do with George refusing to even say his ex-wife’s name.

George had been a wonderful father. He had come to every event his son had participated in, whether it be a hockey game or one of those school events that every father dreaded attending, like his middle school band concert. George would hike up to Marblehead after work without a word of complaint.

Kincaid had no doubt when he looked into the stands, his father would be there. His mother not so much, but she was busy with his half-brother and half-sister by that time.

When his father announced he had married again, the news had taken Kincaid by surprise. After thirty years, he had assumed his father would never take the plunge again. He had been wrong.

Deep down, Kincaid supposed he was jealous of his father’s relationship. George had always been his. Now, he had to share him with that woman. At first, he didn’t trust Sally Mabrey, but over the last few months, he had to admit she was growing on him.

“To confess, there are times she has surprised me at times.”

“You…a skeptic?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Kincaid rubbed his hand over his chin. Tilting his head slightly, he scrunched his nose. “There was this one time last winter. She was driving to work during a blizzard and saw a man trying to wave cars down. Sally noticed a car behind him that had skidded into the woods and called 911. She pulled to the side of the road and waited until the help arrived.

“Both the woman driving and her two children were injured. The woman had risked the brutal weather because her husband collapsed at work. She was driving to the hospital. Unbeknownst to the woman, her husband had passed away. The odd thing—the police couldn’t find the man who waved Sally down. The woman Sally saved swears it had to be her dead husband.”

“You believe your stepmother saw a ghost?” she said with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

“Nah,” Kincaid acknowledged. “She probably saw a shadow, which led her to notice the car, but she’s a harmless sort…and Dad is crazy about her. It’s funny. Sally is so different than Mom, but I’ve never seen Dad happier.”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, Riley said quietly, “I never knew my mother and Daddy…you know what happened.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. He reached over and gently caressed her face. “I’m not asking because I want a story. That’s not the reason.”

“Really?” she asked, with the same uncertain tone she had questioned whether his stepmother was a psychic.

He met Riley’s gaze. “Truly.” His voice rang with sincerity, but it did little to ease the doubt reflecting in her eyes. “You have listened to me all night ramble about my family. Besides, one more shot of whiskey and I doubt I will remember anything you tell me.”

Not bothering to pour a drink, she took a swig straight out of the bottle. She said briskly, “There’s not much to tell. Daddy raised me after Momma died…then…then he killed himself.”

Pausing, her eyes held a faraway look. She stood and held the whiskey by the bottleneck as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why? Why would Daddy shoot himself, only to have me find him that way? Why did he hate me so much?”

“I don’t know. They say that when one contemplates suicide, they aren’t thinking straight. He probably never thought you would have found him.”

“No…no,” she insisted. “You didn’t know Daddy. He never left anything to chance. He knew…he knew I would find him. He just didn’t care.”

Kincaid rose and pulled her into an embrace, giving her the little comfort he could. He suspected this morning’s events caused a flashback…a horrible flashback to relive.

Cradled against his chest, she whispered in the still air. “It was my fault…I fought with Daddy the night before…Oh, God, I said awful things…I told him I hoped he lost his case…that I wanted Harrison to rot in jail…I said I hated him… I told Daddy I hated him…” Her voice faded into her sobs.

He let her cry. Finally, he said, “It wasn’t your fault. Your father knows you didn’t mean it. You were little over a child yourself.”

“No…no…he killed himself. When he needed me the most, he thought I had turned my back on him…I didn’t mean it…I was so tired of Daddy’s attention being solely on Harrison. I was so frustrated. It was like Daddy wasn’t even aware I was around, not with Harrison in trouble… It was all he was doing, trying to figure out what happened.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in.
Daddy’s attention being solely on Harrison all the time.
The reporter in Kincaid emerged.