“You killed Jason.”
“Stupid-shit Jason, yeah, I killed him.” He shook his head. “Who would have thought he’d be up at that hour of the morning? And with his mother, no less? Damned bad luck on his part, looking out the window when he did.”
“He saw you with someone.”
“Unfortunately, yes, he did.” Mike spoke calmly, as if they were discussing the weather. “He came running out of that house, yelling at me, and what the hell else could I do? I dropped what I was carrying and let him chase me into the field, away from the house. I didn’t need a witness.”
“He saw you with one of your victims.”
“Well, the sky didn’t open and drop them into the woods, Lorna. They had to get there somehow.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was carrying someone. And yes, he was already dead when Jason came out the back of the house. He saw me, saw what I had from the window, and came running outside yelling something about his sister. I guess he figured I’d killed his sister, too.”
“Did you?”
“No. Oh, I would have, I wanted to. She saw me the night she disappeared. She was running across the field and we all but smacked into each other. How ’bout those Eagan kids, eh? Always around at the wrong time.” He shook his head. “I grabbed at her—had her, too, but she managed to get away from me and she ran like hell.”
“Ran where?”
“Beats the shit out of me. Don’t think I didn’t try to find her. Searched for hours, but it was as if the earth opened up and swallowed her whole. I couldn’t track her, and the next thing I knew, she’d officially disappeared. I didn’t have a decent night’s sleep, I can tell you that, until I realized she wasn’t coming back.”
“Then where did she go?” Lorna’s brows knit together. “If you didn’t kill her, where has she been all these years?”
“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that the gods were smiling on me that night, because wherever she went, she obviously didn’t tell anyone what she saw.”
“You really think the gods had anything to do with that?”
He gestured at her with the gun. “Walk. Straight back.”
He was leading her to the door to the wine cellar.
“I don’t understand how you got those boys out here. I mean, you couldn’t very well pick them up on your bike and ride to the woods with a body over the handlebars.”
“Very funny.” He looked amused. “Actually, I used my mother’s car. She’d be sound asleep every night by nine, I’d be out of the house and cruising down the road by ten.”
“And Fritz didn’t notice? He didn’t care that you were taking the car and driving around without a license?”
“He was my brother, why would he tell? Besides, everyone around here drove before they had a license. It’s farm country. Everyone does it. The local cops would stop me once in a while, slap me on the wrist, and that would be that. Outside of town, I was never stopped. I’ve always been a good driver, never gave them a reason to pull me over. Didn’t speed, stopped at the stop signs, never jumped a light.” He grinned. “My driving record is perfect.”
“Where did Fritz think you were going, all those nights?”
“I always told him I had a hot date. I was pretty popular with the girls, maybe you remember.” He smirked.
Her face flushed, recalling her own crush on him, then realized the absurdity.
He’s holding a gun on me, he’s going to kill me, and I’m embarrassed to remember that I used to have a crush on him.
“You would drive to the Purple Pheasant to pick up your victims.”
“It was the perfect feeding ground. They never checked ID. Actually, they welcomed the young boys. The younger the better.”
“The owner. You killed him, too.”
Mike nodded thoughtfully. “He was one sharp dude. He knew the guys who’d disappeared had all been in his club. It took him awhile, but eventually he realized he’d seen them all with me. If I’d been a little older, maybe I’d have been a little smarter. As it was, hey, I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen years old. I didn’t hunt often, but when I did, I hunted well.”
Lorna fought the urge to throw up.
He stopped at the door to the wine cellar.
“Open it. And turn the light on.”
She did as she was told.
“Down the steps,” he commanded.
She started taking them slowly, trying to think of how to distract him. There was only one way in or out, and that was by the steps they now descended. She eyed the barrels that lined the room and wondered if it would be possible to use them offensively. She didn’t think she could move quickly enough to roll them before he got off a shot.
Okay, Uncle Will, if you’re really still around, now would be a good time to show yourself.
“Keep moving. Back there, through that doorway.”
He pointed to the tasting room.
She might have a chance after all.
“Where’s the light switch?” He felt inside the doorway, first on the left side, then the right.
“It’s on the opposite end of the room,” she told him. “All the way back.”
“Go turn it on.”
“Sure.” She stepped into the windowless room and tried to remember where she’d left the candles. She dropped to her knees and crouched behind one of the two upholstered chairs, and held her breath, and let the darkness swallow her whole.
“Hey, Lorna,” Mike called from the doorway, and she heard him start to follow her into the room. “Turn on the lights.”
She knelt still as a stone. If he wanted her, he was going to have to find her in the dark. She had the advantage of knowing where the furniture was. Her only chance was to circle around him, without him seeing her, and make it to the door. If she could get that far, she’d slip outside the room and bolt the door behind her, locking him inside.
If she could get as far as the door.
“Damn you.” He kicked at something on the floor and it bounced off the wall. “Damn you . . .”
In the dark, his breathing was erratic with rage and seemed to come from all sides at once. The room wasn’t large enough for her to make a clean break for the door. The most she could hope for was to draw him farther in. She moved stealthily to the left, knowing that even as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, so did his.
“Honest to God, Lorna, I was going to make this easy for you. Shit!” He cursed loudly as he tripped over a chair. “Damn you! I’d planned one clean shot to the head. But now, I swear, when I get my hands on you, you’re going to beg me for that one bullet.”
A little farther to the left. Inch by inch, trying to stay within the shadow of the chairs.
“Bitch.”
He shot the gun into the room and the sound momentarily paralyzed her. He fired twice more and she began to shake all over. She held both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out. She was too frightened to move now—even if she could make it to the door, her legs wouldn’t support her to take her there.
It occurred to her for the first time that she wasn’t going to get out of the cellar alive.
Another shot, this one closer.
“I’ve got plenty more, Lorna. I can stand here and shoot at you all day.”
“Gonna be hard to do that with a bullet in your brain.” T.J.’s voice from the doorway was steady, but there was no mistaking the intent.
“Well, hey, Mr. PI. Nice of you to stop by.”
“Drop the gun, Mike. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
Mike responded with a shot to the doorway.
“Sooner or later, you’re going to run out. I won’t,” T.J. told him calmly.
“You forget, PI,” Mike’s breath was ragged, “I’ve got something you want in here.”
“If you had her, you’d have killed her already. So unless you were talking to a corpse a few seconds ago, I’d say you don’t have her.”
“She’s in here, I’m in here. You’re out there.” Mike laughed. “She moves, she’s a dead woman. How do you figure you’re going to get her out?”
“I shoot you. She walks past your body on the way to the door.”
“You can’t shoot what you can’t see.”
A shot rang out and Mike shrieked. His gun hit the floor. Lorna screamed and backed into the wall, falling off her feet. T.J. came into the room and stepped over the moaning man and picked up the gun.
“Lorna?” T.J. said softly. “Are you all right?”
“I’m over here.” She struggled to get to her feet and he was there, reaching down to help her.
His arms closed around her and tightened. “Are you all right?” he repeated.
She nodded shakily.
“How could you see him? How did you know where to shoot?” she asked as he led her out of the dark room and into the light.
“Night goggles.” He slipped them off over his head with one hand. “A favorite of PIs everywhere.”
“I thought you told Mitch you got rid of all your toys.”
“Almost all.”
“Is he going to die?”
“No. But he won’t be writing any letters home for a while.” He handed her his cell phone. “Go outside and call Mitch. There’s no signal down here. I tried calling him when I realized you were in the wine cellar, but I couldn’t get a signal.”
She stumbled and he caught her.
“Maybe you’d better sit down for a minute.” He turned a barrel on its side and guided her to it, but she shook her head.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It was just so . . . I was so . . .”
She couldn’t find the words.
“Hey, I’ve been shot at a time or two myself. It’s not fun. Maybe one of the scariest things that can happen, and if you’re not used to being around guns, and you’ve never been shot at before, it’s a pretty scary experience.”
“It was so loud.” She covered her ears, remembering. “I swear, I’m usually not very wimpy.”
“It is loud, and when you’re that close to it, yeah, it’s real tough on the ears.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “I don’t think you’re wimpy at all. I think you were damned smart to lure him in there. You gave yourself a fighting chance. If you hadn’t done that, you’d be dead right now.”
“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I
would
be dead right now. I didn’t think I was going to get out of there alive.”
“You did just fine.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks, then leaned over and kissed her. “You did just fine.”
She nodded. “I’ll call Mitch. You keep an eye on Mike.”
Lorna made it to the steps and held on to the railing while she climbed up to the barn. She walked across the wooden floor and out through the door and resisted the urge to pinch herself. Five minutes ago, she’d been certain that her life was going to end. She’d never faced that kind of challenge, never known that kind of fear. Yet she’d still managed to outsmart Mike, long enough for help to arrive.
All in all, it could have been worse.
She was alive, the bad guy lay bleeding on the tasting room floor, and the cool guy had not only saved her, but he’d kissed her as well. She leaned back against the barn door and dialed Mitch’s number.
Yeah, she thought as she listened to the phone ring, all in all, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
T
wenty-two
“Lorna, how are you feeling?” Regan rushed up the front steps and dropped her bag on the porch. “Mitch told me what happened. I tried calling your cell and the house phone, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I’m fine, thanks. It took a few hours for the ringing in my ears to stop, but all’s well now.” Lorna got up from the chair where she’d been rocking, passing the time quietly while she waited for T.J. and Mitch to come back with the beer and Chesapeake crabs they’d set out for almost an hour ago.
“God, I turn my back on you for five days and you damn near get yourself killed.”
“But I didn’t get killed. T.J. arrived, like the posse, to save the day.” She smiled and added, “My hero.”
“Not bad, as heroes go.” Regan took the rocker next to Lorna’s.
“Ummm. Not bad at all. Thanks for the referral. Who’d have thought, the day I called you, that it would lead to all this?”
“All what?” Regan narrowed her eyes. “Lead to what? Are you holding back on me? Is something going on between you and the PI?”
Before Lorna could answer, the Crossfire pulled into the drive and stopped on a dime. Mitch and T.J. got out, laden with several bags.
“I hope you’re both very hungry,” T.J. called, “because we have enough crabs here to feed an army.”
“Did you catch them yourselves?” Lorna stood at the top of the steps. “You’ve been gone for an hour. The Crab Shack is just two miles down the road.”
“Well, we stopped for the beer first. Then we decided to have the crabs cooked for us, instead of cooking them here. Then we realized we didn’t have enough beer, so we had to go back to the state store.” T.J. grinned at Lorna. “You see how this could take some time.”
“I do.” Lorna laughed. “Bring it all into the kitchen and we’ll get some plates.”
“Plates?” Regan appeared horrified. “You don’t use plates to eat Maryland crabs. You cover the table with newspaper, then paper towels, then you put the crabs right on the table.”
“Don’t you get newsprint on the crabs?” Lorna asked.
“Not if you use paper towels. Then, when you’re finished, you wrap up the paper, crab debris and all, and toss everything into the trash can. Preferably one with a tight lid, so the raccoons don’t litter your yard with shells.”
“Hey, you live on the Bay, I have to think you know what you’re talking about. But I can go you one better.” Mitch took a roll of paper from one of the bags. “Unprinted paper. What do you think of that, eh?”
“Where’d you find that?” Regan went down the steps to inspect the roll.
“The guy at the crab place sells it.” Mitch looked pleased with himself.
“Definitely much better than newspaper,” Regan agreed. “That’s why you’re a special agent with the FBI, right? ’Cause you’re so smart?”
“You betcha.” Mitch took her by the arm. “Now, let’s go in and eat. The smell of those crabs had me gnawing on my hand all the way down Callen Road.”
The foursome crowded into the kitchen. Lorna spread the paper thickly on the top of the table, and T.J. dumped the crabs in the middle. Mitch opened four bottles of beer and set one in front of each of the chairs. Lorna grabbed a handful of paper napkins and passed them around.
“Looks like we’re all set,” Lorna said.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” Regan said. “To friendship.”
“There’s something we can all drink to.”
They all did.
Mitch turned to T.J. “So, now that your last big case has been solved, what say we talk a little more about getting your name back on the government’s payroll?”
“Sorry, pal. I already have plans.”
“What plans?” Mitch grabbed a crab and broke it open.
“I’m thinking about going into business for myself.”
“I thought you’d decided you didn’t want to be a PI anymore.”
“Different business.” T.J. separated meat from cartilage and began to eat.
“What kind of business?” Mitch frowned.
“Well, I think I want to try my hand at a winery,” T.J. told him.
“You’re kidding, right?” Mitch laughed.
“Dead serious.” T.J. nodded and turned to Lorna. “The place is still for sale, right?”
He’d caught her completely off guard and she stammered. “Ah . . . well, yeah. I suppose so. Did you want the whole farm?”
“I was thinking just the vineyard.”
“We’d have to see if it could be subdivided.” She heard herself think out loud. “And the wine cellar . . . did you want the wine cellar?”
“What’s a winery without a wine cellar?” he replied.
“It’s under the barn.” Lorna frowned. “The barn should stay with the house.”
“We’ll see what we can work out.”
“What do you know about wine, except that you like to drink it?” Mitch asked.
“Actually, I know quite a bit,” T.J. told him.
“Since when?”
“Since I spent the weekend talking to several growers in the area. I spent hours before and after that reading up on the subject on the Internet.” He turned to Lorna. “This is a good site, and you’ve already got the trellises set up. There are at least seven really good vineyards in the area, and several wineries. I sampled the products and was pretty impressed with what they produce. You already have the cellar, you have some barrels. It’s a start.”
“How do you know what kind of grapes to grow? What kind of wine to make?” Mitch persisted.
“Actually, the classic white wine grapes do very well here. And for the first few years, I’ll grow and sell the grapes to some of the local wineries. Then, when I feel I’m ready, I’ll move on to the next phase of making my own wine.”
“You really are serious,” Lorna said.
T.J. nodded. “Very serious. So if you’re selling—look no further for your buyer. Of course, I’ll probably need to scout up a little capital.”
“I might have a few bucks to invest,” Regan told him. “I don’t have a lot of time to put into a new venture right now, but I will down the road. And I could design the labels for your bottles when the time comes.”
“All right. My first investor.” T.J. turned to Mitch. “How ’bout you? You in?”
“I might be. I’d like to look at your prospectus first.”
“Well, that’s where Lorna comes in.” He touched her arm. “You want to make it a four-way partnership?”
“I already have a business,” she reminded him.
“Exactly. We’ll need a good CPA. You can be our moneyman.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“It’ll be a good way for you to work off my bill for the past ten days.” T.J. grinned. “And it’s a big one. My time is not cheap.”
“We’ll see what we can work out,” she replied.
“This is great. We’re going to be business partners,” Regan noted. “So what do we call this vineyard?”
“Lavender Hill,” Lorna said without thinking.
“What?” T.J. asked. “Where did that come from?”
“Oh. Sorry. We can come up with something, I’m sure.”
“I like Lavender Hill,” Regan told her.
“It’s the original name of the farm. Over the years, everyone started referring to it as Palmer’s farm. I found the old sign in the barn when I was a kid, and my grandmother told me about how, when her grandparents moved here, the hill out back was all wild lavender.”
“Lavender Hill Wines.” T.J. nodded. “I like it. Mitch?”
Mitch nodded. “Absolutely.”
“So there we are. We have a business. We have a name for it.” T.J. tilted his bottle. “We’re in the wine business. At the very least, the grape business. Or will be, by this time next year.”
“That’s going to be some commute, Dawson, if you’re planning on staying in Baltimore,” Mitch pointed out.
“That house is sold, so I have to look for a new place, anyway. When I was driving into Callen earlier today, I saw a house for rent out on Conway Road. I wrote down the Realtor’s number, so I can give him a call in the morning.”
“I’m glad I didn’t stay an extra day in Chicago,” Regan noted. “Look what I would have missed.”
“Hey, what did you find out about Eddie Kroll while you were out there?” Mitch asked.
“Not much.” Regan frowned. “It’s really odd. I know he existed, I have his report cards. But it seems he just vanished when he was around thirteen or so.”
“Maybe he died,” Lorna suggested.
“I went back through the parish records, but I couldn’t find a notice of his death or that he’d transferred out of school. Midway through his freshman year in high school, he simply disappeared.”
“Well, so much for that.” Mitch grabbed another crab from the pile.
“No, I’m going to find out who he was. If for no other reason than to satisfy myself. Much like Lorna’s quest to find her old friend. I want to know where Eddie Kroll went, and why my father had his old report cards.”
“Did you hear a car?” Lorna frowned, and looked out the window.
“It’s Chief Walker.” Lorna excused herself. “I’ll be right back.”
She went through the dining room and out the front door and stood on the steps with her hands on her hips, watching the black-and-white turn around in her drive. When the car came to a stop, she walked to it.
The chief lowered the window on the passenger side and asked, “How are you doing, Lorna?”
“I’m doing fine. Thanks.”
“Just wanted to stop by, see how you are. And to tell you . . . well, I just want you to know how glad I am that nothing worse happened to you. And that I’m sorry for . . . well, sorry there was bad blood there for a while.”
Lorna nodded. “Apology accepted. Don’t give it another thought.”
“I ran into Fritz at the Quik Stop. His friend is in town, he said they’d be stopping out to see you. Seems like a nice guy, this friend of his.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“Mike lawyered up real fast—he’s filing motions right and left. It’s going to be months before the DA can get that show on the road.”
“Isn’t that pretty much what you’d expected?” Lorna asked. “Did anyone expect him to confess?”
“Oh, one other thing. That name you asked me about . . .”
“Claude Raymond Fleming.”
“Right. I asked around, found out his sister, Joanne, lived over in Arnold. She died a few years back, cancer.”
“Fleming’s sister lived in Arnold?” Lorna felt a stab of recognition. Then she asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer, “What was her last name?”
“Porter. Her married name was Porter. Didn’t know if you still wanted the information, but thought I’d pass it on to you, all the same.”
“Thanks, Chief. I’m glad you did.” She stepped back from the car and waved, and he said good-bye as he drove past her. She stood in the driveway for a moment, then went back into the house.
“There’s something I have to do,” Lorna told her guests as she searched for her car keys. She found them on the counter, then looked for her handbag, which she found in the dining room, the strap looped over a chair. “You stay and finish your dinner, I’ll be back in a little while.”
T.J. had followed her into the dining room.
“Where are you going? What did Walker say that has you running out the door?”
“He told me that Claude Raymond Fleming’s sister lived in Arnold. Her name was Joanne Porter.” She searched her bag for her sunglasses. “As in Danielle Porter.”
“Danielle’s mother? So Claude Fleming is Danielle’s uncle?”
“Apparently. Now, why do you suppose she would have run to the phone to call him the minute she closed the door on us?”
“Good question,” he agreed. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, thanks. I think she’s more likely to talk to me if I’m alone.”
“What are you hoping to find?”
“She knows about Melinda, T.J. I’m sure she does. And I’m not going to let it go until I find out what really happened to Mellie.”
Lorna parked her car alongside Danielle’s double-wide and got out. She walked to the front door and knocked until it opened.
Danielle stood in the doorway. When she saw Lorna, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“What now?” Danielle asked.
“I give up. What’s the connection?” Lorna asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Danielle turned to open the door and Lorna stuck out an arm to stop her.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Melinda Eagan. Where is she?”
“What does it matter, after all these years? Just leave it, and get on with your life.”
“Melinda was my best friend. I need to know what happened to her. Her mother needs to know.”
“Her?” Danielle scoffed. “Her mother doesn’t give a shit about her and never did. Beat the crap out of Melinda and Jason every chance she got. She didn’t deserve them then, and she doesn’t deserve Mellie now.”
“Billie’s changed a lot over the years, she isn’t the woman she used to be.”
“That doesn’t make up for what she did to them. Sorry.” Danielle opened the door and stepped inside the double-wide.
“She’s really a different woman. Oh, please don’t close the door. Listen to me, Billie has spent the last twenty-five years regretting everything that happened between her and her kids.”
“Too little, too late,” Danielle said, glaring at her from the doorway. “Tell it to someone who gives a shit. A woman treats her kids that way, she deserves to lose them.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“It sure as hell isn’t yours.” The door was all but closed.
“If you talk to Mellie, tell her . . . tell her that I never forgot her. That I never stopped missing her and that she was the best friend I ever had.” The door made a little puff sound as it closed.
“And tell her she can find me easily enough, if she ever wants to,” Lorna added, loud enough to be heard from inside, before she walked away.
She got into her car and backed out of the drive, tears spilling down her face, saddened to know that, after all these years, her friend was still out of reach.
The good news was that now she knew for certain Melinda was still alive.