Kill and Run (A Thorny Rose Mystery Book 1) (15 page)

“You look like Dad when he’d come home after a long day of getting nowhere,” Tristan announced from where he was lounging on the back of the black motorcycle when Murphy climbed out of his SUV after parking it in the garage.

After a quick hello and the bumping of fists with Tristan, Izzy threw open the door to the rec room to find Spencer waiting on the other side. “Hell-o, Blue! Did you have a good day today?”

Spencer answered by jumping into her arms and licking her mouth.

“Let’s go see what Newman’s watching.” Carrying Spencer in her arms, Izzy raced up the stairs.

Sipping a beer, Tristan watched Murphy stop to stretch his arms up over his head and arch his back. After picking up his tablet from the back seat, Murphy moved around the back of the SUV and stepped over to where Tristan was balancing the beer bottle between his crotch and the bike’s gas tank while testing out the feel of Murphy’s sport motorcycle. “If you like it so much, why don’t you buy one? It isn’t like you can’t afford it. Or maybe you can get really wild and crazy and buy a car.”

“I have no need for a car or a motorcycle,” Tristan replied. “I’m a city boy. I live downtown and take the metro or walk. It’d be a waste of money to buy a motorcycle only to keep it in storage for an occasional road trip.”

Murphy allowed a grin to come to his lips. “Like to Annapolis?”

Tristan sat up straight on the bike. “Who said anything about Annapolis?”

“It’s a beautiful drive,” Murphy said. “Long stretch of road out before you. When you get out there, the sea air hits you in the face. That’s one of my favorite drives.” He patted Tristan on the shoulder. “If you want to take her for a ride, just let me know.”

Tristan swallowed.

Murphy leaned in to whisper. “I’m talking about the bike.”

“I know.” Tristan uttered a nervous laugh. “Of course we’re talking about the bike.”

The two men exchanged knowing grins. With a chuckle, Murphy turned to go inside when Tristan asked, “I don’t suppose Jessie’s gone for a ride with you yet.”

With a frown, Murphy turned back to him. “No, she hasn’t. She says, and I quote, ‘No way in hell are you getting me on that bike.’”

Tristan sucked in a deep breath. “She worries about you when you take it out.”

“I wear a helmet.”

Tristan’s blue eyes met Murphy’s. “So did Felicia,” he said in a soft voice.

In silence, Murphy returned his gaze.

“I guess Jessie never told you about Felicia.”

“No,” Murphy replied. “Who’s Felicia?”

“Jessie’s best friend,” Tristan said. “I didn’t think she’d tell you about her. She never talks about her. I guess it’s still too painful.”

“What happened to her?”

“Jessie and Felicia grew up together,” Tristan said. “They’d known each other since kindergarten. When Felicia was in the ninth grade, she started dating this older guy. Mitch.” He emphasized with a grin. “
Dad could not stand Mitch.
He was like three years older than Felicia. Had hair down to the middle of his back and tattoos and body piercings. A real rebel, which I think was what attracted Felicia to him.” Lost in the memory, he rubbed the gas tank of the motorcycle. “He rode a motorcycle.”

“Not everyone who rides a motorcycle is bad,” Murphy said. “Look at me. You met my cousin Tad. He’s a doctor and he drove nothing but motorcycles up until he got married a few years ago.”

“I know,” Tristan said. “Everyone swore that Mitch loved Felicia more than anything and that he was really good to her.”

“What happened to Felicia, Tristan?”

Tristan sucked in a deep breath. “It was their senior year of high school. Fall. Gorgeous day. Mitch took Felicia out for a drive on his bike after school let out. They went out to Great Falls, where the roads are real windy, up and down—sharp turns. The axel broke on the front wheel and the bike went flying end over end.”

“Man,” Murphy breathed.

“Felicia was wearing a helmet, but it didn’t matter as hard as she hit the pavement,” Tristan said. “Broke like an egg shell. They air lifted her out but it didn’t do any good. She was brain dead. She was on life support for ten days before her family pulled the plug.” He turned to Murphy. “Jessie was there … holding her hand when she died.”

Murphy gazed at the motorcycle he loved. It was his first major purchase after graduating from the naval academy, after becoming one of the elite, covert Phantoms. But now … after learning what bad memories and feelings it brought Jessica …

“I thought you should know why she refuses to ride it with you,” Tristan said. “I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you.”

With a mutter of thanks, Murphy turned away.

“By the way, Cameron’s here,” Tristan announced. “And so is Irving.”

Murphy whirled around from where he was about to pass through the doorway into the rec room. “She brought Irving?”

A sly grin crossed Tristan’s face. “She had to. Your dad was threatening to send him to a taxidermist.”

“What are we running here? A pet hotel?”

Tristan climbed off the bike. “Want me to call Dad? I’m sure Gnarly would love to come for a sleep over.” Chuckling, he took another sip of his beer.

With a growl, which caused Tristan to laugh harder, Murphy trotted inside and up the stairs.

Jessica met him at the top of the stairs. “Cameron’s here!” Throwing her arms around him, she covered his mouth with hers to kiss him long and hard. The taste of her mouth melted away his frustration. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in closer for another kiss to make him forget about every roadblock he had run into that day.

“There are other people in the room.” Cameron’s voice sounded like it was far away in a fog.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Jessica whispered into his ear. “We’ve got lots to tell you.”

He had to tear himself away to greet Cameron with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” she whispered.

“You’re family,” Murphy told her while accepting the glass of water poured over mint leaves and ice from Jessica. “We’d be offended if you stayed anywhere else.” He tossed his tablet onto the dining room table.

“But now you have a full house.” Cameron gestured to the scene that Murphy had failed to notice in the living room.

Izzy was stretched out on her stomach across the living room floor. Batting at her curls, Irving was stretched out along her back. Spencer was pawing and yapping at Izzy’s feet, which were bouncing to an inaudible rhythm that seemed to only be in her head. Above her, Newman was enthralled with
My Cat from Hell
on Animal Planet, which both he and Izzy were watching.

“All they need now to make the party complete is Monique,” Jessica said.

“I told Izzy that Irving is a one person cat,” Cameron said. “Besides me, the only human he goes to is Donny. But she wouldn’t listen and Irving took right to her. I’ve never seen him warm up to another person like that.”

Watching the happy group in the living room, Jessica leaned against the wall. “Tristan said the same thing about Monique.” She went on to explain, “It is a proven fact that some people have a calming sense with animals. Sort of like Dr. Dolittle. They can relate to animals and animals can relate to them.”

“Hey, Newman,” Izzy called back over her shoulder, “can we see what’s on Investigation Discovery?”

Murphy chuckled. “Like Newman is going to—”

With a slap of the dog’s paw on the remote, the channel changed on the television.

“Hit it again, please,” Izzy said.

When Newman hit the remote once more, Murphy shook his head and went into the kitchen. “I can’t stand it.”

They followed him into the kitchen where Cameron had a bottle of root beer that she had started drinking while waiting for Murphy to get home. Jessica took a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured some into a wine goblet for herself.

“Did the feds give you a time of when we can question the hitman who killed Nick?” Murphy asked Cameron.

“The mob got to him.”

Murphy’s mouth dropped open. “But he was being protected.”

“They made it look like a heart attack, but the feds have their doubts,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Murphy said. “But hey, it wasn’t a wasted—”

“No, it wasn’t.” Cameron opened a case file that she had resting on the kitchen counter. “I want you to see something.”

Jessica peered around the corner to make sure Izzy was still watching television in the living room.

Murphy moved over to the case file. Cameron had spread two pictures out on the counter. One he instantly recognized as the picture that Izzy had placed on her night stand. The other was a head shot of a woman in a morgue.

“Is it my imagination or is this the same woman in these two pictures?” Cameron asked him.

Murphy placed his hand on the picture of the dead woman. “Who is she?”

“Jane Doe,” Cameron answered. “Never identified. Nick found her along the Pennsylvania turnpike less than two weeks before he was killed. It is the only case he was working on. He was trying to identify this woman—had even gone on
America’s Most Wanted
asking for information leading to her identity.”

“That’s Izzy’s aunt,” Murphy said in a low voice.

“Cecilia.” Jessica urged Cameron. “Tell him the rest of it.”

“According to the medical examiner’s report, this woman gave birth about a week to ten days before her death,” Cameron said. “She died thirteen years ago.”

“Izzy is thirteen,” Jessica said.

Murphy had already brought up Izzy’s records on his tablet. “She was born January first—thirteen years ago.”

“Then—”

“Cecilia has to be Izzy’s mother,” Murphy interrupted Cameron. “The medical examiner said that Donna Crenshaw never gave birth. She can’t be Izzy’s birth mother.”

Jessica looked at the picture from Izzy’s nightstand. “You can certainly see the resemblance. Cecilia has the curly hair. Izzy said her mother said she was bull-headed just like her.”

“Was Cecilia murdered?” Murphy asked Cameron, who nodded her head.

“Then the mob sent a hit man to kill Nick, who was investigating the case,” Jessica said. “Then, Izzy’s mother—or rather aunt who was raising her—was murdered, too.”

“Cecilia’s dying words were, ‘she’s safe,’” Cameron said.

“She could have been talking about either her sister or her daughter,” Murphy said.

“Izzy was only a baby when her birth mother was killed,” Jessica said. “Do you know anything about her father? Maybe he’s behind this. Maybe he killed Cecilia and Donna because he wanted custody of Izzy—”

“Izzy told me that her father was a rapist,” Murphy said. “We’re running her DNA through the database. If he’s been convicted of sexual assault, or has any sort of record, we’ll locate him.” He shook his head. “These murders are just too well planned.”

“I agree,” Cameron said. “The mob sent a hit man to kill Nick and make it look like an accident. Whoever is behind this is organized and cunning. He’s not your average attack of opportunity rapist that you find in a dark alley.”

“When will you know if forensics gets a hit from the database with Izzy’s DNA?” Jessica asked.

“Not until tomorrow at the earliest,” Murphy said.

The two women groaned.

He said, “We do have one lead we can follow up.”

Chapter Fourteen

“You are aware that if anything happens to you, your father will come tracking me down to kill me,” Murphy leaned up to tell Jessica who was sitting in the front seat of Cameron’s white SUV. “I’ll be forced to kill him in self-defense.”

“What makes you so sure that he won’t get the jump on you?” Jessica replied over her shoulder.

“Then I’ll end up dead and your father will go to jail for murder,” Murphy said.

“With all the murder cases he’s solved,” Jessica laughed. “No one will ever be able to pin your murder on him. They won’t even be able to find your body.”

“Josh has won murder convictions without bodies,” Cameron said from the driver’s seat. “If Mac gets the jump on Murphy, then Josh’ll be forced to avenge Murphy’s murder. The Thorntons are really into this family honor stuff.”

“In other words, there’s no way things will end well if anything happens to you, Jessie,” Murphy said.

“Not that he’s putting any pressure on you,” Cameron told her.

“For all we know,” Murphy said, “whoever killed those women in Reston is on to Dolan. Based on the brutality of those murders, they aren’t going to care about collateral damage.”

“Jessica’ll be with me,” Cameron said from the driver’s seat. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Five women, Cameron.” With his fingers spread for them to count, Murphy thrust his hand up between the two front seats to show them. “They killed five women that we know about. They may be behind the murder of Izzy’s birth mother and your late husband. I’m afraid you may be in over your head this time, Cam.” With a sigh, he sat back in his seat. “That’s someone else who’s going to come after me if anything happens to you.”

“Your father isn’t going to kill you, Murphy,” Jessica said.

“He’ll just shoot him in the kneecaps.” Cameron shot a smile in Jessica’s direction. She glanced up into the rearview mirror to tell him, “Murphy, I am a trained homicide detective and I’ve been in numerous firefights. Nothing’s going to happen to me and I’m not going to let anything happen to Jessica.”

“I’m not a total civilian,” Jessica told both of them. “I have a gun and took all the gun safety classes. Dad sent me through self-defense classes since I was a kid. Have you forgotten that I’m a licensed private investigator?”

“All I’m going to do is question her,” Cameron said. “Emily Dolan was like ten years old when Nick was killed. I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t know anything about that.”

“Then let’s turn around and go back home,” Murphy said. “You can question her after we pick her up and we know the situation is secure.”

“Not on your life,” Cameron said. “Nick’s and Cecilia’s murders are my cases and Emily Dolan is the only possible lead I have. I’ve only let you come along as a courtesy.”

“And I told you where to find her as a courtesy.” Muttering, Murphy sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “When am I going to learn to keep my mouth shut? Dad warned me that you weren’t easy to get along with.”

“What did you say?” Cameron asked.

“Nothing.” Part of Murphy wished that they were living in another time when he could have, as her husband, ordered Jessica to stay home and she would have dutifully obeyed him. But then, he realized, she would not have been the same spunky woman he fell in love with.

They decided to drive Cameron’s SUV, which was an unmarked Pennsylvania State police cruiser. Since Emily had been tailing Murphy, it was best to use a vehicle she unfamiliar with.

The plan called for Cameron and Jessica to go into the coffee shop where Emily worked to question her, while Murphy listened to the interview through covert earpieces that the two women would wear. Knowing the details of the murders at Francine Baxter’s home, he could guide the conversation if need be. If he was lucky, Cameron might succeed in getting Dolan to spill information to help him in his case—like why anyone would want to kill five women who didn’t know each other.

Cameron’s cover story, to get Emily Dolan talking, was to pretend to be a devoted follower of her blog, who was anxiously awaiting her news breaking story about a military cover up.

Late in the evening, less than half an hour from closing time, Emily Dolan’s blog had been silent all day, in spite of questions from her many followers about the anticipated news. Some comments left on the site claimed that the promise of a huge breaking story was nothing more than a publicity ploy.

In the back seat of Cameron’s cruiser, Murphy took his cell phone from the case and scrolled through his contacts for Special Agent Susan Archer’s number. “Are you sure Tristan can take care of Izzy?”

“Izzy’s not a baby,” Jessica said. “All he has to do is make sure she doesn’t set the house on fire.”

“She has a dangerous sweet tooth,” Murphy said. “I saw her eat four brownies without batting an eye today. She claimed each one counted as a serving of vegetables.” He brought the phone to his ear.

“I like her style already,” Cameron said.

Susan greeted Murphy from the other end of his phone. “Hey, honey, how’s it going?” For the benefit of anyone who may have been watching her and Perry, using the cover of a couple on a date, she pretended to be talking to her child who was at home.

“Are you and Perry having a nice evening?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied with an upbeat laugh. “The early show let out a couple of hours ago and we decided to come over to Starbucks to have dessert and coffee. Get to bed. You have school tomorrow. I’ll be home by midnight.”

Murphy translated her response to mean that she and Perry had taken over the shift from the earlier surveillance team. They were going to follow Dolan to her home after the coffee bar closed. Their replacements would relieve them at midnight. “Any suspicious activity?”

“Oh, we’ve been having a great time,” she said before lowering her voice. “They must be getting ready to close. The assistant manager just sent the clerk behind the counter to the back.”

“That’s backwards,” Murphy said. “I worked one of those places in high school. When it gets close to closing, the manager goes to the office to do the close of business paperwork.”

“That’s what we thought.”

“Well, here’s something else for you and Perry to keep an eye on,” Murphy said. “Two women on a mission are incoming. ETA five minutes.”

“Oh?”

“Jessica and my stepmother,” Murphy explained. “My stepmother is a Pennsylvania state homicide detective. There’s a slight possibility that Emily Dolan may have information in connection to two murders she’s investigating. They’re both armed. I’m going to be listening in from Cameron’s cruiser in the parking lot.”

“Do you really think you should do that, sweetie?” Susan replied.

“I have no leverage to stop them.” Murphy’s felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach when Jessica directed Cameron on where to turn into the shopping plaza.

“Have you tried handcuffs?” Susan was suggesting when Cameron brought the cruiser to a stop.

Without responding, Murphy disconnected the call.

Cameron swung open the door to her SUV and stepped out. “We need to get in there to order our lattes before the place closes.”

Before Jessica could climb out, Murphy grabbed her by the arm to stop her. Still perturbed by his doubt about her going inside, she turned back to him.

“Be careful in there, Buttercup. Seriously … if anything happened to you …” He brushed his thumb along her cheek before touching his lips to hers. “I love you, Jessie.”

Keeping her eyes closed to take in the full essence of his kiss, she breathed, “Love you more.”

“This isn’t a lovers’ lane.” Cameron’s voice from outside shattered the mood. “They’re going to be closing soon.”

They jumped into action. “Have you got your gun?” he asked Jessica.

“In my purse.” Jessica grasped her small shoulder bag.

“Loaded and do you have a spare magazine?”

“Of course,” she replied while Cameron yanked her out of the passenger seat and closed the door on him.

In the backseat, Murphy adjusted his covert earpiece to make sure he had a clear connection. Through the rear window, he saw Jessica covertly checking her gun while crossing the parking lot.
She should have done that before leaving the house.

He glanced at the time on his phone. It was twenty minutes until nine o’clock. The shopping center was almost vacant. Judging by the few vehicles scattered around the parking lot, he guessed that the only people left in the few stores that were still open were employees who were going about their closing routines while watching the clock. As soon as the time struck the ninth hour, the manager or assistant manager would turn on the closed sign and lock the doors. With a minimal amount of work left to do, the young employees, mostly teenagers, college students, and working moms, would be out the doors and on their way home soon after that.

Crouched down in the back of the SUV, Murphy surveyed the parking lot. Emily Dolan’s Volkswagen was parked under a lamp post. Through the café window, Murphy saw her working behind the service counter.

He had changed out of his white uniform to his black pants, shirt, and a black hoodie jacket, under which he wore his semi-automatic tucked into the back waistband. As always, he had a twenty-two caliber semi-automatic in his ankle-holster. His Walther PPK was as much a part of his regular clothing as his underwear.

Why is Dolan manning the counter right before closing? She’s the assistant manager. She should be back in the business office.

Peering through a pair of small binoculars into the coffee shop, Murphy observed two men in military fatigues sitting at a table near the counter. In the Washington metropolitan area, it was not unusual to see soldiers in their fatigues.

Even so, Murphy felt his stomach flip flop. Dolan was anti-military—claiming to have information about a cover up.
What if she had uncovered something?

Keeping a close eye on the café, he reached into his bag for his fighting knife. Quickly, he took off his belt and threaded it through the weapon’s sheath. After putting the belt back on, he tied the lower end of the sheath around his thigh.

The vibration of his phone where he wore it in his belt caused him to jump.
I knew it. Jessica is not ready for this. I should have left her at home handcuffed to the bed.
Without checking the identification, he connected the call and brought it to his ear. “Don’t tell me. You forgot the bullets.”

“Bullets? For what?”

The familiar whiny male voice made the hair on the back of Murphy’s neck stand on end. “Dean?”
Amy’s deadbeat husband.

“Who did you think it was?” Dean asked with a laugh. “What’s this about bullets?”

Cursing under his breath, Murphy noticed a full-sized van parked around the corner. He had almost missed it because in the unlit side lot, away from the shopping center’s general businesses, the black vehicle blended into the darkness.

“I’m at the shooting range,” Murphy lied. “I’m waiting for a friend and thought that maybe he went home because he forgot his bullets. How did you get my number?” Bringing the binoculars to his eyes, Murphy eased toward the rear window of the SUV.

“Amy gave it to me,” Dean replied. “Don’t they have bullets at the shooting range?”

“He’s got a very special weapon.” Murphy focused in on the underside of the passenger-side front fender that had a sizable dent in it. With the night vision scope, he was able to focus in on the federal license plate. “Listen, Dean, I have to—”

“Hey, Murph, I’ve got some Navy SEALS in my book and—I know you’re not a SEAL—but I was wondering if you could answer some research questions for me. How about us getting together for lunch?”

“I’m busy,” Murphy said.

“I didn’t even tell you when.”

“I just got handed this huge project that I need to work on. It’s going to mean a lot of overtime.” With binoculars in hand, Murphy swept the boundaries of the parking lot. Hearing the rattle of doors opening, he swung back around to the van. Two men climbed out of the back. With his binoculars, Murphy zoomed in to see what they were unpacking.

“All I need is an hour of your time,” Dean insisted when he received no reply from Murphy. “How about tomorrow for breakfast?”

Moving up close to the window, while trying to stay low, Murphy strained to see what the men were doing. He was able to make out that they were dressed in military fatigues. “What—”

“Tomorrow morning. Breakfast at the Ritz. It’s only a stone’s throw from the Pentagon.”

“Sure, Dean,” Murphy said. “Gotta go. My buddy just showed up.”

He disconnected the call and thumbed Susan Archer’s number.