Authors: Vicki Hinze
No, it couldn’t wait. Not another minute. Caron had laid
her heart and soul on the line for him, and he wouldn’t di
minish the importance of that to him by letting his lies re
main between them. “Caron, I have to tell you—” She went board-stiff in his arms. “Honey, what is it?”
“It’s Misty!” Caron scrambled from the bed, started tossing on her clothes. “Hurry, Parker! Oh, God, hurry!
They’re going to kill her!”
Chapter 11
The hospital corridor was deceptively quiet.
Sandy wasn’t there, and the guard wasn’t outside Misty’s door. Caron scanned the hall, ceiling to floor. Nothing but the change from white paint to white tile broke the monot
ony, yet she felt the same sense of violation she’d felt in her
apartment, the same sense of rage that she’d felt the night someone had left the message on her door.
At her side, Parker whispered. “You were right. Some
thing is going down.”
Caron nodded her agreement, not surprised that his in
vestigative instincts mirrored her intuitive ones. They
stopped outside Misty’s door. Caron pressed the palm of
her hand against it. A flash of fear had her jerking back.
Parker didn’t so much as lift a brow. He just reached into
his shoulder holster and pulled out his gun. “Find a nurse.
Have her call Security.”
Caron nodded, ducked down so that she couldn’t be seen
through the window, then made her way down the hall.
Two nurses were talking at the nurses’ station. “Call Security and get the police,” Caron said, without explaining.
The women just gaped.
“Do it now!” When they started grabbing phones, Car
on rushed back to Parker.
He motioned for Caron to stay where she was, then
moved to the row of windows and risked looking in through
a crack in the drawn drapes.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he whispered, dropping into a crouch.
“What is it?” Caron whispered back. Memories of
Sarah, of the night she’d died, rushed back, clouding Caron’s thoughts and perceptions. Again she saw Sarah’s bat
tered body. Again she saw the flames licking at the
building, consuming it. No one else would ever suffer there.
Parker whispered. “It’s Vanessa and Forrester. He’s
armed.”
“Misty!” Panic, fear, bombarded Caron, clawed at her
stomach and chest. Not again. Not Misty. Damn it, she was
supposed to be safe! It was supposed to be over!
“Vanessa’s beside her on the bed.”
“Where are Collin and Sandy? They were supposed to be
here!”
“They are. Tied up on the floor, against the far wall.”
An image of some sharp object flashed through Caron’s mind. “We’ve got to go in. Vanessa knows.”
Parker looked worried. “Can you handle her?”
“Yes!” Where in God’s name was the hospital staff?
Where was security? The police?
Parker moved to the door. His eyes changed. The soft
ness faded, and something cold and hard settled in its place.
He shoved hard. The door swung open, slammed back.
They rushed in.
Metal struck metal and Forrester’s gun clanged against
an IV pole, then slid across the floor. Vanessa turned, a sy
ringe in her hand. Caron lunged, clipping the woman’s shoulder with a momentum that knocked her off the bed.
The syringe flew through the air, then bounced harmlessly
on the tile. Its plastic cracked.
Caron went over the foot of the bed, throwing her
weight, and landed with a
swoosh
of breath on top of Va
nessa, pinning her to the floor.
Vanessa fought back, fought hard, as though her life de
pended on her breaking free. Caron dodged angry fists
arcing toward her in wide swings, deflected sharp nails attempting to claw at her face, and suffered jabs from feet and thrashing knees trying to dislodge her. She held hard
and fast...and she fought back.
Behind her, something crashed. She glanced back. Parker
landed a hard right to Forrester’s stomach that doubled him over. He lifted a foot and aimed it at Parker’s groin. Parker
shifted on the balls of his feet, grabbed Forrester’s ankle
and twisted.
Forrester hit the floor.
Vanessa wrangled free and clipped Caron a dizzying blow. Pain ripped through her chest. Raw terror grew to
black rage. Caron raised her fist, saw fear in Vanessa’s eyes,
and paused. Memories of what the woman had done to her
daughter, memories of Sarah, gushed into Caron’s mind. “Your daughter? Your own flesh and blood?” And with a guttural cry of outrage, Caron slammed her fist into Va
nessa Phillips’s perfect face.
The woman crumpled and went limp. Caron looked and
saw Forrester dive for his gun. Parker was quicker, kicking it out of reach. He whipped around, planted his foot firmly
on Forrester’s chest—and leveled the Colt, targeting
Forrester’s heart.
“Don’t shoot!” Forrester yelled. “God, don’t shoot!”
Her limbs leaden, her arm throbbing from the blows
she’d taken from and landed on Vanessa, Caron moved to untie Sandy and Collin. Then she went to Misty.
The child’s face was pasty and white, but she was unharmed. Caron cuddled Misty, trying to soothe her. “You saw a lady at the camp the day before Parker and I came,
didn’t you?”
Misty nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She pointed
to Vanessa. “Mom and the lady that untied me.”
Caron nearly cried. “You saw a man choke that lady.”
Again Misty nodded. “He cut her neck with a knife.”
“I know, honey.” Caron tightened her hold, tried with
all her might to absorb the horror of what Misty had seen into her own body. The pain of losing Sarah didn’t lessen, just as Misty’s pain wouldn’t lessen. She’d always remem
ber seeing Linda Forrester murdered. But with the right
kind of help, Misty could learn to cope. And she’d be alive
to cope. She’d survived.
Caron found comfort in that. “We don’t have to talk
about it anymore now.” Remembering how confusing what
she’d imaged as a child had been, she cupped a finger under Misty’s chin and lifted until they saw eye-to-eye. “But you can’t keep your feelings inside about this. You have to
talk about it until it doesn’t scare you anymore. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Caron released Misty and stood up.
Nursing her jaw, Vanessa scooted across the floor to the
wall, then slid up it to sit.
Caron pointed at her. “That’s far enough.”
“I’m going to kill him.” Collin started toward Forrester.
“Collin, no!” Grabbing his sleeve, Caron looked up at
him. “He’s not worth it.”
Collin tried to brush off her arm, but she held tight. “Misty can’t lose you, too. She needs you.”
He looked at his daughter, saw the fat tears tumbling down her face, and the fury drained from his. He rushed
over, scooped her up in his long arms and held her while she
cried.
“Sanders, get your guys and get these people out of here.” Parker kept the gun trained on Forrester. “Then start explaining.”
Sandy moved to the hall. The officers were arriving.
Caron looked down at Vanessa. How could anyone so beautiful on the outside be so ugly within? She’d had ev
erything. “I want to know why.”
Vanessa grunted and motioned at Collin and Misty.
“Look at them.” She dragged a hand through her red hair.
“It’s been that way since she was born. He doesn’t give a damn about
me.
It’s
her.
He’s always loved
her.”
Caron looked down at the woman in pity and disgust.
She was jealous of Misty. So jealous she would have killed
her own daughter. “He’s her father.
He’s supposed
to love
her.”
Before Vanessa could say any more, Caron walked closer
to Parker, careful to avoid Forrester’s reach. “You okay?”
“Fine.” He looked up at her. “You?”
She started to disclose what she’d learned from Misty, then decided against it, nodded, and walked toward the
hall. After Forrester and Vanessa had been taken into custody, there would be plenty of time to let Parker know that
this wasn’t over. Caron glanced at Sandy. He was talking
to Parker. She remembered back, how it had been between
her and the detective through the years. Since she was
seven, she had respected and admired him. He had been her
friend and confidant, her partner in helping others. Some
thing good inside her died. Her heart ached, mourning the
loss, and she fought tears.
Vanessa had been willing to kill Misty. But she hadn’t
killed Linda Forrester.
Neither had Linda’s husband.
Her shoulders slumped, Caron walked on into the hall
way and slumped back against the wall. That left two suspects: Sandy and Decker. One of them was guilty of Linda
Forrester’s murder.
And Caron knew which one.
Following Sandy in the Porsche, Parker looked over at
Caron. “I thought you’d be happy. Misty’s okay.”
“She’s still not safe.” Caron swept her hair back and stared straight ahead. “She saw the killing, Parker.” Caron
’s voice cracked.
“We thought she had, but I was hoping...” He couldn’t
look at her; the pain that had haunted her since Sarah’s
death would be there in her eyes. But a scrap of conversa
tion replayed in his mind, and it gave him no alternative.
He wouldn’t play ostrich like her mother. He wouldn’t bury
his head in the sand and let Caron go through this alone.
“You saw the killing, too.”
“Yes.” She reached for his hand. “When I held Misty.”
He laced their fingers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Sanders made the turn onto Belle Chase Highway. Parker
followed. “I know it was Decker, Caron.”
“How?” She sounded surprised.
“Because of the leash. Because Linda had told him if
Keith Forrester didn’t, she would release Misty. Mary Beth
had heard her swear it in the diner, remember? Thank God
he didn’t know where she was; he hadn’t lied about that. If
he had known she was in the shed, he would have killed her,
too. I believe Linda had gone to the camp to meet Sandy, but she’d found out Misty was there and intended to re
turn her to her father. Decker couldn’t have had Misty live—she could have identified him.”
“How do you know that? I imaged Linda telling Misty,
but-”
“Sanders told me.”
“And you believe him?”
Parker glanced at her. “Yes, I do. He’s a bitter man, Caron. Bitter about his demotion at work. Bitter at Linda
for duping him. Bitter at letting his heart rule his head. But
he didn’t kill her.”
Caron thought about that. Sandy had withheld infor
mation, and more, but Parker was right; Sandy hadn’t killed Linda.
Something Ina had said came back.
“He knows I’ve
called the police. But he ain’t stomped my irises yet.”
Ina.
“Parker, I know where Decker is.”
“Where?”
“Ina’s. He’s at Ina’s. He knows she called the police. He’ll know Sandy heard about it.”
“And he’ll want to keep her from talking.” Parker
stomped the accelerator and motioned for Sanders to fol
low.
Creeping from hedge to hedge in the dark, Caron inched her way across Ina’s shell drive and up to the window where
she’d seen Ina the night she’d escaped from Decker’s house.
Though it wasn’t quite dawn, the curtains were open.
Looking inside, Caron saw Ina, sitting in a wooden rocker,
her rosary in her hand, her fingers curling around a bead,
and her lips moving silently.
Caron shifted to see farther. Ina looked up and saw her, then jerked her head, motioning back toward the kitchen.