Profile of Retribution: FBI Profiler Romantic Suspense (Profile Series #3) (18 page)

Curiosity pushed fear of apprehension aside and he quietly lowered into a chair near the bed and watched her sleep. There was so much he didn’t know about Tisha Lucas and he wanted to know it all—from the day she met her husband, to the moment she realized that there was something dark and twisted in the two boys she called sons. He had many questions for Mrs. Tisha Lucas, questions that kept him up at night. Questions for which only she had the answers. And it was only a matter of time until she told him everything he needed to know. Of that, he was certain.

Chapter Thirty-five

April and Dwayne

The morning sun was just making an appearance in the distance, when Cameron pulled up in front of a small, ranch-style brick home on Tenth Street and looked around. The neighborhood was almost a carbon copy of where Tate Green lived, with a row of homes, some vacant, each needing a fresh coat of paint and repair more than the next. He pulled out a folder filled with information on April Maud-Black the mother of Sharon Maud. Before she was murdered by Evan and Devan Lucas, Sharon lived here with her mother and three children, ages ranging from one to four-years-old. If anyone had reason to be pissed off, it was April Maud-Black, who couldn’t even have a funeral for her daughter with an open casket. Beaten beyond recognition, the girl had to be identified through dental records. That and having to raise her daughter’s three young children had to be tough.

He walked toward the house, whose front yard, littered with small trucks near a patch of dirt, a couple of tricycles, and various other toys that signaled small children lived inside. After rapping on the door a couple of times, a young woman hesitantly opened it a crack, and asked what he wanted.

Pulling his badge out of his pocket, he held it up for her. “I’m Sgt. Chase from Shawnee County. I’d like to talk to Mrs. Black.”

“I’m the sitter and she’s not here.” The girl pushed back a toddler who was struggling to get past her to see who was at the door.

“When do you expect her to return?”

“Not sure. Dwayne took her to the gun range to practice.”

“Do you have the address of the gun range?” Few mothers would leave her kids with a sitter and not tell her exactly where she’d be.

He was right. The girl nodded, and then closed the door. Soon she reappeared with a folded piece of yellow paper. “Here. I wrote it down for you. Don’t expect her to be thrilled to see you. Except for Wayne Griffin, April doesn’t think a lot of cops since what happened to her daughter. Dwayne feels the same.”

“Thanks for the heads up and the address.”

In the car, he plugged the gun range address into his GPS, and wondered what good ol’ Detective Wayne Griffin had told the couple about him and his investigation. He’d gotten word that Wayne was trying to reach Brody at the Sheriff’s Office. Undoubtedly to file a complaint against him for the interviewing style he used with Tate Green. Let him complain.

At the gun range, he waited in the office for someone to help him. Finally, a guy in his thirties wearing a Range Safety Officer vest came to the counter from the back.

“Hey, hope you haven’t been waiting long. If you’re here to shoot, I need to see your weapon and then go through a safety orientation with you.”

Cameron placed his badge on the counter. “I’m looking for April and Dwayne Black. Are they here?”

Glancing at the sign-in sheet, he said, “Yeah, they’re here. If you want to shoot with them, there’ll be a ten dollar charge.”

“I just need to talk to them. No shooting involved.”

“In that case, follow me.”

He led Cameron to a horizontal row blocked off as an observation area for the twenty-lane, covered outdoor range. It wasn’t hard to spot the Blacks, even if they hadn’t been the only ones on the range. April wore a bright floral housedress, looking like the mother character in a sixties sitcom. Next to her, Dwayne stood wearing a cowboy hat, dark T-shirt and black jeans, and holding a twenty-gauge shotgun. Johnny Cash had nothing on Dwayne Black. Cameron sat on a bench near their lane to watch.

With his arm around her, Dwayne showed April how to hold the shotgun correctly. “Honey, hold the grip of the gun with your firing-hand.”

“How am I supposed to know which hand is my firing-hand if I’ve never shot a gun before?”

Exasperated, Dwayne took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “April, if you’d give me a chance to talk, I was about to tell you that it’s the hand you use to write with.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that?”

“Hold onto the gun securely, but gentle, like you’re giving it a handshake.”

“Honestly, Dwayne, the last thing I’m giving an intruder is a handshake.”

A grin pulled at his mouth. “The gun, not the intruder. Hold the gun gentle, like you’re giving it a handshake. That’s it. Now you’re going to put the gun into the firing position. Pull it up to your shoulder. Press it against your shoulder like you’re giving it a cuddle.”

She looked at her husband as if he were joking. “A cuddle? Really?”

“April, if you don’t keep it tight in your shoulder, you’re going to feel a painful kick that could leave a nasty bruise. So just hold it tight and let your body absorb the kick when you fire.”

Cameron watched the middle-aged couple and wished his case was over and done with—perp caught and convicted. Justice done. As he got to know each one, his list looked less like suspects and more like the families of victims that they were, just trying to live and forget, striving toward a new normal.

He thought of his suspects. First there was Anthony Cooke, still devastated over losing his only child. Was it a coincidence that he burned his hand the same night the Lucas mailbox was set on fire? Bobbie, his wife, claimed he was sleeping next to her during that time. It wouldn’t be the first time a wife lied for her husband. But could the Anthony Cooke he’d known since high school write cryptic notes, throw a bloody rock, and set a mailbox on fire to terrify the parents of the boys who killed his Destiny?

Tate Green. Could he be seeking retribution? Initially, Cameron had liked him for terrorizing the Lucas couple. The guy had some anger issues, but was it likely he was the perp? His alibi checked out for both dates. Besides, Tate was working full-time hours with Best Buy, plus taking care of his terminally ill mother. Where would he find the time to drive an hour to and from the Lucas place for each act of vandalism?

And then there was Kaitlyn Reece. Now there was a live-wire of a suspect. He had personal knowledge that Kaitlyn carried insects from the house and planted them on the lawn outside rather than spray or stomp on them, like most people. A third grade teacher, it was Kaitlyn who started a support group for families of victims. She was the worst excuse of a suspect he’d ever had and having her interviewed as one had earned her anger, as well as the wrath of his younger brother.

Cameron had officially crossed Val Staley’s parents off his suspect list the day before. Val had the distinction of being the youngest murder victim. At fifteen, she was a runaway who’d lived in the area only six months when she had the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time and fell victim to the Lucas brothers. Mr. and Mrs. Staley lived in Chicago and their alibis checked out. They’d been cooperative on the phone, answering his questions and providing names and phone numbers when asked. The couple was suffering a terrible guilt that had pervaded their lives. Where did they go wrong as parents? What could they have done to prevent their young daughter from running away in the first place? No, Val Staley’s parents were more obsessed with self-blame than lashing out at the Lucas couple.

“Hey, take a picture. It will last longer!”

Dwayne Black, hands on his hips, glared down at him as April placed a restraining hand on his arm.

“Sorry about that. I was waiting for you to finish.” Cameron stood, slipped out his identification out of his pocket and handed it to Dwayne. “I’m Sgt. Cameron Chase…”

One glance at his badge and April’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, God. Has something happened with our kids? I knew I shouldn’t have left them with a sitter!”

“Everything is fine. I stopped by your house before coming here. Your sitter told me where you were. I’m with the Shawnee County Sheriff’s Office and I need your help with a case I’m investigating.”

Dwayne’s arm curved protectively around his wife’s shoulders. “A gun range is no place for us to talk. There’s a Cracker Barrel about a mile away.”

Cameron nodded. “I saw it on the way here.”

“We’ll pack up and meet you there in about twenty minutes.”

Mid-morning at the Cracker Barrel, too late for the breakfast crowd and too early for the lunch crowd, the hostess easily found a table near a window where Cameron could watch the parking lot. A young waitress poured him a cup of hot coffee and asked if he’d like to order. When he told her he was waiting for someone, she said, “Lucky woman,” and shot him her most flirtatious smile. What he wouldn’t give for one of those smiles from Robynn Burton, who still hadn’t answered his calls.

Cameron heard a ping and checked his phone. Cheryl Davis, the crime scene tech who was at the Lucas place the night of the bloody rock incident, had sent him a text. The good news was the shoe impression she’d taken was identified as a Genuine Dickies Men’s Job Rated waterproof work boots. The bad news was it was one of the most popular work boots sold at Walmart. The best she could offer was to match the print to any work boots owned by the vandal, whenever he was identified. Crap. Could this guy not leave a solid lead, like DNA or a fingerprint?

Soon April and Dwayne Black joined him at the table. The waitress reappeared and without looking at a menu, Dwayne ordered two fried eggs with cheese grits, biscuits and sausage gravy, and an order of thick-sliced bacon. Cameron ordered the same thing, while April went with a more health-conscious order of a yogurt parfait and an apple bran muffin. As soon as the waitress left, Dwayne got right down to business.

“I’m not sure how we can help you with an investigation in Shawnee County. We’ve only been there a couple of times. Last year we were there during morel mushroom hunting season. Hunted mushrooms then went to your mushroom festival in Morel.”

Apparently, Wayne Griffin had not gotten to the Blacks to give them a heads-up. Cameron waited for the waitress to deliver hot coffee to the Blacks and to pour some of the hot brew into his cup.

“I’m here about Tisha and Bradley Lucas…”

Confused, April pushed her bangs out of her eyes. Dwayne just stared, a spark of recognition in his eyes. “Aren’t they—?”

“They’re Evan and Devan Lucas’ parents.”

“What about them?” Dwayne wanted to know, his eyes now filled with suspicion.

“Someone has been vandalizing their property and sending them threatening notes. Just wondered if you knew anything about that.”

April still looked confused. “Why would we know anything about Mr. and Mrs. Lucas? We’ve never even met them. Not that we’d want to after what their sons did to Sharon. Did you know our daughter was beaten so badly by the Lucas twins that the only way she could be identified was through her dental records? Our girl never hurt anyone. Why did she have to die like that? We had to have her casket closed at her funeral.” Her voice faded away and Dwayne covered her hand with his own.

“You’ve been through hell. Maybe you want payback for all you’ve been through thanks to the Lucas boys. Maybe you want retribution?”

“Payback?” Dwayne leaned forward, incredulous and more than a little offended. “Hell, if we wanted retribution, it would be from their two no-good animals they called sons. Do you know what it’s like to tell three small children that their mommy is never coming home? Do you know what it’s like to listen to your wife cry herself to sleep each night?”

April interrupted, touching a gold locket at her throat. Cameron recognized the locket immediately. It was the one they’d found in a bin at the Lucas storage unit, where the killers kept souvenirs of their victims. Like it was yesterday, he remembered mailing the locket to April so that she would have something that belonged to her daughter. “See this locket. I gave this to Sharon for her thirteenth birthday. She wore it every day of her life. I wear it now and I’ll never take it off. I’ll never forget her. And I’ll never forgive the murderers that took her from us. Never. But the Lucas parents? I imagine they’re in a hell of their own.”

His eyes taking a hard edge, Dwayne lowered his voice. “That doesn’t mean we don’t expect them to pay. You might as well know, we’ve seen an attorney who says we can sue the Lucas couple for negligence, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. They may not have committed the murders, but they certainly contributed by providing their sons a work van they used to abduct their victims, and a storage unit where they tortured and killed them. In the way they raised them, they undoubtedly contributed in ways we’ll never know. We’re talking with the families of the other victims, so this may turn into a class-action lawsuit.”

“So you’re saying this lawsuit is your way of getting payback?”

“I don’t think of it as payback. It’s something we have to do for our family. I’m a house painter and April has to stay at home to care for Sharon’s three kids. Raising three small children requires more money than I make. We want the Lucas parents to take responsibility for their sons’ acts and help us raise our kids financially. It’s only fair. Sharon would be here today taking care of her own children if it weren’t for their sons.”