Shadows from the Grave (12 page)

Gordon hesitated before he answered. “I might have one thing,” he said. “But I can’t tell you about it. No offense. I just need to follow proper channels on this.”

“None taken,” Ethan assured him. “Just tell us this—do you think it will work?”

“I have no idea whether it will work or not, Ethan, but it’s all I have, so I’m hoping it does. Unless this guy decides to make another move, we’re pretty much stuck in the mud.”

“Then God help us, I hope he makes another move soon,” Beth said. “And that it’s a stupid one.” There was a chorus of "Amen" around the table, and Chase sighed. He hated waiting for the next shoe to drop, and he had a bad feeling the game was only just getting started.

The killer watched the house for several days before he made his move. He hadn’t made it this far in his killing career by being reckless, after all. Of all the times for his job to bring him to this part of the state of Kentucky, he thought it had to be providential that he was in the area now.

Watching the news earlier in the month, he’d seen the sob story they’d run on Kiely Turner’s murder. The idea for the celebration had popped into his head, and he was more excited about it than anything he’d experienced in recent years. According to the news report, he wasn’t the only one who thought the tenth anniversary of Kiely’s death should be remembered. He recalled the way the camera had focused in on Kiely’s headstone as the narrator spoke. It was a dark granite memorial, the kind that had a picture of the deceased etched into its surface. Next to her sister’s grief, it had served as a stark reminder of a life snuffed out too soon. The fake sympathy the reporter had exhibited had made him laugh.

Part of the interview had taken place in Amy Lynn’s house. Since the killer had decided to involve Kiely’s loved ones in the anniversary celebration, he had been searching for the perfect gift to send Amy Lynn. As the camera panned around the room where Kiely’s earthly belongings now resided, he’d seen the perfect gift and known instantly that he had to take it. He had started planning the hows and whens that very moment.

Because of the identity of the man Amy Lynn had married, there was actually quite a bit to work with. Neal Bledsoe was a high-ranking state representative, serving in Kentucky’s House. He was a big name on the political front in Kentucky, and he and Amy Lynn hosted a number of events at their home throughout the year. Their home had been featured in numerous architectural magazines and was touted as one of the South’s finest. It was a very happy coincidence for the killer that the weekend he was going to be in Ashland was also the same weekend one of those open-door fundraisers was scheduled. Okay, maybe “open door” wasn’t the right term; most of the guests attending were paying through the nose for the privilege, the killer included.

Using the identity of his only male victim to obtain an invitation had been a fairly simple affair. The promise of a hefty cash donation had opened the front door widely. He’d purchased a throwaway cell phone and made calls to the pertinent people and, within a few short hours, the invitation had arrived at the hotel room he had rented for just that purpose. It was an alias he had used several times in the past for various reasons, and a skin he felt comfortable slipping into.

When the day of the fundraiser arrived, he’d shown up fashionably late. The bulk of the activities were already in progress, so slipping away to find Kiely’s room had been easy. Once out of sight of the crowd and the home-grown security team, he headed upstairs to the family quarters. Even though it was a large house, it hadn’t taken him very long to find the room he was looking for. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The light perfume lingering in the air took him back and, for a whimsical moment, he imagined that Kiely was there with him. Glancing around, he spied the small bottle of the inexpensive cologne that sat on the dresser, and he smiled. If he hadn’t known he was in the room of a murdered woman, he would have thought he had walked into a time-warped version of reality. Amy Lynn had gone to some trouble to make sure the room was set up just as though someone actually lived there.

For a few minutes, he moved around the room touching an item here or there with his gloved hands. As tempted as he was to stay and revel in the room’s sheer presence, he knew he was on borrowed time. Full of purpose, he looked for the keepsake he’d seen in the news report. He eventually found it hanging on a peg above a memory board full of pictures. Within seconds, he had it tucked safely away, along with a picture of Kiely that, given her expression, had to have been taken by a man. He was on his way to the door when he happened to glance at the bookcase next to the door. He could hardly believe his eyes, and his hands actually trembled as he reached for the diary.

His heart skipped a beat as he read the words written in the journal. The killer knew immediately that he had to take the slim volume with him. It was filled with cramped writing, and just from the few, short passages he had glimpsed, he knew it was a treasure trove of potentially damaging information. For a moment, he debated whether he should take the chance of stealing the journal and possibly get caught with it, or play it safe and leave the book behind. In the end, the choice was obvious. He had to take it with him. The information it contained was simply too good to leave behind. Grateful that he had worn a suit jacket, he tucked the journal into the inside pocket. He was a little surprised to see that it fit like the pocket had been made to hold it, and told himself it was more providence.

With quiet stealth, he opened the door and eased into the hall. He had made it almost to the top of the stairs when something in a room to the left caught his attention. Smiling, he could hardly believe the kindness fate had dealt him. It only took a second to step inside the room and take what he needed. It was possibly even better than what he had come to the house for in the first place. He’d finally found that perfect gift to give Kiely’s sister.

Amy Lynn Bledsoe’s day had been crazy from the start, as most of her days tended to be this late in an election year. Her husband Neal was up for re-election for his seat in the Kentucky House of Representatives. Unless something went drastically wrong, he would be reelected to his third term in November, but there was still a lot of glad-handing and making nice that had to be done to keep his constituents happy. Since there was a strong rumor moving about Frankfort and beyond that Neal was on the short list of candidates for Speaker of the House, this election season was perhaps more important than previous ones. Being named Speaker was an honor that suited Neal and Amy Lynn’s ambitions just fine. Neal was on the fast track to the governor’s mansion, and they both knew it. To that end, Amy Lynn’s days were often filled with hours of committee meetings, honorary luncheons, and other politically motivated engagements.

Today was no different. The morning had begun with a breakfast at the local historical society. From there, she’d gone to a luncheon with the Chamber of Commerce, and now she was on her way home to prepare for an important but boring dinner at the country club with the political party leaders.

“I love you dearly, husband, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d married that coal operator Mama wanted me to,” she said to herself. “Some days, I’d give my right boob to be just a soccer mom.”

Reaching her home, she pulled into the garage with a sigh of relief. She was looking forward to getting inside where the air conditioner was on high, slipping off the shoes that had been pinching all day, and downing a tall, cold glass of white wine. If she had planned well, she should have a half hour to herself before chaos regained the upper hand. Unfortunately, when she opened the door from the garage, she walked into a full-on sibling battle. Alexis, her fourteen-year-old daughter, had her twelve-year-old brother, Evan, cornered in the kitchen. Eight-year-old Gage stood by, his eyes filling with tears when he saw his mother. Sobbing, he ran to her.

“I know you took it, Evan,” Alexis shouted, her fist drawn back in an obvious threat. “So where is it, you little turd?”

Evan’s eyes were wide with terror, and he saw Amy Lynn before Alexis did. “Mom, make her stop,” he begged. “I didn’t take her stupid iPod.”

With a sigh, Amy Lynn gave Gage a hug. “Go on to your room, honey,” she told him as she hurried into the kitchen. “Alexis Jeanne, you lower that arm and your voice. What the hell is going on here?” Both children started talking at the same time. She had to shout in order to be heard over the clamor. “Stop! Both of you! Shut it, now!” When they had quieted down, she looked at Alexis. “Explain.”

Alexis crossed her arms with a sulky pout, but kept her glare leveled on her brother as she spoke. “My iPod is gone. He took it, Mom. I know he did. And I want it back,” she growled.

Amy Lynn closed her eyes, praying for patience. “Evan, did you take your sister’s iPod?”

Before she even finished her question, he was shaking his head. “I didn’t, Mom. I swear. I don’t want her stinkin’ iPod. I have my own,” he reminded her.

She studied Evan’s face carefully but didn’t see any of his usual tells. “Okay, Evan, go to your room, then.”

“Mom!” Alexis started, outraged.

Amy Lynn held up her hand for silence, and Alexis’ face turned a mottled shade of red. “Lexi, he doesn’t have it. Go search your room again. When you find the iPod, bring it to me.” Alexis stomped off, and Amy Lynn leaned back against the island with another sigh. The older Alexis got, the more she reminded Amy Lynn of Kiely. Her quick temper, her blood-thirsty bent for vengeance when she thought she had been wronged; it was Kiely all over again, and not in a good way. When Alexis acted out the way she had just now, Amy Lynn knew she and Neal were in for a long, rough road.

Her moment of self-pity over, she pushed away from the island and moved to the wine cooler, where she pulled out an open bottle of pinot blanc. She poured herself a glass and quickly downed half. She refilled the glass to the top and headed upstairs into her office. With an almost-angry kick, she removed her shoes and settled in behind her desk to go through the household’s mail. Near the bottom of the pile was a small package. Amy frowned as she tried to read the label. Since no one was around to see, she grabbed her reading glasses from one of the desk’s pigeonholes. Now able to read the writing, she saw that the package had been mailed from Lexington, and the address wasn’t one she recognized.

For a moment or two, she debated on whether to open it. Being the wife of a politician, she was well aware of the dangers mysterious packages could represent. Throwing caution to the wind, she gave the package a gentle shake, and though she could feel whatever was inside shift, it didn’t rattle. Since it didn’t explode in her face, she figured she could go ahead and open it, and she pulled the tab on the side of the small box to do just that. The cardboard unzipped, she lifted the flap and saw that the contents were wrapped securely in tissue paper. There was a card on top, so she reached for that first. When she opened it and saw that it was an anniversary card, she smiled. Neal was a month early, but she supposed it was the thought that counted. The card wasn’t his style, though; it was very gaudy, bold and red. She opened the card and started reading, and by the time she’d reached the end of the letter, all the blood had drained out of her face.

“No, it can’t be,” she whispered. Her hands shook violently as she reached for the tissue-wrapped contents, and when she unfolded the wrapping, she stopped, horrified. For several heartbeats, she just stared at what had been in the package. And then she screamed.