Shattered by Death (A Jo Oliver Thriller Book 2) (3 page)

I’d promised not to touch anything. I’d promised to wait. The combination of throwing up and calling it in had cleared my head, and I had just under ten minutes to soak it all in. I started taking pictures with my cell phone. The open door. Snap. The layout of the bodies. Tamra’s body lay broken. Snap. A gunshot wound to Del’s right knee. Their knee caps? Snap.

Del.
I pocketed my phone. My hand fell limp at my side. I stepped near his head and looked down, my gut clenching. His mouth was drawn into a sickly smile. I leaned down a little lower. Fishhooks pulled his lips up on either side into a gruesome, impossibly cruel grimace, fishing line knotted behind his head. His eyes were wide open in horror. His chest looked crushed in, right above the heart. What was left of his broken body was too horrible to contemplate. Whatever else might have happened was impossible to tell.

Given the nauseating smell, coupled with the level of decomp, these bodies had been here at least a day.

Tamra was a shattered doll, arms and legs sprawling. She’d been placed in Del’s arms, with one leg draped across him, but the leg was broken and twisted. Where her hip should be, the fabric lay in the wrong direction, dried blood everywhere. The back of her skull was crushed: dried blood, gray matter, and who-knows-what had oozed out all over the wooden boards underneath them. I looked away.

It was off. Crime techs would figure this out, but there weren’t blood spatters everywhere. Why not?

Del…
dead
? My feet might float into the air
.
Dear God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but in some secret place of my soul I’m a little relieved
. They were sprawled across the boathouse floor.
My
boathouse floor.

They got what they deserved.

This would not look good for me at all. If I had been sent to investigate this murder, would I ever have believed in the innocence of a soon-to-be-former spouse just happening to arrive first at the scene and conveniently all alone? Nope. Not on your life.

I was in a boatload of trouble.

A silent scream formed on my lips as tires crunched on the gravel drive. I stepped out of the boathouse. Nick’s sedan raced down the hill toward me. He braked hard at the bottom, sending gravel everywhere, sliding the last few feet to a stop. When he stepped out, three men got out with him. I’d raised the level of threat and investigation from county to federal with just one phone call. The locals wouldn’t like that. But I needed Nick by my side, running this thing down.
Sorry God. I know I should be leaning on You, but right now I’m turning to Nick.
I needed a little more work in the trusting God over man department.

His men fanned out to secure the scene while he bee-lined over to me, and put his arms around me, claiming me with one warm embrace. I sighed into him, unable to speak, clinging to my life raft. Whiskers brushed the top of my head as he swiveled his neck, taking in the scene before him. We stood like that for a long minute. Then he pulled away and gently turned me around. We walked together to the end of the dock and sat on the bench. He produced a small bottle of water and two aspirin.

“Take this, beautiful.” He pressed the aspirin into my hand.

I swished the water around my mouth, spit it out, and downed the aspirin.

He pulled his phone out and turned on the recorder app. “Tell me everything.”

I leaned into him and recounted the day’s events for the first time. My words echoed through the fog of my daze as sirens screamed in the background. Half a dozen cars from around the county pulled up while I spoke. The men Nick had brought with him assumed command and began telling the locals what to do. This was not going to go well. Too bad.

I clung to my lifeline.
Shouldn’t I be clinging to a different Lifeline? Sorry, God.

Paradise Sheriff Deputy Grundy arrived. He was not my friend. Bulbous nose, gut like a fitness ball gone slack—he didn’t walk; he waddled down the path. The pressure of his appreciable weight shifted the pylons as he made his way over the wooden dock to us. A sneak attack it wasn’t.

“Mind telling me exactly what happened here, Josephine?” His sneer was less pleasant than usual.

On any other day, I’d have made him refer to me by title. Today was not any other day.

Nick stepped in front of Grundy, shielding me from the larger man, invoking nature channel scenes of lions and rhinos in Africa. In a battle pitting the stealth of a lion against the bulk of a rhino, who would win? I shuddered. What was Nick going to say or do that could possibly make a difference now?

“Deputy. You’ll find everything you need from Chief Oliver right here.” He held up his cellphone. “I’ve just sent the recording to your work email. The Chief’s had enough for one day. I’m taking her away from the crime scene now. You know where to reach her.”

I should say something, but nothing came. Thoughts flitted around like frenzied bats, but my tongue was a cold, marble slab.
Do something. Say something. Defend yourself.

I stood in silence. Eyes not focusing on anything. Shapes and colors drifting in and out. Voices blending together.

Grundy was bellowing on about something important, but I couldn’t make it out. My husband’s body lay just feet away from me, but I couldn’t draw my thoughts to remember where. He wasn’t alone. And I couldn’t think about why. I couldn’t think about anything.

I walked next to Nick, his arm around my shoulders, through a cluster of men wearing badges, hats, and scowls. I trained my eyes on the ground, kept my feet in synch with Nick’s footsteps. Even as we walked in unison, I knew I was relying on man for a security only God could give.

When we reached Nick’s car, he opened the door and tucked me into the passenger seat like a porcelain doll. He slid in the driver’s side, ignoring the stares and murmurings of the cops surrounding us. He reversed up the hill to the end of the driveway and turned toward Haversport.

We’d gone about half way before Nick pulled into a used car dealership off Highway 120 and parked amongst the inventory. He turned the car off, reached for my hand, and focused all attention on me.

The force of his stunning brown eyes hit me full on. “Josie, Del’s murder is a terrible tragedy. I need you to understand that his death will not be your investigation. I’m taking you home. That’s where you need to be right now.”

“No. No way. That’s the
last
place I want to be. We’re going back to the station. Work. I need to be at work. Besides, my car’s still at… I want to…” I had no idea what I wanted. But I liked not facing this alone.

“I’m taking you home, sweetheart. And then I’m going to call Donna, and I’m going to go to your station and start sorting things out. Mitch and I will get your car home later today. And bring you a warm meal. I just need you to know why I’m taking you home right now. This isn’t up for debate.” He turned away from me, pushed the start button, and pulled back onto the highway.

We drove in silence, a tight leaden ball in my stomach. Exhaustion whittled away at me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“I really don’t know what to do next.” I lay back against the headrest.

He picked up my hand and drew it to his lips, delivering a whisper-soft kiss. “Nobody ever really does, beautiful.”

Nick pulled into my driveway and was at my car door before I unfastened my seatbelt. My uncoordinated hands pawed at the buckle. Slow motion snippets of the crime scene rolled over and over in my mind. Investigators would be combing every inch of my lake property now. What else would they find?

“Beautiful?” He was standing at my side with the door open. He’d been talking, and I’d missed every word.

I nodded and heaved myself out of the car. We walked up the porch steps together. I fished my keys out of my pocket and fumbled with the door, dropped the keys. Nick picked them up, opened the door, and placed a hand on the small of my back, ushering me in.

“Josie. It’s going to be alright. Everything’s going to be alright. I promise you we’ll get the guy who did this. In the meantime, I need to know you’re safe.” He pulled me against his chest, and I stood in the foyer, leaning into him, arms limp at my side. “Stay here while I go in and see what we’ve learned so far. Unless you’d rather I stay?”

I shook my head, clinging to the sound of his voice, letting it roll over me like a prayer. We stood there, wrapped together, for several more seconds, the warmth of his body purring into mine. I pulled away and looked up at him.

“I think I need to be alone. I need a little time to think this through. And you need to go do your thing. Go, get this investigation started. I’m alright. Really.” If he stayed here much longer, I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else but the comfort and safety of his arms. And we both had a lot more to think about right now. “Go. I mean it. Get to the station. See what the guys have come up with. Keep me in the loop. I’ll be here. For now.” I pushed away from him, setting my jaw.

“I got your back. Always. We’ll get this guy. I’ll check in every hour or so. Promise me you’ll text if you need me?” His brown eyes softened. The light in the foyer reflected green flecks as he looked down at me.

“I promise. Now go.”

Then I turned him around and closed the door behind him.

He paused for a moment, putting his hand on the glass, spreading his fingers out wide. I matched my palm to his over the cool glass. He was going to end up visiting me in prison. I snatched my hand back and waved him away.

Nick’s presence on the other side of the door dissolved into a faint smattering of footsteps and distant car noises. Images of Del and The Other Woman—even in death I couldn’t bring myself to say her name—darkened my mind.

Dead.
Del is dead.

And so is… so is
she
.

Pulling myself away from the door and treading into the kitchen took an impossible load of energy. I plugged in the electric kettle and prepared some peppermint tea. While it was steeping, I sat in front of the four large windows facing the small lake in front of my home. Gray-white fog swirled and danced over the water, waves shimmering through the haze. Little white gulls plunged down to the surface of the lake, snapping back up with their prey.

Between the haze in my mind and the swirling mists, I almost expected a dorsal fin to pop up at any time. Blood soaked jaws of an angry shark swam through the concrete floor of the boat house in my mind. I shook my head and refocused on the landscape in front of me.

Two huge pine trees perched like sentinels on an embankment overlooking the water. One was solid green, its companion littered with brown patches. Something must’ve been eating it alive. Killing it. River birch swayed in wide arcs, delicate leaves and branches tossing and turning next to thick swaths of sumac. Dead leaves swirled up high enough to pass through branches weighted down with new buds.

I wrapped both hands around my mug of tea for warmth. A fire would be nice. But I’d have to get up and make it happen. Not yet. Remnants of zebra grass blew back and forth next to blackened coneflowers I hadn’t gotten around to cutting back last fall. What kind of woman would let her beds go untended? The kind of woman men left for other women who didn’t?
My rose bushes stood out in defiance against a backdrop of soft green lilacs that would be blooming in less than a month. Where would I be by the time my roses were in full bloom?

After a hot shower and pouring myself another cup of tea, I stood in my bathrobe at the kitchen window, drowsy and lost. I rummaged through three cabinets and the freezer, but the cotton in my head only thickened. I trudged upstairs and dropped onto my bed.

The buzzing in my bathrobe pocket grew louder as I shook the sleep from my eyes. I stretched my arms over my head, pulled myself out of bed, and grabbed the phone.

“Oliver.”

“Thank God! I’ve been calling and texting you for hours. Why is your car in the driveway and why aren’t you at work?” Donna’s soothing tones coaxed me back to life.

“You need to sit down, Donna.”

She remained silent until I made it through my gruesome morning discovery. “Oh, Josie I’m coming over!”

“No. You’re not. Please. I need a few minutes alone. Just let me get dressed, sort myself out, and I’ll text you to come by.”
“Promise?” The warmth in her voice buoyed me.

“Promise.” I ended the call, dressed, and headed downstairs.

Time to put on a pot of some serious coffee. I’d need it to help me think and feel through everything I’d just experienced. From home, in front of a soon-to-be roaring fire. Safe. Had my husband and his girlfriend really just been murdered? What kind of God would allow this? How could this be happening? And what would happen next? Shivers danced up and down my arms.

I stared at the wood piled in a basket next to the fireplace. I rummaged around in the basket, finding long matches, kindling, and waxy pinecones that would add color to the flames. Now all I needed to do was open the flue.

I bent down, leaned over the grate, and felt along the rough brick interior, searching with my fingertips for the cold metal handle. Finding it, I pulled hard. Nothing. I bent deeper at the knees, bracing my left hand against the brick to give me more leverage, and pushed, opening the flue wide. My knuckles hit something hard and cold, but my fingers were still wrapped around the steel handle.

What the…?

I pulled my hand out and ran to the kitchen junk drawer for a flashlight. Four long steps, and I was back on my knees on the brick hearth, pointing the flashlight up into the inky darkness.

A sledgehammer was jammed between the flue handle and the chimney wall.

I gasped and jumped, bumping my head against the brick and dropping the flashlight. It went out. I felt around for it in the dark.
Gotcha!
My hands wrapped around the plastic, and I took a deep breath and looked up again. The handle of the sledgehammer was mottled with dark stains. I inched the light up the handle to the iron hammer. Blood.

I pulled myself out of the hearth and sat back on my heels. White noise filled my head. My bones were heavy and cold. Thoughts jumbled about like bits of fruit swimming through an ocean of Jell-O, dancing and jiggling but never quite connecting. How long had that
thing
been in my fireplace? Was that the weapon that killed my husband? When had the killer placed it there? How did he know where I lived, and how did he get in and out without me noticing? And most of all,
why
? Why was he framing me?

My thighs were burning. I set the flashlight down and heaved myself to my feet. I found my phone in my purse and searched for Nick’s face again.

“Babe?” His voice was quiet and solid.

“The fireplace, my fireplace… there’s a murder weapon in it. Maybe.” The woman in me warred with the cop in me. I needed the cop to surface. Fast.

“I’m heading over. Did you touch it?” He was always in cop mode. His tone gave nothing away.

“I… I’m not sure. Part of me did. Just my knuckles though, I think.” Did I touch it beyond that first brush?

“Whoever planted it there would’ve been smart enough not to leave prints. Let’s keep it as pristine as possible. Ever seen it before?”

“I don’t know.” Del had had a sledgehammer, hadn’t he?

“We’ll sort it out later. Why don’t you call this in and get a forensics team on the way?”

“Yeah. Good. That’s good.” It was good, wasn’t it?

My practically-ex-husband and his girlfriend had been found murdered on our lake property just a few hours ago. And then what must have been the murder weapon had turned up in my fireplace. Anyone with half a brain would know that I had plenty to gain by the untimely death of my husband in the middle of our divorce proceedings.

Whoever was behind this was in possession of a devilish yet brilliant mind. No one was going to look better as the prime suspect than me.