“Might, boss. But nothing solid enough to share yet.”
“Keep me in the loop.” She took a swig of her coffee. “Tom, I want you to take another run at Grimes and that bank teller he’s sleeping with. I want to know the real reason Grimes and Henderson fought. And attack their alibis. I want more than them stating they were with each other.”
“I’m on it, Sheriff.”
Liz stood and braced her fists on the table. “Jeremy saw what happened that night. I’d stake my badge on it. The good news is he’s starting to talk. It’s only a matter of time before he says something we can use.”
“He is? That’s terrific, Sheriff.” Darlene clapped her hands together. “That little boy is such a doll. I’m so happy he’s starting to get better.”
“If he says anything, will it hold up in court?” Sal asked.
“I thought you said these kind of kids can’t talk,” Tom said.
Liz raised her hand in a halting motion. “I’ll worry about the information standing up in court after I find out who the bad guy is, Sal. Yes, Darlene, it is wonderful that the boy is beginning to recover from that horrible night. And yes, Tom, this boy can not only talk but I, for one, plan to listen when he does.” Liz made eye contact with each one of them. “Meanwhile, it’s just the five of us. Our team standing between a small boy and death. Let’s get back out there and find us a bad guy.”
* * *
He opened the front door and threw his keys in the glass bowl on the credenza. He kicked off his boots and left them at the front door. Then he walked through the master bedroom and straight into the bathroom. He removed the bandage from his side, lifted his shirt and studied his body in the wall-to-wall mirror over the double sinks.
The puncture wound was ugly, deep and red. It had taken him almost an hour to get it to stop bleeding. He’d had to pack the thing with gauze and tape it tight. He took the gauze out and winced at the pain. Tenderly he touched the edges of the wound. The surrounding skin was mottled, swollen and sore to the touch. He slathered more antiseptic cream on the area and placed clean gauze across the site.
He’d been lucky last night. His face mask and thick gloves had protected him from getting more than a sting or two from those tree branches as he raced through the woods. He hadn’t expected the sheriff to catch him in the act and give chase. She was surprisingly fast moving through the dark woods with nothing more than moonlight to light her way. At least he’d had a small flashlight helping him see the path at his feet. She’d almost caught up with him, too. He couldn’t afford to take another chance like that one.
He taped the gauze in place, lowered his shirt and took a good, hard look at the reflection staring back at him. His eyes were puffy. His cheeks had retracted and he was starting to look a bit gaunt. Wonder if anybody noticed. If they did, maybe they’d just think he was getting sick or something.
He washed a hand over his face.
When was this all going to end? How in the world had he let it start? If he could turn back time, he’d never have touched those drugs in the first place. What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t. He’d been reacting to his feelings. He’d been in pain…and lonely…and angry. The opportunity to escape, to forget for just a little while, presented itself. And then everything mushroomed out of control.
He’d been doing good last night. He’d almost cleared the woods, skirting his way through the brush like a pro. Until he lost his balance and that one lone, stupid stick jabbed right into his side. It hurt like the dickens, too.
But not as much as the sheriff’s face must be hurting. He saw her going into the police station this morning and he almost doubled over laughing when he got a look at that shiner and swollen lip. That would teach her. Stupid woman.
He’d made a really dumb mistake last night. He should have just killed the boy when he’d had the chance. But he wasn’t sure that the boy had seen him that night. He didn’t want another death on his conscience, particularly a kid’s, unless he had no choice. He’d never intended to kill anyone in the first place.
He figured he’d snatch the kid and find out what he knew. If the boy recognized him, he’d get rid of him. If he didn’t recognize him, he’d drop the kid in front of a hospital or firehouse or something.
Look how disastrous that turned out.
He’d slipped back to the house at first light only to find the place empty and everyone gone. Now he didn’t have a clue where they went.
No more listening to that nagging voice of conscience in his head.
He was out of patience…and time. Not knowing if this kid could identify him was eating him up inside. Making him make bad choices. Do stupid things. There was no question anymore. He knew what he had to do. He had to find the kid…and this time he’d kill him.
ELEVEN
L
iz checked her rearview mirror for the tenth time in the past five minutes. No one was following her. She’d been super careful. She wasn’t even driving her own car. She’d borrowed Gus Crater’s pickup truck. She told him she got the deal of a lifetime on a china cabinet at a garage sale near Poplar Bluff and she needed something bigger than her car or cruiser to haul it home.
The pea-green, rusted-out relic didn’t have a shock absorber left in its body and Liz considered it almost a miracle that it still ran. But Gus loved his truck and he hadn’t parted with it lightly. She’d not only had to promise to return it in the morning with a full tank of gas but she’d had to throw in prime seats to this weekend’s basketball game. Gus drove a hard bargain.
Taking one more look behind her, she felt safe enough to head for the old Granger estate and turned the truck in that direction.
It took at least ten minutes for the piece of junk she was driving to make it across the ten acres of property. Liz was becoming a pro at driving down old unlit dirt roads with nothing more than moonlight and car headlights to guide her. But this time when the truck lights hit the house, it stole Liz’s breath away.
The Victorian-style home had been deserted for years. There hadn’t been any heirs to the estate and in this economy there weren’t many millionaires buying homes in Country Corners. The years had taken a toll. The outside was weathered and forlorn looking. But it screamed with potential.
She could picture white wicker rocking chairs and fern baskets all along the wraparound porch. Potted geraniums hanging from the portico. Fresh paint and some minor repairs and this home could easily be restored to its original grandeur in no time.
Liz couldn’t believe that Adam had purchased this property. What would a single man want with a house so large? Unless he wasn’t intending to stay single for long. The thought brought a rush of heat to her face.
She turned off the ignition and stepped from the cab.
“Stop right there.” Liz heard the distinctive sound of a shotgun being cocked behind her.
“I’d listen to him if I were you.” The female voice had circled around and was coming at her from the front. “Put your hands above your head and do it now.”
Liz immediately did as she was told.
“Adam? Charlie?”
“Liz?”
They were by her side in seconds. Adam shone a flashlight over her and then over the truck. “What the…? Where’d you get this piece of junk?”
“It runs and no one would be expecting me to be behind the wheel so I felt safer driving it out here than my patrol car or personal vehicle.”
“Good idea.” Charlie shone a flashlight on the ground by their feet. “Let’s get in the house. It’s spooky out here in the dark.”
Once inside, Charlie excused herself and went upstairs to check on Jeremy and Rerun.
Adam led Liz past a living room decorated with upholstered sofas and comfortable armchairs. A large stone fireplace and hand-carved mantel was the focal point of the room.
Surreptitiously, he watched her, gauging her reaction, hoping to see approval in her eyes.
He led her through French doors into the solarium. The arched glass overlooked illuminated walking paths, hanging lanterns, benches, flowers and even a pond with a fountain. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath waiting for her reaction until she spoke.
“Oh, Adam, this is stunning.”
“I hoped you would like it.” He clasped her elbow and a jolt of electricity ran through him just by touching her. He led her to a nearby chair. Once she was seated, he perched on the arm of the opposite chair and tried to mask this explosion of attraction he felt whenever he was with her. “How’d it go with your team? Anybody give you a hard time about not telling them where we are?”
“They weren’t happy about it but no one made waves.” Liz took a moment and looked around the room, “This place really is beautiful, Adam. But I must admit that I’m surprised you bought it.”
“Remember I told you a few weeks ago that I had a special project that I would be working on for Country Corners?”
Liz nodded.
“Well, this is it. I’m giving this place a facelift and I’m turning it into a place for teenagers at risk. You know, kids on the fringe of making life-altering mistakes, where intervention from the right person at the right time might make all the difference.”
He watched the blood drain from her face. She knew they’d have to have this conversation sooner or later.
“‘Kids at risk’?” Her voice wavered but he pretended not to notice.
“Yes. Abused kids that need a safe place to stay for a while. Kids mixed up with the wrong crowd. Trying to get to them before they start experimenting with drugs. Kids on the fringe of escalating from minor juvenile offenses to serious crimes.” He paused for a moment and then he said, “And emotionally needy kids. The kind that don’t believe there’s a place in this world for them. The suicidal kids.”
Liz drew in a sharp breath. Speechless, she just stared at him.
“I’m calling it ‘Luke’s House.’”
Liz stared hard at him before she spoke. She stood and began to pace. “Your father was responsible for my brother’s death. Now you come back to town and think if you build a teen center in his name that that will make everything okay?”
“Of course it won’t.”
“It didn’t end with Luke’s suicide either, did it? We had to live in that house with the memories and the guilt. It felt like the house was haunted. Luke was everywhere…and nowhere.”
Adam didn’t move. He didn’t try to touch her. He just sat quietly and looked at her with empathy and compassion.
“The first few months after Luke’s death, all my parents ever did was fight, constantly blaming each other. I didn’t think it would ever end. But it did end. And the silence was worse. Three people living in a mausoleum. It was torture. And then it was over. My mother took off. She kept in contact with me at first.” Liz shrugged. “But I suppose as time went on she found it easier to make a clean break from everything.” Her eyes glistened when she looked at him. “From me. I guess I’m collateral damage from an emotional explosion neither one of them ever recovered from.”
Her pacing slowed and she came to a stop in front of him. “My father threw himself into his work. And me— We both know what happened to me, don’t we, Adam?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“I’m glad we’re having this conversation, Lizzie. It’s long overdue.” He waited a moment and then he gestured to the chair. “Please, sit down. We need to talk.”
Every muscle in her body appeared taut and tight like a deer startled in headlights wanting to run but frozen with fear. Precious seconds clicked by. This was it…the moment of truth…the chance to lay it all on the line and confess his failings and beg her forgiveness. If she’d just stay still long enough to listen.
Without saying a word, she slid back down to the chair opposite him.
“Lizzie.” His voice softened and carried a great sorrow. He took a deep breath.“My father didn’t kill Luke. Luke killed himself.”
Before she could verbally explode, he raised his hand in a halting motion. “My father did everything in his power to help your brother. But one-hour sessions twice a week weren’t enough to cure the damage of living with a controlling, mean bully…and that’s what your father was. He ridiculed Luke every day of his life. Why? Because Luke was artistic and creative. He was kindhearted and sensitive.
“Luke felt helpless against the big, strong sheriff of Country Corners. Your father pushed and pushed until a teenage boy who had no coping skills and no spiritual foundation felt he had no other option.”
Tears washed her cheeks and blurred her vision. “Stop it.”
“You know it’s true. Your mother knew it, too, but couldn’t stop him. That’s why your family fell apart after Luke committed suicide. It wasn’t because of anything my father did or didn’t do. It was because your family didn’t have a strong spiritual foundation to help them through the troubled times. When the storms came the marriage crumbled.”
He leaned forward and laced his fingers together. “And what happened to you, Lizzie?” He thought his heart would break but he forced himself to say what was in his heart. “You became another victim. The leftover child who did everything in her power to win her father’s love, even followed in his footsteps to please him, so that she didn’t have to follow in Luke’s.”
“Stop it!” She covered her ears with her hands. “I can’t listen to this garbage anymore.”
Adam fell on one knee in front of her and gathered her into his arms.
“No!” She pummeled his chest but he just embraced her more. “Don’t touch me.” She hit him again but this time her jabs lacked any significant force. Then she grasped the front of his shirt and buried her face in his chest and sobbed until he didn’t think she had even one tear left.
“I remember it all. The raging fights between my father and Luke. The beatings. The tears. The fear. I loved my father—but I saw what he did to Luke and I feared him, too.”
The self-recrimination and pain etched on her face tore at his heart. None of his professional skills were helping him now. It was just the two of them…Lizzie and him…lost in the past…buried in pain and guilt and grief…with no way to climb into the present.
“Why couldn’t your father help him?” Her eyes pleaded with him to help her understand. “Luke needed someone to help him.”