Vision of Darkness (26 page)

Forbes released a long, slow breath. “The Crew. Goddammit, Cappy wasn’t crazy. He was trying to warn us.”

Alex nodded. “Whatever happened to Lila, happened on John Jr.’s boat. Cappy witnessed it, saw the crew dispose of her body in one of the caves near the lighthouse. Nobody listened to him because he was delusional, but they couldn’t take the chance that someone would eventually listen, so they got rid of him.”

“Cut to a year later,” Mischa said. “The VanBurans hire me to start poking around, making The Crew nervous, and they decided to make sure her body was gone. Unfortunately, it hadn’t decomposed, and they now had a mummified corpse to dispose of.”

Alex continued, “Then I show up and see the missing persons poster at the diner. I asked Pru about it within earshot of Rhett and David. Didn’t notice it at the time, but David left shortly after that and must have told Kevin about me asking questions. Kevin tried to scare me off by dropping one of those pumpkin decorations on me. Later that night, I saw John Jr.’s boat disappear into the side of a cliff.” He snorted. “Thought I was losing my mind.”

“Not yet,” Mischa said with a grim smile. “One of the crew—maybe all of them—took the boat back to the cave to re-dispose of Lila’s body, except whatever they did with it didn’t work and she washed up on shore.”

“It’s true,” David Faraday said from the doorway.

Forbes came half out of his chair. Alex and Mischa both stiffened and watched David with cautious eyes. His shoulders slumped and the guy looked as if he hadn’t slept in years.

“It’s true,” he said again and raised trembling hands to cover his face. “I saw these guys come in here and I knew—God, I can’t take it anymore. I’m waiving my rights. I want to confess.”

Forbes had always figured Lila was killed by a tourist, someone just passing through town last summer. But to find out some of his own people were responsible—Christ, he needed a whole bottle of antacid. Or, better yet, whisky.  

“All right. What happened last summer, Dave?” Forbes motioned him into the visitor chair across the desk. He sank into it like a boneless man.

“I really don’t know. It all happened so fast. We were just hanging out on J.J.’s boat, like we always did. Kevin brought Lila. They were sort of seeing each other.”

“A thirty year old man can’t ‘see’ a sixteen year old girl,” Mischa said through his teeth.

David shriveled in his seat. He lifted a ragged thumbnail to his mouth and chewed.

“Go on,” Forbes prompted.

“Lila had partied with us before,” David said. “I really didn’t know she was only sixteen. I mean, you’ve seen pictures. Did she look sixteen? We had some drinks and—” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “And, uh, other stuff. Lila started coming on to all of us. She, um, liked groups.”

Someone—Mischa or Alex—made a strangled sound. Forbes kept his attention on David even through his own stomach revolted at the idea of an orgy between several grown men and a child. “Who was in the group?”

“All of us. Uh, except J.J. He’s not into that sort of thing. He stayed topside and drove. And Wade, he was there, but—you know. He wasn’t smart enough to understand sex.”

“Go on,” Forbes prompted again when David trailed off.

“She was enjoying herself, but Kevin got rough with her. She liked it rough. He just took it too far and suddenly she wasn’t breathing anymore. J.J. tried to give her CPR, but she was—” His voice cracked. “She was dead and—and Rhett said we’d all go to jail, even J.J. because his DNA was all over her from the CPR. J.J. still wanted us to turn ourselves in, but Kevin threatened him, said we had to dump her body in one of those caves over by the lighthouse and never talk about it again.”

“And Cappy saw you?” Alex asked.

His fingers dug into the arms of the chair as his wide eyes swung from Alex and back to Forbes. “I swear, I had nothing to do with Cappy. Neither did J.J. That was all Rhett and Kevin. We didn’t know about it until afterward. Actually, I don’t think J.J. ever knew about it. He just thought Cappy committed suicide.”

“So the accidents,” Forbes said. “Wade and John Jr. It was to keep them from talking.”

David sucked in a trembling breath. “I think Kev’s gone off the deep end. He disappeared the night Wade died, right? I’m afraid he hurt them and he’s going to come after me or Rhett next.”

Forbes wanted to kick himself for not paying more attention to Helen’s concerns about Kevin’s disappearance. He stared across the desk at David, a kid he’d known from diapers. He should feel good about finally closing the case that had eaten at him for the past year. Instead, acid churned in his stomach. “David, you know I have to arrest you, right?”

He nodded. “I don’t want a lawyer. I just want this to be over. Just…want it over.”

CHAPTER 27

The morning was already busy, the street teeming with early-risers looking for the best deals before out-of-towners overran the festival. The costumes started to come out as well. Pru lost track of the number of super heroes and Disney princesses she saw, and thought about changing into her own costume, a 1950s carhop outfit complete with roller skates. Probably a good idea, before it got too busy.

“Nick?”

Lounging in a camp chair with a book, he looked up when she spoke. The feathers in his hair fell into his face and she reached out to brush them back. A little girl, dressed as Pocahontas, had been so impressed by the fact he was a real Native American, especially after he spoke Lakota to her, that she’d given him the bright red and white feathers from her hair. To Pru’s surprise, he’d weaved them into his braids and wore them proudly. Now all he needed was war paint.

“What’s up?”

“I’m going to run to the bathroom in the diner. Can you handle the booth by yourself for a few minutes?”

He frowned, shot a glance toward the diner. She could almost read his thoughts:
Alex said not to let her out of my sight.

“For God’s sake, it’s not even a hundred yards away. Nothing’s going to happen. I just want to change into my costume, but I can’t leave the booth unattended.”

“All right. Five minutes,” he said. “Any more than that, I’m comin’ after you, guns blazin’.”

Pru gathered up her bag and hurried down the sidewalk at a fast clip. She wasn’t going to take any chances of going over the allotted time. Nick was a man of his word.

After unlocking the door, she slipped inside the dark dining room. She’d made an executive decision to close the diner today, since Miranda was at the hospital with J.J., Gail would be manning the booth later this afternoon, and Jones, that lazy good-for-nothing, hadn’t shown up for work in a week and a half. Besides, with all the food offered at the various booths, the diner never broke even during Pumpkinfest.

It didn’t take long to change. As she tied her hair up into a high ponytail with a pink scarf, she heard the bell over the diner’s door ping.

“Oh, come on, Nick. It hasn’t been five minutes yet.” She checked her reflection, tightened the ponytail, then stuffed her clothes in her bag and headed out with her roller skates in hand. Halfway through the bathroom door, she stopped cold. “Mrs. Mallory?”

Tears ran down Helen’s face, smearing her mascara. Her long suede coat, folded neatly over her arms, rattled with her shaking hands, but her spine stayed poker-straight. “I need to talk to that man of yours.”

“He’s not back yet. Why? What’s wrong?”

“My son,” she said through clenched teeth, “is a good boy, but he’s a child still.”

Not really, Pru thought. While in the grand scheme of life, thirty-three wasn’t considered old, it was old enough to know better. Kevin didn’t know better and probably never would.

“Children make mistakes,” Helen said. “He just needs to get the drugs and alcohol and women out of his system, then he’ll come home and straighten up.” Her voice trembled. “Boys will be boys and all that. He didn’t mean to hurt that girl.”

“What girl?” Even as the words left her tongue, she knew the answer. Lila. Her breath came out in a rush. “Helen, if he killed her, you know he has to be punished for it.”

“No! He made a mistake. Just—a mistake. He’s only a child.” She removed one hand from under the coat and slapped a palm over her heart. “My child! It’s my job to protect him. When he told me what happened and that Cappy knew—well, I had to protect him. If you had children, you’d understand.”

Oh God. Cappy.

Pru felt her legs falter and locked her knees to steady herself. “Helen, what did you do?”

“What any mother would do in my situation. I got rid of the threat to my child. But, now, there’s another.” She let loose a frantic, high-pitched laugh and dropped her coat. She held a gun, its black mouth pointed at Pru’s stomach. “A mother’s work is never done.”

Pru stared at the gun, numbed by its appearance. No freak out like the time she’d seen Alex’s gun the night of the fire. Just an odd sense of fatalism.

Guns don’t kill people
, she heard Alex’s voice in her head and swallowed hard.
People kill people, and if they don’t have a gun, they’ll find another even more vicious way.

He was right. It wasn’t the gun she had to fear, but the woman holding it. “Helen—”

“Don’t speak. We’re going to wait right here for that man to come looking for you. Then I’ll get rid of him and everything will be okay. Kevin will be safe.”

The gun wobbled, but Pru noticed the safety was still on—she remembered the switch Alex had showed her during their shooting lesson.

Holding her breath, she chanced a step toward the diner’s front door. Outside, the festival crowd had already doubled in size. Darth Vader strolled by. It lent to her feeling that she’d fallen down the rabbit hole and—well, there goes the Mad Hatter to prove it. Surreal.

“Stop moving. Sit down.” Helen lurched over to the door and snicked the lock into place, then prodded her toward a booth with the gun. “Sit down!”

Pru’s blood went cold. Images flashed from her memory. The feel of a gun’s cold muzzle pressed to her head. The fear. The blood. The death. Shivers started in her knees and she barely made it to the booth before she collapsed.

Happening again. Dead God, it was happening all over again.  

***

“Well, that was easy,” Mischa said and swung his car into an empty spot several blocks away from the diner. He shifted into park, balanced his arms on the steering wheel and watched the costumed crowd with a faint scowl. “At the risk of sounding like a clichéd primetime cop drama, it was too easy.”

Alex massaged his knee and, goddammit, he agreed. The arrest had been easy. As soon as Forbes confronted Rhett Swithin with David’s confession and the facts Alex and Mischa had pieced together, he gave up without a fight. Inside his house, the arrest team found an old Winchester rifle belonging to Cappy Putnam. He insisted Kevin gave it to him to dispose of and that he had no idea where Kevin was.

Alex believed him.

And in the back of his mind, unease prickled.

“It’s not over yet,” he said and opened the GTO’s squeaky door. “Kevin Mallory’s still MIA.”

“Forbes’ll get him.”

Alex wished he had so much faith in the sheriff. “Right. See ya around.”

He shut the door and hunched his shoulders against a blast of icy autumn air. Man, it was getting chilly. Snow wasn’t just a promise anymore, but a threat.

He dodged witches, vampires, and zombies of all sizes on the way to the diner’s booth and found a line of people stretching well out into the street, waiting for a slice of Pru’s pie. Not that he could blame them. Mae’s Diner did have the best pumpkin pie in the county after all. He’d already sneaked two slices this morning and gave serious consideration to a third as he cut to the front of the line.

Nick stood behind the table, nervously chatting while digging out sloppy pieces of pie for each customer. As a shy man who secluded himself on a ranch in the middle of the wild blue yonder, this crush of people had to be a little taste of hell, and his pained expression when he saw Alex said it all.
Save me.
    

Alex couldn’t drum up any sympathy. It was good for Nick to socialize. “Where’s Pru?”

“She’s, uh, over at the diner.” He tried to dish up another slice and it fell apart before he got it to the plate. With a grimace, he handed it to the less-than-pleased customer.

“You let her go alone?”

“She was just goin’ to put on her costume. I told her I’d come after her in five minutes, but we got slammed.”

“How long ago?”

“It’s only been…” Nick turned his wrist to check his watch and dumped a glob of pumpkin down the front of his shirt. “Ah, damn. Twenty minutes. Shit, Al—”

He didn’t wait for the apology. Dread reared its ugly head inside his chest.
Kevin.
The certainty of it made him sick.

“Call Forbes!” He lurched in the direction of the diner at a dead run. “Tell him we might have a hostage situation.”

***

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

Pru repeated the order to herself like a mantra. A panic attack wasn’t going to help. Even so, her breath sawed in and out of her constricted lungs and she had to drop her head between her knees to keep from passing out.

The door handle rattled. Helen jumped and swung the gun in the direction of the sound, but there was nothing to aim at. In a flash of brown leather, the hand that had tested the knob disappeared behind the safety of the concrete wall.

Alex.
Pru would recognize that leather coat anywhere. She held her breath, willing him to leave.

Nothing moved. Minutes ticked by. Helen’s arms began to shake and a bead of sweat slid from her hairline into the withered collar of her silk blouse. She’d tossed her navy blazer aside and sweat slicked the shirt to her ample curves. Her skin was the color of paper.

“Was that him?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” Pru lied.

“Call to him.”

“No.”

The gun’s muzzle swung her way. “Call out to him. Tell him you want to talk.”

Pru bit her lip. Shook her head hard. No. She wouldn’t do it. Even though the safety was still on, she wouldn’t risk getting him shot.

Helen surged forward and shoved the gun under her chin. She could make a run for it, but she was afraid Helen would realize the mistake before she made it out the door. The muzzle dug so far into the soft flesh under her chin that swallowing hurt. Memories threatened, dragging her into the black hole she’d already pulled herself out of once. She wondered if she’d be able to do it again.

Outside, a siren whooped. Once. Twice. Then another. Then several car doors slammed shut. Men shouted. People chattered.

Helen leaned over the booth and parted the blinds over the picture window with her thumb and forefinger. “Oh no, oh God.”

Feedback squealed over a loudspeaker, followed by Sheriff Forbes’s voice. “Kevin Mallory. It’s the sheriff. We have you surrounded, son.”

Helen made a sound like a wounded animal. A wounded, trapped animal.

Pru squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to focus on breathing.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.
           

***

“Any contact?” Alex slid into position behind the door of the police cruiser with Forbes.

Please let there have been contact
, he thought.
Please let Pru be alive still.
He hadn’t seen anything during his earlier reconnaissance except a shadow moving about inside the diner with a gun in its hand. As much as his baser protective instincts wanted to bust down the door, the marine in him knew it was plain-and-stupid suicide. No gun or vest or back-up. Had to do this one by the book if he had any hope of getting Pru out of there alive.

“Any visual on Pru?” he asked.  

Forbes grunted his disapproval, but didn’t lower the binocs he had trained on the front of the diner. “I told you to stay back behind the barricades with everyone else.”

His hands curled into fists and red seeped into the corners of his vision as his protective instincts roared with outrage. The best way to handle this was with civility. He knew it, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to rip something—or someone—apart with his bare hands.

Chill out.
He drew a breath. Let it out. Then another, and another, until he was sure he wouldn’t tear into Forbes.

“Sheriff. I’m not a civilian, and the woman I—” He bit his tongue. When he said the L-word for the first time, it was going to be to Pru, not the fucking sheriff. “Please,” he said instead and didn’t even care that it sounded damn close to begging. “I need to help. I need to do something. Let me help.”

Forbes slid an assessing look his way, then sighed. “All right. You were a sniper, right? Here’s the deal. The state boys are on their way, but we need eyes and a steady hand if this goes to shit before they get here.”

A chill scraped from Alex’s head to his toes and back at the thought of picking up another rifle. Of taking another life. Was his hand steady? The answer used to be a resounding
duh
. The steadiest. But after his fuck-up back in Boston, he didn’t know anymore. That shot hadn’t been legit, taken by a twitchy finger and rattled nerves. Could he trust Pru’s life to those overstrung nerves?

He realized Forbes was watching him with bloodshot eyes, waiting for an answer.

Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to trust her life to anyone else’s. He had the training and the ability that none of these townie cops could match. If things went to shit, he was their trump card.

“Yeah.” He gave a sharp nod. “What do you got for me?”

“Nothing you’re used to, I’m sure. Old as dirt, but it has an accurate scope.” Forbes whistled between his teeth and one of his deputies came over in a crouching run with a gun case in hand. The deputy handed it to Alex and seemed relieved that he wouldn’t be the one using the firepower inside.