Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) (33 page)

It seemed difficult to believe. The man had been so cheerful and friendly. But he'd lied when he'd told them he didn't know who Connie was and had no idea if he'd ever met her. So what else was he lying about?

And Sandbury? He was another big question mark. He must have told Liliana something about the photos, so why hadn't he been willing to tell him? Was it fear that had now kept him silent?

But there was something else Michael didn't understand. Why get rid of Liliana and leave Sandbury walking around to tell his story? There had to be a piece of the puzzle that he was missing. Sandbury knew something but not enough to make him that dangerous. Liliana must have known more than Sandbury.

He doubted that she'd put it all together, though. She hadn't acted in fear while she was home. Maybe she'd thought she was safe in Miami.

When he reached his car, he pulled out his phone and called Alicia. He frowned when the phone went to voicemail.
Damn. Where was she?

A rumble of thunder drew his gaze to the sky. A flash of light to the east sent a chill down his spine. He had a feeling he knew exactly where she was.

Twenty-Three

Alicia felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as she parked in the lot at Virginia Key National Park a little after six. Just like the last time she was there, the lot was empty and a light drizzle was dampening the ground. She took her backpack and headed down the trail toward the carousel, using the flashlight on her phone to see where she was going. She had no idea where Liliana's body had been found, but she suspected she'd find some evidence of crime scene tape somewhere in the park.

When she reached the carousel, goose bumps ran along her arms, and she shivered as a gusty wind lifted her hair off her neck. It wasn't just the approaching storm that had her nerves on edge; it was knowing that a murder had happened in this park.

She was probably crazy to be out here alone, but she doubted that Liliana's killer was lingering in the park or that he was even in Miami. Liliana's problems had started in Texas. Maybe they'd followed her here. But there was no reason for anyone to be here now.

Lightning streaked across the sky, too far away to make a real impact. But the rumble of thunder that came a few minutes later told her it was getting closer. The lightning had called to her before. It had shown her what she needed to see. Maybe tonight it would do the same. Even if she couldn't find the place where Liliana had been buried, she could still get some stunning photographs. It didn't have to be a wasted trip.

She walked around the carousel, thinking that one day she'd like to see the merry-go-round filled with laughing, happy children, instead of looking like a ghostly, spooky structure in the woods.

Her nerves got tighter, and she was suddenly assailed with the urge to leave, to go home, to get back to her real life—a life she needed to live instead of just spectate. She'd spent too many days taking pictures of other people's important moments. Where were hers?

After her father had died, she'd tried not to be happy for a long time, but she didn't want to live the rest of her life in sadness. He wouldn't want that for her. He'd been an even bigger dreamer than she was. If she could believe that the lightning called to her, then she had to also believe that her dad was in a better place, that he was watching over her. And if he was watching over her, she wanted him to be proud of what he saw.

More importantly, she wanted to be proud of herself.

She'd felt good the last few days, more in charge, in control, using her intellect to make a difference. She wasn't just a photographer, an observer of life. It was time to be who she was meant to be. It was time to go home and live her life.

Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the park, and she didn't even raise her camera. "I know," she said aloud. "I know what you're showing me now—myself. Why didn't I see it before?" Her words echoed in the blustery wind that rattled through the surrounding trees.

A crack of wood brought her head around. She was shocked to see a man approaching. He wore jeans and a dark sweatshirt with a hood over his head.

Was it Michael?

No, something wasn't right. It wasn't Michael, but she'd seen this man before—the night of the last storm.
It was the man by the carousel, the one fighting with Liliana.

She turned to run, but he was already upon her. He grabbed her by the arm. She struggled against his iron grip, but he was bigger than her, taller, broader, and stronger.

He pulled something out of his pocket. The metal flashed as lightning lit up the sky again. It wasn't a knife; it was a gun.

It was just like the last time, only she was the one who was struggling
.

She kicked out at him and jerked hard to release herself from his grip. He didn't let go, but the hood came off his head.

She stared in shock at a face she knew. "Oh, my God, you! How can it be you? I just talked to you on the phone. You're supposed to be in Texas."

"I didn't want to do this," Jerry said, staring back at her. "But you didn't give me any choice, Alicia."

"What are you talking about? What are you doing here?"

"You're a smart girl. Surely, you've figured it out by now."

She'd figured one thing out. "You killed Liliana? Why?"

"Because she was on to me. She was one step away from the truth. I couldn't let her take that step."

"I don't understand. Are you saying that you killed Professor Bryer and Connie Randolph?"

"The bitch got caught."

"Who? Connie?"

"Bryer was on to her. She came to me and told me that I needed to do something, make sure we weren't caught. I told her I'd take care of it. I'd make sure Bryer never bothered her again."

"But you killed them both?" She still couldn't quite comprehend what he was saying.

"I had to take them both out. She would have been a loose end."

She couldn't believe the man she'd known as Uncle Jerry had just confessed to killing three people. And he was going to kill her, too. She could see the intent in his eyes.

Who was going to save her? She'd foolishly come to the park by herself.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, stalling for time while she tried to figure out how to get away.

"I was outside your apartment when I called you. I hoped you'd tell me that you were dropping the investigation now that the body had been found, that it was over, but you didn't say that. You were going to keep going. When you left to come here, I couldn't quite believe how easy you were going to make it for me. I'm only sorry your friend isn't with you. I'll have to take care of him later."

"You can't kill everyone," she said, terrified that he would go after Michael next.

Jerry's smile was more evil than she'd ever imagined.

"It's really not that hard after the first one."

"How can you kill
me
? You were best friends with my father. He loved you. He thought of you as a brother."

A shadow crossed his face. "I'm going to regret this one, but I have too much to lose, Alicia."

"What were you and Connie doing together? If I'm going to die, at least you can tell me what was going on."

"She was stealing classified specs from MDT. She passed them on to me, and I sold them for some nice cash. It was how I got the Flight Deck. MDT owed me. After my crash, they hung me out to dry. Just like the Navy did. I was tired of working for people who didn't appreciate me. So I found some who did."

"What was in it for Connie?"

"Money. Her ex-husband bled her dry. That's how it started anyway. She didn't realize that once you know anything, you know too much."

"And Paul Sandbury? What was his part in all this?"

"I wasn't actually sure he knew anything until you came to the bar and told me about him. I'll deal with him later." He paused. "This wasn't your problem, Alicia. You shouldn't have gotten involved. But you're just like your father. You like to stick your nose where it doesn't belong, and then you're surprised that you're in danger."

"What are you talking about? My dad didn't do that. He didn't meddle. He wasn't in danger."

"You know so little about your father," he said in amusement. "He was always the hero for you—for many people."

"I know everything about my dad," she said heatedly. "He was a good man."

"Yes. He was good—too good. It was sad…what happened to him."

There was something in his tone that made her think he was talking about more than a plane crash. "You know something about that crash, don't you?" Her stomach twisted into knots. Anticipation ran down her spine as Jerry stared back at her.

"I'm done talking," he said. "You and I are going to take a walk. You came out here to see where she was buried, didn't you? I'm going to show you."

Before he could force her down the path, a brilliant, blazing flash of lightning struck the top of the carousel, blinding them with its powerful light.

Jerry let go of her hand to cover his eyes. She took advantage of his distraction and gave him a hard shove.

As he stumbled backward, she ran as fast as she could. But the lightning was gone as fast as it had come, and she tripped in the now overwhelming darkness.

She screamed into the wind, hoping someone somewhere could hear her. She had to save her life, because if she didn't, Jerry would go after Michael next.

She scrambled to her feet and ran as fast as she could, but Jerry was closing in on her. She could hear his heavy steps, his quickened breathing. His hand swiped at her back, his fingers grabbing her arm, almost pulling it out of the socket.

And then another man shot out of the trees.

Michael!

She was both relieved and terrified to see him.

Michael launched himself at Jerry, tackling him to the ground.

"Run," he shouted at her.

But she couldn't run away, not while Michael was fighting for his life with a madman.

Jerry was incredibly strong, and he was a trained soldier. He might have spent most of his days in a plane, but he knew hand-to-hand combat, and with each punch of his fist, she could see Michael losing ground.

She had to find a way to help him.

The lightning struck again as if in answer to her prayer. Just like the last time, it hit the ground, lighting the trees on fire, sending heavy branches to the ground.

She grabbed one of those flaming branches. As Jerry threw Michael to the dirt, she rushed forward and swung the branch as hard as she could at Jerry's head.

He screamed in pain, the fire from the branch lighting up his hair, his clothes.

She backed away, keeping an eye on Jerry as Michael staggered to his feet.

She thought Jerry might beat the fire out, but then the flaming tree above his head showered more fire down upon him. It was as if Mother Nature had joined in the fight.

Alicia stared at him in shock as he was enveloped in the blazing heat.

Michael came over to her, blood dripping down his face. "Let's get out of here."

"But—"

"You try to help him, he'll take you with him," Michael said harshly. "He'll kill you, Alicia."

She had no doubt that was the truth. It was still hard to watch a man being burned to death.

Sirens lit up the night, and a wave of relief ran through her.

"I called Diego on my way over here," Michael said. He pulled her further away from the fire as he yelled, "We're over here."

A moment later, three cops rushed down the path, two of them immediately heading to Jerry. They pulled him free of the fiery branches and rolled him on the ground as firemen now rushed toward the fire, followed by the paramedics.

The third police officer came over to them.

"Are you two all right?" he asked.

"We're fine now, Diego. Thanks for getting here in the nick of time." Michael put his arm around Alicia's trembling shoulders.

"You need to go to the hospital, Michael," Diego said, his gaze concerned. "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine," he said, swiping at the blood on his face with his fingers.

"You're not fine," Alicia told him. "Your face is all beat up. And I saw Jerry kick you in the ribs."

"They're bruised, that's it. You saved my life, Alicia." He turned toward Diego. "You should have seen her. I told her to run, and she hit him with a flaming branch."

"I wondered how he got caught up in the fire."

"It was the lightning. It hit the tree. I just used what it gave me," she said. "Is he going to live?"

"I don't know," Diego replied. "He doesn't look good."

"Damn. Is that Kellerman?" Michael interrupted, tipping his head toward the two non-uniformed men making their way down the path.

"I had to tell him you called me," Diego said. "Let me fill him in first, give you a chance to catch your breath. Stay here."

Michael nodded, turning to her with concern in his gaze. "Did Jerry hurt you, Alicia? Before I got here?"

She shook her head. "No, but he was going to kill me the same way he killed Liliana. He did it, Michael. He confessed everything to me. He also murdered Professor Bryer and Connie Randolph."

Michael looked as stunned as she felt. "Why?"

"Jerry was working with Connie. They were stealing secrets from MDT and selling them to someone. Bryer found out. Connie asked Jerry to take care of him, but he killed both of them instead." She swallowed, her voice hoarse from the smoke.

"So that was what was in the envelope," he murmured.

"What do you mean?" she asked in confusion.

"I went to speak to Liliana's parents. After I paid my respects to them, I went upstairs. I was talking to Isabel, and she asked me to get her a coat, because she was shivering from the shock. I reached for the first one I saw. It was Liliana's. She'd lent it to her sister the night of the rehearsal dinner. Isabel had forgotten all about it. She'd never given it to the police. In the pocket of the coat were three photographs, all showing Jerry and Connie exchanging an envelope. In one of them, the photographer was captured in the mirror. It was Sandbury. He must have given the photos to Liliana. He must have told her what Connie and Jerry were doing. I don't know why he didn't tell us."