Read Blood Ties Online

Authors: Lori G. Armstrong

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Murder Victims' Families, #Women Sleuths, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Crimes against, #Women private investigators, #Indians of North America, #South Dakota

Blood Ties (23 page)

BOOK: Blood Ties
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“Th

e admin wouldn’t tell her. Meredith only found out today when she went for visitation and Shelley wasn’t there.”

I chewed on the end of my pencil, ignoring the trickle of unease sneaking up my spine. “So, where is she?”

“Th

at’s the thing. No one knows. No one has seen her.

It’s like she just disappeared.”

My tires nearly smoked as I made a mad dash for Kevin’s offi

ce after my shift ended.

Th

e door to his inner chamber was ajar and I slipped inside unnoticed. I knew better than to demand acknowledgement from him in his agitated state: deep frown lines knitted his brow, his hair was a parody of his normal tidy style, his Italian loafers beat a path in the carpet. I snagged a cold soda, fi red up a smoke, and watched him pace. At least his pacing was more interesting when he limped.

“Th

is doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Why would Shelley check out of rehab now? Not after her daughter was murdered, but now? When she only had two weeks left?”

He glanced up, but I already knew it wasn’t a rhetorical question. Kevin hobbled to the other offi ce door.

And back.

“Tell me again how she acted when you saw her 241

Monday.”

“Upset, especially that I’d showed up again. Told me not to come back. But not like she wasn’t going to be around if I did. More like she’d take pleasure in refusing to see me.”

“I wonder if someone else visited her after you did.

Th

ink that person threatened her?”

“Th

inking of anyone in particular?”

He added the small area in front of his desk between the visitors’ chairs to his loop. “Dick or Charles LaChance.”

Man, he was fi dgety today. I counted on his calmness to keep me balanced. Usually, I was off balance enough for both of us. I stared at him pointedly until his feet stopped shuffl

ing.

“Sorry.”

“No problem. Who’d you talk to when you called out for confi rmation?”

“Connected me right to the head administrator. Troy James? Remember him? Jock, captain of the football team, general pain in the ass?”

I wondered if was still a buck-toothed beanpole with the brain power of an acorn squash. “Yeah. Did he remember you?”

“Sort of. He was always way-too-cool to hang with lower classmen.”

My cigarette stopped halfway to my mouth. “Wait a second. Troy James. As in the guy Nancy Rogers dated and 242

married? Wasn’t she the friend that ditched Shelley at the fair the night she was raped?”

Kevin

affi

xed his butt to the edge of the desk. “God.

Can’t believe I missed that. He palled around with Charles LaChance too.”

“And Dick Friel, Tim O’Reilly, Bobby Adair, Mike Lawrence, and Danny Christopherson.”

“Remember, Jimmer hung around those guys for a while.”

I hadn’t forgotten. “No way was Jimmer involved in any of this shit, Kev. He may be a mean mother to guys, but he’d never hurt a woman. Besides, there’s way too many of these connections for it to be just dumb luck.”

“It may seem like a coincidence . . .”

“Is it a coincidence that Shelley checked into the treatment facility where her friend’s husband is the head administrator?” I countered.

“Maybe.

Th

ere are only two rehab centers in Rapid City. It’s not like she had dozens to choose from.”

“True, but remember Shelley claims that she hadn’t seen Nancy in years?”

“Just because Nancy’s husband runs the place doesn’t mean she hangs out there or even knows what goes on.” He shifted his weight off his ankle. “Probably because of all the confi dentiality laws, he couldn’t even tell her Shelley was a patient.”

“So, what did Troy tell you?”

243

Kevin’s face soured. “Not a thing, except she checked out on her own. Said if I wasn’t listed as next of kin, they couldn’t release any other information.”

“Did Dick know she’d checked out?”

“Not according to Meredith. No one knew. Th at’s why

she freaked out.” Pushing aside stacks of folders, he sighed.

“Just what we needed. To be back at square one.”

“We know Shelley didn’t go make up with Dick.

Bastard probably changed the locks.”

He smiled slightly, bracing his palms along side his khaki-clad hips on the mahogany desk, staring thoughtfully at the Donald Montileaux litho above my head.

I watched the smoke curl up from the end of my fi ngers and mused, “So, where
would
Shelley go if she couldn’t go home?”

A beat passed before our eyes met with perfect clarity.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

Th

e same quietness pervaded Rose Macintosh’s neighborhood as it had on Sunday. Kevin parked on the street and killed the engine. Nothing looked diff erent, but it felt diff erent as we sat inspecting the house.

I opened my door.

Kevin’s

warm

fi ngers slid up my arm. “If you want to stay here, that’s okay.”

244

“Why would I?” His reasons dawned on me and I bristled. “Because Shelley and I didn’t leave on such friendly terms?” I pointed at his leg. “If anyone should be cooling their heels in the car, it should be you with that bum ankle, limpy.”

His answering half-smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Forget it, tough girl. Let’s go.”

We inched our way up the steep driveway and for once it wasn’t my smoker’s lungs impeding our progress.

Kevin took a breather against the partition separating the glass windows in the garage door, resting his ankle. Face pallid, he closed his eyes against the simple exertion that had him sweating. I had stepped forward to off er comfort, when I noticed it. Th

e sedan parked in the garage. With

the lights on.

I pressed my nose to the glass, cupping my hands beside my face to block the glare. Taillights glowed a faint red and the window was rolled down. Someone had used the car recently. Or, intended to use it soon.

Or, was still in the car.

Nah.

Th

e shapes I noticed in the front seats were nothing more than headrests. I squinted. Except the headrest on the driver’s side had long blond hair. And shoulders.

Shit.

I rubbed furiously on the dirty pane, thinking spit and polish would erase the image.
Not real, not real,
the mantra repeated in my head, trying to convince me the 245

scene in front of me was an illusion. A distortion. A sick trick of light.

Th

e glass damn near sparkled and nothing inside had changed.

I knew it was her. I knew Shelley was in the car.

I beat my fi sts on the wooden garage door panels until they stung, hoping to startle her.
Come on, Shelley, stop playing
games and let us in.

She didn’t move. Kevin’s ragged voice sounded distant even next to my ear.

Th

e way her head was tilted it looked as if she were napping. Somehow, I knew this nap was one of the permanent variety. I jumped back, afraid my anger and fear might return the glass to its molten liquid state. In the process I lost my balance and fell ass fi rst on concrete. Tears stung my eyes as I looked up at Kevin.

“Jules? What the hell are you . . .”

“It’s her. Shelley’s in there, Kevin, in the car . . .”

He didn’t even blink. “Get my cell phone. Now.

Call 911.”

I leapt to my feet. “No. We have to help, we have to get her out of there. What if . . .?”

Kevin shook me hard, then held my head between his palms, forcing me to focus on his eyes. “Listen to me. We can’t go in there. It won’t help. Make the call, I promise, if she’s alive that’s the fastest way to help her.” He nudged me. “Go on.”

246

My run down the driveway was less than graceful.

With fumbling fi ngers I dialed 911, somehow coherent enough to remember my name and a brief rundown of the situation. Luckily, the street number was listed on the mailbox or I would’ve struggled with the address. Now, I had fi rsthand experience on why people babbled when calling in an emergency.

I didn’t venture back up the driveway until I heard the scream of sirens.

Th

e fi re department pried the garage door open and the faint odor of exhaust fumes drifted to the front steps, where Kevin and I had taken refuge. I plugged my nose when the sour smell of rot followed. After the fi reman’s all clear signal, the ambulance crew hurried in.

Th

ey needn’t have bothered.

From the muttering and now slow movements coming from inside the garage, I assumed Shelley was dead.

Radios squawked and a van from the Rapid City Police Department blocked the driveway. Cases of equipment were hauled in, probably for photos and cataloguing crime scene evidence.

Crime scene. I locked my jaw tightly against the automatic cry of denial. Th

e numb, surreal feeling continued.

I hated that feeling. Like I stood outside my own body watching the horror unfold for someone else. But, once again it was unfolding for me.

Cold cement stung my butt despite the relatively 247

balmy day. I wrapped my arms more securely around my knees to stave off the tremors. No way was I moving one foot off the cracked steps. I had no desire to see Shelley in her fi nal moments.

An

offi

cer approached Kevin. Low tones drifted closer, but I didn’t bother to eavesdrop. Kevin struggled to his feet and followed the offi

cer inside the garage. He returned,

minutes later, paler than the waning sunlight fi ltering through the treetops.

“Was it her?”

He

nodded.

“Shit.”

“You okay?” he asked.

Frustration and guilt gnawed at me, but this wasn’t the time or the place to give in to it. I shook my head.

Kevin settled beside me. “Me, either. Th ey’ve already

sent a car out to Dick’s repair shop. If he’s not there they’ll go to the house.”

“Th

ink he’ll stay home tonight?” Th

e idea of Meredith

dealing with this blow alone set me back on the angry path. I desperately needed a cigarette but didn’t want to walk back to Kevin’s car on the off chance I’d get a glimpse of Shelley.

“I don’t know.”

Something thudded in the garage. I needed to hear myself talk to cover up the unsavory images in my mind of bloated bodies and rotting fl esh. Probably, my mental 248

images were worse than the actuality. Still, I didn’t care to fi nd out. “Th

ey’re bringing Dick in for questioning, aren’t they? I mean, come on, he’s got to be a suspect.”

“Probably not.” He leaned over until I felt the comforting brush of his shoulder against mine. “Th ey’re treating

this as a suicide.”

I gaped at him. “A suicide? You can’t be serious.”

“Lower your voice. As soon as the preliminary report is done and they’ve taken your statement, we can go. Th en,

we’ll talk about this.”

Th

e clatter of a metal stretcher clunking across cement made me press my forehead into my knees. Bile rose and I choked it down. I couldn’t watch them load the body.

My leather boots creaked as I rocked back and forth. Th e

movement soothed my stomach and blocked most sounds.

Th

e blood rushing in my ears blocked the rest.

“Th

ey’re gone,” Kevin said.

I lifted my head, but Kevin wouldn’t meet my eyes. A shadow fell over me. A man crouched down.

I didn’t know the detective in charge, but he treated me delicately, as if this whole ordeal would send me further into shock. He was wrong. It sent me into a rage.

I answered his carefully worded questions quickly, and we were both relieved when it was over. I didn’t want to imagine how Sheriff Richards would react when he got wind of my part in this latest saga.

Kevin had barely pulled out of the cul-de-sac when I 249

exploded. “Suicide? How can they possibly think that? Is this entire police force inept on every case?”

He unwrapped a stick of Juicy Fruit gum and shoved it in his mouth, balling the tin foil wrapper and tossing it toward the ashtray. One hand stayed on the wheel while the other gestured wildly.

“Would you stop? What else are they supposed to think? Th

ey fi nd her in a closed garage, ignition on, with the window rolled down and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the passenger seat?” He downshifted and turned on to Fifth Street, nearly rear-ending a garbage truck. “Her daughter has been murdered, her marriage is over, and she recently checked out of alcohol rehab. Th at would lead me

to the same conclusion.”

My mouth dropped open. I was used to Kevin taking the side of law enforcement. Hell, I usually took their side.

But this was diff erent. I struggled to tell him so but he beat me to the punch.

“Unless . . . one had spent time with Shelley recently and heard her very Catholic views on suicide, fi rsthand . . .”

He waited for me to fi ll in the blanks.

“And knew Jack Daniels is the only type of booze she refused to drink,” I fi nished. I lit a cigarette, letting the smoke fi ll my lungs to the breaking point. Exhaled. “Do you believe she killed herself?”

“No.” Kevin sped through a yellow light, cursing under his breath at a motor home clogging the passing lane 250

before swerving into the driving lane. “I think someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look like she did.”

I held my breath as we weaved in and out of traffi c.

I wanted to ask Kev if he had to piss really bad or something, as we were blatantly breaking half a dozen traffi c

laws. Odd behavior. He lived for following rules. As far as I knew, we had nothing as earth-shattering as discovering another dead body on our agenda for the rest of the day.

“Th

e set-up was similar to the one involving her rape.

So, who?”

“Th

at’s what we’re going to fi nd out.” He whipped a U-turn into an empty lot behind his building and braked so hard at the last second my knees smacked into the dash.

But, neither of us moved to exit the car. He was lost in thought; I was busy totaling up my bruises for the week.

BOOK: Blood Ties
13.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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