Confess (The Blue Line Series Book 1) (21 page)

Except for the part where she’d bare her soul to a room full of strangers and condemn her father to time behind bars for obstruction.

No. They could have his badge. The risk wasn’t worth wrecking a girl’s life. Especially Lacy’s. There had to be another way. He just had to be smart about finding it.

Bishop spoke, ending the short silence. “The department already has a call into Chief Andrews. At this point, the decision is going to be hers.”

“Then I want to be in the room when they question her.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Mitch. See you in a few.”

“You’ll do better than that, Bishop. You’ll make it happen.”

Mitch ended the call and searched his numbers for Chief Andrew’s secretary. He needed to be the one to explain this to Lacy. After the way he’d left things this morning, he just hoped she’d listen.

Lacy had just buried her head into her pillow for the night, or was it morning, when her phone buzzed from the nightstand.

She silently cursed Mitch and pulled the pillow tight over the back of her neck. Too worried about their last conversation to sleep, she’d almost calmed herself down when the endless string of calls started. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him, in her bed, his fingers on her skin. His lips parting her mouth. His masculine scent and the taste of beer on his tongue.

She couldn’t stop rehashing their argument in her mind. All the things she’d left unsaid. All the ways she could have handled the information better. The ways she could have avoided selling herself out to save her family.

But he made her so damn mad. Conjured a deep-rooted anger that made her blind to reason until it was too late.

Damn him.
She shut her eyes tight until little black dots clouded the mental imagine she had of him. The cocky ass grin that haunted her dreams and his voice telling her to beg.
Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

The soft knock on her bedroom door was the last straw. There was no use even trying to sleep. “What?” she groaned.

“Lacy.” The door creaked open and John eased in. He still had on his uniform pants from the night before but had shed his shirt and vest leaving only a crumpled white tee. The hair he normally kept gelled in place stuck out in odd directions. “You awake yet?”

She threw the pillow off her head and tucked it under one cheek. “Never went to sleep.”

“That’s not good.” He sounded deflated.

She peeked an eye open to check him out. John could look disheveled as hell after a long shift, but the bravado he carried never faded, no matter how tired he was. Something was up.

She cracked her other eye open against the harsh light streaming in from the bedroom door. “What’s wrong, John?”

John grabbed her cell she’d discarded on her nightstand an hour ago and clicked on the screen. “Dad’s been calling you all morning. Why haven’t you answered?”

“I thought it was someone else,” she moaned.

“He’s in a panic. You should have checked.”

She lifted to her elbows. “A panic about what?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, but it wasn’t anger she saw flash in his eyes. “He wants me to bring you down to the station. Something happened with your detective boyfriend.”

Oh, God.
He’d been upset when he left. Had he been in an accident? Those crazy mountain roads were difficult enough to navigate in daylight, but in the dark and angry... No, she knew better. If something had happened to Mitch, John would be sitting there, gloating about his failure, not looking scared as hell with a heavy layer of anger underneath.

She sat up, both eyes open and trained on her brother. “What happened?”

John lifted her robe from the bedpost and tossed it at her. “Everyone is fine. Get dressed.”

Lacy untangled her legs from the sheets and wrapped the robe around her shoulders before she stood. She searched for her shorts from last night, or had it been this morning? Her mind couldn’t keep up anymore. “If no one is hurt,” she started, halting John in her doorway, “what’s the emergency?”

Fear flashed across his face. Nothing rattled John. He’d been the family rock when her mother left, and their father’s support when Wray destroyed their lives.

Adrenaline spiked in her veins, setting every nerve in her body on alert. “John. What’s wrong?” she repeated slowly, holding the panic out of her voice at his stillness.

“Dad wants to be the one to tell you, but I guess I can’t let you walk in the department blind.” He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her down on the crumpled sheets beside him.

She held her breath, feeling a tremor in his hand. The last time she’d seen John this uptight was after their mother had run off, and even then, he’d only showed anger. “Your detective friend used you, and you fell for it. Nashville called Dad not two hours ago asking questions about your case and the girl Wray killed after you. They want you in for questioning.”

“How much do they already know?”

“They aren’t saying anything. Just that an anonymous tip about a few lose threads led them here, and they want to speak with you.”

Lacy stood. “Anonymous?” Mitch wasn’t the anonymous type. If he’d turned her father in, he’d have announced it proudly. “Why do you think it was Detective Kilpatrick?”

John rubbed the back of his neck and moaned. “Who else would you have told?”

That stung. But this was too serious to let her emotions take control. She pushed the hurt down and kept her focus on John. “Then I won’t go. They can’t force me.”

“They can, and they will. They’re working on the paperwork now. They can’t force you to say anything, but they can make you come down to the station.”

A shudder racked her body despite John’s strong hold on her hand. She pulled the robe tight over her shoulders. A million questions raced through her head, all pushing to be asked at once. “How do they know who I am?” She’d left him just a few hours ago. How could he have already turned her in?

He won’t have. He’d been angry, yes. And driven. But he’d known the stakes against her family. He’d promised, and for the short time they’d known each other, if she knew one thing for sure about Mitch Kilpatrick, it was that words meant something, and he wouldn’t go back on his.

“Someone called in an anonymous tip early this morning.”

Lacy released a humorless laugh. “Not Mitch.” She turned to her brother, the surety so strong she felt it rush over her in a wave of heat. “He’d turn us in face to face.”

“Either way, they know enough to reopen Wray’s files. Won’t take long if they know how to connect the right dots.” John’s grip on her hand tightened. At this rate, she’d loose a finger if he didn’t finish telling her the bad news soon.

“Do they know about dad?” she ventured.

“That part your detective kept out, but once they stared in about you, dad told them enough to lead them away from you.” His breathing quickened. “Dad can hold his own. He doesn’t want you to think about that when you go into the office. You just need to show up and sit with your mouth shut until your time runs out. You hear me, Lace. Not a fucking word. Let Dad handle it.”

“What about Helms?” she asked once John looked away. “Does he know about his dad’s part in hiding my kidnapping?” The familiar ball of guilt rolled down her throat and lodged itself against her windpipe.

John’s shoulder’s sagged. “I don’t know. I guess he could put two and two together and figure it out. I’m not worried about Helms at this point.” He took both her hands. “They willingly lied to save you, and I’m sure they’d both do it again.” He dropped her hands and cupped her cheeks. “You don’t have to say a word, Lace. Just sit there and wait the detectives out. They can’t hold you for longer than twenty-four hours.”

She took a strangled breath. Her father had done the right thing keeping her hidden. No one would blame her for wanting to protect him, she knew. But Wray had taken so much from her. Her childhood. Her innocence. Her family’s honesty. Then she thought of Mitch. If he didn’t find out the truth about Wray now, he’d continue to hunt until his obsession lost him his badge. She suspected that thick oval of metal was the only thing that kept him on the rails. She couldn’t be responsible for that, too.

Lacy laid her palms over her brother’s hands. “I know I don’t have to give a statement, but how many more girls will die if I don’t? We know the truth, and the longer we keep it secret, the more young women that will die. We’re killing them by not speaking up. Call Dad and tell him we’re on our way.”

John gave her hand a final squeeze. She heard the stairs creak on his way down. The look on his face said he’d given into the idea long before, but the officer in him, the son and brother, couldn’t warm to the idea of letting her turn their family in.

This wasn’t the end of their argument, she knew. He’d try to talk her out of confessing the whole ten-minute trip to the department, and if she knew her brother at all, he wouldn’t even stop until she stood in front of her father and declared she’d take one for the family. It wouldn’t even stop there. They’d never let her face a room of detectives alone. They’d never let her tell that her father took care of Wray years ago. That she knew without a shadow of a doubt the recent murders couldn’t be from him.

This had to stop. It was within her power to end the suffering of so many. She’d take the blame for everything as long as no one else had to die.

She pulled free of the bed sheets and poked her head out the door to yell down to him. “I worked all night at Charlie’s and crashed. I need a shower. Do we have time?”

John groaned before he answered. “Ten minutes tops. Dad and your detective friend are waiting.”

Mitch
? She couldn’t be sure if the flutter in her stomach was anger or fear. Facing a room of Nashville brass was one thing. Telling the truth, even the part she’d left out of her confession the night before, to Mitch was going to be damn near impossible.

From her closet, she pulled the only Sunday worthy dress she owned, a yellow sundress her mother had left behind, and dabbed on just enough make-up to cover her sleepless night.

Satisfied she’d have everyone’s full attention; the only thing left was a way past her father and Mitch’s wall of protection and straight into the room of detectives.

Lacy picked up her cell and dialed one of the numbers her father had programmed in for emergencies.

Officer Brian Helms answered on the first ring.

“Brian.” Her voice trembled. Lacy clawed her nails into her palm to keep her tone calm.

“Lacy?” he questioned. “I thought you were on your way to the department. Your Dad’s—”

“Waiting, I know. Are you with him?” If she didn’t spit out her plan soon, she’d chicken out.

“No. I haven’t gone in yet, but the whole department is on lockdown. Some big meeting with Nashville.”

“That’s why I need your help.” He was silent. “Can you meet me around the block from my house? Don’t tell anyone. Just bring an unmarked car.”

“I could lose my badge.”

“Please, Brian. I really could use someone on my side today.”

“Lacy, you know I’d help, but what’s keeping your father or John from coming after us?”

“They won’t know I’m gone until it’s too late. John is waiting downstairs as it is, and Dad will think I just stressed out and bailed.”

“Why?” His voice cracked. “What are you going to do?”

She listened for her brother. “Because, I want to talk to the detectives, alone, and I don’t want to give anyone the chance to talk me out of it. Can you do that?”

Over the phone, Lacy heard the slam of a car door and crank of an engine.

She bit her lip, waiting for Helms to refuse. He’d be like all the others, trying to protect her. Taking away the only chance she had to fix the mistake.

“Do you know what you’re doing? I’m not putting my job on the line for some crazy scheme.”

“Yes.” She gave her reflection a thumbs up.

“I’ll be there in five.” He hung up.

“Lacy?” John’s irritated voice floated up from downstairs.

She ducked in the bathroom and turned on the shower before returning to the banister and shouting down to John. “Five minutes. I need to shave my legs.” Girl stuff always shut him up.

With a pair of flats in hand, she opened her window and stared down to the cement ground below. She’d used the lattice outside the bathroom window to sneak out to more than one high school party, but she hadn’t navigated the thin wood in years. She tossed her flats down and tested one bare foot then the other. The wood creaked and buckled, but it held her weight.

Half way down the side of the house wasn’t the time to her sanity, but she did anyway. Why would anyone willingly run away to confess to hiding a crime that would destroy their life and the lives of so many others? Why throw away everything her father had done to protect her? Why let a few nights with a stranger change the way she felt about the last thirteen years of her life?

Because, she thought, taking the last step before the big leap to the ground, this wasn’t about protecting herself anymore. For the first time ever, she was in the power position. She could save someone else, and just like her father had years before, she’d have to put herself in danger to do it.

Her feet hit the driveway, and she pulled on her flats, shot a glance back to the front windows making sure the curtains were still drawn, and darted off across the lawn toward the corner.

Facing her past was the only way to stop a killer. She had to take the risk.

***

The morning sun shone through the branches of an evergreen on the street corner a block from home, but it did little to warm the chills shaking Lacy’s body.

She rubbed her hands over her arms and trotted in place for warmth before eying Helms’s dark blue pick-up turning off the main road headed in her direction. The truck barely stopped before she reached for the door handle and hauled herself up to the high seat.

“Go,” she ordered, before checking the time on his dash clock. She’d started the shower six minutes ago, and if she knew John, he’d just realized he’d spent the last five yelling at an empty room.