Cuff Master (37 page)

When pressed, Mills claimed he’d gotten a tip from a buyer
that vice was coming in to clean house, shot the girls and took off,
maintaining that he did not set the fire. Vice would later find his
fingerprints on a gas can at the warehouse.

A history of juvenile delinquency, including arson, sex
crimes and child pornography found on Terrence Mills’ home computer helped
convict him.

The public defender had attempted to create reasonable doubt
in the guilt of Jennifer aka Jenna Bailey’s murder by maintaining that she had
in fact been sold at auction and the buyer himself had returned the girl dead
and tipped off both the cops and Mills.

On a hunch, Ethan looked back over the files for the name of
Mills’ buyer who’d tipped both him and the cops off. It made him sick to even
think it. What if the buyer was connected to Spencer Bailey, or worse, was
Spencer?

The primary hiccup in Spencer’s background was the robbery
at his grandfather’s building in New York, Maura Andrews’ alibi and an
impoverished security guard who’d never had a chance against the powerful
Bailey family. Ethan read the transcripts of that trial again, including the
evidence hearing.

George Barnes had claimed the girl he’d seen with Spencer
had been a teenager and the two had been having intercourse. His story was
considered inadmissible because there was no one to corroborate the story and
Spencer had an alibi, Maura.

“We’ve got it, partner,” Sam interrupted.

“Excuse me?” Ethan asked, setting his laptop aside.

“We’ve got warrants for the orchard and to bring Maura
Andrews in for questioning in the Jenna Bailey case, including the recent
fires. Captain Morrison’s working with the DA and state’s attorney general
right now to see if we can get a judge to release her juvenile records.”

“Hot damn, finally.” Ethan grabbed up his badge and pulled
on his coat to cover his gun strapped to his hip.

“One thing, we’re going to have to bring in Concord Police
Department when we get to the orchard. Morrison’s contacted the Salem and
Danvers boys investigating arsons in their towns and they want in too. Expect
the state boys to show up, this crosses so many districts and counties.”

“Yeah, we don’t want to step on any toes. How about Spencer,
any chance we can bring his ass in for questioning?”

“We’re close, real close. I talked to Alisa, who is willing
to come and talk to us. She told me she found two things in her husband’s home
office safe. A small recorder similar to what you described Morgan was missing
after she was attacked and a laptop slathered in Goth rock band stickers.”

“Jenna’s missing computer,” Ethan said.

“Looks that way, although Alisa maintains the computer is
broken. I told her to bring it in ASAP, along with the recorder, and to be very
careful. Her husband is supposedly at a meeting in Manchester, New Hampshire,
with Bartholomew Stratham. She’s on her way.”

“We should stay until she gets here,” Ethan insisted.

“Captain Morrison will assist Alisa. He’s updated on the
situation and will handle her with kid gloves. Before we go, we need to check
in with Morrison.”

They walked off to Captain Morrison’s office.

“Detectives, have a seat,” Morrison invited when they
knocked and walked in. “We’re still waiting on the judge to sign the warrants.
Fill me in on what you’ve been doing so far. Good call, Detective Riley, on
connecting video feed NYPD sent us to Maura Andrews.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Sam said proudly. “I couldn’t trace
the man with her in the video as accurately, though there are physical
similarities to Dylan Bailey, Spencer Bailey’s first cousin. The video does
establish that Maura was standing next to Erica White the last time she was
seen alive.”

While he and Sam continued to discuss the case with the
captain, Ethan’s phone went off. Not recognizing the ringtone, he excused himself
and stepped out of the office to take the call.

“Detective Maddox speaking, how can I help you?” he greeted.

“Hello, Detective, this is Darren Hess, proprietor of Hess
Menswear Shop in Cambridge,” the man introduced himself.

“Yes, I remember,” Ethan said.

“I’ve been combing through my records as you’d requested,”
Darren continued. “I realize it’s taken awhile to get back to you and apologize
for the trouble. The shop was vandalized soon after the Maddox wedding party
returned their rentals.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No one sustained injury. It happened after hours and the
vandalism caused a few of our suits to be ruined, namely the ones you all
returned.”

“Was it a fire, by chance, Mr. Hess?”

“Yes, minor, in a trashcan, along with some anti-gay
graffiti on the walls and red spray paint on the suits. Cops concluded we were
targeted because my partner and I recently married in front of the State House
and we were wearing the same cut and style of tuxedos.”

“My recommendation is to have the officers investigating it
as a hate crime come talk to Captain Morrison at my precinct. There’s a chance
the incident is related to some other fires in the area that were linked to an
arsonist.”

“I will do that, thank you,” Darren stated.

“I’m sorry about the trouble, but glad to hear no one was
injured. Were you able to find anything about the tuxedo I’d rented?”

“Your tuxedo and ten others were sold at discount rate to
our establishment by a basement warehouse specializing in menswear in the North
End that had declared bankruptcy.”

Damn, that didn’t help Ethan find a connection between
Spencer Bailey and Hess Menswear. Then he thought of something. “Mr. Hess, by
chance, do you have the address of that former menswear shop?”

“Yes,” Hess said, rattling off the numbers. Ethan opened the
GPS on his phone, finding exactly what he needed. “It was in the Bailey and
Stratham Professional Building. All sorts of businesses rent space there.”

“I know of the building,” Ethan said. “Thank you, Mr. Hess,
you’ve been helpful.”

The call ended and Ethan went back into the office. He
informed Morrison of the call, who immediately made some calls to the find out
the names of the officers who’d investigated the vandalism of Hess’ menswear
shop.

The connection between Ethan’s tuxedo and Bailey had been
established.

Jenna Bailey may not have been wrong about her stepfather at
all.

Deep in his gut, Ethan believed Spencer had something to do
with that girl’s death. If there was a shred of proof out there, he was going
to find it and use it to bring the fucker to his knees.

Chapter Thirteen

Morgan didn’t know how long she’d slept. She didn’t know
much other than a young girl spoke to her in her dreams, the most common form
of communication she had with those who had passed away.

Please hear me, you must help her. Help my mom. Danger,
she’s angry and sad.

Opening her eyes, Morgan was struck by the fact that the
entire room was spinning. She still had a headache, but this time, rest seemed
to protect her from the worst of the discomfort, enabling her to focus on the
frail figure of a Goth teenager still dressed in black.

Jenna?
Morgan looked around the room, then quickly
closed her eyes to avoid bringing attention from her guardians’ playing cards
at the kitchen table. She didn’t need to see Jenna to talk to the girl.

Mom found my computer. She knows what her husband did,
that he and my aunt bought and killed me. She wants to avenge me.

What can I do to help, Jenna?

Warn Detective Maddox that my aunt had been hired by my
stepfather to kill Erica White, but she wrongly believes that she failed and
that you are Erica White returning to get your revenge on them, warn him. She
hurt you and my mom is terrified that she could be next.

Why can’t your aunt tell the difference between me and
Erica?

She doesn’t see faces the way everyone else does. You and
Erica are psychics.

Erica was actually psychic?

Not like you, but she could see me. She could see all the
girls who’d been bought before me. Tell the detectives that Erica is buried
under the oldest apple tree in the orchard.

The orchard, everything goes back to that orchard. Are
the other girls you’d mentioned, the ones bought, are they buried with Erica?

Yes. Now I’m worried about my mom. If she reaches Aunt
Maura and my stepfather at the orchard first, there will be bloodshed, hers,
theirs, your husband’s, maybe everyone’s.

Bloodshed?
Morgan didn’t correct Jenna about her
husband. She and Ethan may not be married yet, but it sure felt as though they
were husband and wife.

Can’t stay longer, someone’s coming. Help, please send
help.

And with that Jenna Bailey’s manifestation evaporated from
her mind’s eye, even as a heavy set of footsteps stormed into the studio
apartment, followed by quieter, female ones.

“Phalen? Cassie?” Morgan called out, sitting up only to have
Taran and Alex jump out of their seats so fast that they knocked their chairs
over.

“Oh Morgan, we heard what happened. We’re so sorry,” Cassie
said, rushing up to the bed to smother Morgan in a friendly but gentle hug.

“Careful, Cassie, she’s not feeling well,” Taran warned. He
was already on his way to the other side of the bed when his older brother
stepped into Taran’s path.

“We won’t hurt her,” Phalen promised, taking over the other
side of the gigantic bed that didn’t seem big at all with a guy the size of a
Maddox in it. “Hey there, darlin’, heard you’ve had some trouble.”

“You two didn’t have to come home,” she argued.

“How could we stay away knowing you needed us?” Phalen
demanded.

Very much aware that he could split bricks with his bare
hands and break most mortals, Morgan welcomed the strong, tender hug of a big
brother.

“Ryan came by and checked Morgan,” Alex said. “She was so
tired when he came in, he made sure not to disturb her for long and she fell
right back to sleep. He recommended we let her rest, to not take any more
Tylenol unless the migraine gets severe and it’s been more than six hours since
the last dose and to keep her hydrated.”

“Get her some water. You have one of your headaches?” Phalen
asked.

“Yeah, it’d be great if Ethan could be here. He always knows
how to make me feel better. But he’s out catching the bad guys right now.”

“Will you let me try some pressure point pain relief on
you?” Phalen offered.

“Sure,” she permitted.

Phalen had her sit up and began by pressing his thumbs to the
back of her head, where her skull met her neck and applied a gentle
massage-like touch. He continued by finding the meaty part of her hand between
her thumb and index finger, squeezing hard enough to almost hurt.

Gradually, he worked down to her foot and where her leg bone
connected to her ankle, finishing up by massaging her temples. By the time he’d
reached her temples, her headache was a distant memory and Taran retrieved a
bottle of water from the galley kitchen fridge.

“Did it help?” Phalen asked. “You look better.”

“Yes, thank you. You have to teach that to Ethan,” Morgan
said after taking a long drink.

“I’ll do that. If you feel any pain at all, you tell me,
okay?”

“I will. Can someone bring me a phone? I need to call Ethan
right now.”

“Sure.” Phalen produced a phone that made Taran’s look
ancient.

“Maddox men have a phone fetish,” Morgan said, not even
aware of what she said until she said it.

“I’d say,” Cassie murmured, laughing softly.

“Cassie bought this one for me as a wedding present. Where
is your phone, Morgan? I want to get yours onto our family plan.”

“It’s in Cassie’s office. Mine’s older than dirt. I used
Taran’s to call the adjuster earlier.”

“I took care of him,” Alex reassured.

“Taran, give Morgan your phone for now. We’ll get her a new
one tomorrow.”

“No,” Morgan objected. “I’ll use yours, Phalen. I have to
call Ethan right now. Jenna’s counting on me to save her mom.”

“Jenna?” Phalen repeated.

“Long story, we’ll fill you in,” Taran said.

Morgan took Phalen’s phone and found Ethan’s number in the
contacts, called it and waited…going to voicemail. Frustrated, she left a
message, telling him about Jenna’s visit, her aunt’s confusion in believing
Morgan was Erica White and Alisa Bailey heading to the orchard.

To be safe, she texted Ethan, he sent a reply a minute or
two later.
Got your message, thx. Sam and I are in route to Concord.

Morgan replied, letting him know she loved him, that Phalen
and Cassie came home and most importantly to be careful. A musical note
indicated that he texted back in clipped sentences.

Just arrived at the orchard. Place is weirdly deserted.

She was getting better at using a touchscreen keyboard. Her
fingers tapped quickly.

Be careful, Ethan, please. Don’t take chances. Maura
thinks she failed to kill Erica White when she was supposed to and that I’m
actually Erica returning to get revenge on her and Spencer Bailey.

Don’t worry. Morgan, if you think Maura Andrews has been
mistaking you for Erica, she’s a threat to you. And right now, I can’t be sure
she’s here. Maura’s a cunning bitch.

She’s confused.

Doesn’t change my decision. Tell Phalen he’s your
bodyguard until I get home. Will be a late night. LY.

Phalen took the phone back, read the messages and sighed.
“Well, sis, Ethan appointed me your bodyguard. It’s a done deal.”

“What about us?” Taran objected, looking over at Alex.

“All I know right now is something bad is about to go down
tonight and Ethan’s worried,” Phalen said.

“It’s nighttime?” Morgan asked, thinking to look out the
nearest window. Sure enough, it was dark outside. She’d slept the whole day
away.

Suddenly, a terrible vision overcame her, something that
nothing in Phalen’s healing arsenal could prevent.

She heard it, saw it, the arguing, the
accusations…gunfire…gunshots, blood everywhere…Ethan falling…more blood
spilling on the ground around him…too much blood!

“Got to go puke,” Morgan cried out, vaulting out of bed so
fast her head spun. Her only destination was the bathroom, where fear made her
vomit into the toilet.

“Please be wrong, please be wrong,” she prayed, wishing she
was not psychic, that she hadn’t just foreseen Ethan getting shot.

It shouldn’t be. She usually couldn’t sense things about
him. But the vision repeated!

“Phalen!” she screamed, refusing to get sick again because
it wasn’t helping.

“Right here, darlin’, come on up,” Phalen reassured, easing
down beside her and taking her by the elbow to gently bring her to her feet.

“Ethan’s in danger. You have to go help him. Please!”

“If I could, I would, but I don’t have authority to interfere
with a police investigation. You need to trust him to do his job. He’s well
trained and has Sam with him.”

“You don’t get it! I saw him get shot. Alisa Bailey shot
him. Call him, text him, stop him from going to Maura’s trailer. If you don’t,
I’m stealing your SUV and saving him myself.”

“Can’t let you do that. You’re staying with me. But I will
get word to him.”

“I’m already on it,” Taran stated. “I sent a text to Ethan
and Samantha to use caution when approaching the trailer and to watch out for
Alisa who should be considered armed and dangerous. I haven’t gotten a response
back yet.”

“We can pray,” Cassie suggested behind them.

Phalen guided Morgan to the sink so she could rinse her
mouth with mouthwash that he had stored in a medicine cabinet. When she was
finished, he escorted her out of the bathroom and back over to the bed.

She sat down, asked them all to get on the bed and took
Cassie and Phalen’s hands. Alex wedged himself between Cassie and Taran. When
everyone was linked up, they prayed.

Morgan reached out for the one person she knew could get
through to Ethan over and above smartphones and texts.

His mother Abigael.

* * * * *

“This is creepy, Sam,” Ethan said, not liking that they’d
pulled up to an abandoned parking lot. The lights inside a barn were off and
the vegetable stands were empty.

There were signs all over the place that boasted mile-high
apple pies, cider, squash, pumpkins, gourds and all types of fall produce,
homemade cakes and haunted hay rides.

The hay ride entrance was a little farther up the road. It’d
been chained closed. Woods and clever fencing protected the whole orchard from
being seen from the major highway less than a mile away.

It was dark and chilly outside. It’d been raining on and off
most of the day, but had stopped this evening. Maybe the hay ride closed down
due to poor weather?

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed. “Morrison instructed us to wait
for backup.”

Ethan felt for his bulletproof vest just to be sure all was
as it should be. Sam had hers on and they were still in the cruiser. But he
wasn’t feeling good about this.

“According to Morgan’s voicemail and texts, Jenna appeared
to her and told her that her Aunt Maura wrongly believes Morgan is she Erica
White. Apparently, Maura killed her, but is confused and thinks she failed to
kill the right person. How’s that factor into our investigation?”

“Let me check something,” Sam said, scrolling through her
phone to do a quick web search. “Ha, got it, facial blindness.”

“Try that one again. Maura’s blind? Fingerprint analysis
came back on the flashlight found at Druid Creek Castle. It matches her. She
was also the anonymous witness who’d told Danvers police that Remy Sinclair had
been in the back parking lot. How could she do that if she can’t see?”

“She can see just fine. There could be something in her
brain that keeps her from recognizing facial features because to her they’re
distorted. Someone must have told her that Sinclair went by her. He’s a celeb
in New England.”

“Sounds similar to dyslexia, instead of letters and words
being jumbled, faces are,” Ethan commented.

“That sounds about right. According to what I can tell, many
who suffer from it don’t report the abnormalities. They learn to adapt and come
to know people around them based on voices, hair color and style, that sort of
thing.”

“Does that mean she wouldn’t recognize her own sister or
maybe her niece if something about them changed? Jenna went Goth after she
became involved in that online game.”

“I think so. We’d have to talk to a doctor who specializes
in the disorder to be sure. Perhaps this is why Maura’s been seeing a
psychiatrist for most of her life. Can you imagine how scary it is for a kid
not to be able to recognize her own mother or father or loved ones?”

“And someone as slick as Spencer Bailey could use it against
her by fooling her into believing anything he tells her. She trusts him,
perhaps loves him and is willing to do anything to keep him.”

“Join that with the information Captain Morrison got from a
federal judge in New York and we know Bailey’s family has been covering up the
fact that Spencer’s predilection for young girls followed him through high
school and college. Amazing how much shit a billionaire can hide.”

“What are the chances he’s the buyer who tipped off both the
cops and Mills, creating the right chaos needed to cover up the murder of his
stepdaughter?”

“That’s sick! When Jenna went missing, he claimed to be at a
Harvard reunion with his wife. Alisa verified his alibi, insisting that he
didn’t leave her during the five-day search. The only way he could have bought
Jenna by mistake is if he’d had someone else do the bidding and retrieve
her…someone who wouldn’t recognize Jenna’s face.”

“Bailey is a self-absorbed pedophilic idiot,” Ethan accused.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he urged a doctor to write a prescription for his
wife for something that would put her out long enough to leave without her
knowledge.”

“Can’t agree more, but that’s speculation, Ethan. We have to
prove it with evidence and bring in Maura. If she turns against her lover, we got
him. Otherwise the fuck-head will lawyer-up so fast our heads will spin.”

“Fuck-head? Is that the best you can come up with, partner?”

“For now, Ethan. When we search this place, I’m afraid of
what we’ll find. As Taran would say, there’s a whole lot of bad mojo about this
orchard.”