Dead on Ice (2 page)

“How about if we come home with you?” Brianne offered again.

“Angie and I have plans,” Kyle insisted.

“Are you sure?” Ned asked. “After what happened, I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

“She won’t be alone,” Kyle said. “She’ll be with me.”

“Cheryl’s ruthless,” Ned warned them. “If she says she’s not through, then she isn’t.”

Angie shrugged her shoulders and forced a smile across her trembling lips. “School’s out, and it’s a whole new world—there’s more to life than South Side High School and Cheryl’s scores to settle. I just don’t know where she got the idea that I was fooling around with you, Ned.”

“Me, neither.” Brianne flipped her black locks back over her shoulder. “Who knows where Cheryl comes up with these crazy ideas? But, as right as you may be, that’s not going to be any comfort if she or her friends corner you again.”

Ned rested his hand on the door handle. “Maybe I should—”

Wiping Ned’s hand off the door handle, Kyle slipped in-between them and his date. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll take care of Angie.”

She responded by wrapping her arm around his waist. Her kiss warmed his face. “That’s right. You’ve always been my best friend—through good times and bad, thick and thin.”

He added, “Better or worse . . . richer or poorer.”

Brianne and Ned cast glances in each other’s directions before stepping back to allow Kyle to open the car door for her.

Ned waited until they were pulling out of the parking lot before slipping his arm around Brianne. “Who would have guessed?”

Sucking in her breath, Brianne clasped his arm when she saw Cheryl’s old Camaro pull out onto Main Street to fall in behind Angie’s Mustang.

Next Morning

“Angie, we’re going to be late for church.” Doris Sullivan dabbed an extra layer of makeup under her eyes where she saw a new wrinkle appear. Standing up straight, she studied her gaunt features in the bathroom mirror.
Who are you trying to kid, Doris? You’re a farmer, not a glamour puss. Hang it up.

As if in agreement with her assessment, a horse whinnied from out in the pasture. She cast a grin out the window at the half-dozen Thoroughbreds grazing in the field of her horse farm.

Nope, you weren’t a bathing beauty when you were seventeen years old, and you’re not one now that you’re thirty-five.

After putting a touch of lipstick onto her lips, she tossed the stick into her purse and stepped out into the hallway. “Angie, wake up.” She tapped on the bedroom door on her way to the staircase. “We’re going to be late.”

When the phone rang downstairs in the living room, she quickened her pace.

“Hello, Mrs. Sullivan,” Kyle Bostwick greeted her across the line. “Is Angie up yet? I wanted to say good morning.”

“No,” she replied, “she’s not up yet. How late were you two out last night? She still wasn’t home when I went to sleep.”

“We were out late.”

She didn’t like the chuckle that came across the line. “How late?”

There was silence at the other end of the line before Kyle said, “I’ll let her tell you what happened last night.”

Concerned by the tone of his voice, and that it was something that Kyle didn’t want to tell her himself, Doris put down the phone and climbed the stairs to Angie’s room. When there was no reply to her knock, she opened the door.

Her hands flew to her mouth as if to catch her heart that threatened to leap up out of her throat when she saw that the bed had not been slept in.

Angelina Sullivan was missing.

Chapter One

Present Day

Hancock County Courthouse, New Cumberland, West Virginia

“Your honor, at this time, the defense would like to request that the charges against my client for driving while under the influence be dismissed.” Albert Gordon reached up to present a report to the judge and stepped over to the prosecution table to hand a copy to the prosecuting attorney, Joshua Thornton. “As evidenced by this report, you will find that the breathalyzer that the officer had used to conduct the test on my client was sent for repairs the very day after the defendant was arrested. If the machine was defective, then this calls into question the validity of the evidence against my client.”

Trying not to frown, Joshua read the information he held in his hands.

The facts were before him in black and white. The same machine used to gauge the blood alcohol level of the young man sitting at the defense table had been sent in for repairs hours later.

This is not good.

When he cast a sidelong glance at the arresting officer, Joshua saw the sheriff deputy’s cheeks redden before he looked down at his hands in his lap.

Brad Hendrix had already been convicted twice for driving while under the influence. This time, a nursing student was seriously injured when he rammed his truck into her car. Prosecutor Joshua Thornton wanted this third conviction. He wanted this mandatory jail time. Most importantly, Joshua wanted Hendrix off the roads before he killed someone.

Albert Gordon’s illustrious career as a defense attorney had made him a legend in the tri-state area. Joshua had only to imagine how his distant cousin, Albert, had managed to learn about the machine’s malfunction that warranted it being repaired after Brad Hendrix’s arrest.

The judge took off her glasses. “Mr. Thornton, I’ll hear your objections now.”

“Your honor,” Joshua said, “the breathalyzer was used after the police pulled the defendant out of the lake in which he had driven his truck—after driving it off the road and across three back yards while evading arrest. This is his third arrest for driving while under the influence—”

“Objection,” Albert shouted.

Before the judge could sustain the objection, Joshua apologized for raising Hendrix’s past convictions. Albert had them excluded from the evidence. “Your honor, the defendant was driving recklessly. He’s a hazard and—”

“Your honor,” Albert interjected, “the fact is that the breathalyzer would never have gone in for repair if it had been working properly, in which case the arresting officers shouldn’t have used it, and the results should never have been entered into evidence. The reading from that test is inadmissible, and without a proper gauge of my client’s alcohol content, then the charge should be dropped.”

“Mr. Gordon is right,” the judge said to Joshua. “The DUI charge is dropped.”

Joshua tried to not look in the direction of the defendant’s table. He was afraid that he’d slap Hendrix’s smirk right off his face.

The judge continued, “But the charges of speeding, reckless driving, and avoiding arrest will remain.” She went on to set the trial to start the next week and adjourn the hearing.

While packing up his briefcase, Joshua saw Albert say something to his client that made the young man stomp his feet and slam his fist down on the table. After spouting a curse at the man who had gotten him off for what would have been a certain conviction and jail time, he hurried out of the courtroom.

“Congratulations, counselor,” Joshua greeted Albert when he crossed the aisle. “Your client isn’t out of hot water yet.”

“That’s what I told him. Why do you think he was so happy when he left?” Albert’s expression was not that of a man who had won a pre-trial motion. He ran his hand, which was covered with age spots, over his suit’s lapel. “Can we talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“About a deal.”

Joshua wondered why he had never noticed it before. He had known Albert his whole life, but for the first time he realized how much his cousin had aged. Even though he was one of the most respected defense attorney’s in the area, which enabled him to afford practically the best of anything; his suit was faded and wrinkled. He was stooped over. Judging by the lack of sparkle in his manner, Joshua suspected he didn’t care enough to exert the effort into standing up straight.

Joshua slung his valise across his shoulder. “What kind of deal, Al?”

“You and I both know that jail isn’t what Brad needs. He’s a drunk. He needs rehab.”

“The first step in that is admitting he has a problem. He thinks he’s all right. You can see that by how he blames everyone else for his accidents and arrests. The rest of the world is the one with a problem. He’s right. We do have a problem.” Joshua jerked a thumb toward the door. “Anyone who is out on the road after he’s tied one on has a problem.”

Albert nodded his head in agreement. “You know that I don’t make a habit of defending DUI’s. The only reason I’ve been dealing with Brad is because his mother begged me to keep him out of jail.”

“So she’s an enabler.”

“She’s his mother. You’d be the same way if it was one of your kids.”

“I have no problem with tough love. It did a lot for me.”

Albert let out a heavy breath. “Will you listen to my offer?”

Joshua sat on the corner of the counsel table and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m listening.”

Albert leaned against the railing separating the court from the gallery where the spectators sat. “We get a continuance for the trial. Brad goes into rehab for thirty days. He stays the whole thirty days and you drop the charges.”

Joshua laughed. “What if it doesn’t take? What if he lea—”

“You stipulate that as part of the agreement. If he skips out, the trial goes on. I plead him guilty, and he goes to jail for whatever time you recommend.”

“What if he stays and as soon as I drop the charges, he takes up where he left off?”

“You can get a continuance for up to a year,” Albert said. “That’s part of the agreement. We agree to random drug tests. If he flunks the drug test, or gets into any trouble, then he pleads guilty to these charges, and it’s off to jail.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Hendrix has to remain clean and sober, and on the straight and narrow, for a year before you drop the charges.”

Joshua hesitated. If it was any other lawyer he would have said hogwash, but Albert Gordon was family.

Albert was the son of his grandmother’s sister. As a child, Joshua Thornton recalled sitting next to his great-aunt in court and watching Albert up front working his cases. He introduced Joshua to the world of law and inspired him to be a lawyer like him—a soldier for justice.

Joshua’s thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door at the back of the otherwise deserted courtroom.

“Hey you!”

A wide smile crossed Joshua’s face at the sight of Cameron Gates.

Albert turned to the approaching woman clad in black slacks and leather jacket over a white turtleneck. Her semi-automatic Colt handgun and Pennsylvania State Police shield were displayed on her belt. Her wavy, short, dark hair fell down to her eyebrows and over the collar of her sweater.

In her arms, she carried what appeared to be a large skunk on a leather leash.

The intrusion on their discussion caused Albert to stand up. “This must be the lady I’ve been hearing so much about.” He reached out to stroke the black Maine Coon cat with the white stripe down his back from the top of his head to the tip his bushy tail. Tuffs of white fur stuck out of his black ears. “And this must be Irving, the infamous skunk cat.”

“If they’re talking about a lady, they must be talking about someone else.” While cradling the cat in one arm, she reached out to grasp Joshua by the back of the neck and kiss him.

Slipping his arm across her shoulders, Joshua introduced her to Albert. “Cameron and I have been seeing each other since this past summer. She’s a homicide detective with the Pennsylvania State Police.”

“Is Irving her partner?” Albert joked. “I’ve heard of K-9, do they have feline patrols now?”

“Quasi,” she replied. “He loves to ride in the cruiser with me. I’ve finally gotten him to the point of spending the day with Joshua when he works at home. He likes Admiral.”

Albert looked over at Joshua, who was nodding his head. “Your Irish Wolfhound?”

“They’re good buddies,” Joshua said. “Irving hates me.”

As if to demonstrate his agreement, the cat narrowed his emerald green eyes and let out a growl deep in his throat while glaring at Joshua.

“Irving has issues,” Cameron said.

“Irving’s crazy,” Joshua clarified.

“Which is an issue.”

“Pennsylvania?” Albert led her back to the subject of her status as a homicide detective. “Is Hookstown part of your jurisdiction?”

After she told him that it was, she asked in a teasing tone, “Have you killed anyone there?”

“I live on a little farm out in Hookstown,” Albert told her. “Snowden Road. Actually, it’s not really a farm anymore. I don’t have any livestock . . . since my wife passed away almost thirty years ago.” His voice trailed off while a distant look came to his eyes.

An awkward silence filled the courtroom. Joshua tightened his grip on Cameron’s shoulder. Uttering a meow, Irving reached out a paw to touch Albert’s arm.

With a smile, the elderly man patted the top of the cat’s head. “Yes, we had quite a few cats in that old barn. Great mousers those cats were.” Abruptly, he told them, “I need to get going. I’m late for an appointment.” He shook Joshua’s hand. “I’ll call you later about that deal.”