Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) (21 page)

“How is everything?” Janet asked.

“Depends.” She smiled. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you at the support group, but I’m keeping busy.” She gave her the details of her work with Rachael.

Janet raised an eyebrow. “How do you feel about working as a private investigator?”

“Good, I think. Though I’m not sure I know what I’m doing. I’m asking questions, digging up whatever information I can.”

Janet smiled. “Let me guess, you want to interrogate me in private.”

“Not interrogate, but I did want to ask you more questions.”

“Are you sure you want to use your time for that?”

“Part of it.”

Janet shrugged. “It’s your dime, but I’m not sure I can add anything to what you already have.”

“I know Candace saw you in group, but did you counsel her individually too?”

“Angel, I can’t talk about my clients. You know that.”

“So she is a client.”

Janet sighed, crossed her arms, and leaned back in the chair.

“Do you think she killed her husband?”

“No. I already indicated that.”

“Any idea who might have?”

“I wish I did, Angel. I hate to see Candace suffer like this. She’s a good person.”

“Did she ever talk to you about anyone Phillip might have had a problem with?”

Janet picked up a pen and tapped it against her left hand. “There just isn’t anything I can tell you. What has Candace told you?”

“Not much. She and Gracie both mentioned Darryl, Phillip’s nephew. I’m working that angle too. I just thought you might know something that could help.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“What about Michelle Kelsey? I know she hasn’t been coming to group lately, but are you seeing her privately?”

Janet pinched her lips together. “Angel, please don’t ask me about these people. Whatever clients say is confidential, and unless they are a danger to themselves or others, I won’t break that confidence. You of all people should respect that.”

“I do.” Angel frowned.

“Then go to the source. Talk to Michelle and Candace yourself.”

“Guess I’ll have to.”

“Now, how about we get back on track?” Janet asked. “What do you want to work on today?”

“My father,” Angel said without hesitation.

Janet made a note on her pad. Rather than ask about it, she settled back in her chair and waited for Angel to continue.

Angel wasn’t sure where to start. Just envisioning her father brought tears to her eyes. “He looks so frail and . . . old. I guess I never really thought of him as getting older. He’s always been my dad—the guy who could do anything. Now someone has to do everything for him.”

Janet nodded. “Must be hard.”

“I can hardly stand to be around him. He looks at me as though it’s all my fault.”

“Your fault? You mean the stroke?”

“That and the heart attack. I can’t blame him for thinking that. If I hadn’t argued with him that day my place was broken into . . . He wanted me to go home, and I refused.” Angel used the tissue Janet handed her to dry her eyes and blow her nose, then tipped her head back against the chair. “I should’ve listened to him and just gone along. Maybe things would have been different.”

“Do you really think his medical condition is a result of what you did or didn’t do?”

“No, not in my head. The doctor told us he had coronary artery disease and that he’d had a heart condition for years.”

“You say he’s angry with you. Has he told you that?”

“Not in so many words. He can’t talk, but the way he looks at me . . . I feel so guilty and he treats me differently than he treats everyone else.”

“Maybe you’ve been treating him differently.”

“Well, yeah. He is different.” Angel picked up a throw pillow and hugged it.

“We’ve talked before about putting your feelings on the table. What kind of feelings does being around your father evoke?”

“Guilt, mostly. My mother says I don’t visit with him enough.”

“Do you agree with that?”

“No.” She sighed. “Yes. I don’t want to be around him. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel angry and resentful.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “And that makes me feel even more guilty.”

“Angel, some of what you’re describing is grief.”

Angel considered that for a moment. She had and was still experiencing grief over Dani’s death, and Billy’s. That grief she understood. “But he didn’t die.”

“No, but part of him has. He’s not the same now as he used to be. He’s lost his health, his job, his strength. You lost the father you knew. It’s not at all unusual to feel guilty and angry. That’s a big part of grief. Maybe your father’s anger isn’t directed at you. Maybe it’s directed at himself.”

“What about his disappointment in me? I mean, that’s pretty clear. I took time off my job, and he hates me for it.”

“Are you sure? Have you asked him?”

“No, I haven’t asked him. He can’t talk, he . . .” Angel blinked away tears and bit on her lower lip. She hadn’t asked him because she was afraid of the answer. Shaking her head she added, “I can’t talk to him.”

“I could be wrong, but it seems to me you are projecting your own feelings onto him. And you’re not giving him a chance to let you know how he really feels.”

“So you think I’m imagining those looks?”

“I didn’t say that. But it’s important for you to know what he’s really thinking.”

“I know you’re right, I just don’t know how to start.”

“I think you do.” Janet’s gaze met Angel’s.

“Tom seems to understand him. I suppose I could talk to Tom and get some pointers. I could talk to my dad more when I’m at the house. I haven’t made much of an effort to communicate.”

Janet smiled. “Good start.”

“You think it will work?”

“Getting at the truth will help.”

“Yeah, but what if I’m right, and he is disappointed in me?”

“Then it’ll be his problem, not yours. You may not find the answer you’re hoping for, but you’ll know the truth . . .”

“And the truth shall set you free,” Angel finished.

“That’s true, but it’s not what I had intended to say. Knowing will allow you to stop beating yourself up over it.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Angel folded her arms. “I’ll work on it.”

Janet nodded. “Sounds like some good first steps.”

Angel left the office with resolve to work things out with her father. Soon. First, though, she had to check in with Rachael.

“Sorry,” she said when Angel finally reached her. “I’ve been in court all morning, then I had to go talk to Candace.”

“Yeah . . . I heard about her confession. What’s up with that?”

“I could strangle the woman. Of course, she did it without my say-so. She’s protecting Gracie. She hasn’t been able to talk to the kids. When you talked about Gracie having been home, it really upset her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were right. I’m sure Gracie’s footprints were part of what Candace cleaned up.”

“So, she thinks confessing will protect her daughter?”

“She’s convinced of it, and unless we can come up with a more compelling suspect than Gracie, I’m afraid Candace won’t budge.”

Angel told her about her interviews with the women’s group, Fitzgibbon, and Darryl.

“Wow, you’ve had a busy day. Interesting. So either Fitzgibbon or Darryl could have killed Phillip. Better see if Fitzgibbon has an alibi before we get too excited about him. There’s a small
problem with Darryl in that you’re the only one who can testify to his being at the farm during the investigation. I’m surprised none of the officers checked out the barn—well, I’m not really. The guy was killed in the house, and the murder weapon was there.”

“Are you telling me my say-so isn’t good enough?” Angel switched the cell phone to her other ear.

“The DA would rip it apart on the stand. You didn’t actually see Darryl. You saw a guy on a cycle. You called Nick and told him you hadn’t gotten a good look at him.”

“Right. A lot of good that did me.”

“Basically, you can’t prove it was Darryl,” Rachael went on. “We could try to get the police to go back out to the farm and check out the barn.”

“I’m not sure that will do any good. They might be able to prove he was there but probably couldn’t pinpoint a time.”

“Right.”

“I need to tell Nick about him, anyway.” Angel frowned. “I wish Callen were on the case. He, at least, might listen to me.”

“I don’t know, Angel. He’d likely side with the Sunset PD on this. Especially since they’ve got a confession. They’re certain they have enough to make the arrest stick with the prints and gun residue and now the confession. In the hearing yesterday afternoon, the judge ruled against her getting out on bail. That’s not a good sign, especially since I stressed her spotless record and the fact that she had three children she needed to care for. He almost found me in contempt of court because I wouldn’t back down. I tried everything, but the DA convinced him that Candace is unstable enough to harm her children as well.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, maybe not. The children were interviewed at school yesterday, and they talked about how strict their mom was and how she made them keep the house spotless. She must have been terrified of what Jenkins would do to them if they were the least bit messy.”

“They’re suggesting she was abusive?”

“Unfortunately, yes. The children will be going back to the farm to stay with their grandparents for now.”

“Mmm. Mom told me they were in town.”

“They seem nice. They called me today, and I had a good talk with them. The kids will be well cared for. What we need to do is focus on clearing Candace.”

“How do the grandparents feel about our investigation?”

“They’re all for it. In fact, they urged us to keep going and even offered to pay part of the bill. They want answers.”

“They may not be thrilled with the outcome. If Darryl is telling the truth, Gracie was out at the farm before he arrived. He says Jenkins was already dead when he got there and Gracie and some kid were driving away. He gave me a description of the pickup she was in. I’ll try to track it down at the school tomorrow.”

“All right. Keep me posted.”

On her way home, Angel wondered how Gracie would take the news about her mother’s confession. Her thoughts drifted from the case to her session with Janet and, consequently, her father. A glance at her watch told her it was dinnertime at the Delaney household. Maybe she’d stop by to see what wonderful dishes her mother had cooked up and invite herself to dinner.

When she reached the house, Angel knocked and at the same time turned the doorknob. There were no familiar smells emanating from the kitchen. No sign of her mother or father. Had something happened?

“Ma?” Angel called.

A muffled sound came from the back of the house. Angel hurried through the living room and down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. “Angel, is that you?” her mother cried out.

“Where are you?” Angel pushed open the door but didn’t see anyone. The bedcovers had been tossed back.

Anna grunted. “Over here. Help me.”

Angel crossed the carpeted floor to the other side of the bed. Anna lay on the floor, pinned down by Frank’s bulky form.

“What happened?” Angel scrambled over the bed and knelt beside them.

“Call an ambulance,” Anna gasped. “I was helping him get into bed, and he fell on top of me. I hurt my arm and I can’t move him.”

Angel placed the call and at the same time dragged and rolled her father onto his back and away from Anna. She wasn’t certain who to attend to first.

“He blacked out. I’m afraid he may have had another stroke. He’s still breathing, isn’t he?” Anna tried to sit up but cried out in pain.

“Don’t try to move, Ma. Just lie still.”

Anna whimpered. “I think I may have broken my arm.”

Angel checked her father’s carotid artery for a pulse. Nothing. She pressed deeper, desperately feeling for the familiar beat, watching his chest and praying for it to rise. There was no movement. Angel leaned down, putting her ear to his chest. Nothing.

No, God, no. Please.
Angel rose up on her knees and started CPR, knowing as she did that her efforts were too late. Frank Delaney was dead.

“Angel?”

She leaned back on her heels. “He’s gone, Ma. He’s gone.”

A strangled cry escaped her mother’s lips, mingling with the screaming sirens of the emergency vehicles. Anna closed her eyes, and Angel crawled over to her side, placed a pillow under her head, and grasped her hand. The sirens increased in intensity as the strobing lights flashed across the bedroom walls. Anna gripped her hand.

“I need to let them in, Ma. I’ll be right back.”

How she managed to survive the next few hours, Angel would never know. She moved robotlike through the house to let in the EMTs and explain what had happened. She watched silently as they loaded her mother onto the stretcher and wheeled her out to the waiting ambulance. At her mother’s insistence, Angel stayed behind. “See to your father,” she’d said. “Call Tim.”

“I will, Ma. I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I can.” She called Tim, arranging to meet him at the hospital. He would call their brothers and the funeral home. “Go be with Mom, Angel,” he said. “She needs you.”

Numb, Angel followed in her car as EMTs transported her
father’s body to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival.

You do what you have to do.
Anna’s oft-spoken words drifted over her. Angel stayed at the hospital while her mother was examined and x-rayed and told she had a fractured radius and ulna in her right arm.

It was 10:00 p.m. when Angel and Tim finally left the hospital. The doctor opted to admit Anna for observation, more because of her age and what she had been through than the extent of her injury. She’d been pinned under Frank for two hours. If Angel hadn’t come by when she had, Anna might have been trapped all night.

Pain medication dulled the pain and Anna’s senses, acting as a sedative and allowing her to sleep. Tomorrow she’d awake to find she was a widow.

Angel sat in the darkened room for a long time, watching over her mother’s sleeping form. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as reality dawned. Frank Delaney was gone, and she would never have an opportunity to make her peace with him. She would never know how he really felt about her, because she had never asked. Now it was too late.