Fatal Reaction (27 page)

CHAPTER 73

Warden Joe Jenkins couldn’t have sounded more apologetic.

Mike was crushed by the news.

Ana was in trouble, and Dorian Carmichael, potentially a coconspirator with Noreen Pafford, was about to be released on bail.

Mike wondered why Noreen had him locked up in the first place.

As an alibi, for when Ana went missing.

“Shit. How did this happen?” Mike sped down Main Street in his patrol car. He came to a congested intersection and flipped on his lights. “Come on, move it.”

A short siren blast cleared the way.

“I don’t exactly know. The attorneys have been working on it all morning. Apparently Dorian Carmichael’s attorney convinced Judge Coleman that Dorian was being set up. The only thing I know is that they said there weren’t prints tying him to any of the evidence, not even on what was found at his house, and, Mike . . . your name came up.”

Shit.

“I knew that was going to happen sooner or later.”

“We’ve known each other a long time, and I don’t believe for a second you didn’t cover your bases, but maybe this case is too close to home for you to be working on.”

“Joe, don’t even start. It was Ronald Graham who found the evidence, and both he and Coop were with me the whole time. Ron was the first upstairs, end of story.”

“I believe you, Mike, but it’s not me you have to convince.”

“Is it too late to change Coleman’s mind?”

“Orders are already written up, and bail is on its way. Carmichael should be out within the hour.”

“Who’s posting bail?”

“Jared Monroe.”

CHAPTER 74

The county correctional facility was a concrete fortress surrounded by high fences and razor wire and was secured by dozens of armed guards. The flat face of the building loomed several stories over a weathered parking lot.

Jared pulled into a front-row parking spot and waited.

It took less than a half hour for Wendell to call back with details of Dorian’s release and another forty minutes to finalize Jared’s posting bail.

Jared watched the minutes tick by and waited for word from Ana that never came.

Anger, jealousy, and embarrassment, all emotions Jared wasn’t used to, bubbled to the surface as he recalled Colby’s response when he asked her if she loved Dorian. Colby had been through a lot, and even though Jared was falling for Ana, hearing her admit that she was in love with Dorian had stung.

The front door opened, and a guard escorted Dorian out. He looked like hell and walked with his head down and shoulders rounded.

Jared left the driver’s side door open and walked toward him with a balled-up fist that connected with the shiner just under his left eye as soon as he was within arm’s reach.

Dorian’s head whipped to the side. He staggered and nearly fell.

“Hey.” The guard who had been watching from the doorway rushed toward them.

Dorian held up his hand. “No problem here. I deserved that.”

“That’s for sleeping with my wife.” Jared cracked his knuckles to release the tension in his joints.

Dorian scooped up a ball of snow and held it to his face. “I know you didn’t bail me out just to take a swing at me. What are you doing here?”

“Get in the car and we’ll talk.”

Dorian got in and put on his seat belt without saying a word.

“Tell me where to find Noreen.”

Dorian turned on the heat and warmed his wet hand in front of the vent. “How the hell should I know? In case you didn’t hear, she’s the one who had me locked up. We haven’t exactly been in touch.”

“Dorian, I don’t have time for this. Your pathological need to screw everything that walks has Ana in trouble. You want out from under this nightmare, you tell me where Noreen would go if she wasn’t done ruining you.”

“Ana told you, didn’t she?”

“Told me what?”

“That Noreen was setting me up.”

“No, she didn’t. Colby told me it was a woman who attacked her.”

“She’s all right?”

Jared could see his relief. “Yes, she’ll be fine. Now where would Noreen go if she was, in fact, framing you?”

Jared pressed his hand to the back of Dorian’s seat and looked over his shoulder, speeding backward out of the parking spot. His tires squealed as he exited the slow-opening gate and floored it.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Give me your phone. My battery is dead.” Dorian’s hands were shaking.

Jared unplugged his phone from the charger and handed it to him. “Who are you calling?”

“Counselor Kelly McTiernan, please. This is an emergency. Where’s the ‘Speakerphone’ button on this thing?”

“Hold that button on the side.”

A woman’s voice came over the line. “This is Kelly.”

“Kelly, it’s Dorian Carmichael. Who knew I was getting out on bail?”

“What?”

“Who, other than you, knew I was getting out?”

“Wendell Cobb, the judge, and opposing counsel. Why?”

Dorian hung up the phone without answering her. “I know where Noreen is. Get on 490 East.”

Jared merged onto the highway doing a solid eighty-five miles per hour. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Noreen’s lawyer knew I was getting out on bail, and I’m sure he told her as a precaution, right? You say she has Ana, who, besides being your apparent
girlfriend
”—Jared scowled at Dorian’s tone—“is sister of the woman whose murder I’m being framed for. Noreen alleged rape to get me behind bars, but she’s been setting me up for worse. She can’t stand the fact that I’m in love with . . .” Jared didn’t need him to finish his sentence to know it was Colby, and, at the moment, he didn’t even care. “If she has Ana, she’s planning on finishing what she started, and putting a smoking gun in my hand.”

“You’ve got a real way with women, Dorian. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“They didn’t have to. Head toward Bristol Mountain,” he said. “Noreen’s at my goddamned cabin.”

CHAPTER 75

The Merlot made Noreen light-headed, and after only two glasses, she couldn’t tell whether she was warm from the fireplaces, or the alcohol.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Depends.” Ana shrugged.

“On?”

“On whether or not you
want
to kill me, or you feel like you have no choice.”

Noreen smirked, her buzz making her a little more truthful than normal. “What if it’s both?”

“Then yes, I’d say you’ve gone crazy.”

In lucid moments, Noreen had come to the same conclusion, though she wasn’t sure how or when it happened. She didn’t start out enjoying any of it, but power was its own drug.

“You know, Dorian told me he loved me.”

“And you believed him?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” After all the years she had spent earning his affection, changing everything about herself, and making herself into someone like the women he flaunted, she needed to. A tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it.

“You all right?”

“Never better.” Noreen tore off a length of tape, the adhesive of which kept sticking to her gloves, and covered Ana’s mouth with it. Ana was an unavoidable, eventual casualty—a loose end—and Noreen refused to let her manipulate her into feeling bad about that. She shook off the sadness and forced a laugh. “You’re good. You almost had me.” She lifted the green glass bottle to the firelight. Half a bottle of wine and she was sniveling. She set the bottle on the counter and opened the dishwasher, more out of habit than anything else, to put her glass inside. Two wineglasses sat side by side in the top rack, one of them rimmed with lipstick.

Noreen threw her own glass as hard as she could against the wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces.

“Do you know how hard I tried to get Dorian to bring me here with him for a weekend?” Noreen said, even though Ana couldn’t answer her. “I begged, Ana, and I’m not the begging type. Just once I wanted what all of these other women get. Do you know what I got instead?” Ana shook her head. “A spare key and, ‘Have a nice time. Place is yours whenever you want it.’” Her gloved hands shook as she bent down and collected the largest of the glass pieces. “Bastard.” A jagged shard broke through the glove and embedded itself in her left hand. She let out a pained cry, pulling the glass from the cut, and peeled off the glove, which was quickly filling with blood. “Shit.”

She wrapped a kitchen towel around her hand and made a fist to keep the pressure on it, searching for anything she could use to slow down the bleeding. The cut was deep, too deep, and needed stitches, something that would have to wait. She opened the cabinet under the sink and reached behind the dishwasher soap for the first aid kit.

Despite being right-handed, she found that something as simple as opening a gauze pad seemed a monumental task. The wrappers were the pull-apart type and required a dexterity she couldn’t manage with only one good hand.

She could feel Ana’s stare at her back.

Ana was a paramedic, and her only option.

Noreen set the kit on the table in front of her.

Blood soaked through the dish towel, enough for it to drip.

“I need your help.” Noreen peeled the tape from Ana’s mouth, the irony of the situation not entirely lost on her.

“Why would I help you?”

“Because it’s what you do. You help people, and you hope I’ll let you go.”

“Will you? Let me go?”

“No, but I’ll be merciful.” Noreen reached into a cardboard box of medical supplies and pulled out a syringe and a vial of succinylcholine. “Sydney went quickly, once I injected her, Ana. She was gone in a couple of minutes. I can make this easy, or hard.” Her hand throbbed, the pressure of the too-tight towel turning her fingertips cold and dusky. “Your choice.”

“Fine, but not for that reason.”

Noreen didn’t care why; that Ana was willing to help was all that mattered. She took a chef’s knife from the holder on the counter and cut the duct tape holding Ana’s hands. She replaced the knife and put the whole set in the living room, out of reach.

Ana stretched her arms and shoulders. “How bad is it?”

Noreen held her hand over the sink and slowly unwrapped the towel around it. The cotton fibers stuck to the edge of the cut, which bled faster when she pulled it. “Not terrible, but it could take a couple of stitches.” The gash was short, but deep. She rinsed her hand under a stream of cool water and tried not to pass out. “What do we have in there?”

Ana sifted through the medical kit. “Nothing to stitch with. The best I can do is Steri-strips and a bandage.”

“Is there antibiotic ointment?” Noreen patted her hand dry and turned to find Ana holding a pocketknife.

She knew she should’ve checked her.

CHAPTER 76

Mike’s Dodge hummed down I-490, the tires eating up the snow-dusted highway at almost ninety miles per hour as the vehicle struggled to keep up with Jared’s BMW. Tourist traffic congested the roadway as they drew near to the Bristol Mountain Ski Resort and Jared veered effortlessly through it. Mike jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, and the truck pitched, threatening to roll. He’d kept several car lengths between him and Jared to avoid being recognized, but he was beginning to lose him.

“Come on, come on.” Mike pressed down on the accelerator and switched lanes.

Jared crossed over two, gaining three car lengths between them.

Thick traffic gathered near the exit where a construction zone funneled the steady stream of cars down to a single lane less than one mile ahead.

Mike gripped the steering and aimed for the front of the pack.

Jared veered out into the shoulder, and his tires spun. The car fishtailed sideways.

Traction and four-wheel drive had Mike gaining on him, but he couldn’t catch up. He pulled into the right lane, and a horn sounded, long and loud. He’d cut off a Camry he hadn’t even seen. The close call had his heart hammering in his chest.

Cars alternated turns, merging as the left two lanes formed a single-file line.

Jared sped around them.

Mike could only watch him fade off into the distance with no idea where he was headed. He picked up his cell and dialed Coop, hoping he’d been able to make sense of what was happening.

“This is Coop.”

“Coop, it’s Mike. Any luck?” He had been calling Ana for hours with no answer.

“Nothing. I can’t get a trace on her cell.”

“So her phone’s off?”

“Off and the battery’s out of it, most likely. Otherwise, I’d still get a trace. Where are you?”

“Eastbound on 490, about ten minutes out from the Bristol Ski Resort. I lost sight of the doctors in a construction zone and have no idea where they’re headed. Any ideas?”

“Not yet, but Julian called. They found a print.”

“Where?”

“On the bottle of succinylcholine found at the Monroe house. You’re never going to believe who it belongs to.”

“I can’t believe a lot of things lately,” Mike said. “Who?”

“Noreen Pafford.”

“You’re kidding me.” Noreen had sat in front of him, answering his questions with the fluid ease of truth and the trademark signs of a victim. If the whole thing had been an act, it was well researched and well rehearsed. He rolled down his window, waving his arms and shouting that he needed to get through due to an emergency, but few people yielded to his frantic display.

Traffic went from a crawl to a standstill, and Mike recounted every painful detail of Sydney’s homicide investigation. He reprocessed the crime scene, wondering what, if anything, they had missed. The autopsy had been inconclusive in that it didn’t point to a particular agent, though the succinylcholine found at the Monroes’ house posed a likely possibility. Dorian had been forthcoming about his lying to Sydney about having cancer, and his medical license had been fast-tracked for revocation. He had also admitted to consensual sex with Noreen. Mike’s well-honed gut didn’t peg Dorian as a rapist, or a murderer, and despite the damning evidence, there wasn’t a single fingerprint tying him to any of it. The only print belonged to Noreen, a suspect he had immediately discounted because she was a victim, and if he was being honest, because she was female. He thought back to the day after Sydney’s murder, when he returned to the Aquarian to get the surveillance tapes from Samuel and was called over by the least helpful eyewitness he’d ever interviewed. She had given him one solid piece of information: the person leaving room 11 was a woman. Tunnel vision had him thinking only of Misty. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of Noreen as a suspect sooner.