I'm Watching You (16 page)

"Yeah," Zack said. "What can you tell us about
it?"

He shoved out a breath and set down the shoe. "I wish I'd
gone into the house with her that day. I always thought if I'd gone in I
might have found her mother first and spared her the sight."

"But you just dropped her off," Zack said.

"Yeah.
She was excited to be home early. It was
Thursday and her mother's regular afternoon off. Her mom had started
working at the diner in town and had to work all the time. They didn't
see each other much."

"Know anything about her extended family? She ever
talk
about anyone?" Warwick said.

"Naw, she never talked about them at all. I think her mom had a
falling out with her family. They didn't like Frank, I think."

"She
talk
about anything?" Zack
said.

"She always kept the conversation light. She never brought friends
home and spent a lot of time in the library. She could have graduated a year
earlier because she had so many credits but she wanted to stay in town. I think
now it was to be close to her mom. Maybe she thought she was protecting her."

"What about her father?" Warwick said.

"There's no nice way to say it--he was an asshole. He
lost his temper once with her at the pool because she kept him waiting five
minutes." Joel shook his head. "Lindsay had been giving a kid a
swimming lesson. The kid was terrified of the water and Linz always spent extra
time with her."

Linz. Joel's affection for Lindsay was clear. "She was your
friend."

"Yeah.
She was great. And I can tell you she
didn't deserve her father's shit. I can tell you if Frank Hines hadn't
killed himself, there were about a half dozen people in town who would have
killed him.
Myself
included."

Tuesday, July 8, 10:00
A.M
.

Vega and Ayden pulled up in front of Ruby
Dillon's small brick
house,
located just a
couple of miles east of Richmond International Airport. Crabgrass covered the
front lawn, but there was a pile of neatly piled bricks, as if someone was
planning to fix the place up. There were three cars parked out front. By the
looks of the property, several people lived there.

This was Vega's neck of the woods. He'd grown up in the east
end of the county. His old man had worked for one of the airlines and his mom
had taught math at Highland Springs High School. His little brother, Michael,
was a cornerback on the same school's football team. Both his folks were
active in the church.

As Vega and Ayden got out of the car, a jet engine roared over their
heads. Vega glanced up at the sky. He'd never gotten used to the noise.
His roots were in this part of New Kent County, but he'd chosen to live
twenty miles east in a rural section.

They strode to the front porch. Rap music blared from inside the tiny
house. The music was so loud that Vega could feel the bass in his chest.

Ayden rang the bell. "My boys like this crap. I bet they're
cranking it just as loud at my house."

"I thought they were going to summer school."

"The oldest is. The younger one works afternoons at a hardware
store."

"
They doing
all right?"

Ayden frowned. "We're all still stumbling through the
motions. Carol has been gone a year and a half and we still can't get our
shit together." He pounded on the door. This time a dog started to bark.

"At least the dog knows we're here," Vega said.

The sound of locks unlatching followed. Ruby Dillon opened the door. She
wore a brown and orange uniform. Vega and Ayden knew that she worked as a
nurse's aid at Virginia Commonwealth University Medical Center. They
pulled out their shields as she faced them.

Ruby frowned and then turned to shout, "Brianna, turn that music
down!" After a second's pause, the music stopped. She didn't
open the screen door. "You come about that dead man, I suppose."

Ayden nodded.
"Yes, ma'am.
We'd like to ask you some questions."

Her jaw set. "I spoke to two other detectives yesterday.
I've told them all that I know."

"We've got a few more questions, if you don't
mind," Vega said.

Ruby pursed her lips. "I do mind, as a matter of fact. I've
got to get to work."

The woman looked familiar to Vega. He'd bet money she knew his
mother through the church. His mother knew everyone in this part of the county.
"Excuse me for asking, but do you know Rita Vega?"

Ruby eyed him. "Maybe I do."

Vega smiled. He was good at shooting the shit and getting people to warm
up. "You go to Third Baptist?"

"I do."

"Thought so.
My parents attend. Mom's been
a fixture there for twenty years."

Ruby's frown softened. "You're one of Rita's
boys?"

"I am."

Her stance relaxed. "I haven't seen Rita in a few weeks.
How she doing?"

"Fine.
My brother, Michael, is giving her fits. He
gets his driver's license in a week and can't wait to drive. Dad
swears his heart won't be able to take Michael driving."

Ruby chuckled. "Michael's a good boy. Full of piss and
vinegar, but he's good. Rita and George will get a handle on him."
She was thoughtful for a moment. "Your mama was one of the few that
was
nice to me when I got released from jail. She even took
Brianna shopping for her prom dress this spring."

Vega and Ayden had discussed Ruby on the way over. She had been hiding
cocaine for her boyfriend when the cops busted her. She'd done six months
in exchange for testimony against him. He was now doing ten years at
Greensville Prison. But they had realized this morning that the boyfriend, as
it turns out, worked for Ronnie T.

Ruby pushed open the screen door. "I got a couple of minutes
before I got to go. Come on in."

Vega promised himself he owed his mother a big thank-you. If not for
her, Ruby Dillon would have shut the door on them now.

Ayden didn't look rushed. He glanced at the surrounding yards
before stepping over the threshold into the house. "We'll do our
best to hurry things along."

Vega's gaze scanned the living room, which reminded him so much of
his parents'. The furniture was old and worn, but the room was neat and
organized. Off the living room at the kitchen table sat a teenage girl. She
wore shoulder-length braids and an
Usher
T-shirt. No
doubt that was Brianna, the one who had been playing the loud music.

Ruby didn't move from the small foyer nor did she offer them a
seat.

"Tell me about yesterday," Vega said. "How did you
find the body?"

Ruby
sighed
her impatience. "I told that
Detective Kier yesterday that I got the shelter women off to work and the kids
off to school. It was a regular day and nothing out of the ordinary. I loaded
up the trash like I do each morning I work at the shelter and took it out to
the trash cans. That's when I found him."

"You didn't see anyone else in the backyard?" Ayden
said.

"Nope.
And I didn't hear or smell nothing
either."

"What about during the night?" Vega said.

"Quiet. But I did hear a dog barking around five. It woke me up. I
got up and looked out the front window but didn't see anything."

"How many nights a week do you stay at the shelter?" Ayden
asked.

"Three or four, depending on the
schedule.
My son
stays with Brianna when I'm gone overnight. I generally show up around
five and leave by ten. Yesterday was the exception. I stayed late to help
Lindsay."

"You were there when the flowers were delivered?"

"I was."

"Did you see who dropped off the flowers?"

"I didn't. Lindsay's office is closer to the front
door than mine, so it would be simple for anyone to come in the front door and
drop the box on her desk. I thought I heard somebody but figured it was a cop.
After I answered all those calls, I went into Lindsay's office, thinking
she'd returned. That's when I saw the box."

"Did you open it?" Vega said.

"Well, yeah, I peeked inside. Lindsay never, ever gets flowers and
I wanted to see what she'd gotten." She shuddered. "I had no
idea what was under those blossoms."

"Did you look at the note?" Ayden asked.

"No. The note was private."

"Did the shelter have any trouble recently?
Other
than yesterday?"
Vega said.

"One of our residents, Aisha Greenland, kept getting calls from
her husband, Marcus, on her cell phone. He left her all kinds of nasty
messages. Finally, Lindsay had Aisha change the number. And a couple of weeks
ago, we had to toss a gal out for drug possession. She was pissed."

"She got a name?"

"Sally somebody. It's in Lindsay's records."

"I didn't see surveillance cameras at the shelter,"
Ayden said.

"We can't afford them right now."

Vega made a note. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

Ruby's first response was to shake her head no, but then she
stopped. "Well, I'll tell you, last week something did happen,
here, at my house. It wasn't much and I didn't bother to tell
Lindsay."

"What happened?" Vega said.

"I had a break-in.
Someone
came inside my
home while I was at work and Brianna was at school. Nothing was taken but I
knew someone was here."

"Any idea what they were looking
for?"
Ayden said.

"There was a time when someone might have found
something,
but I did my time and there is no more of that
here."

"You report it?" Ayden said.

"No. Like I said, nothing was taken. But someone was in my
house."

The detectives asked a couple more follow-up questions about
Ruby's job and Lindsay's work. Nothing out of the ordinary came up
and they left.

"So why break into a woman's house and not take
anything?" Vega said as they walked to their car.

"I hate coincidences," Ayden answered.

"So do
I
."

Tuesday, July 8, 11:00
A.M
.

Mental Health Services was in a one-story brick
building that was curtained off from the main road by a row of trees. It had
tinted windows and nondescript signage. Few noticed it when they drove by.

Lindsay was on staff at Mental Health Services as a full-time counselor.
Tuesdays and Wednesdays, she worked eight-hour days. On Thursdays she worked a
twenty-four-hour shift, manning the crisis line. The rest of her time was spent
at the shelter.

Since the shelter location was a secret, she used this facility to meet
with her shelter family members on Mondays and Fridays. The county also allowed
her to host her shelter's board of directors' meetings in the main
conference room and interview potential shelter staff here on her off days.

Today, like every Tuesday, her morning was insanely busy. She had held
her regularly scheduled counseling sessions and had also ended up on the phone
with her board director, Dana Miller. The conversation had lasted almost a half
hour. Keeping her tone positive, she had filled Dana in on everything about the
Turner murder investigation. Dana had reminded her that so far she'd been
able to keep the press at bay. Lindsay had thanked her and promised that with
luck they'd be back in business by the end of the week.

Dana hadn't sounded happy, but she hadn't complained too
much.

Lindsay's last morning appointment was with Howard and Marilyn
Jackson. The couple was in their late fifties, came from an affluent
background, and split their time between Richmond and Boca Raton. Lindsay had
first met the couple when she'd helped their twenty-six-year-old battle
alcoholism. Brenda had moved in with the couple a few months ago, and all had
seemed well--until last week, when Marilyn had discovered her daughter was
using illegal drugs. Marilyn had called Lindsay on Sunday night for help.
Lindsay had agreed to a Tuesday appointment.

Marilyn and Howard sat side by side across the conference table from
Lindsay. Dark circles marred the white flesh under Howard's eyes. Clearly
he'd not been sleeping. And the lines in Marilyn's face looked
deeper.

"How long do you think she's been using?" Lindsay
said.

Marilyn's large purse sat in her lap as if it were a shield.
"I don't know.
Years
maybe. I'm
starting to wonder if we ever knew her."

Howard remained silent, his arms folded over his chest. Deep wrinkles
creased his temples and the corners of his mouth.

"Will she come and talk to me?" Lindsay offered.
"I've dealt with my share of drug addicts and alcoholics."

Marilyn shook her head. "She refuses to talk to you or attend any
AA meetings. She thinks she has all the answers. She thinks she's in
control."

"Believe me, she's not in control," Lindsay said.

Howard nodded as if he was relieved to hear someone else say those
words.

Lindsay understood firsthand how difficult and persuasive substance
abusers could be. "What I'm proposing won't be easy."

Howard shifted forward as if needing a plan of action.
"We'll do what it takes."

Lindsay nodded, saying, "Don't underestimate what it takes
to help her get clean and sober."

Marilyn lifted her chin. "We're not afraid of hard
work."

Hard didn't begin to describe what lay ahead. "You need to
tell Brenda that if she doesn't get help there are going to be
consequences."

"Such as?"
Howard said.

"If she doesn't stop drinking and using, then you will
withdraw all financial support. No access to your cash, definitely no use of
your car, until she sees me or an AA counselor. And you can always ask her to
leave your house."

Marilyn's shoulders slumped. "How can we ever ask her to
leave? She depends on us so much. I don't want to see her suffer
anymore."

"I understand the rough road you face," Lindsay said softly.
"I'm not saying you put her out on the street today. But she needs
to understand if she's going to stay in your house, she's expected
to be clean and sober. It's your house and your rules." Lindsay
kept her tone gentle. "The alcohol and drugs are eating her up.
It's only going to get worse."

Tears ran down Marilyn's lined face. "But she needs our
help. And I'm afraid if she doesn't have us, she'll go back to
her ex-husband."

Lindsay thought back to the hour-long conversation they'd had on
Sunday. "Brenda is twenty-six, and she doesn't have a job. She
depends on you for cash, which she's using to buy drugs and alcohol.
She's stolen from you. Marilyn, it's time to stop making it so easy
for her to drink and use."

Marilyn started to weep.

Howard's frown deepened. "Have you ever been through
anything like this? And I mean personally, not just professionally."

Lindsay nodded. "As a matter of fact, I have. I've been
through the kind of battle you are going to fight."

Marilyn sniffed. "Who did you have this problem with?
A brother or a sister?"

Lindsay usually was careful not to reveal too much about herself. It was
important to keep barriers between her and her clients. But today her guard was
down. Seeing Zack yesterday had brought a lot to the surface.
"My husband.
I was devastated when I realized he was
an alcoholic, like my father had been."

Marilyn stared at her through watery eyes. "What did you
do?"

"I begged him to stop drinking. And when he refused, I kicked him
out of our house."

Howard stiffened. "That sounds drastic."

"It was. But he is a tough, arrogant man and I wanted to get his
attention. I wanted him to understand he had to clean up."

"Did he?" Howard asked.

Her hope had been to save her marriage, not destroy it. "Yes. In
the end, he got sober. But it was a very long haul."

Marilyn swiped a tear from her cheek. "Did he ever thank you? Did
he ever understand what you really did for him?"

Sadness tightened Lindsay's chest as she remembered the morning
after he'd left. She'd been guilt ridden after their fight, so
she'd called his cell early the next morning to talk. A woman had
answered.
He's in the shower right now. Can I have him
call you?

That's when she'd realized Zack had slept with another woman
and their marriage was truly over.

Lindsay swallowed the emotions in her throat. "He's living a
happy, productive, and clean life now. That's all I really wanted for
him."

"So it was worth it," Howard said.

Lindsay tried to smile. She still loved Zack, but understood it was over
for them. "Yes."

Howard and Marilyn thanked her, made promises to consider what
she'd said, and left.

Lindsay had spent a long time talking to the couple, and she felt
completely drained. Normally, she worked through lunch, but today, she had to
escape the building and get fresh air.

She dug in her jeans pocket and counted out the money she'd
scrounged this morning from the coin jar on her washer. It was only six dollars
and twenty-five cents. Not a fortune, but until she got her purse back, it was
enough to buy her lunch.

She pushed through the security doors separating the counselors'
offices from the lobby,
then
swung by the receptionist
desk.
"Back in a half hour.
Need anything, Madge?"

The forty-something woman peered over reading glasses.
"A man who cooks."

Lindsay laughed as she signed out. "I'll see what I can do.
Any particular type of cook you're looking for?"

"No, baby.
Just as long as his food is tasty and hot,
I'm good. It doesn't take much to make Madge happy."

As the phone rang, Madge handed Lindsay a stack of pink telephone
messages before picking up the line.

Lindsay shuffled through the messages. Dana had called again. Ruby
called once. And Zack called at 11:32.

Out of habit she reached for her cell in her purse. But she had no purse
and no cell. Both were in her office. She felt naked without them.
"Damn."

She considered returning to the conference room to return the calls, but
her stomach grumbled. Eat first, and then tackle the calls, she decided.

Outside, midday heat warmed her skin, which had been chilled by the
hours in the air-conditioning. For a moment, she just stood and drank in the
warmth. She opened her eyes and stared into the cloudless sky before returning
her gaze to the pink message from Zack. The "Please Call" box was
checked. A lightning quick image of Zack's piercing, unreadable gray eyes
flashed across her mind. Her stomach clenched and her heart quickened. She
wondered if his lips still tasted the same.

Not good
. She crumpled her messages and shoved them in
her pocket.

She started across the parking lot. A quarter mile down the road there
was a fast-food joint where she could grab a burger. Not her first choice but
it would fit the bill.

Halfway across the parking lot she heard, "Lindsay
O'Neil!"

The gruff voice had her turning to find a tall man wearing faded jeans
and a Redskins T-shirt. He weighed about 200 pounds and was losing his fine
blond hair to age. He quickly closed the dozen feet separating them.

"Yes?" Lindsay said. The sun shone in her eyes, forcing her
to squint.

The man's jaw tightened, released. "My name is Burt
Saunders." He dug calloused fingers into his jeans pocket and tossed her
rumpled business card back at her. It fluttered to the ground and landed near
her feet.

Saunders. Gail Saunders. This man was married to the woman she'd
seen yesterday at Mercy Hospital. So this was the creep who had beaten the hell
out of his wife. Damn, he must outweigh his wife by a hundred pounds.

Bloodshot eyes glared at her as he advanced a step. "Where is my
wife?"

She glanced back toward the building and wondered if anyone on the other
side of the tinted glass could see her. Wasn't there supposed to be a
security guard by the door? "I don't know."

He swayed as if he'd been drinking. And he reeked of beer and
vodka. "She moved out last night. All she left me was a goddamned note
that said good-bye and not to come looking for her."

Good for her! Lindsay would gladly have gloated over the victory but she
wasn't a fool. Burt Saunders was a big man, he was drunk, and he was real
pissed. "I don't know anything about your wife's whereabouts,
Mr. Saunders."

"You know where she is. She had your card."

She took a step back. "I don't know anything."

He moved with lightning speed, wrapping his hands around her throat.
With a violent shove, he ground her back into the hot metal of a parked car,
which quickly started to burn through her cotton top. "Bitch, I'll
kill you if you don't tell me where my wife is staying."

The pressure on her throat made speaking difficult. She thought about
the mace she carried in the purse she didn't have. "Get your hands
off me," she managed.

He snarled and put his lips to her ear. "I ought to choke the life
out of you."

Lindsay grabbed his hands and tried to pry them from her neck, but his
grip tightened. Black spots dotted her vision. She coughed and gasped for air.
Soon she'd black out.

Without warning, Saunders released his grip and lifted his weight off of
her. She staggered away from the car and fell to her knees. At the same moment,
Saunders dropped to the ground with tremendous force. He was clutching his own
neck.

Lindsay looked up, squinting into the sun.

Looming over Saunders was Zack, who was already removing cuffs from his
waistband and reciting Saunders his Miranda rights.

Warwick was right behind Zack, gun drawn.

Zack didn't take his gaze off Saunders as he shoved the man down
on the ground to his belly. Zack then wedged his knee into the man's back
and forced his face to the ground. Cuffs clamped on wrists.

Saunders had regained a little of his composure and started to fight the
cuffs. "Fuck you!"

Zack pressed his knee deeper into Saunders's back.
"Don't you speak one more
word.
" He
glanced over at Lindsay. "Are you all right?"

Her throat burned as she straightened and coughed. "Yes. I'm
fine."

Warwick didn't lower his weapon. "Do you have him,
Kier?"

"Yes."

Warwick called dispatch. "This is Detective Jacob Warwick. I need
a patrol car at the county mental health building on Woodman Road." He
waited as the dispatcher responded, "Right."

Saunders struggled. "Let me go. That bitch won't tell me
where my wife is."

Again Zack dug his knee into Saunders's back. This time the guy flinched.
"Don't say another word." The menace in his voice chilled
Lindsay and reminded her of a time when he'd been that furious with her.