It Should Be a Crime (31 page)

*

Bag of bagels in hand, Parker approached the door to Skye’s duplex. It was a beautiful fall morning and she felt good. She had talked to Dex and gotten a full report on the morning’s activities at the courthouse. He added in that the prosecutor was ranting about the fact both her key witness and lead detective were missing in action. Parker figured Teddy Burke had gotten wind of Camille’s letter. His family’s influence had always saved his ass in the past, and no doubt someone at the courthouse had tipped him off. As for Skye, she was probably taking cover till the chaos at the courthouse blew over. Gibson couldn’t be happy with her for getting the tox screen, and now that her case was falling apart, Skye would be the most convenient scapegoat. Parker didn’t wish that on anyone.

By the looks of things, the Chavez case would be over soon and then she and Morgan could have the talk they had both alluded to. She was so immersed in her own perspective she had only a vague idea of how Morgan felt, but she at least wanted to let Morgan know her job was no longer in jeopardy even if nothing were to come from the feelings she harbored. No matter what, she had to face her past before she could find a future with Morgan, or anyone else. So, bagels in hand, she raised her hand to ring the bell and make one last visit back in time.

Parker stopped with her hand in midair. Skye’s front door was slightly ajar, a small but clear signal something was wrong. Cops weren’t careless. Parker bent down and carefully placed the bag of bagels to the side of the porch. Instinctively, she reached around her waist for the gun she no longer wore. After years of carrying a weapon, she still felt naked without it. Parker leaned forward, almost touching the door frame, and listened through the crack. Tense, whispered voices drifted through Skye’s small home, and though she couldn’t make out the words, Parker felt urgent action was required. She gently pushed Skye’s front door open until she could slip through the opening.

Parker stepped quietly through the small hallway and glanced into each room she passed. Skye’s place was modest—one bedroom, one bath, living area, and kitchen. The whispered voices stopped and Parker had only her instincts to guide her. Each room appeared to be empty until she reached the kitchen where she saw the shadow of a figure seated at the small dinette. Parker could only see the figure’s back, but she knew it wasn’t Skye—it was a man. She watched as the stranger raised a mug and drank, slowly, as if enjoying a leisurely cup of morning coffee. There was no turning back now. She knew Skye was in trouble and she had to face this man in order to save her. She had faced him before, but something about the cool, confident way he made himself at home here shook her steady resolve, but only for a moment. She knew she had to display more control than he if she was to wrest away his confidence. She channeled all the hurt and anger from Camille Burke’s last words and drew strength from Camille’s pain.

“Why, Teddy Burke, don’t you know everyone in town is looking for you?”

He swiveled in his chair and faced her. She caught a glimpse of fear in his eyes before his expression settled back into calm. When he spoke he displayed no affect.

“Well, hello, former Detective Casey. If you, a discharged and disgraced detective, found me, I can’t be so very hard to locate, now can I?”

Parker stifled natural responses and merely stared at him. She’d known for years Teddy Burke was a sociopath, but she’d had no idea he was capable of the torment he’d inflicted on his own sister. She was consumed with worry about Skye. Her car was parked outside. She had to be here somewhere. Parker concentrated her full attention on him. She knew her every word, her every action, could mean the difference in whether both she and Skye escaped unharmed. She played along.

“I suppose you’re right. I imagine others will be here soon to look for you.”

His lack of affect was unsettling. “Certainly. We have time to share a cup of coffee. Sit. Drink with me.” He pointed to an empty chair at the table.

The last thing Parker wanted to do was sit. She knew it was imperative to remain in a position of readiness. In addition, she had no desire to drink anything Teddy Burke might offer. But she also knew she needed to buy time, time to learn Skye’s location and time to figure out a way to take control of the situation. She sat and took the mug he offered. Parker drew on years of practice coaxing criminals into telling their stories and offered Teddy the chance to tell his tale.

“I assume you know Camille left a suicide note.”

“I heard something to that effect.”

“She said a number of things about you in the note. Despicable things. I’m sure you’d like a chance to refute her accusations, substitute truth for her lies.”

His eyes flashed anger. “Are you calling my sister, my flesh and blood, a liar?”

Parker realized she was pushing too hard, too fast. “No, no. Not at all. I don’t know why she wrote the things she did.” She took a different tack. “Perhaps someone forced her to write those awful accusations. Someone who was jealous of your relationship with her.”

Teddy Burke stroked his chin and leaned back in his chair, eyes half closed. “There were many who were.”

Ah, I’ve hit on something here.
Parker tamped down on her excitement and continued in an easy tone. “I have no doubt you loved her. It must have been hard to know she was desired by many others.”

He looked through her as he answered, his eyes and thoughts focused on a past scene. “If I tell you everything, you will understand.”

It was part declaration, part question. Parker answered simply, “Yes.”

*

“I went to be with her as I had many nights before. Camille was my true love and she always welcomed me. Our bond was special, everlasting.

“I looked for her in the bed. It was late and she should have been waiting for me. Her bed was empty. I looked around and found her lying near her desk, curled into a hideous display of the grotesque. Her arms and legs were sprawled into spasm and her face was frozen into a mask of horror. The sight of her was revolting. I could barely stand to look at her.

“On her desk, I found a letter full of lies and hurt, obviously conjured by a jealous lover who made her write painful words designed to pierce me to the core. My darling would never speak such lies.

“I knew she wouldn’t want to be found like this. Wouldn’t want people to think she was weak. Taking your own life is weak, even if you’re pressured by forces stronger than your own. I burned the note. She would have wanted me to. I would fix her death scene so no one would ever know she had succumbed to frailty.

“When I was done, I stared at the gun in my hand, willing it to draw back the bullet with the same force it had expended to send the metal hurtling into my beloved’s face. Seconds seemed like hours as I stood still, contemplating the consequences of this final act. I raised the gun to my own temple and sorted through the reasons death would bring me peace. Like a rush of cold, my composure returned and I chose to survive. She would’ve wanted me to go on. I found a handkerchief in my pocket, and slowly and deliberately, I wiped the black casing of the weapon to a mighty shine.

“I was just finishing when I heard rough boots running up the stairs. I shoved the cloth in my pocket, tossed the gun on the floor, and ducked into the adjoining study. Peering through the slightly cracked door, I watched the dirty handyman burst into my beloved’s sanctuary, leaving spots of grass and dirt to mark his path. He stopped short at the sight of her lying in a massive pool of her own blood, but not short enough. His boots trailed the essence of her being everywhere he stepped. I watched him look at her face, perhaps searching for signs of breath. He even leaned close, barely touching. Seeing no indication of life, he backed away, his heavy boots catching on the gun lying behind him, sending it skittering across the wood plank floors. As if entranced, he followed its path and, joy of joys, picked up the shiny weapon and held it in his rough and grimy hands. I was barely able to conceal my glee. Tiptoeing to the hall, I charged into the room and surprised him, standing over her body.

“The handyman…what kind of name is ‘handyman’ for someone who does little bits of nothing? He turned at the sound of my entrance and read the accusation pouring from my eyes. His glance flicked down to the gun in his hand. Uneducated, yes, but he was not entirely lacking in common sense. He threw the gun to the ground and ran past me, his master, hurtling down the staircase. I pretended to pursue him, but I had more pressing matters to attend to.”

*

“So you destroyed the note and called the cops?” Parker spoke to break the trance his telling had evoked and she found the sound of her own voice jarring after the singsong revelations of the madman. She knew she shouldn’t push him if she wanted to buy time, but his cold-blooded account of his sister’s death left her repulsed and impatient.

“I protected my family, yes.” Not a shade of defensiveness in his tone.

“You protected yourself.” Parker assumed the most disgusted expression she could muster. It wasn’t hard under the circumstances. “How much did you have to pay the ME to cover your tracks?” Tired of the imbalance of the situation, she resolved to provoke him to anger. Anything to gain some advantage while she formed a plan. She was certain she could hear a quiet groan close by. Steeling herself for sure conflict, she resisted the urge to cut a glance through the doorway of the adjoining room.
Skye, where are you?

“How long had you been raping your little sister, Teddy?”

“I’m tired of talking now. Drink your coffee and I’ll take you to see your friend.”

Parker glanced down at the mug in her hand. All she could see was the glass of poison this man had driven his only sibling to drink. Teddy’s hands were tucked under the table’s edge and his stillness was unsettling. She had no doubt he was armed and was equally certain he had no intention of letting her live to reveal his sordid tale. She knew she had only seconds to act. Parker noted the steam as it wafted from the coffee mug and it inspired her. She drew the cup of coffee to her lips but at the last moment she wrenched it away and threw the heavy ceramic mug and its scalding contents at Teddy’s head. He leapt from his seat, screaming in pain, as the liquid burned his eyes. Parker lunged across the table and knocked him to the floor with the entire weight of her body. She stepped on his wrist until he let loose his gun and she knocked it across the room. Fists whaling, she delivered the punishment she had wanted to administer since she caught him threatening Morgan weeks before. Unleashed, her rage drove her fists to strike him over and over again and she lost herself in revenge, for Morgan, for Camille, for countless other victims she had never been able to avenge.

A moan, louder now, broke her trance. Parker looked down at her own hands, bloody and broken, and shook her head as if to clear away the entire scene. Her mind cleared and she realized the sound wasn’t coming from the man beneath her. She concentrated her every effort to focus.
Skye. I have to find Skye.
Parker winced as she grasped the arm of a chair for balance and stumbled across the room, following the sounds of Skye’s pain.

Skye lay on the floor beside her bed. Her forehead was bleeding and her face was puffy from several well-landed blows. Her hands and legs were bound and it looked as though she had snaked her way out from under the bed before giving in to the pain of having been beaten. Parker bent to untie her and murmur words of comfort.

“Skye, baby. Look at me. You’re going to be okay.” Parker hurried to untie the cords wrapped tightly around Skye’s wrists and ankles. Skye, hands now free, motioned for Parker to lean in. Parker moved in close, but could still barely make out Skye’s labored words.

“I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Camille. Poisoned. I knew.” Skye coughed and Parker motioned her to say no more. She didn’t want to hear anymore because she didn’t have the energy to absorb, let alone process, the revelation. Later. She would process things later. Right now, she knew she needed to call this in, but she needed to make sure Skye was okay first. Her face was almost unrecognizable. Once she freed Skye’s bonds, Parker lifted her onto the bed and walked over to the bedside phone. She lifted the handset and started punching the numbers to bring help. Before she could finish, she heard a loud bump against the door frame and looked up into the eyes of the psychopath she thought she had rendered harmless. Teddy Burke leaned heavily against the door, weak from his beating, but drawing strength from the large handgun he trained on Skye. His eyes were mere pinpricks seated in swollen sockets, but his voice was clear and loud.

“Put the fucking phone down or I will kill you both.”

Parker knew it was a lie. He planned to kill them both no matter what she did. She met his stare without waver, but she did not see him. Her mind was turned inward and all she saw was Morgan. All she could think of was how she would never be ever to tell Morgan she loved her beyond measure. She couldn’t help it. She let loose a mirthless laugh at the irony of the revelation that surfaced too late.

“You think this is funny?” Teddy’s hand shook as his rage consumed him.

Parker made a snap decision and she delivered her words on the run. “No, but I do think I’ll have the last laugh.” She was almost on him when the shot rang out.

*

“Hey, Morgan, what are you doing back down here?” Ford was hunched over his desk in his office. From the doorway it looked like he was hard at work reviewing a file, but a closer examination revealed he was poring over a crossword puzzle.