Keller County Cops Book Seven: Code of Vengeance (15 page)

Rick frowned.
I need to get back on my feet ASAP, because if that guy wins, Keller County will be in a mess.

A soft knock at the door jolted him out of his pity-party reverie. Couldn't be a nurse, because in his experience they didn't knock.

"Come in." He hurriedly adjusted the blanket over the dark blue sling holding his left arm against his chest and sat up a little straighter, even though the movement sent another streak of agony through him. He ground his teeth and endured it, then pasted what he hoped was a relaxed expression on his face. At least maybe he wouldn't look so bad.

The door swung open, and Keegan stepped into the room, looking a little shell-shocked. Her shiny dark hair gleamed beneath the meager light coming from the small aluminum fixture over the sink. She halted just inside the door and stared at him.

"Ms. Riley?" He frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes. I-I'm sorry. Hello, Sheriff." Her demeanor changed, and her concerned bottle green gaze played over his face. "I should be the one asking if
you're
okay. Detective Ransom said you are, but if you aren't feeling well, I'll be more than happy to come back later."

"No need for that. I'm fine, Keegan." He indicated a tacky blue chair to the left of the bed with his good arm. "Come on in and have a seat. I don't bite."

"Well, those reporters outside certainly do." She ducked her head and blew out a shaky breath. "Especially that Mindy Ravens. She's relentless."

"I've been waylaid by that woman a time or two myself." Surprised by the deep blush that had risen to color Keegan's cheeks, he settled back against the pillow and studied her. "She really must have shaken you up."

"You could say that, but I didn't come here to talk about her." She gnawed her lip. "Detective Ransom said you want to go ahead with your questions, and that surprised me. Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm a little woozy, but I'll live. And I don't like to waste time."

"So much for my reprieve then, huh?"

"Exactly." He tilted his head. "Where were you this morning?"

"What do you mean?" She looked startled.

He shrugged. "Just what I said. Where were you around ten a.m. today?

"In court, sketching the participants in Wicker trial." Her blush faded and her skin grew pale. She shot him an aggravated look. "At least fifty people, including Judge Rouse, counsel for both the prosecution and the defense, and Detective Ransom can verify that."

"Wow, that's a dandy alibi. Did you arrange for someone else to shoot me, then? Since you had to be in court all day, you couldn't possibly have pulled the trigger yourself, but you could've paid someone else to do it."

"Of course not," she snapped, anger flashing in her eyes, "and I resent the question."

"I had to ask."

"Really? I don't understand why. I saved your life yesterday." She folded her hands around her purse in her lap. "Why would I turn around today and pay someone to take you out?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Sheriff--"

"Why were you at the Kitty Kat Klub the night Dirk Woodward died? That's what this all stems from, and you never got a chance to tell me yesterday."

"We're back to that?" Obviously surprised by his abrupt change of topic, she gaped at him. After a moment, however, her expression changed from one of astonishment to one of resignation. "Oh. Well--"

"Yeah, oh. We're back to that." He narrowed his eyes. Would she evade the question this time, or answer him honestly?

She peered down at the purse in her lap as if it held the answer he wanted. Finally, after a long pause, she looked up at him. "Fine. I didn't want to tell you the truth, because I was embarrassed. I followed my boyfriend there that night after I found out he'd been lying to me for months, swearing he'd never go there again and--"

"To the strip club?"

"Yes." She blew out a disgusted sigh. "He did it anyway, and I caught him. Apparently, he'd rather gawk at naked strangers gyrating on a stage than be with me, so... we're not together anymore. I broke up with him the very next morning."

"You followed him there?"

"Yes. I got there right before the murder and found a place to hide. My plan was to wait for him to come out, no matter how long it took, and confront him in the parking lot -- a public place -- so he couldn't deny it." She averted her gaze. "Then that crazy man ran out of the club and stabbed Mr. Woodward. I called nine-one-one and got the hell out of there."

"Why didn't you identify yourself to the nine-one-one operator?"

"I didn't want anyone to know I was there." She glanced down at her hands, wrapped so tightly around her purse that her tendons stood out. "I-I was at the Kitty Kat Klub in the worst part of town on a Saturday night, for crying out loud. If any of my friends found out and discovered I was there because of Barry, I'd never hear the end of it."

"What's Barry's last name?"

"Um... Jones." She chewed on her lip. "Barry Jones."

"How long did the two of you date?"

"About... about six months." She met his eyes. "He doesn't matter anymore. He's no longer a part of my life, so..."

"Does he live in Hunter's Bayou?"

"No." Keegan raised her chin in a move Rick considered defiant. "He's from Gulfport. Why are you asking about him, anyway? He didn't witness the murder. I did."

"I'm just a little curious." He resisted the urge to smirk. She was lying through her teeth. "Where'd you park that night?"

"On the next street. I-I didn't want Barry to know I was there until I had a chance to confront him, and knew that if he saw my car, he'd figure out my plan. I didn't want anybody else to see me at all."

"Makes sense."

"I know. I'm not as dumb as you seem to think I am."

"I never said you were dumb, Keegan." He pushed himself up in bed, and a fresh spear of pain sliced into his shoulder. He winced and held his breath until the agony eased. "Damn."

"You're in pain." Keegan jumped up, dropped her purse onto the chair, and edged closer to the bed. "Should I call the nurse? Maybe you need some more pain medication."

"Not right now." He sucked in a deep breath, and the pain lessened a bit more. He pointed toward the morphine pump. "Once we're done, I'll take a hit of the good stuff. That'll help."

"Why don't you do it now?" she asked, her voice sounding small and confused.

Surprised by the depth of her concern, he frowned. "Because I'm not through questioning you yet."

"I didn't pay anyone to shoot you, Sheriff Blaylock. And I was at the Kitty Kat Klub that night because I'd followed Barry there, and yes, I called nine-one-one when that unbalanced man stabbed Dirk." She scowled. "What else is there for me to say?"

"Dirk?"

"What?" She did a great job schooling her face, even though he'd obviously startled her.

He tilted his head. "You called the victim
Dirk
instead of Mr. Woodward."

"Well, isn't that his name?" She wet her lips. "I mean--"

"Using a person's first name is a lot more personal than calling them by their last name. Dirk Woodward was an inch away from being your brother-in-law before your sister died. You must've known him pretty well."

"Like you said, he was about to marry my sister," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "So I knew him. We weren't friends, however. I never liked him."

"I see." His shoulder throbbed. He pressed his hand to the bandage stuck to his skin beneath the thin cotton hospital gown, ignored the pain, and focused on her angry expression. "Anger sometimes causes us to do things we might not normally do."

"Yes, it does." She rose and gripped the bed rail with white-knuckled fingers. "I did my best to talk Jenny out of marrying Dirk, but she refused to call off the wedding even though he beat her up the day of her first wedding shower."

"Whoa. Stop right there." A combination of anger and disgust filled Rick. He rolled his head to could get a better view of her face. "He
hit
her?"

"Oh, yes," she rasped, tears filling her big green eyes. "I lost count of how many times. And then, finally... he murdered her."

*****

"The techs ran the prints from the shooter through AFIS and got a hit." Amazed they actually had a lead, C.J. put down the phone and turned to Jonah.

His fellow detective gaped at him. "Already?"

"Yeah. The guy's name is Zeke Perini. Just got out of Parchman after doing a dime for an armed robbery and aggravated assault in Forrest County. The judge gave him twenty years, but with time served before his trial and time off for good behavior--"

"He only did half the time."

"That's right." C.J. consulted the information he'd pulled up on his computer while jawing with the lab tech. "He'd also ex-special forces military, so he knows his way around guns."

"Whoa. I'm surprised Blaylock's not in the morgue right now."

"Me, too. If the guy had gone for a head shot instead of center mass--"

"We'd be getting ready to attend the sheriff's funeral." Jonah shook his head. "That was a damned close call."

"Too freaking close." C.J. scowled. "What I don't understand is that the guy was arrested in Hattiesburg, so he doesn't have a connection to Blaylock or any reason for revenge, unless they knew each other some other way, and that doesn't seem very likely. Perini's from Dallas."

"Unless they met in the service. Blaylock did a couple of stints in Iraq, back when he was in the National Guard." Jonah met his eyes. "But my guess is somebody
paid
Perini to take out the sheriff. Somebody with a grudge against him. I mean, Perini's fresh out of the joint and needs cash, so he's looking for work. Why not take out a member of law enforcement while he's at it and make the job even more satisfying?"

"Makes a helluva lotta sense to me."

"Yeah, and he got away, so he might try again if he finds out Blaylock survived." Growing more solemn by the minute, Jonah reached for the telephone. "We need to let the boss know to be on the lookout for him."

"Damned right." C.J. got up. "Why don't you give him a call, then put a deputy on his door at the hospital. We can't be too careful."

"Will do. I plan to head over there myself in a little while. Where are you going?"

"To pick up Perini, provided I can find his sorry ass." He blew out a frustrated breath. "Somehow I doubt he's at the address he gave the Department of Corrections."

"Me, too. You should take somebody with you."

"I agree." He pulled out his cell phone. "I'll ask dispatch to have a deputy or two meet me there. If we don't find Perini, I'll put out a BOLO."

Dispatch sent Tiffany Ransom and Hayden Bird to meet C.J. at Perini's address, a rundown double-wide trailer centered on a narrow shaded lot on the north side of Hunter's Bayou. He climbed out of the car and met the deputies at the edge of the man's unkempt yard. No sidewalk led up to the door. They had to traipse through ankle-deep grass to reach the chipped concrete steps. The warm air around the trailer smelled like sweat.

"Hey, C.J.," Tiffany said. "Is Abby taking it easy while you work?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "She's working nights; I've got days. It's not fun, but we'll survive."

"I know the feeling. Mitch and I run into that all the time." She hooked her thumbs in her gun belt and studied the trailer. "What are we looking at here?"

"Perini gave this address to Corrections when he left Parchman a month or so ago. Claimed he'd found a job down this way, courtesy of a guy named LeDarius Roach, but he never checked in with his parole officer. Roach has lived here for a couple of years, I think."

"Wasn't very smart for Perini to give 'em a fake address," Bird piped up. He'd been standing nearby, silently taking in their exchange. "Neither was leaving DNA at the secondary crime scene. You'd think he'd know better."

"Yeah, well... I'm guessing he's not a rocket scientist." With a hearty smirk, Tiffany turned back to C.J. "You think he's really living in this dump?"

"Hell, no. Roach is, but I don't expect to find Perini anywhere near here."

"If he knew what's good for him, the bastard probably left town after shooting Sheriff Blaylock." Bird drew his brows together.

C.J. started for the door. "I'm hoping Perini's not that smart."

"I'll go around back," Bird said. "Just in case."

"Good idea." Tiffany nodded. "Thanks."

Bird acknowledged her, and then took off through the shaggy grass and disappeared around the end of the trailer. Birds chirped in the trees lining the street, but otherwise the area was quiet. A haze of heat radiated off the aluminum trailer.

C.J.'s nerve endings tingled as he mounted the steps and pounded on the rickety door. "Keller County Sheriff's Office. Open up."

Tiffany climbed the steps beside him and peeked into a grimy window off to the right. "Can't see anything but the couch."

"Figures." C.J. banged on the door again. "Police! Open up, Perini."

Still no answer.

Tiffany looked at him. "You know, if he's on parole, he has no expectation of privacy."

"Meaning we don't need a search warrant to go inside." C.J. grinned. "I was about to point that out myself."

"Then what are we waiting for?" She lifted a brow.

Delighted by her humor that reminded him of Abby, he laughed and twisted the knob. To his surprise, it turned easily. He halted, met Tiffany's wary gaze, and pulled his weapon. If someone was inside, they should be prepared to at least shoot back.

She must have been on the same wavelength, because she drew her gun as well, gripped it with both hands, and fell in behind him on the steps.

"Police!" He yanked open the door and plunged inside the dark trailer. "We're coming in. If you're in here, show yourselves. Now! Lemme see your hands!"

"Clear," Tiffany barked as soon as she entered the tiny living area.

C.J. continued into the kitchen and edged down the narrow hallway. The place was ratty, but fairly clean. A low-pitched yowl made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He spun back around to find the deputy at a standoff with an angry orange tabby that must have slinked from under the table. The animal's fur stood up in spikes, he had his back arched, and his tail was at least twice its normal circumference.