SEE HIM DIE (8 page)

Mobile Police Department

Monday, June 29, 10:23 a.m.

Fifty-three minutes.

Julie had been waiting almost an hour for Lieutenant Cannon. Thirty or so of those minutes she had been sequestered in this little room. This wasn’t like the room where he’d interviewed her before. This one was much smaller and stark white save for the little beige metal table where she sat in the center of the cramped space.

The call had come at eight this morning. Lieutenant Cannon wanted to see her at nine-thirty. She’d arrived on time and had promptly been ignored since. She desperately wished she had grabbed a second cup of coffee on the way. Her stomach rumbled though she felt confident anything she attempted to swallow would come right back up. She shuddered at the notion.

Unable to sit still any longer, Julie stood. She wiped her palms against her hips and considered whether she should step into the corridor and ask someone if she’d been forgotten.

Maybe they’d brought in a suspect. As much as she wished she could, she couldn’t identify anyone. She’d only heard the intruder, she hadn’t seen him. Presumably, the intruder and the killer were one and the same. Julie closed her eyes and pressed her fingers there.
Austin was dead
.

For the past forty-eight hours, she had felt mostly numb. Now, however, she couldn’t seem to keep her emotions steady. She collapsed back into the metal chair. She vacillated between wanting to burst into tears and wanting to scream in frustration. What happened to Austin was a terrible thing. Just terrible. No one should be murdered. Yet, she couldn’t feel the expected grief. She felt sad as she would for anyone who lost his life. The part that truly troubled her was the anger she felt at not being able to hear him say he was sorry for the way he’d treated her.

She closed her eyes. What difference did it make now? Austin was dead.

She was free
.

Her breath caught as the realization sank deeply into her bones. Could she be happy about that? The memory of the fantasies that had invaded her sleep last night made her feel flushed as much with embarrassment as with anything else. Was she wrong to have those feelings when she couldn’t summon any grief for her dead husband?

Julie braced her hands on the table and banished the thoughts. She was confused. Austin had taunted her with his other women until she couldn’t think rationally. What she needed was a good shrink. Marie warned that the trauma of finding Austin’s body would take its toll. There were emotions at play that Julie didn’t understand yet. There were stages of grief. For all she knew, she could still be in a sort of shock.

Still, she was free. She clasped her hands in her lap. No more trying to please him. No more worrying about what she’d done wrong. No more dreading when he came home.

It was over
.

The door behind her opened and she jumped, startled.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Mrs. Barton.”

Lieutenant Cannon walked to the other side of the small table and pulled out the chair. Julie reminded herself to breathe. Hopefully they had news about the investigation. The case couldn’t be solved quickly enough to suit her.

“Do you have a new lead on the case?” She moistened her lips, wishing her voice didn’t sound so shaky and hollow. She had nothing to be nervous about.

“We do.” He nodded as he flipped through the manila folder he’d placed on the table. “Do you have an attorney, Mrs. Barton?”

Trepidation slid through her. “No, sir. I tried to hire one for my divorce, but I couldn’t afford any of them.” No need to mention none would have taken her case anyway. Besides, why did she need a lawyer?

“Would you like to have an attorney before answering my questions?”

“I don’t think I need an attorney.” She shrugged. “I want to help with the investigation.”

“I understand, Mrs. Barton. We do have to remind you that the things you say can and will be held against you. So, if you’d prefer to have an attorney present, I’ll be glad to wait while you call one.”

“No.” She cleared her throat again. “I don’t need one.”

“Very well then. Did the intruder say anything? How can you be sure it was a man?”

Julie thought about the question for a moment. “He didn’t speak. He shook the bathroom door. Twisted the knob. Just before my landlady arrived he sort of body slammed the door, but he never said anything.”

“Why didn’t you mention the intruder to your landlady?”

Julie’s heart stumbled. Why was he asking these questions? “When I came out of the bathroom, there was no one in the apartment. I guess…” She shrugged, her stomach roiling at the memories of that night. “I guess I was afraid I’d imagined… him.”

He closed the folder. “Had you been drinking that night, Mrs. Barton?”

Her throat went dry. “Yes, sir. I was upset so I had wine at the bar. My friend, Marie, brought me home.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Were you drunk, Mrs. Barton?”

Her heart lurched into panic mode. “I… no. I…” She cleared her throat. “I had a couple of glasses…”

“In fact,” he said, his tone firm, “you drank a significant amount and passed out in your friend’s office, didn’t you?”

“I hadn’t been sleeping very well.” She shifted in her chair in a futile effort to get comfortable. “I was tired. I fell asleep. Yes.”

“You and Mr. Barton were having marital problems, were you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You had a very public disagreement on Friday night in your friend’s bar.”

She nodded. “We did.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Struggling to stay calm, she recounted the way Austin brought his new girlfriend to the bar and picked a fight. Julie kept her final words to Austin to herself. No need to share that part.

The lieutenant listened and then appeared to take a moment to digest what she’d told him. “Did you say,” he opened his folder once more, “that you’d see him in hell before you’d sign the divorce papers without a proper settlement?”

Julie nodded. “Yes, sir, I did. I was angry.”

“Then you drank a bottle of wine and went home, is that correct?”

Wait. “No. It didn’t happen like that. Several hours passed before I went home.” Was he trying to make her look guilty? Maybe she did need an attorney.

“Here’s what I know.” He held her gaze, his face unreadable. “You and your husband argued. You were very unhappy about the prenuptial agreement you signed before you married. You drank too much and then went home and found his body.” When Julie would have defended herself, he held up his hand for her to wait. “You never mentioned an intruder when you spoke with your landlady who stated that it took her multiple attempts to get you to the door. Your bloody hand and finger prints are all over the apartment.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Do you see how this looks, Mrs. Barton?”

Julie’s body started to shake. She tried to keep herself still but she couldn’t. “When I spoke to my landlady I hadn’t found his… body. I didn’t know.”

He smirked. “We have motive,” he held up his thumb, “we have opportunity,” he held up his index finger. “All we need is the murder weapon.”

Dear God. He really was suggesting she had murdered Austin! “I didn’t do it. What about Barbie—the woman Austin left with Friday night? Have you questioned her?”

“She has an airtight alibi. Two witnesses confirmed that Mr. Barton dropped her off at her apartment shortly after midnight.”

How convenient. Fury seared away some of the fear. “I did not kill Austin.”

Cannon opened the folder once more and removed a paper from it. “According to this receipt,” he turned the page toward her and tapped it, “you purchased a Beretta nine millimeter one week ago. Do you know what caliber weapon killed your husband, Mrs. Barton?”

A new kind of terror exploded in her chest. She shook her head in answer to his question.

“Nine millimeter.”

Her heart sank. “It wasn’t me. I’ve never even fired a weapon.” The memory of her hands being swabbed that night nudged her. “Didn’t they check my hands for gun powder or something?”

“They did.” He searched her eyes for a moment. “Where did you hide the gun and the gloves, Mrs. Barton?”

“I didn’t have any gloves or a gun. I never bought that gun!” Someone was framing her!

Cannon pushed the paper closer to her. “Look at the signature. The copy of the driver’s license.”

Julie stared at the paper. The signature looked like hers. The driver’s license was hers. Jesus Christ. “This is impossible.” She looked directly at the lieutenant. “I didn’t buy this gun. I’ve never owned or fired a gun in my entire life.”

“Your brother-in-law said you cheated on Austin first. His brother confided in him that he’d endured your promiscuousness for as long as he could. Austin was concerned that you wanted rid of him without losing access to the Barton money. He suspected you might try to get him out of the way in hopes that his brother would be more generous.”

Randall would never have said those things. “That’s impossible. I spoke to Randall yesterday, he—”

“Came to me immediately after seeing you. He was disturbed by your behavior at the meeting. He believes that perhaps you’re unbalanced.”

Julie stood. Her chair screeched across the floor. “I won’t listen to any more of this. I think I will call an attorney after all.” Would she even be able to get an attorney? Why would Randall say those things? Was the lieutenant twisting his words to confuse her?

 “I will find the murder weapon, Mrs. Barton. Until I do, I’ll be watching every move you make.”

Did Detective Duncan believe she had killed her husband? The possibility that he considered her a killer hurt far more than the realization that this man was actively pursuing that avenue. “I thought the detective was watching me because the department was concerned for my safety.”

Cannon’s face changed. His gaze narrowed. “What detective?”

Beneath the table, her fingers knotted together. “Detective Duncan. He’s been watching my friend’s house. He… he said the killer might come after me. I thought that’s why you wanted to see me this morning. I thought there was news.”

Cannon jumped to his feet. “Stay away from Blake Duncan. He’s on administrative leave pending an investigation into his recent behavior.”

“Are you saying you didn’t assign him to watch the house?” Julie felt stunned. What kind of fool was she that she repeatedly allowed men to deceive her?

Cannon snatched up the folder. “Trust me, Mrs. Barton, you’re in enough trouble without getting mixed up with Blake Duncan.”

With the lieutenant’s order not to leave town ringing in her ears, Julie made her way to the exit. A whirlwind of emotions roared through her. She wasn’t sure whether to cry or to scream…

There was something wrong with Julie. Whatever happened in Cannon’s office, she looked seriously upset. Blake had a hard time keeping up with her as she drove back to Morrison’s house.

She whipped into the driveway practically on two wheels. What the hell? Blake parked on the street and got out. Had Cannon suggested she was a suspect? According to Lutz, that was where this investigation was headed. He and Julie needed to have a talk very soon.

As if she’d decided the same, she strode up to him. “Still protecting me, Detective Duncan?”

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Barton?” Whatever had happened, the woman was immensely pissed.

“Your lieutenant said he didn’t order you to watch over me.” She planted her hands on her hips. “He said you’re in serious trouble and that I should stay away from you.” Her lower lip trembled. She withdrew her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “So, before I call and tell him you’re here again. Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing watching me? Why were you at the bar the other night? Did you kill Austin?”

Keep your cool
. “I did not kill your husband.”

She flinched.

“Yes, it’s true, I wasn’t ordered to watch over you.” He heaved a big breath. “I was worried about you and I decided on my own to make sure you were okay. I knew the department wasn’t going to and you needed a break.”

Despite the anger on her face, a tear broke loose and slid down one cheek. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to reach out and swipe it away.

“Why would you do that?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of tires squealing and a roaring engine cut him off.

Blake turned toward the commotion. Car. Black. Heavy tint on the windows.

As he watched, a window lowered. Steel glinted in the sunlight.

Gun
.

“Get down!”

Blake pushed Julie to the ground, his body covering hers.

Gunshots exploded in the air.

Rounds buzzed past his head. He pressed his face to the ground.

Shot after shot rang out… until the ringing in his ears became one long, endless sound.

Blake slowly lifted his head.

They were gone.

He peered down at the wide-eyed woman beneath him. “You okay?”

She hesitated, and then nodded.

He looked around. Any second now sirens would start wailing. He doubted the shooters would dare make a second run. “We have to get out of here.”

“Where’re we going?”

He pulled her up with him and headed for his rented car. “Some place safe.”

“What will we do then?” she asked as he ushered her into the passenger seat.

He started to lie and tell her they’d contact Cannon and get some backup. Instead, he opted for the truth.

“I don’t know.”

12:40 p.m.

Blake drove for nearly half an hour in silence. Every time he opened his mouth to say something, he snapped it shut again. What did he say? He felt as if he were kidnapping her. Maybe he was. He told himself his actions were for her safety, but he’d lied to himself before.

What he needed was a plan. How the hell did he expect to get away with this? He’d gone over the edge. There was no other rational answer. He glanced at the woman staring vacantly out the window. The memory of those seconds on the ground with her soft body under his kept haunting him. The urge to kiss her… to grind his hips into hers had almost robbed him of any good sense he’d still had.

How did he expect to pull this off?

If he’d had a slim chance of salvaging his career before, he had absolutely zero prospects at this point.

He’d been a Marine and then a cop his entire adult life. Becoming a detective was all he’d ever wanted. A wife and kids hadn’t been on the table. Back home in Birmingham, he’d had the occasional girlfriend from time to time. His sisters had warned he was setting a bad personal example for his younger brother. After all, Luke had chosen to go into law enforcement just so he could be like his older brother. Only, he’d taken the college route. With his degree under his belt, he’d served a couple of years as a beat cop before applying to the FBI.

His brother was dead and it was Blake’s fault. He should have set a better example.

Fury burned through his chest. So what if his career was in the crapper? Why not add a kidnapping charge? As long as he accomplished his goal of bringing down Randall Barton, he could live with whatever came next. His family would forgive him when they understood his reasons.

Randall Barton would pay for taking Luke’s life.

“Where are we going?”

Blake waited until he’d taken the right onto County Road 32 before he responded. “It’s a quiet place I found a few miles outside Fairhope.” He lifted his shoulders, let them fall. “Off the beaten path.”

He could feel her staring at him. The shock of being shot at was wearing off, leaving her uncertain and confused. If she argued or demanded an explanation, he might be able to grasp how to proceed. Her silence left him without the slightest idea what to say next.

“You need time and distance to regroup. Get a handle on what’s happening.” Sounded reasonable. He dared a look in her direction. “Do you know a good attorney?”

She turned away. “The only thing I know is that I must be losing my mind.”

Dividing his attention between her and the road, he ventured, “You’re scared. A lot’s happened in the last couple of days.”

“I’m angry,” she said, her attention focused on the passing landscape. “And I’m terrified.”

She trembled. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel to prevent reaching for her. “Understandable.”

More of that heavy silence closed in around them as he drove the final few miles to Bay Haven Drive. He stopped at the end of the driveway, ensuring his car was hidden from view by the trees and mature shrubs surrounding the small cottage. As they climbed out of the Taurus, the gentle breeze blowing in off the bay wrapped around them. Though the location was only minutes from town, it felt like a lifetime away from the rest of the world to Blake. This was the only place he’d found in the last year where he felt some sense of peace.

It was the one place where he might be able to protect her.

To her credit, Julie didn’t protest as he led the way to the back door and unlocked it. Inside, she wandered through the small kitchen and living room combination before disappearing into the short hall. No need for him to follow her. There were two small bedrooms and one bathroom. A large screened-in porch overlooked the canal that led out to the bay. Inside and out, the décor was shabby coastal chic according to the realtor who’d leased him the place. Mostly, the place had that lived in feel and he liked it. Everything from linens to silverware was provided. He’d stocked the kitchen with canned and dried goods. Depending on how long they were here, a few fresh foods would be necessary.

“Is this where you live?”

He leaned against the counter near the sink as she wandered back into the main room. “When I need a break.”

“From reality,” she suggested.

“Yes.” No point denying the truth.

He watched her inventory the furnishings and decor. Nothing here belonged to him. The books and magazines had been left by other tenants over the years. Some had even left framed photos of their families. There were no photos of his family in this cottage or at his townhouse back in Mobile. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, he did. Very much so. It was about the fact that he couldn’t bear to look at their faces while he was doing
this
.

“Is this your family?” she asked as she picked up one of the photographs.

“No. Previous tenants.”

She placed the photograph back on the table and looked directly at him. “Why did you bring me here?”

For a moment, he was distracted by the hope mingling with the fear in her blue eyes. Her blond hair hung free around her shoulders. The desire to trail his fingers through the silky length was palpable. The pink tee and faded jeans made her look so young… so lost and alone. He hated himself for wanting to take her into his arms and comfort her. Wanting her was killing him.

She was a Barton.

He cleared the turmoil from his mind. “We need to talk.”

She sat down on the sofa, her gaze never leaving his. “You can start with why you’ve been watching me.”

“I’ve been watching anyone connected to Randall Barton. Your husband is dead so that leaves only you.” Why bother with all the details of how he’d stalked her for months. How he grew aroused just watching her shadow move in front of her bedroom window. How he’d yearned to taste that lower lip she chewed on whenever she was nervous.

She sat perfectly still as she seemed to digest his answer. Seven or eight seconds later, she asked, “Why?”

The lie he’d decided he would tell her if this time ever came eluded him. There was only the truth pressing against his chest. “He killed my brother.”

Her lips parted on a gasp, and then she clamped those straight white teeth down on her lush lower lip.

“Luke was a special agent with the FBI,” he went on. “His first assignment was in Manhattan.” The sound of his brother’s voice filtered through his mind and Blake smiled. “He was so excited. I think he felt that being an FBI agent trumped being a local cop back home.”

“How would Randall have had anything to do with your brother’s death?” The worry and uncertainty clouding her expression told him she remained open to listening.

“Wrong place, wrong time.” He pushed off the counter and claimed the chair directly across the wicker coffee table from her. “Barton was in New York on business in March of last year.”

She nodded. Blake imagined she would remember. Austin had accompanied his brother on the trip.

“While there, Randall met with a man my brother and another agent had under surveillance. A major drug distributor for the northeast.” He paused to give her an opportunity to respond. She said nothing. “As he left the meeting, one of Randall’s bodyguards spotted the surveillance detail. Randall and your husband drove away with the other bodyguard while the first one took care of the two federal agents on surveillance detail.”

The worry and doubt had given way to disbelief. “How can you be certain? Did the other agent survive?”

Blake struggled to keep his emotions under control. He couldn’t allow her to see that side of him. He needed her to believe him—to trust him. “No, they were both murdered that night.”

“How can you be sure what happened?” She turned her hands up. “Were there video cameras? Witnesses?” Her voice grew louder with each word. Hysteria was taking hold.

“There was a witness,” he said quietly, hoping to calm her. “He said the shooting was racially motivated and even picked out two guys from mug shots to frame, but I knew better. I waited and when he was least expecting company, I showed up. He was at the Port Authority about to board a bus south. Randall Barton had a new home and a hefty bank account waiting in Mobile for him. I offered to give him a ride. As you can imagine, he was a little hesitant at first but he came around.” No need for Blake to mention that he hadn’t given the man a choice.

 “Where is he?”

“Living in a little house on the river south of Atlanta.”

“How did that happen?”

“I took every penny I’d ever saved. I mortgaged the house I’d inherited from my grandfather. Whatever it took to buy the truth. I managed to convince him that if he showed up in Mobile he’d end up dead. So he took the better offer, which included a new identity and a one-way ticket way south of the border. And I got the truth.”

She schooled her expression, clearing away all emotion. “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“With what? The old man had already given his statement. The case was closed. I was never going to change anything with the truth I’d purchased. If I’d turned the guy in—assuming he would have told the same thing to anyone but me—Barton would have had him killed long before trial.” He shrugged. “I decided to take care of it myself.”

Fear widened those blue eyes staring directly at him. “Did you kill Austin?”

“No.” Damn. Is that what she thought of him? “Austin didn’t give the order, Randall did. It’s Randall I want.”

She licked her lips and his heart skipped a beat.
Fool
.

“You want to kill him to avenge your brother’s death.” She frowned as if she’d realized the absurdity of her own question. “You’ve been in Mobile a whole year. Have you made any attempts on his life?”

“If I wanted him dead, he would be dead.”

She rubbed at her temple as if an ache had begun there, and then she shook her head. “I know Randall Barton. There is absolutely no way he’s involved with drugs and murder.” She exhaled a weary breath. “I think you might have picked the wrong brother.”

He laughed, a dry sound. “You just don’t know the real Randall Barton.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then frowned again. “The detective in charge of the investigation into Austin’s death—”

“Cannon?”

She nodded. “He claimed that Randall said I cheated on Austin and that I didn’t want to lose my connection to the Barton money. Cannon has to be lying. Randall would never say any such thing.”

“Are you sure about that?” Blake flared his hands. “Do you really know Randall as well as you think you do? Cannon has no reason to lie.”

She stared at the floor for a moment. “I thought I did, but I guess I’m not sure of anything anymore. Cannon had a receipt with what looked my signature and a copy of my driver’s license where I’d purchased a gun—the same kind of gun used to kill Austin. I’ve never owned or fired a gun of any sort. I didn’t buy one.”

“With the right connections, it’s not difficult to get a copy of anyone’s license from the DMV. Randall has the right connections. He’s setting you up to take the fall for the murder.” All the pieces fell neatly into place. The idea had crossed Blake’s mind, but he’d resisted on some level. Now, there was no denying the cold, hard truth. Blake stood and walked to the window to look out over the water. “Randall killed his own brother.”

“That’s simply not possible.” Julie joined him. “Randall loved Austin. That’s the one thing I know for certain.”

Blake turned to her. She still didn’t get it. “Austin was playing too fast and loose. Randall could no longer count on him to keep all his secrets and to conduct business discreetly. He may have loved Austin, but not enough to risk facing the death penalty for murdering two federal agents or for all the other crimes he has committed.”

“Austin proved time and again he wasn’t the man I thought he was.” The doubt in her eyes told Blake he was getting through to her on some level. “I’m beginning to think he was capable of anything. But not Randall. I can’t see him doing those things.”

“Trust me. He does do those things.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked him straight in the eye. “Whatever we believe, the real question is what can we prove? I didn’t kill Austin, but I can’t prove it any more than you can prove Randall ordered your brother’s death.”

“All we need is a starting place. Austin must have left something we can use.” Damn they needed a break.

She chewed on that lip again and his mouth went dry. “I may have something that could be important. Maybe.”

He fisted his fingers to prevent grabbing her and shaking her. If she knew anything at all, she needed to spit it out now. “What?”

“First I need to call Marie. I should have called her already. She needs to know I’m okay.”

He didn’t like the idea of her contacting anyone. On the other hand, he needed to keep her comfortable and cooperative. “All right. But you cannot tell her where you are. Understand?”

She nodded, and then made a face. “I don’t have my phone.”

“You can use mine.” He dragged it from his pocket. “I want the conversation on speaker.” As much as his body wanted to, his brain wasn’t ready to trust the lady completely.

“No problem. I have nothing to hide.” She entered her friend’s number.

After two rings, Morrison answered. “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh my God! Julie, are you okay?”

Worry cluttered Julie’s face once more. “Yes, yes. I’m fine.”

The woman on the other end of the line started to cry. What the hell?

“Marie, what’s going on?” Julie asked.

“I was afraid you were dead!”

“God, no. I’m okay. Did someone call the police about the shooting?”

Hesitation. “Julie, what’re you talking about? What shooting?”

Julie rubbed at her forehead. “Sweetie, when I got back to your house after the meeting with Lieutenant Cannon…” She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on Blake. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Why did you think I was dead?”

“The house.” Her friend made a keening sound before continuing. “Someone set it on fire. I was afraid you were inside.”