Page 33

CHAPTER 32

B EN

Rachel and I have been staring at the evidence pinned to the wall in our office for the last thirty minutes, trying to find some pattern that will lead us to a break in Trina’s case.

I scratch my head, frustration flowing through my body. “I just feel like we’re missing something.”

“I don’t know about that. I think it’s got to be one of these three. But which one?” Rachel glares at the photos of our three current suspects: Guy French, Darren Digsby, and John Lemond.

“I don’t think it’s French. He’s not smart enough to get away with it this long.”

“Agreed.” Rachel takes a sip of her coffee and leans back against her desk, still staring at the wall.

I still can’t shake the feeling in the back of my mind that I’m forgetting something important. Something big. I’m in the middle of wracking my brain trying to retrieve a memory I feel like is buried there when my phone rings.

“Donley speaking.”

“Hi Detective. It’s James over at the lab. I’m sorry it took so long, but I think we’ve finally got something on those two partial boot prints from your crime scenes.”

I lean over my desk and grab a piece of paper and a pen. “Go on.”

“Interestingly, we could match the prints to a brand of boot—XT—and we’re pretty sure what style, but that’s not one hundred percent. We can’t tell the size because they were from two partial prints, but we think it’s their TTT model.”

Holy shit.

“Email it to me as soon as possible. And thanks.” I hang up and turn to Rachel.

“Who was that?”

“It was the lab. They’ve got an ID on the boot. It’s XT brand?—”

“A tactical boot?” Her eyes widen.

“Yeah, and it’s their TTT model. That’s a three-hundred-and-fifty-dollar boot. And I’ve seen it twice in the last few months. I can’t believe I fucking missed this…”

“What are you talking about?”

“John Lemond wears those boots—pretentious asshole—and I saw them when we went to check out Guy French at that construction site in River’s Run. You call and see if you can get a home address on Lemond and I’m gonna call River’s Run building department and see if that project is complete. If not, we’re taking a road trip.”

“Guy was wearing them? Three-hundred- and fifty-dollar boots?”

“No. But Alero was. I noticed because I thought it was a bit overkill for his construction site. Our suspect list just grew.”

* * *

TRINA

Emily has been sitting in the passenger seat of my car for several minutes, staring out the window.

I clear my throat. “It’s kind of stuffy in the car. How about I walk with you and I’ll sit on one of those benches while you go see him?”

I’m sure Emily knows I’m just giving her an out not to go alone. It’s early September and pleasantly cool outside. She nods at me, and we both climb out of the car. I notice that the papers she’s holding in her hands are quivering from her shakiness. That, and the fact we’re at the cemetery where she buried her husband last year, makes my heart break for her.

I mean, she just turned twenty-eight years old last month and has already been married, cheated on, and widowed. How is that fair?

I watch as she walks to the grave of her late husband.

It’s not that I don’t feel compassion for Teddy. His bipolar disease was something he battled for years. And he was a firefighter on my shift—under my command—so I would have given my life for him on the job. I know he wouldn’t have cheated, then gotten so low to overdose on drugs and alcohol in a dingy hotel room last September if he hadn’t stopped his meds and therapy.

My brain knows this, but my heart doesn’t accept it. My heart is still angry at him for the pain he caused Emily. I consider that if she can forgive him and let him go, maybe I need to do the same.

I just want Emily to be happy and safe. I was so sure after I talked to Fitz the other day and gave my blessing for him and Emily to be together that he’d reach out to her. But he hasn’t yet and I’m worrying he may not get past his own hang ups to allow himself the love he deserves.

I watch as Emily unfolds the papers in her hand. It’s obvious she’s crying as she wipes at her eyes. I know she wrote Teddy a letter, a goodbye of sorts, and from where I’m sitting, it looks like maybe she’s reading it out loud. When she wipes at her eyes more furiously, I grip the edges of the bench to stop myself from going to her. She made it clear she needed time alone with him. But sitting here, helpless while she grieves fifty feet away from me, is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.She’s strong, though, and I need to let her do this.

I breathe a sigh of relief when she stands, kisses the pads of her fingers, and then touches them to Teddy’s headstone before turning away and walking to me.

I meet her halfway and pull her into a tight hug. “I love you,” I whisper in her ear.

She pulls back and looks me in the eye. “I love you, too, Tri. Thank you for bringing me today. I think I would have chickened out if I had to come alone and I needed this. You’re the best sister and friend I could ask for.”

A tear slips down my cheek and I rush to swipe it away before grabbing Emily’s hand and heading back to the car. We drive in silence for about ten minutes and then, when Emily turns some music on, I feel like she might be ready to talk.

“Can I ask you a question about the cemetery?” I ask as I navigate the curvy roads on the way back from the border of Elladine and Meadow Creek, the cool air providing us with a pleasant breeze through the open windows.

“Sure.”

“What made you pick a cemetery this far out when there’re two in Elladine? I always wondered, but was afraid to ask you.”

I notice the vehicle behind us is riding awfully close, so I move a little more toward the shoulder of the road so they can pass if they want. They don’t.

“Oh, that’s easy. It was spite.” Emily chuckles and when I glance over at her with one eyebrow raised, I wonder if she’s losing it. “Mom and Dad hated Teddy, but they tried to strong-arm me into burying him at the ‘family’ cemetery on Third Avenue and Main. And Teddy’s parents reached out—even though no one in his family had spoken to him in six fucking years—and they wanted him buried in the other one, where all the members of their congregation get buried. So, I aimed to piss them both off and buried him here.”

I let out a hearty laugh. “Impressive, little sister. Remind me never to piss you off.”

I glance up in the rearview mirror again, but the SUV continues to ride too close to the rear of my car.

“Jesus, dude. I’m going the speed limit. Pass me if you don’t like it,” I mutter. I notice Emily glance over her shoulder to look and see what I’m talking about.

We drive another mile and the driver behind us is still dangerously close for these kinds of roads. As we approach a turnout, I pull into it so he can pass us.

Except he doesn’t. He swerves into the turnout and stays about twenty feet behind us.

I keep watch in the rearview mirror. “What the hell?” I mutter. “Emily, don’t look back. Keep looking forward and put your window up.” We both raise our windows and the click of the doors locking fills the car.

I reach for my phone, hands shaking, and I aim to keep it low and out of sight while I unlock it and go to my favorites, then press call. Halfway through a second ring, Ben’s name pops up on the dashboard display.

“Trina? What’s wrong?” His voice is strained.

“Don’t freak out,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. My hands are back on the steering wheel now and I’m gripping so tight that my knuckles are white.

“Telling someone not to freak out means there’s something to freak out about. Tell me. Now.”

“Emily and I are on the way back from Teddy’s cemetery and it’s probably nothing, but a black SUV was tailing us pretty close for miles even though I’ve been driving about five miles over the speed limit.”

“What else? I know you and you wouldn’t call for that alone.” A car door slams and an engine roars to life in the background. “I’m on my way. You’re on Route 47, right?”

“Yeah, about three miles outside of where we would turn off to go home. Anyway, so I pulled over at a turnout to let him pass us and he swerved in behind us. He’s just sitting there, parked about twenty feet away.” I’m still watching the rearview mirror when my stomach drops. “Oh, shit.”

This has to be my stalker. Emily is going to get hurt because of me.

“Oh shit, what? What’s happening?” Ben’s speech is rapid, and his high-pitched voice gives away his panic.

“He’s flashing his lights at us, Ben. What should I do? Stay here? Try to drive away?” My voice is almost shrill now. I glance over at Emily to make sure she’s okay and her hands are fumbling as she taps away on her phone, intermittently looking up into the rearview and passenger side mirrors.

“Okay. Stay calm. According to the location tracker on your car, I’m about ten minutes out.”

“You put a location tracker on my car?” My voice is incredulous.

“Trina, it’s not the time to argue about this. Listen, keep an eye on him, stay in drive, and be prepared to take off if he pulls up closer to you, or if he gets out of the car. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

I shift into drive, then look back up into the rearview mirror, not taking my eyes off of it.

“Em, are you okay?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m trying to take notes on my phone on details of the vehicle and the driver, in case you need them. It’s definitely a male. It’s hard to tell for sure what color his hair is because he has a green ball cap on. And he’s wearing sunglass?—”

The blaring of the car horn behind us interrupts Emily.

“Is that him?” Ben asks.

“Yes”—I hesitate, thinking I see movement. “He’s moving closer. Hold on, Em!”

I slam my foot on the gas and peel out of the turnout, going as fast as I safely can. The SUV follows. My adrenaline kicks in and my heart races in my chest and pounds in my ears as my mouth goes dry.

Driven by the need to get Emily to safety, I force all thoughts out of my mind except navigating this winding road. When we get about a half mile further, we’re on a stretch with a few feet of pea gravel on the passenger side, then a guardrail that protects drivers from a steep drop-off.

“Trina? What’s happening?” Ben’s voice registers in the back of my mind, but I can’t answer, needing to keep my focus on this treacherous stretch of pavement. It’s a risky part of the road on a normal drive because of the drop-off and certainly more dangerous at the speeds I’m taking it.

Why was I so stupid to actually believe he was gone?

The SUV speeds up and crosses the middle line to force us closer to the guardrail. I don’t take the bait and stay between the lines of our lane.

“You’re gonna have to mess up your vehicle if you want to push us off the road, pencil dick,” I hiss.

I’m grateful Emily and Ben aren’t trying to talk to me right now. Well, at least I think they aren’t. It’s that or I’ve completely tuned them out.

Maybe this guy is just trying to scare me, I tell myself. But then the vision of my garage with “whores die” spray painted on it in red flashes through my memory and nausea hits me. No, maybe he’s trying to kill me—and Emily by association.

Before I realize it’s happening, the SUV speeds up and he forces the front passenger side of his vehicle into our rear driver’s side. The screeching sound of metal scraping against metal rips through the air.

“Trina? Emily?” Ben’s voice echoes in the background.

The SUV drops back for a few seconds, and I feel an ounce of relief when we’ve cleared the area with the guardrail and have the natural rock wall to our right instead. At least he can’t push us off the edge of a small cliff now. My goal is to make it to our turnoff before he can do anything else.

Sirens blare through the phone, and it registers somewhere in my brain that Ben is calling for help. “I need all available units to Route 47 between mile markers two and three and have dispatch send an ambulance as well. Assailant is a male driving a black SUV pursuing two females in a gray Toyota sed?—”

Everything fades away except a loud crunching noise as the SUV slams into the rear driver’s side of our car. I can’t control my car, and it causes us to fishtail. I’m helpless to prevent the rear passenger side of our vehicle from careening into the rock wall.

“Trina? Emily?” Ben yells.

Neither of us answer because just as I almost have our course corrected, I watch helplessly as the SUV slams into the driver’s side of my car. A sharp pain in my left side follows the crunching metal from the contact. Excruciating pain. My hands fly to my side as someone screams and I try to look over at Emily to make sure she’s okay. That’s when I realize it’s me screaming, not Emily.

I’m gasping for air, not like when I was breathing fast from the adrenaline surge. This… this is different. My hands are warm and sticky. I know it’s bad.

Please let Emily be okay. And Ben… please let him remember I love him, too.

Then everything fades to black.