Authors: Erica Spindler
Tags: #Contemporary Women, #General, #Romance, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Fiction
Justice for Sara (2 page)
Monday, June 3
10:40
A.M.
Luke glanced in the rearview mirror. Katherine McCall stood on her porch, watching him drive away.
He’d finally come face-to-face with Liberty’s version of Lizzie Borden. He’d expected her to be harder, not so young and certainly not so wholesome-looking.
He pictured her: shoulder-length medium brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, pretty brown eyes, a smattering of freckles across her nose. The quintessential girl next door.
He supposed that was the point—she
was
the girl next door. And she very well may have beaten her sister to death and gotten away with it. The way ninety-nine percent of Liberty thought.
A jury of her peers had found her not guilty. Case closed, as far as he was concerned. His job was to make certain somebody didn’t turn all that misguided fervor into vigilante justice.
Luke eased around the bend, heading back toward the Liberty town square. He wouldn’t let those big brown eyes fool him. She was angry; she had a chip on her shoulder. Both had been obvious. He didn’t blame her; he’d be pretty pissed off, too.
She’d come back to town for a reason. An important one. Otherwise, why put herself through this? ’Cause it wasn’t going to be nice—or easy. The graffiti, he feared, was only the beginning.
Although she’d seemed more resigned than rattled by the vandalism, it could be she didn’t realize how hated she was here. Rumor had it she planned to open a bakery. Did she think cookies would change people’s minds?
He eased to a stop at the light at Main and Church streets. When he’d heard she was coming back, he’d done a little homework. Katherine McCall had walked out of the St. Tammany Parish jail at eighteen, with almost no family and a ton of money. She’d headed to the Northwest and settled in Portland.
The case that had been such a big deal down here had hardly made a blip on the radar up there. She’d gotten a job with a baker and had eventually opened up her own place: the Good Earth Baking Company. She had six outlets in the Portland and Seattle areas.
It didn’t make sense. Why leave the comfort of there to come here?
His radio crackled. “Liberty Twelve?”
He answered. “Twelve here.”
“One-two-eight Big Bear.”
Luke smiled. Trixie had worked for his dad for twenty years. After all those years reporting to him, she couldn’t bring herself to openly report
on
him. So they had come up with a code. His dad was Big Bear, 128 his office. They had others as well, plus they improvised as they went.
“Ten-four, Trix. See you in five.”
Like many small southern towns, Liberty had been built around a town square. Back in the day before malls or the Internet, the square had been the center of town life. The courthouse, post office and police station were located on the square. A bed-and-breakfast, several shops and a couple restaurants as well. In the center of the square was a lovely gazebo, which had hosted weddings, spring and fall festivals and countless other civic and private events. Liberty’s first church, St. Margaret’s, was just one block over.
The Liberty P.D. was located on the square’s northeast corner. Luke parked in his dedicated spot and climbed out. Two elderly women strolled past: one had attempted to teach him piano when he was in the second grade, the other had had the unlucky job of being his seventh-grade English teacher.
Luckily, neither woman held a grudge.
“Morning, Luke,” they called in unison.
“Ladies,” he responded. “Beautiful day.”
“Bit warm for this time of year,” said one.
“Unseasonably,” agreed the other.
“Global warming,” the first said. “Where do you stand on the issue, Luke?”
No way he was getting pulled into that hornets’ nest. He knew those two—sweet, retiring little old ladies they were not. More like tag team wrestlers. Get sucked in and he was dead. An hour gone, minimum.
He smiled winningly. “I’d love to discuss the subject with you, but it’s going to have to be another time. Duty calls.”
His old teacher touched his sleeve. “You heard she was back, didn’t you?”
“Kat McCall,” the other said, voice hushed. “I suggest you don’t sleep. She strikes at night—”
“—when no one’s watching.”
He wanted to laugh at their drama. Instead, he assured them he would, wished them a good day and slipped into the P.D. Trix was waiting, expression anxious. “How’s the weather?” he asked.
“Stormy,” she said, handing him his messages. “Thunder and lightning.”
Luke thanked her and headed to his office. His father sat, back to the door, as he rummaged through a file cabinet.
“Hey, Pops, what’re you doing here?”
He swiveled to face Luke. “I’m still chief of police, aren’t I?”
Seeing him there, shrunken and gray, affected Luke like a punch to the gut. His larger-than-life dad had always dominated the big chair and desk.
Now they dominated him.
Luke cleared his throat. The most recent round of chemo had really taken it out of him. “You’re not supposed to be driving.”
He looked irritated by the comment. Luke wasn’t surprised. “Never expose your weak spot,” his dad had always preached. “It gives your enemy the best place to strike.”
But he shouldn’t be the enemy, Luke thought. He was his son. “You badgered Mom into bringing you down, didn’t you?”
“Sweet-talked,” he countered.
Luke leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest. “What can I do for you?”
“I hear she’s back in town.”
Luke played dumb. “Who’s that, Pops?”
“Her. That murdering McCall girl.”
“She was found not guilty by a jury of her peers.”
“Jury of her peers?” He snorted in disgust. “Hardly. A bunch of New Orleans liberals. Democrats, I’d bet. Every last one of them. Besides, not guilty isn’t the same as innocent.”
Luke could’ve pointed out that the Constitution covered all Americans, not just the ones with the same social and political leanings as Chief Stephen Tanner, but that would’ve been a waste of breath.
“She seemed decent enough.”
“You talked to her?”
“Some kids vandalized the cottage, so I stopped by to check on her. Assured her we’d be keeping a close eye on the place and told her to give us a call if she needed anything.”
“Why’d she come back?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You should have. I don’t trust her.”
“And I got the feeling she doesn’t trust you.”
That stopped him a moment. He narrowed his eyes. “Good. She knows I’ve got her number. I’ll be watching.”
“It’s been ten years, Pops. She was acquitted. Isn’t it time to let it go?”
He flushed. The angry color made him appear healthier. “She beat her sweethearted sister to death with a baseball bat. On my watch. And I let her get away.”
“You didn’t let her get away. It went to trial—”
“People don’t see it that way. They figure if I’d done a better job investigating, there would have been more for the prosecution to work with.”
“How do you see it, Dad?”
“What kind of a bullshit question is that?”
His dad’s face went from red to purple and he started to cough uncontrollably. Luke didn’t rush to his side; he would only push him away, the same as always.
Luke crossed to the watercooler and got him a cup of water.
After a few sips, the coughing jag eased a bit. Luke stood back, giving him space, watching as he fought weakness. That was his dad. Stubborn. Pigheaded. He refused to step down. Refused to admit his leave of absence was anything but temporary.
Six months ago, after his dad’s diagnosis, Luke had left the St. Tammany Sheriff’s Department to join the Liberty force. As his father’s condition had worsened, his “help” had turned into the role of acting chief.
It hadn’t been easy. His old man resented Luke’s help and grumped at and badgered everyone. No going peacefully into the night for Chief Stephen Tanner. No, he would be kicking and complaining up until his last breath.
Finally, the coughing ceased altogether. His dad sank back in the chair, looking old and beaten. He passed a trembling hand across his face. “Both McCall and Wally,” he said suddenly, “the same night. Wally was a good man. A real good man.”
“I know, Pops. I remember.”
“There was nothing I could do. It wasn’t even my case.” He sighed, the sound weary. “Sheriff’s Department botched it. Not me. But I was the one who looked bad. He was one of my guys. On patrol.”
“Nobody blames you. You’re too hard on yourself.”
He went on as if Luke hadn’t spoken. “Two unrelated and unsolved murders in one night. In Liberty, son. Population seven hundred and fifty. How the hell does that happen?”
Officer Wally Clark
2003
The night of the murder
Liberty, Louisiana, police officer Wally Clark liked working the graveyard shift. By the time he came on at 11:00, little ol’ Liberty had rolled up the sidewalks. A town of families with young kids and retirees, for any kind of entertainment you had to go ten minutes up the road to the metropolis of Covington or Mandeville.
Wally eased his cruiser along Front Street. He scanned both sides—on his right, the Tchefuncte River, on the other, shops, cafes and other small businesses asleep for the night.
Not a creature stirred, not even a mouse.
Wally grinned. Most folks would be bored brainless by this gig; he found it peaceful. He’d patrol the streets, munching on carrot sticks and sipping his Yoo-Hoo chocolate drink. Every so often, he’d get a call about kids parking on Bayou Road or a domestic disturbance, he’d even had a couple breakins to investigate over the years, but most of the time he just cruised, waiting for 4:00 a.m. to roll around. That’s when he’d swing by the Tasty Cream to say hello to Miss Louanna and get fixed up with the first doughnuts of the day.
Wally took the bend where Front Street stopped following the river, slowing in the curve to shine his spotlight into the cemetery. All quiet. Just the way it was supposed to be.
Wally’s thoughts moseyed back to Miss Louanna and her prizewinning doughnuts. He figured she was a little bit sweet on him, and he’d considered asking her out, but he sorta liked being a bachelor and he figured that Louanna just might be the one to change his mind ’bout that.
No sense rushing. He had all the time in the world for marriage and a family.
Chief had told him to cruise by the McCall place. A couple neighbors had reported hearing another argument over there. He shook his head. Poor Miss Sara. She had her hands full with that wild sister of hers.
Truthfully, both of ’em deserved his sympathy. He’d never forget the night their parents had been killed in that crash. The whole town had been in mourning. He’d seen the photos. Peter McCall had gone through the windshield and his wife, Vicky, had been crushed. Awful. Still cropped up in his dreams now and then.
He came upon the McCall place and slowed to a crawl. A couple lights burned inside. Miss Sara was still up. He wondered if she was grading student papers or waiting up ’cause her sister had sneaked out again.
Or maybe she had company, he thought, noticing an unfamiliar car parked nearby.
He peered at it as he passed. Empty. Most probably belonged to one of Barbara Russell’s “friends.” She had a lot of visitors at night.
But maybe he’d just loop around the block anyway? Swing by a couple more times, just to make certain all was good?
Wally did, but as he made the block, he saw the unfamiliar vehicle had pulled away. It was at the end of the block already, turning left.
Wally frowned. Now, that wasn’t right. Not at all. His cop senses tingling, he fell in behind the vehicle, the McCall place disappearing in his rearview mirror.
Monday, June 3
7:00
P.M.
Kat had wanted to beg off dinner with Jeremy and his wife, Lilith. Between the strain of being back where her life had gone so terribly wrong and of being constantly on edge, afraid to go out for fear of a confrontation, she was exhausted.
Word was definitely out. She’d been hyperaware of the parade of cars passing the cottage, of the way each vehicle slowed to a crawl in front of her place to gawk.
But canceling hadn’t really been an option. Jeremy had been so good to her. And to Sara after their parents’ deaths. He was the only family she had left.
Jeremy and Lilith lived in a gated golf community in Mandeville. Kat stopped at the gate; the guard checked her name against his list, then waved her through. Jeremy had given her detailed directions, as he lived at the very back of the large development on one of the waterfront lots.
After only a few wrong turns, she found Riverwood Lane. It, too, was gated, though this time with a call box instead of a guard.
“Hi, Lilith!” she said when the woman answered the call. “I’m here.”
“Great. I’ll buzz you in.”
A moment later, Kat rolled through, keenly aware of the gate swinging closed behind her. As it clanged shut, she was reminded of the old Eagles tune “Hotel California” and its creepy lyrics about checking into a beautiful reality but never being able to leave.
These homes were grander, the lots more estatelike than the ones at the front of the development. She found Jeremy’s drive, protected by another iron gate, though this one stood open.
As she pulled through, she was struck by a bittersweet sense of déjà vu. The setting—expansive grounds dotted with oaks and magnolias, the columned house at the end of the winding drive—reminded her of her parents’ home and those carefree days.
She parked in front of the house and breathed in the evening air. The scent of the flowers and the river, of southern summer, lush, fecund and brimming with life.
Jeremy burst out the front door, all smiles. Lilith followed more slowly. “Cousin!” He hugged her. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
She smiled. “Truthfully, I never thought I would either.”
Lilith reached them and kissed her cheeks. “Welcome to our home.”
“It’s beautiful.” She turned back to Jeremy. “You’ve done so well, Jeremy. I’m happy for you.”
He beamed. “Lilith is half this equation. She made senior partner two years ago.”
Kat looked apologetically at the other woman. “Of course. I’m sorry, Lilith. I really did mean both of you.”
“Don’t think a thing of it; I didn’t.”
Everything about Lilith was elegant. Her voice and mannerisms, the way she carried herself. Clothes, jewelry, even the way she styled her chin-length dark hair.
“Come, let’s have a cocktail on the back veranda. Have you ever had a lemon drop martini?”
“I haven’t, but it sounds delicious.”
The two made a great pair, Kat thought, surreptitiously studying them as they fixed drinks. A real power couple. Where Lilith was elegant, refined and introverted, Jeremy was larger than life, boisterous and outgoing. He, the quintessential public servant. And she, the power behind the throne.
Jeremy handed her the drink. Like everything else about the pair, it was beautiful—from the glass’s sugared rim to the the cocktail’s pale, translucent yellow and the perfectly executed lemon curl garnish.
She took a sip and made a sound of pleasure. It was as delicious as it looked—tart, sweet and chilled, perfect for a June evening in Louisiana.
“Sorry about all those gates you had to drive through,” he said. “Lilith lives in fear some voter will show up with a gun and a bad attitude.”
Although his tone was light, something in it suggested this had been a bone of contention between them. But as someone who had been a victim of a violent crime and lived with threats, she got that.
She changed the subject as they made their way out onto the veranda. “Your home is beautiful, Lilith.” And it was, every bit as lovely and elegant as its mistress. Not one knickknack out of place, not one false note.
Lilith smiled, pleased. “I just knew enough to hire the best. In fact, your old friend Bitsy Cavenaugh was my decorator.”
“Bitsy’s an interior designer?”
“A really good one. Her work’s been featured in
Southern Living
. Among others.”
Jeremy frowned. “When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“From jail.”
He looked distressed. “You were such good friends.”
“When we were young.” Kat sank into a chair that faced the river. As relaxing as the view was, she suddenly felt agitated. “Bitsy chose not to ride the crazy train with me. Wisely, I might add.”
“The crazy train?” He took the chair to her right.
“Mmm.” She sipped the lemon drop. “Rebelling. Against everything. Cutting class. Drinking. Smoking weed. She wanted no part of that.”
Kat thought of that time, that crowd, and an almost smothering wave of guilt enveloped her. She looked away. “I was such a creep.”
“But not a murderer.”
She jerked her gaze back to her cousin. “Is that a question?”
“Of course not.” He reached across and squeezed her hand. “A reassurance, Kit-Kat.”
Sudden, surprising tears stung her eyes. “I keep wondering if I could have prevented it.”
“Really?” Lilith leaned forward. “How’s that?”
Jeremy looked sharply at his wife. “Of course she couldn’t have.”
Kat wished she felt so confident of that. She thought of the people she had been hanging with back then, the way she had shot her mouth off about the things she and Sara had, about the money she would inherit when she turned twenty-one. Or if Sara died.
And then she had.
“Why’d you come back, Katherine?” Lilith asked. At her husband’s shocked expression, she went on. “I think it’s a fair question, sweetheart. It’s been ten years. And I’m sure Kat knew the people of Liberty weren’t going to greet her with open arms.”
“It doesn’t matter why,” he said, “
we’re
glad you’re here.”
Ever the politician.
She smiled at her cousin. “It’s okay, Jeremy. It
is
a fair question. And that it’s been ten years is the point, don’t you think? Sometimes you have to look back before you can take a step forward.”
Lilith looked unconvinced. “And that’s it?”
It wasn’t, not by a long shot. But it was all she was going to reveal for now. She changed the subject. “I’m meeting with the commercial Realtor tomorrow, the one you recommended.”
“You’ll like her,” Jeremy said. “She’s a real go-getter.”
Lilith sipped her cocktail, expression thoughtful. “You really think an organic bread store and bakery will go over here in south Louisiana? We’re not health-conscious Portland.”
Kat didn’t take offense. This was Lilith. She followed her head, not her heart, and measured her decisions against logic, not desire.
“Yes, it’s healthy. But it’s delicious, too. A few will come in because it’s whole grain and organic, but the rest will come in because it tastes good.”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “This is beignet-and-king-cake country. I just hate for you to waste your time and money.”
Jeremy stepped in, looking irritated. “Your instincts haven’t failed you yet. Six Good Earth Baking Company stores in six years. It’s phenomenal. I’m really proud of you.”
“But why Liberty?” Lilith persisted. “We’re so small. And off the beaten track. I think you’d do better in Mandeville or Covington.”
This argument was nothing new. Her business manager had said all the same things to her. “I probably would,” she agreed. “At least for the walk-in business. But the walk-in business is only a small part of what I do. Supplying restaurants and cafes is a bigger part. And I see opportunity here.”
“Maybe so.”
Kat smiled, considering even that a win from Lilith. “How about we revisit this after I’ve been open six months?”
She laughed. “You’ve got it. I’m making a notation in my BlackBerry.”
They joined her, their laughter breaking the tension. Kat used the opportunity to change the subject. “Those kids I was hanging with back then, any of them around anymore?”
“I’m sure there are,” Jeremy answered, then paused as if running names through his head. “That one, Debbie Holt, who testified at your trial, she and her mom run the Sunny Side Up cafe.”
Dab. Testified. Against her.
“The Sunny Side Up was on Riverview, wasn’t it?”
“Still is.”
“One of the properties I’m looking at is on Riverview. Maybe I’ll stop in for a cup of coffee.”
He and Lilith exchanged glances. “You sure you’re ready for that?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“The kind of people who graffiti houses are regulars at the Sunny Side.”
“Luke Tanner believes kids did that.”
“You know what I mean. The kind of folks who send threats.”
She reached across to grasp his hand. “Liberty folks,” she said softly. “I’m here, Jeremy. I can’t hide forever.”
At that moment, dinner was announced. As they dined on grilled redfish and roasted vegetables, they left Kat’s past behind to discuss Jeremy’s future. He had decided to run for state senate in the next election. Kat was grateful for the distraction. But even as she joined the conversation, a part of her attention was on visiting her old friend Dab.
And finding Ryan.
Ryan Benton
2003
Two weeks before the murder
Ryan had no intention of screwing this up. She was rich. And one hot piece of ass. She’d thrown herself at him. She was that kind of a chick. Wild. Wanting to do anything and everything. Including fuck him.
Unfortunately, she was only seventeen.
“I love you, I love you…” She rubbed herself against him, her lacy bra tickling his chest. She kissed his mouth, then his neck, then his shoulder, using the opportunity to bite. She loved to suck and bite. He was covered with hickeys.
No hickeys for her. No way was he going to chance that. San Quentin Quail, that’s what she was. Sheriff Tanner would like nothing better than to toss another Benton into jail. Knowing this town and the McCall name, he’d fry, no doubt.
Ryan fired up a joint. It wasn’t their first, so when she tried to take another hit, he took it away. “Oh, no, you don’t. You need to be able to shimmy back in that window without killing yourself.”
“I wanna stay with you. All night. Forever. And I don’t care who knows it!”
She yanked the door handle, popped open the door and leaned out. “I’m in love with Ryan Benton!” she shouted.
He grabbed her and pulled her back in. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“From fucking you.” Laughing, she slid out of his grasp and out of the car. She landed in the soft grass, then got to her feet and twirled around. “I’m in love … I’m in love…”
He’d parked at the very end of Bayou Road. A dead end, isolated but not unknown as a make-out spot. The Liberty cops made occasional runs up here to stir things up.
He leaned over and held out his hand. “C’mon, sugar, you don’t want my ass hauled to jail, do you?”
“I don’t want us to be a secret anymore. We’re together and I want everyone to know it.” She twirled again, a spectacle in her bra and panties. “I’m in love with Ryan Benton,” she shouted.
“Dammit, Kat. Get in the car!”
“You want me, come and get me.”
A part of him thought he should leave her. Just drive off, teach her a lesson. But that could turn out even worse.
Ryan climbed out of the Mustang and took off after her. He could picture how this would look if one of Tanner’s hick deputies pulled up now, Ryan Benton chasing a nearly naked girl around his car. He suspected the deputy would shoot first, ask questions later.
He finally got his arms around her, brought her to the ground. She squirmed beneath him, teasing.
Furious, he pinned her arms above her head. “Let’s get something straight, little girl. I’m not going to jail for you or anyone else. Got that?”
The laughter died on her lips, her eyes welled with tears. “We’re not doing anything wrong!” she cried. “We’re in love!”
Stupid teenage girls. Spoiled brat. If this one wasn’t about to inherit a whole shitload of money, he’d be done with her.
“The law says we are.”
“But our hearts—”
“Don’t mean shit to a judge. Get a clue.”
“We could run away,” she whispered. “Then we could be—”
“Not without your money. I’m not stupid.”
She started to cry. He wanted to slap her until she shut up. Instead, he coaxed, “It’s okay, sugar. Shh…” He kissed her tears. “C’mon, baby. It’s just for a little longer. I have a plan for us. You trust me, right?”
She nodded.
“Good girl. Now,” he said patiently, “we’ve talked about this. You’re seventeen. In the eyes of the law what we’re doing is wrong.”
She opened her mouth to argue, he laid a finger against her lips, stopping her. “Statutory rape. Or carnal knowledge with a juvenile. I’d have to register as a sex offender. Do you want that?”
She shook her head, eyes welling with tears again. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re going to do what I say?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good girl.” He stood, then hauled her to her feet. “Let’s get you home.”