Bone Deep (22 page)

The certainty that Cody Manning was being sought behind the scenes for a particular reason wouldn’t let go. Kate and her son were at the center of this, as was Jill…somehow. Simply being a twin wouldn’t be enough for the boy to be so important. It had to be cloning. Manning had likely been conducting those experiments well before being granted license to do so. Paul’s thoughts went back to the child in Lynchburg and he wondered... could Cody and the other child be MedTech’s first successful venture into cloning?

Paul rubbed at his eyes. Damn he was tired.

He had to rest... just for a few seconds. Jill needed him. He couldn’t function without a little shuteye. He leaned back in the chair and surrendered.

Help me
.
Please help me
. The small, frightened voice sobbed.

He was there. In that dark, dank cave. With the girl he’d failed…the first of several.

Help me, please
.

Paul tried to pull back from the darkness but he couldn’t. That black abyss sucked at him, drawing him deeper... deeper.

You have to help me
.

The voice was different now. No longer a frightened little girl’s.

I told you what they’d done
.

The voice sounded like his…was his.

They sacrificed me for you
.

Now do you see?

I’m dead... because of you
.

In the dream he stared at the reflection in the mirror…his reflection only not him.

Paul jerked awake. He sat up straight, blinked at the lights. Focused on the ticking wall clock. Five minutes. He’d only been asleep five minutes.

He wasn’t in the cave anymore. He was here... with Jill.

He forced his heart rate to slow... took long, slow, deep breaths. Just a dream. The same one he’d had a thousand times.

I’m dead... because of you
.

Sweat slicked his skin. The voice was his. The face was his…but it was someone else.

Paul scrubbed a hand over his face then slammed the laptop closed. He didn’t want to look anymore. He didn’t want to think about the evil... the sick madness of men like Manning.

What about all the dead children?
a voice demanded from one dark corner of his mind.

What about all those who don’t know?

He forced the voices away. He couldn’t save the world. He couldn’t save those children. It was too late.

Paul pushed back from the desk and stormed out of the Judge’s study and through the front door. He had to have air. Had to clear his head.

On the wide verandah, he shook a cigarette from his half empty pack and lit it. He couldn’t even remember when he’d smoked last, but he damn sure needed it now. Hell, maybe he needed a drink too.

Then he thought about the fire and the failed brakes and he rejected the idea of a drink. He had to keep his head on straight. Someone was out to shut them up.

He drew deeply on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke after his lungs had grabbed up enough nicotine to send a little buzz through his system. He should never have allowed Jill in the Manning house and he should have beaten the hell out of that mayor. Maybe he still would. But then he wouldn’t be here to protect her.

Another long drag. Maybe it was time to call Cuddahy and spill the beans. Solid evidence or no, things were getting a little too hot around here, no pun intended. Most of Manning’s basement files probably survived the fire. The place was like a vault. The Bureau could bring in a recovery team. He flicked the fire from the tip of his spent cigarette butt, pinched the end to make sure it was out and stuffed the butt into his pocket. He didn’t know why he even bothered to smoke. It was more trouble than it was worth.

The front door slowly opened behind him. Jill came outside, looking tired, but like heaven on earth to a man accustomed to nothing but hell.

“There you are,” she said, a weary smile on her lips.

“Here I am.”

“Mother won’t talk about what she knows.” She massaged her temples. “I don’t know what else to do.”

He ached to make her forget for just a little while but that was far too risky to his ability to maintain control. “We’ve done all we can today.”

The door jerked open behind them. “Jillian!”

Claire stood in the doorway, the entry hall light silhouetting her trembling frame.

Jill went to her mother. “What’s happened?”

Paul steeled himself for bad news.

“Ruth Neil just called.”

“Mrs. Neil? Is everything all right?”

Paul remembered the name. The girl who had been Jill’s best friend back in high school was a Neil. She’d behaved strangely since Jill came back to Paradise. Friendly one minute, avoiding her the next. She’d left a voicemail but Jill hadn’t been able to connect with her since.

Tears streaked down Claire’s cheeks as she shook her head adamantly. “They’ve just found Connie.” She pressed her fist to her mouth for one fleeting second. “She’s dead, Jill.
Connie’s dead
.”

Chapter 14

Sunday, July 17

Jill and her mother sat on the parlor sofa, holding hands, faces weary, eyes red rimmed and underscored with dark hollows, painful testimony to a sleepless night and far too much grief suffered in too short a time.

Paul had taken a position next to an overstuffed side chair, his hip resting on its sturdy arm, choosing to simply observe for the moment. Separating himself from the women was a strategic maneuver designed to enhance sympathy for the grieving and allow scorn a different place to fall. He didn’t want the chief’s dislike for him projected elsewhere.

Chief Dotson stood at the opposite end of the sofa, his back to the wall rather than the door, like any good cop, and facing the room at large so that his attention could shift easily to anyone gathered. His uniform was freshly starched, his leather dress shoes buffed to a high sheen. Here was a man come to deliver news. The kind that forever changed lives and the course of what was to come.

“Ms. Claire, Miss Jill,” he said somberly, slowly rotating his hat in his hands. “There’s been a major break in Ms. Kate’s case.”

Jill’s face reflected the surprise she felt. “She’s all right, isn’t she? We called the hospital at eight this morning and she was fine.”

The renewed sense of panic in her voice scraped over Paul’s already raw emotions. This intense aspect of the bond between them was new territory and he was having a hell of a time maintaining objectivity.

“Yes, ma’am,” the chief assured her. “Ms. Kate is just fine. Just fine.” He nodded once and drew in a deep, bolstering breath as if bracing for what he was about to convey. “What we have this morning is new evidence that completely clears her of all wrong doing.” His gaze moved from Jill to her mother and back, avoiding Paul altogether.

Claire eased forward a bit, drawing her daughter’s hands tighter to her chest. “I don’t understand.”

The chief stared at the floor for a time. “Well, ladies, I’m sure you’ve heard that we discovered Connie Neil’s body late last night.”

Both women nodded. “What does that have to do with Kate?” Jill wanted to know.

“She was young, you know,” the chief went on. “Like you and your sister. I believe you girls attended school together.”

Jill nodded jerkily. Connie’s death had troubled her deeply. Last night she kept replaying the last time they spoke and the fact that, like her sister’s call, Jill hadn’t been there for Connie when she called. Paul couldn’t completely console her though he’d held her in his arms until, exhausted, she’d fallen asleep. There weren’t any words to make this kind of cumulative hurt go away.

“Anyway,” the chief continued, “she took an overdose of her own sleeping medication.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t comprehend such a thing. “It’s just so hard to believe that a pretty young woman with a good job and her whole life ahead of her would do something so foolish.”

Paul tensed when a flash of light seared through his brain. Edith Scott’s image followed close on its heels. Her husband forcing her to take pill after pill as she begged him to think of their children. Memphis PD had been prepared to close the case, certain the poor woman had ended her life. Multiple Sclerosis patients did that sometimes. But her grown children hadn’t been convinced. They had come to Paul. Once he’d opened her case file, Edith had haunted him until he’d gotten Memphis PD to take a closer look at the husband.

With effort, he pushed the mental pictures away, dragged his attention back to the chief. “You’re sure it was suicide?”

“Positive.” The chief looked at him for the first time, his disdain evident. “She left a note.” His attention shifted back to the women. “A long, startling one.” Dotson shook his head. “It’s still hard for me to believe, but it was her handwriting. Her mother and sister verified it.”

“What does this have to do with Kate,” Jill pressed. She was growing impatient.

Paul had already gone way beyond that. He wanted the chief to get on with this. He had other questions for him. Questions the man wasn’t going to like.

“It appears that Miss Neil had an obsession with Karl Manning.”

Claire gasped, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Jill looked stunned.

“As you probably know she’d worked at MedTech as one of Karl’s personal assistants for several years.” The chief shrugged. “We’re not accusing Karl of anything, mind you, but Connie’s letter indicates that an affair had been ongoing for most of that time. She related she’d finally gotten tired of his promises that he would leave Kate. Unfortunately, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She kidnapped Kate and Cody, with the intention of murdering them both so Karl would be free. The details are somewhat vague. She rambled a bit there. We know, of course, that somehow Ms. Kate managed to get away.”

No one said a word while the chief took a moment to catch his breath. What was there to say? The man was lying through his teeth.

“When Connie confronted Karl in his home with what she’d done,” the chief cleared his throat as if emotion had lodged there, “he was devastated and outraged. He was going to call the police. In a fit of rage, Connie killed him. She even said she’d tried to cover up what she’d done by wiping away her fingerprints.”

The chief shifted from foot to foot before he continued. “Since Ms. Kate got away before Connie could finish her off, we’re assuming she made her way home just before the police arrived on the scene. We figure Ms. Kate tried to save her husband. Got her prints all over the knife and blood all over herself. It’s possible she may have been forced to watch what this crazy woman had done to her son. I can see how that would push the poor thing over the edge. With her unresponsive and suspected of the crimes, Connie figured she was off the hook.”

Silence thickened in the room.

Paul restrained the urge to stand up and applaud. He’d never heard such well-rehearsed bullshit in his life.

“When you came back to town, Miss Jill, Connie was afraid you’d discover what she’d done, but she couldn’t bear the thought of killing anyone else. So she killed herself instead.”

How convenient. “And she left all this in a note?” Hell, why didn’t she just write a book. Sounded like a bestseller to him. It was assuredly all fiction.

“It was all there,” Dotson assured them. “Just the way I told it.” He cleared his throat again and turned his attention back to the ladies. “We also discovered Prozac in her medicine cabinet. This morning her personal physician confirmed she’d been coming to him for some time citing sleep and depression problems.”

Paul supposed her physician was a friend of Dotson’s and a lifelong resident of Paradise. But what he wanted was to see the body. No, he
needed
to see the body. “When can I see her?” he asked, standing now, anticipation surging through him, overriding any sense of decorum he’d pretended to possess. This had gone far enough. The chief and his cronies were getting away with murder
again
.

The chief looked confused. “See who?”

“Connie Neil.”

Astonishment claimed the older man’s features. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Dr. Phillips.”

“And why is that, Chief Dotson?” One way or another he was going to stop this guy and whoever the hell else was in this with him.

Jill was standing now, evidently picking up on Paul’s agitation.

“Mrs. Neil asked that her daughter’s body be cremated. The crematorium from up near Nashville picked her up first thing this morning. There’ll be a service tomorrow afternoon. Under the circumstances, Mrs. Neil wants this nightmare behind her as soon as possible. Surely you can understand that.”

“The coroner didn’t request an autopsy?” How the hell had they gotten around that one? It was an unaccompanied death. An autopsy was standard operating procedure. Then again the coroner was probably in on this whole damned thing. Where did it end?

The chief adopted a look of incredulity and shook his head as if Paul had lost his mind. “There was no need. She left a suicide note. Swallowed her own pills. A blood test at the hospital verified what was in her system. There was no indication of a struggle or any other signs of foul play. There was absolutely no evidence to support recommending an autopsy. Why put the family through that nightmare? I don’t know how you big city fellas do business, but in Paradise we try to consider the feelings of the family as long as it doesn’t conflict with the law.”

“Chief,” Jill said quietly, a soul-deep pain in her voice.

He turned to her, his expression immediately turning compassionate. The chief was in the wrong business. He should be out in Hollywood. A muscle flexed annoyingly next to Paul’s right eye. It was all he could do to keep quiet... to restrain the urge to jerk the weapon from the chief’s utility belt and force him at gun point to tell the truth for once in his life.

“Since my sister is no longer under suspicion, is there any reason why we can’t have her moved to a private facility?”

The chief shook his head. “None at all. I’ve got my men working overtime to finish up all the final reports so we can close the books on this one for good.”