Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) (24 page)

“So Riley is your real sister?”

“Yes,” Taylor conceded. “I told her to stop, but she is so stubborn. She’s going to get herself killed…coming up with this asinine plan. Her and Sony…”

“What plan?”

In the world of journalism, the interview with Harrison Taylor was considered a brilliant success. Kincaid had broken through Taylor’s icy exterior and uncovered ground-breaking news.

But Kincaid’s world crashed down around him. The realization that Riley…Riley had lied to him. Misled him. Used him.

His whole body ached. He felt as if someone had stabbed him in the stomach.

He looked down at his watch. It was getting late. The sun was about to set.

Mark wanted to air the story immediately. Kincaid talked sense into his boss. Sources needed to be confirmed. Bases had to be covered to break the news.

“We don’t have to say that Taylor is Ashcroft’s son,” Mark argued. “Just that Taylor believes he is.”

“Patience, Mark,” Kincaid urged, but he had only a temporary postponement. Mark wasn’t going to allow him to sit on the news long.

Kincaid had to speak with Riley. There was more to the story than Taylor being Ashcroft’s son. He would be damned if he didn’t get the truth he deserved.

His phone lit up with a text…an address. He didn’t have to guess. Riley wanted to meet.

As he turned in to the driveway of a small brick ranch, he saw Riley’s car and parked behind it. He only hesitated a moment before he made his way to the front door.

Before he knocked, it opened. He was greeted by a petite, elderly black woman—the elusive Tillie Taylor.

“Come in, Mr. Kincaid. We’ve been expecting you.” She backed up to allow him to step inside.

The house was modest, but comfortable. It had an open flow, with the living room merging into the dining room. To his far left was a large high-definition television hanging on the wall; to his left, the kitchen.

He sat down on a plush, beige couch. Already a pitcher of lemonade sat on the coffee table, along with cheese and crackers.

“Please, make yourself at home.” Tillie smiled broadly and took a seat on a well-worn recliner. “I suppose I need to apologize for not getting back with you before now.”

“So you received my messages.”

“Yes,” she said simply, reaching over for a cracker with shaking hands. “You have questions for me?”

“Where is Riley?”

“I asked her to talk to you first.”

“Are you going to keep up this ruse?” His eyes narrowed with a scowl. He was pissed at anyone connected to this story. “I only came here this evening to hear if you have a semblance of an excuse.”

Gone was the smile on her face. Her lips tightened. “You’re upset at the slight deception, but I assure you it was done only as a last resort. What would you do if your grandson was rotting in jail for a crime he didn’t commit?”

“I investigate the truth, Mrs. Taylor. It’s hard to find the truth when the premise itself is a lie.”

“Oh, I see. If I came to you and told you that Harrison was innocent, you would have taken the story.” She made no effort to hide the cynicism in her words. “As I believe you have discovered, Harrison is innocent. We were desperate.”

“You can’t expect me not to reveal this ruse? It’s fraud.”

“Fraud?” Tillie questioned. Her chin angled upward mutinously. “You don’t know what we have gone through. The years of one disappointment after another.”

“Your grandson pleaded guilty. What did you expect would happen?”

“He didn’t have a choice.” She rose and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “He was the innocent scapegoat in this whole mess. If…if you want to hear what it was like then, I will tell you, but only if you come down off your pedestal, preacher. It’s a long way down when you fall off.”

Good point.
He breathed out deeply. “Go ahead.”

“How far back do you want me to go?”

“At the beginning.” His voice was hard, his features drawn in reluctant resolve.

Tillie’s eyes narrowed against a slew of painful memories. She began, “My daughter, Kelsea, moved to Boston and took a job as a receptionist at Lincoln and Sullivan Law firm. That’s where she met Jack Ashcroft. Foolishly, she had an affair, a fling…whatever you want to call it with him. She became pregnant.”

“Harrison was the child?”

Tillie nodded. “Kelsea didn’t tell me who the father was. Said it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be part of her son’s life. She said she hadn’t even told the man. She feared he would have demanded she have an abortion. That wasn’t an option for Kelsea. She decided to keep the baby and raise him by herself.

“I told her she wouldn’t be alone. We would do it together. We did, until that awful night.” Tillie choked up. “Harrison had just turned two. Kelsea worked the day shift down at a law office downtown. I worked overnights at Palm Court Nursing Home as a CNA.

“Since we only had one old car, an old Chevy, I usually took the bus, but it was storming outside. Kelsea’s best friend from high school, Anne, was over visiting and offered to stay so we didn’t have to take Harrison out in the weather.

“Less than a mile from the nursing home, a car pulled out into the street. With the rain coming down so hard, he didn’t see us. He hit us, forcing the car into a light pole. Kelsea was killed instantly. I was in the hospital for months. Didn’t have anyone to look after little Harrison except Anne.”

“Anne Ashcroft?”

“Anne Carver at the time, Riley’s mother,” Tillie confirmed. “While I was recovering, social services threatened to put Harrison in foster care. Anne wouldn’t have any of it. She knew Harrison’s father’s name and went to Boston to find him.

“She came home married to Jack Ashcroft.” Tillie shrugged. “She never told me that Mr. Ashcroft was Harrison’s father. I suspected it. The way Anne maneuvered Harrison into the family and then after she passed, Mr. Ashcroft kept us on.

“A couple of years ago, Riley was going through Harrison’s papers for the fifteenth hundred time, trying to find anything to help Harrison out. She found a paternity test results in his Bible. Harrison confirmed it on our next visit.

“Turns out Mr. Ashcroft told Harrison on his eighteenth birthday. Was even going to acknowledge him publically. Adopted him, Mr. Ashcroft did, to make it all legal.”

“Do you happen to have any legal papers to prove this claim?”

“I have everything.” She tilted her head back toward the hall. “In my bedroom. I will get it for you if you want.”

“It would be helpful.”

Kincaid watched her stand with great difficulty. Quickly, he stood and offered his hand. She refused and slowly made her way down the hall.

“She is having a good day today. Please don’t tell her you’re going to ruin it.”

His throat went dry. He turned to see Riley in the doorway.

She had said the words as if she hadn’t done a thing wrong. Her eyes flamed at him, challenging him.

He struggled to keep hot and wanton memories from resurfacing. He didn’t have time to play games.

“I’m not the one who ruined anything. I don’t think you can say the same.”

“If you are looking for an apology, you’re wasting your time,” she said. “But I do owe you an explanation,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Come take a walk with me.”

* * * *

Riley walked ahead of him. She had taken him out back to the small, fenced-in backyard. She went over to the canopy lawn swing and sat. He leaned against one of the support bars.

“When did you discover she has Parkinson’s?”

“That obvious?” she asked, but there was no denying the truth. Slowly, she gave a nod. “Six years ago.”

“So, she can’t even work.” He scoffed. Disgusted, he pressed, “No one questioned her assertion. She fooled everyone?”

“Everyone took her on her word, like you did,” she bitterly reminded him. “It was a chance we had to take.”

“This whole scam was your idea.”

“It wasn’t a scam. It was a necessity.”

“A necessity? Please explain, because for the life of me I don’t see it.”

“We were at the end of our rope. Do you know how it feels to know an innocent man is in prison and there is nothing…nothing you can do? The only thing that can save him is to find the killer.”

“That’s what you wanted me to do?”

“Not you per se, but a reporter. Someone who could access information we couldn’t. Police reports. Medical records. Everywhere we turned, we got shut down. No one wanted to help a
cop killer.

“We had exhausted every possibility. Lawyers couldn’t get an appeal because of the plea deal. We hired private investigators. That’s when we reconnected with Sony, but our money was going out faster than I could send it. Everything…everything was so expensive.”

“Expensive. Coming from a girl who’s about to inherit millions?”

“Millions? I don’t have millions,” she said with more than a trace of cynicism. “You haven’t dealt with my family. You don’t think that they will come up with something to keep my inheritance from me?” She shook her head. “I won’t see a penny of it? You don’t know me. After Daddy died, I grew up poor. Poor. Do you know what I had to do to support Meme?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Glaring at him, she said forcibly, “The reason I rented out the rooms in my grandmother’s house was to raise money for Harrison and Meme. Every penny—”

“Is that your excuse for using me? Is that how you live with yourself?” He scowled darkly at the animosity that charged the air. “I told you that I love you!”

Riley hesitated, and then said with a forced calm, “I thought I could handle this attraction between us. That it was just sex, but when…when you got shot…saving me…my heart broke. I couldn’t do it anymore. I ran…I did try to distance myself from you.”

“You could have told me.”

Her lips pursed together in frustration. She raked her fingers through her hair. “For the first time, we were making progress. Someone…the killer…was getting nervous. I couldn’t take a chance. Nothing comes before getting Harrison out of prison… Nothing.”

“Why, then, did you tell Harrison to talk with me?”

“Because I knew he was hiding something. I have to find out what it is. He refuses to tell me. I thought that you might be able to get it out of him. But never in my wildest dreams did I think he would tell you about…about this ruse.”

“He was worried about you. Something about you risking your life?” He skewered her with a hard look, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

Suddenly, her head snapped upward and she leveled her gaze. “Oh, my God, he told you, didn’t he? Harrison told you what he’s been keeping from us!”

His look betrayed him.

Determination in her eyes, she squared her shoulders and asked coolly, “What did he say?”

Kincaid shook his head. His anger at her betrayal hadn’t lessened.

“What?” She rolled her eyes. “Am I going to have to wait for your report?”

“You won’t have long to wait.”

Her face fell. “No…you’re not.” She caught her breath. He could see a slow panic spread through her. “Don’t! For God’s sake, you’ll ruin everything.”

“Don’t blame me. You can’t expect me to jeopardize my ethics?”

Her lower lip protruded, her forehead creased thoughtfully. “All right. All right. If your damn ethics are going to keep an innocent man in prison, at least tell me what has Harrison kept secret?”

He hesitated. What would it hurt if she knew? But he felt the need to be petty. To hurt her like she hurt him. But he couldn’t do it…he couldn’t stand being the one to destroy all her plans. He couldn’t stand to look into her pleading eyes.

“Harrison said his public defender help make a plea deal agreement for life in prison without the chance of parole by keeping it a secret that he was really Jack’s son.”

She frowned. “That’s what Harrison said?”

He didn’t answer. Tillie stood in the door with an envelope in her hand. She gestured for them both to come inside.

Kincaid had no desire to continue the conversation. It was getting them nowhere, only giving him a pounding headache. Without even glancing over his shoulder, he walked back to the house.

Accepting the envelope from Tillie, he turned back around.

Riley wasn’t in sight.

The next moment, he heard a car drive away.

Riley parked the car in Ward Arrington’s driveway. She had been here before. More than once—working on Harrison’s case.

Her heart twisted in a painful spasm of foolhardiness. The agony of the past had pushed her here.

She should have known Arrington wasn’t anything but a fucking con man. When she first began her quest, she had been so damn naïve. She had used him more than once, having paid him to consult in hopes of freeing Harrison.

Arrington had played her like a fiddle. Telling her everything she wanted to hear. 
Harrison is innocent. There is a chance if we file this motion. 
When that didn’t work out, he would come up with another lead. Another thousand dollars.

Clayton had warned her against any lawyer who made promises they could get Harrison out. “Above finding the killer and getting him to confess, there is nothing that can be done, Riley. With the plea deal, there are no appeals.”

Young and foolish, she had steadfastly refused to believe there was no way to get Harrison out. She had written every organization that helped the falsely accused. Everyone turned her down.

The only one who offered any encouragement was Ward Arrington. She had met with him because he had been Harrison’s lawyer, knowing full well that Harrison couldn’t stand the man.

Riley had written it off as frustration over being incarcerated. She reasoned Arrington had swung the deal that kept the death penalty off the table. At the time, life without parole seemed an impossibility.

Since Harrison’s case, Arrington had done well for himself. He had even become a partner in a downtown Charleston firm three years ago. The last time Riley had talked with him was when she finally came to terms there was no legal means to get Harrison out.

That was the day she had begun her hunt for the real killer. It had been the only way. Now, though, she realized that Arrington held the key to the case.

There was only one reason for the Ashcrofts to have put pressure on the district attorney to take the death penalty off the table.

She sat in the car and collected herself. She was a ball of emotions…and she saw the curtains swing in the window. Arrington was home.

Reaching into her purse, she grabbed her phone and quickly texted Sony. She wasn’t that young, foolish girl anymore.

Putting her phone in her pocket, she grabbed her gun and took the safety off.

One way or another, Arrington was going to tell her the truth…the real truth.

* * * *

As he looked out the living room window, he smiled. It was Riley Ashcroft. Finally…finally, his luck had turned.

Wringing his bloody hands together, his heart swelled with revenge. He had her and she would pay for the trouble she had caused. Oh, she would pay!

Only moments earlier, his anger had gotten the better of him. Fucking Arrington had taken the blunt of that rage. The damn fool had refused to help him.

After all I have done for him! Everything he has is because of me! Me! To tell me to leave or he would call the police.

Ellis stared across the room at the lifeless body. He was certain Arrington regretted his mistake, but there had been no forgiveness. Drenched in the man’s blood, a resurgence of confidence swept through him.

 Shortly after he had beaten the shit out of Arrington and shot him for good measure, the dead man’s iPhone received a text…a text from Riley Ashcroft.

I’m coming over. Must talk
.

His first thought was no…it was too good to be true. Then as his heart raced with anticipation, a car pulled into the driveway.

The last few days had been hell. He had barely made it out of Boston. 
That bitch!
 She had hung him out to dry. After all he had done for her…for them.

But she hadn’t seen the last of him. She, too, would come to regret how she treated him. Oh, he had special plans for his lover.

He wasn’t going to simply walk away from years…years of hard work. Plotting, manipulating…killing. They had been a team. Now with the FBI breathing down his neck, she cut him loose—tried to kill him!

He would be damned if he took the fall for her. He wasn’t Jack.

How he hated Jack! Even now after all this time, his hatred still burned deeply.

The condescending, arrogant bastard! Ellis laughed to himself. 
Where was Jack Ashcroft now? Six feet under—that’s where!

It had only taken one bullet. A feeling of satisfaction surged through him at the remembrance. The only deterrent was it hadn’t been him who pulled the trigger.

Tonight, though, it would be him to bask in the gratification of sucking the life out of Riley Ashcroft. She had been a thorn in his side for too long.

He had fucked up at the gala. After all that careful research, maneuvering to have Riley want to leave the party, knowing where she would go…he had killed the wrong damn Ashcroft.

Julia had exploded at him. He wondered whether it was then she plotted his demise.

Had he become such a liability? After all the years of basking in their triumph, how could she had so maliciously plotted his death? Was she truly going to leave him to die alone…they had meant so much to each other.

No, Julia hadn’t meant to hurt him. She had only lost her temper. It was his fault. His fault. He had killed the wrong one.

He latched his hope on the thought. Maybe…maybe Julia would forgive him if he made everything right again. Of course she would. Did they not share a child? Yes…yes… that was what he needed to do—kill Riley Ashcroft.

Kill Riley and then Julia would forgive him. She would take him back.

A knock on the door brought him back to the present. He waitedin bated anticipation
.
 

* * * *

Kincaid stood with the papers in hand, furious. 
Where hell had Riley gone? 
He wasn’t done with her. Far from it.

Sitting on her recliner, Miss Tillie looked quite pleased with herself. He thanked her kindly, but was steaming inside.

Why did he feel like the information he had supplied Riley had sent her on a mission?

Keeping his irritation in check, he opened the packet, pulled out the papers, and readied to lay out the papers on the table. He needed to take pictures of them on his phone.

He paused. Looked back in the packet and then back at the papers.

Damn!

“Something wrong?”

He glanced up to see Sony at the edge of the table.

“Yeah.” Kincaid slammed down the packet. “Have you seen what’s in here?”

Sony shook his head. “I’ve only been told what it is. Mainly by Miss Tillie. What’s wrong?”

Kincaid gestured with his hand over the papers. “These are adoption papers. Jack Ashcroft adopted Harrison, looks like right before he turned eighteen. There isn’t anything else.” He lowered his voice because Miss Tillie walked closer. “Where the hell are the paternity results?”

Sony shrugged. “Give me a minute.”

Taking care of Miss Tillie, Sony called her sitter back in the room to take care of her. Then, he eased back over to Kincaid.

“I haven’t a clue. I’ve never seen the actual results,” Sony admitted. “Miss Tillie told me. Harrison confirmed it. Didn’t see the need.”

“That would mean someone took them.” Kincaid said the obvious.

“You mean Riley? Why?”

He didn’t answer Sony. His mind was working. Riley seemed to have accepted Harrison as her brother. She left the adoption papers. There had to be another reason.

Then it hit him. What if the results
hadn’t
confirmed Jack Ashcroft as Harrison’s father?

Kincaid’s attention turned as he watched Sony looked down at his phone and grimaced.

Swearing under his breath, Sony uttered, “What the fuck?”

“Riley?”

Nodding, Sony quickly headed out the door and waited for Kincaid to follow. Grabbing Kincaid’s arm, he swung him roughly around.

“What the fuck did you tell Riley? Why the hell is she at Arrington’s?”

* * * *

Riley walked slowly up to the door. Her skin crawled; her heart thudded wildly in her chest. 
When have I become such a ninny! It’s nothing but nerves.

She knocked.

Creeeeaaak.

The door opened as if it hadn’t been shut tightly. Her throat went dry. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

With her hand on the handle, she hesitated. There was no way she could go inside. She stepped back…and then suddenly the door swung open all the way.

Her heart fluttered in fear. There she stood, looking down the barrel of a gun.

“Riley, where’s your manners? Don’t just stand there. Come in. I mean, now, and shut the door.” 

The familiar voice threatened to send her into a panic. She knew it well and it wasn’t Arrington. Fear gripped her comprehending she had found the killer. Oh, God, it was Ellis and she was trapped.

She tried to clear her head. The only distinct thought she had—if the door closed, she was dead.

In one swift motion, she turned to bolt, but he was quicker. He grabbed hold on her hair and jerked her backwards, hard enough to bang her against the wall.

The door slammed shut.

Blood trickled down her cheek. She found herself on all-fours, staring up into the lunatic’s face.

Frozen to her spot, she forced herself to breathe. Her throat tight as her eyes focused on Ellis drenched in blood. Glancing across the room, she saw a figure laying still on the floor.

Oh, dear God, he has killed Arrington!

“Just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

His voice sent shivers up her spine. Crawling to her feet, she edged along the wall and felt blindly into her shorts for her phone…she needed her phone. Her eyes fixed firmly on the deranged man in front of her, she fumbled to hit the right button.  

Don’t panic. Hit record… Get him to talk…talk.

“You had to fuck up my life,” he taunted, moving so close she felt his breath against her cheek. He flicked a strand of hair back off her face. “Payback’s a bitch.”

She slapped his bloody hand back. He gripped her wrist and squeezed. She screamed.

“That’s it.” His lips twisted into a malevolent grin. “This is only the beginning, my dear. You don’t think this is going to be quick…not after all you put me through.”

Crying out again, she sensed his pleasure in her fear. “It was you?” she managed to ask. “You set Harrison up?”

“Of course, I did!”

Abruptly, he released her and rubbed his head with his hands, holding his gun loosely in his right hand. He squinted as if his head pounded.

Stumbling backwards, her instincts cried run! Get the hell out of there! But with a supreme effort, she forced her trembling legs to stay put
.

Reaching behind her back, she felt for the gun. It was there. With the knowledge a surge of courage rose within her, turning her fear to righteous anger.

Her eyes never wavered from the gun he held in his hand, all the while her fingers turned off the safety to hers. She drew in a long breath.

Before her was a murderer. Gone was the quiet, collected man she had known all her life. The façade Ellis had hidden behind all these years had collapsed. This man was desperate…he was crazy.

Warring factions within her cried out.
You can’t reason with crazy. Shoot him. Save yourself.
But another voice urged.
The only chance Harrison had was for Ellis to confess
.

She decided to play a dangerous game.
It will be worth the risk.
She pressed.

“It was you all along. You killed Mrs. Barlow…her son. But why? It couldn’t have been about the will. The will didn’t concern you.”

“You little idiot.” He looked up and scowled at her ignorance. “It was all about the will…your nana gave it to Helen to destroy. Your precious nana betrayed you, you fool.

“Your nana, who treated you no better than a servant, did everything she could to protect her precious son…Walter. Nothing came before Walter, not even Jack. She knew before anyone that Walter framed Jack with the power of attorney.”

Her lower lip trembled. “You lie!”

Satisfaction embedded his smile. His words had hit his mark. “Oh, if only Helen had destroyed it instead of letting that fool son of hers discover it. But she paid the price…like you will tonight.”

“Why would the will affect you?” She swallowed hard. “Tell me—how will my death benefit you?”

“Because I am the Ashcroft Empire!”

He jabbed the barrel of the gun into her chest. His eyes wild. Suddenly, he yelled, “No you don’t, you fucking bitch!”

He slammed her hard against the wall and pinned her with his elbow lodged in her throat as he dug into her pocket. Desperately, she tried to wiggle free, but was helpless with her arms caught behind her.