The Right Call (14 page)

“Did I mention the pork chops were
really
good?” he finally said.

“About a dozen times.” She put her head on his shoulder. “My mother was a good cook when she had more time. I’ve been stealing her recipes. Cooking dinner is my one big contribution to living at home. My parents
really
appreciate it since they both work. It’s so much healthier than eating out—and cheaper.”

“Well, dinner was delicious.”

The silence returned. Ethan debated whether or not to bring up the obvious. Finally he said, “How’d you do today, dealing with everything?”

“I stayed busy, which isn’t hard to do when you’re chasing a baby. I guess we’re going to have to get a gate for the stairs when he starts to walk.”

“When does that usually happen?”

Vanessa fiddled with a button on his shirt. “All babies are different. The average is around a year. But you’ve seen him. I think he’s going to walk early.”

“He’s beautiful like his mother, and such a happy little guy. You’ve done a great job with him.”

“My family’s pitched in. Emily’s been invaluable. She’s almost as good as having a nanny.”

Ethan listened carefully to the thickness of her words. “How are you feeling
emotionally?”

“It’s hard to describe. When I woke up this morning, it felt like something heavy was sitting on my chest. If it hadn’t been for Carter, I’m not sure I would’ve had the strength to get up. I’ve felt drained all day. It’s hard to think.”

“Me, too. It’s the grief.”

Vanessa sighed. “It takes an enormous amount of energy to do anything.”

“I know.” Ethan stroked her hair. “It’ll go away eventually. But there’s no way around it.”

“Please tell me it doesn’t last long.”

“Everyone’s different. It has to run its course.”

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

Finally Vanessa said, “I woke up in a cold sweat during the night. I dreamed some guy was chasing me. I was running as fast as I could, pushing Carter in the stroller. I could almost feel the guy’s breath on my neck. It was horrifying.”

Ethan kissed her cheek. “You’ve been through a frightening experience. It’s going to take time before the fear goes away.”

“It would help if my mom would catch the shooter.”

“That might not happen for a while. We need to play it safe in the meantime.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to add to your fear, but I’m nervous. What if someone wanted Drew dead—for the same reason he wanted Tal Davison dead? And what if he thinks you saw him? What’s to stop him from coming after you?”

“I didn’t see anything. I just heard tires squeal.”

“The shooter doesn’t know that. It freaks me out to think he could be looking for you.”

Vanessa squeezed his arm. “You’re overreacting. I’m sure the shooter watches the news, and the media reported that I didn’t see anything. Besides, Mom said they haven’t found anything to suggest the shooter targeted Drew.”

“Yet. She said
yet.”

“Ethan, you’re scaring me.”

He turned and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just not convinced that you’re safe. I don’t think you should leave the house until the police know more.”

Chapter 17

Brill
sat at the kitchen table with Kurt, having a dish of black-cherry ice cream. She looked out the bay window at the glowing lava-pink streaks on Tuesday night’s sky, the silhouette of the Great Smoky Mountains barely distinguishable in the ghostly haze.

“You seem pensive,” Kurt said.

“You know I don’t do well when there are so many unknowns in a case. But I’m also irritated with Sam Parker.”

“What
now?”

Brill stuck her spoon in a mound of ice cream. “He’s playing devil’s advocate and suggested that it’s possible Drew’s shooter missed his target, and that he was really aiming for Vanessa. He wanted to know if there’s something
I’m
not telling him.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “How’d you respond?”

“You mean besides wanting to wipe the condescending smirk off his face?”

“Take it easy, red.” Kurt half smiled. “Sam can be a real pain. But I suppose it’s a fair question since you
have
been stalked by someone you put in prison and who tried to hurt Vanessa to get back to you.”

“And he’s behind bars. For heaven’s sake, Kurt, I would never withhold information in a murder case. I don’t believe what’s going on now has
anything
to do with me or Vanessa … but it might have something to do with Drew.” She glanced over at the doorway and lowered her voice. “Four people are dead, and Drew was at two of the murder scenes, one of them as a victim. We can’t just ignore that possible connection.”

“So how do you proceed? Are you thinking he was into something illegal?”

“I didn’t say that. I’d just like to dig a little deeper with Drew’s parents and with Ethan.”

“What are you after?”

Brill pulled her spoon out of the ice cream. “I’m not sure. But if these roommates were targeted, there must be something in their apartment, computers, or phone logs that would give us a clue as to why.”

Kurt’s gaze collided with hers. “If they were murdered, then the so-called
random
shootings might have been a smokescreen for something bigger?”

“I think it’s a possibility.”

“Did you discuss it with the sheriff?”

“I was just about to when he suggested Vanessa might have been the target. He already made it clear he doesn’t think the roommates being shot was a coincidence. We agree on that. But while he’s busy trying to connect it to Vanessa and ultimately
me,
I’ll talk to the Langleys and see if that yields anything. Sam doesn’t need to be involved unless I find something suspicious.”

Stedman turned off the eleven o’clock news. So the red truck was stolen. What was going on? How many people were going to die? He picked up his cell phone and dialed Grant Wolski’s number.

“Hello.”

“It’s Stedman. We need to talk.”

“I’m in the middle of something.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I told you not to call me.”

“Yeah, well, that was before Davison’s roommate got shot. Don’t worry, I’m using a prepaid cell phone. I want to know what’s going on.”

Stedman heard muffled voices, and it sounded as though Grant covered the receiver.

“If you hang up on me, I’ll just keep calling.” Stedman switched the phone to his other ear. “I’m not going to stop hounding you until you give me an answer.”

“It’s not your concern,” Grant said flatly.

“Not my concern?
I’m
the one who agreed to kill Davison, and now he’s dead—only
I
didn’t do it. And whoever
did
keeps on killing people. I don’t want this to come back to me.”

“Your hands are clean. Forget about it.”

“I can’t. We had a deal, Grant. I was psyched up to shoot Tal Davison and get out from under this debt. Do you have any idea how hard that was? Now I’ve got that weighing on my conscience,
plus
I still owe you a small fortune that keeps going up a thousand bucks a day.”

There was a long moment of dead air. The only sound was Grant’s breathing on the other end of the line.

“You still there?” Stedman said.

“Yeah. It’s too bad things didn’t go the way we planned. There’s nothing either of us can do about that. Doesn’t change the fact that you owe me.”

“Fine. But if this comes back to me, I’m telling the cops everything I know.”

“That would be a big mistake.”

“No bigger than being implicated in something I didn’t do.”

“Just sit tight and let this thing play out.”

Stedman’s temples throbbed. “Play out
how?
Four people are dead. Whatever’s going on, it’s not what I signed up for!”

There was a long pause, and it sounded as if Grant got up and moved to another room.

Finally Grant started speaking. “All right, look … you made a valid point. This isn’t what you signed up for. Let’s just forget the deal. Forget the debt. And you find someone else to play poker with. I don’t want to hear from you again.”

“Are you saying I don’t owe you anything?”

“You heard me.”

He’s willing to let sixty grand go—just like that?
“I’d like it in writing.”

“Forget it, Stedman. There’s nothing in writing that says you owe me. If I say you’re off the hook, you’re off the hook
.
There
is
one condition, though, and I need you to hear me—and hear me well: Open your mouth to
anyone
about the deal we made, and it’ll be the last time you ever do.”

Grant’s ‘one condition’ stopped him like the crack of a whip. “So now you’re threatening me?”

“Call it whatever you want. It’s out of my hands.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The phone went dead.

Stedman laid the phone on the arm of the chair, his heart hammering, his mind racing. Why did he get the feeling he had just traded one problem for a much bigger one? If he kept his mouth shut, what was to keep Grant or whoever was behind the shootings from implicating him? Maybe he should just go to the cops and tell them what he knew.

Stedman crushed a Pepsi can and tossed it in the recycle bag. Tell them what? That he agreed to kill a man for Grant Wolski and someone else beat him to it? That he was a pathetic gambling addict who had pawned his integrity and his moral compass so he could pay a debt and come back to the poker table?

As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly.
Why did he remember this Bible verse now when he hadn’t been to church in ages?

Suddenly he craved a cigarette, even though he had kicked the habit two years ago. If he went to the police and told them what he knew, could he be charged with conspiring to kill Tal Davison, even though he didn’t go through with it? Then again, Grant was a well-respected supervisor at Davison Technologies. Would anyone even believe him capable of conspiring to kill his boss’s son? And if Grant denied it, what then? Would the police try to link Stedman to the men in the red truck?

Stedman looked out into the dark night. Could his conscience handle more people dying because he didn’t speak up?

Vanessa sat in the stillness, slowly rocking Carter, not ready just yet to turn loose of him for the night.

What if Ethan was right? What if whoever gunned down Drew was going to come after her? The sound of gunfire and the look on Drew’s face when the bullet hit him flashed through her mind with frightening clarity.

She realized she was squeezing Carter the way she would a teddy bear, her heart pounding, her skin clammy.

Lord, protect us. Please don’t let any more bad things happen to this family.

“Hey, I didn’t hear Carter cry.”

Vanessa lifted her gaze and saw Emily standing in the doorway. “What are you doing up?”

“I went to the bathroom and saw the lamp on.” Emily walked over and stood facing Vanessa. “I’ll rock him. You can’t be tired tomorrow. You have to study.”

“Thanks, but I got him up because I
needed t
o hold him.”

Emily was quiet for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. “I know you’re freaked that you saw Ethan’s cousin get killed. But you’ve still got finals to deal with. You have to stay focused.”

“You sound just like Mom.”

Emily caught a yawn with her hand. “Dad says Mom and I are cut from the same cloth.”

“I think Dad’s right.”

“I like rocking Carter.”

“I know you do.” Vanessa reached up and squeezed Emily’s hand. “But it calms me when he sleeps in my arms.”

“And you need lots of calming?”

“Something like that. It affects me like Pouncer’s purring affects you.”

“Oh.” Emily sat on the side of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. “I just want you to know I’m here for you—if you ever want to talk about what happened.”

Like I’m going to dump all my fears on an eleven-year-old.
“That’s sweet of you, Shortcake. It means a lot.”

“You probably think I’m too young to understand what you’re going through, but I’m not. I know what it’s like to keep thinking about scary things that happened.”

“So how do
you
deal with it?”

Emily sighed. “I just give it to God and stop thinking about it until I feel brave. Then I close my eyes and go back to whatever scared me—only this time, I picture Jesus there with me. When I see Him, I stop being afraid. The memories don’t scare me anymore.”

“All this happens just in your imagination?”

Emily nodded. “It feels real though. Tessa says I’m just changing my perspective. But I forgot what that word means.”

“Perspective just means the way you look at things.”

“Oh yeah. I remember now.”

“Did Tessa teach you to do that?”

“Uh-huh. She does it too. The Bible says God never leaves us, so He
had
to be in the room with us when Eduardo held the gun to my head. So now when my mind flashes back, I see Jesus there with us, and thinking about it doesn’t freak me out.”

Vanessa smiled to herself and wondered what Ethan would think of Emily’s psychology lesson.

“Sounds like you’ve learned some coping skills,” Vanessa said.

“Maybe you should try it and save yourself all the trouble.”

“Maybe I will. Right now I can barely believe what’s happened.”

“I never met Drew. Was he nice?”

“Yes, he was. He and Ethan were like brothers.”

“It makes me sad when Ethan cries.”

“You saw him cry? Then you were eavesdropping again. Emily, why do you do that? You know better. People have a right to privacy.”

Emily shrugged. “Sorry. I’m just curious.”

“One of these days it’s going to get you in trouble.”

Emily slid off the bed and onto her feet, stifling a yawn. “If you’re going to rock Carter, I’m going back to bed. If you start to think of scary things, remember what I said. It really will help.”

Ethan sat in the window seat in his bedroom at Uncle Ralph and Aunt Gwen’s house and looked out into the night. He spotted the Big Dipper and the North Star and thought back to when he and Drew were boys and used to lie on their backs in front of their camping tents, gazing up at the summer sky, trying to remember the stars and constellations.

How could Drew be gone—just like that? It didn’t seem real, except for the aching in his gut, a nagging reminder that he wasn’t dreaming and it was a reality he had to face. Uncle Richard and Aunt Becca asked him if he wanted to come to the funeral home for a private viewing—a chance to say good-bye to Drew … but could he handle it? Could he bear to see the bullet wound that had taken his cousin from him and scarred Vanessa’s memory with a horrible image that might haunt her for the rest of her life?