The touch of murder, p.12
The Touch of Murder, page 12
Veronica stared at the man in disbelief and then finally came to her sense.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The man didn’t skip a beat.
“Troy Allison, DEA. Did you find any drugs on the sheriff?”
Veronica glared at Troy.
“He almost fucking died. I don’t give a shit about the drugs he might’ve had on him.” She swiveled her head to face McVeigh. “What the fuck happened?”
McVeigh licked his lips before replying.
“Sheriff Burns went undercover, trying to find out how this new supply is getting into Greenham.”
Veronica wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. An undercover operation wasn’t unusual but having the sheriff himself go undercover? That was like a CEO of a waste management company rooting through the trash.
It didn’t make sense.
“What?”
McVeigh turned nearly as pale as the victim in the alley.
“Yeah. This new supply—”
“It was my idea, Veronica,” Steve said.
Veronica looked at him and then at the DEA Agent.
No, I don’t think so. I think it was your idea, she thought, eying the much bigger man.
“It doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” Troy said. “What matters is that we find out who—”
“Give it a fucking rest,” Veronica ordered.
“Who the hell are you?” the man shot back, repeating her words from moments ago.
“A detective with Greenham PD. And last time I checked, Needle Point is in Greenham. Running an undercover operation in my city without—”
“Stop it,” Steve said. He broke into a cough, drawing everyone’s attention. “This is my fault… this is my fault. And yeah, Troy, the drugs had the same emblem you showed me, a snake eating an eyeball. Trigger’s selling them.”
“I fucking knew it.”
Veronica didn’t like Troy Allison. She’d known the man for a grand total of only five minutes but was certain she didn’t like him.
She’d dealt with people like him before, people who cared only about their agenda.
In a way, he reminded her of Ken Cameron.
The door opened again.
“Gentlemen, you can’t be in here,” a doctor said as he tried to squeeze into the small room. He spotted Veronica. “Nobody can be in here.”
“DEA,” Troy stated.
The doctor was unimpressed.
“I don’t care. You can’t be in here.”
McVeigh nudged Troy and the two men reluctantly exited the room.
Veronica didn’t move.
“I’m sorry, but that means you too,” the doctor said.
Veronica tightened her grip on Steve’s hand.
“I’m staying,” she said forcefully. “I don’t care if you call security or get the SWAT team in here. I’m staying right by his side.”
Like I should have done back at my house instead of kicking him out, Veronica thought but lacked the courage to say.
Chapter 27
The doctor gave Steve something to help him sleep, reassuring them both that more than likely, he would make a full recovery. Although they were still waiting for the toxicology report, the doctor also said there was a high likelihood that the heroin he’d been injected with was spiked with fentanyl.
He added that Steve was lucky to be alive.
The medication took effect quickly, and Steve was asleep before any awkward conversations could ensue. As he began snoring softly, Veronica kept a tight grip on his hand.
After McVeigh and the DEA’s visit, she was stuck with more questions than answers.
Steve going undercover explained what he was doing in the alley while why he had gone undercover remained a mystery.
Steve being unconscious and not breathing was a result of heroin laced with fentanyl. How the drug got into his system was unknown.
If six months ago they hadn’t had a big blow-up, Veronica could easily come up with the most realistic scenario that had put Steve in the hospital.
She knew that some dealers were paranoid. Perhaps this ‘Trigger’ that the DEA agent had mentioned had sold undercover Steve the drugs. But, thinking that he might be a cop, Trigger forced him to shoot up before leaving. And Steve was just stubborn and dedicated enough to do it.
That’s when things turned bad and Trigger scooped up his product and fled, leaving Steve to die.
It was possible.
Unusual, irresponsible, but also possible.
Then there was their fight to consider: Veronica flushing the pills—his pills?—and Steve exploding in rage. And even before that, he’d been acting irrationally and short-tempered.
This reminded her of someone else.
Someone obscenely tall who had once been an addict and was now wiling away in a prison cell waiting for Veronica to do something.
Undercover or not, if Steve really was an addict, and all signs pointed to this being true, maybe he’d bought the drugs and decided to test them on his own accord.
Veronica slid her hand from Steve’s and stared at his chalky complexion.
Her phone rang again, and she moved toward the door and answered softly.
“Hello?”
“Detective Shade, it’s Kristin.”
“Hey, what’s up?” Veronica wasn’t sure if the coroner was calling about Dylan or the crime scene.
“Just wrapping up here… victim’s name is Aaron Decker, forty-four, wife, no kids, lives in Cedar Heights. Detective Furlow found a razor blade at the scene. Likely the murder weapon.”
Both Cooper Mills and Jake Thompson had been killed with a knife—a kitchen knife, probably the same one.
Since finding Steve, Veronica hadn’t thought about the case at all. But now, she remembered all the inconsistencies.
Including this new bit of information shared with her by the coroner.
“No injuries to his back?”
“Nothing substantial. As with the others, I’ll do a tox screen on his blood. Dr. Thorpe is going to be difficult to reach in the next few days, but I don’t think we’ll need her.” Kristin paused. “There’s… there’s another reason why I called you.”
Steve was sleeping soundly, and Veronica slipped out of the room.
“What is it?”
“It’s about our mutual friend, Dylan Hall.”
Veronica looked through the glass at Steve and was once again struck by how bad he actually looked.
His cheeks were sunken, his eyes recessed, and his beard was longer than she’d ever seen it before.
“Yeah?” Veronica asked hesitantly. She knew this wasn’t going to be good.
“The DA passed the case onto the assistant district attorney. I have a bit of a history with her.”
Or maybe it was good news.
“And?”
“I managed to get them to offer a deal. To be honest? It’s not bad, either.”
“A deal?” Veronica rubbed her forehead aggressively. “No, no deals, Kristin. They weren’t his drugs.”
“Be that as it may, I have to run it by him, Veronica. They’re offering sixty months in a medium-security prison. He might even be able to do it at Bear County Correctional. With good behavior, he’ll be out in less than three years.”
Veronica groaned.
“Three years?”
“It’s a good deal, and I’m required to offer it to him. And, between us, if he asks—if Dylan asks my opinion, I’m going to suggest he takes it.”
“What?” Veronica was incredulous. “Kristin, he didn’t do it. They’re not his drugs. I thought we were on the same page here.”
Kristin fell silent for so long that Veronica took the phone away from her face to make sure the call was still connected.
“Kristin, he can’t do three years for drugs that weren’t his. He can’t.”
Dylan was a wreck. He’d done time before, lots of time, but Veronica suspected that he’d been high going in and was probably high while inside, too.
And three years… three years for something he didn’t do?
“Veronica, we’re out of time and out of options. We’ve gone over this, if this goes to trial, Dylan’s looking at ten to fifteen. And if it goes to trial, he will be convicted. No jury is going to buy that he was set up. I know it’s unfair, but those are the facts.”
Veronica exhaled loudly.
This couldn’t be the end of the road. This couldn’t be it. She had to come up with something.
Fuck.
But with a murderer on the loose and now Steve…
Veronica closed her eyes.
“When?”
“I’m sorry?”
“How long before you have to bring the deal to Dylan?”
“Usually, twenty-four hours,” the woman admitted. “But I can stretch that for another day, after all, I’m busy with these murders. I don’t think the ADA would balk at that.”
Veronica exhaled. She liked Kristin Newberry. The woman was smart and knew how to play the game.
“Thanks, Kristin.”
“You’re welcome. But if I don’t hear anything from you, I’m going to bring the deal to Dylan. And I’m going to suggest he takes it.”
The coroner knew how to play the game, but she was also a lawyer. And by all accounts, a good one.
“I understand,” Veronica said. “And thanks again.”
She hung up the phone and watched Steve’s chest slowly rise and fall.
The murders… Steve… Dylan.
Ethan.
Freddie.
As much as she wanted to take care of everything herself, it simply wasn’t possible.
Veronica needed help.
This… is a mistake, she thought, even as she dialed a number on her cell. Her call was answered on the first ring.
“I… I need your help. Can you meet me at my place?”
Chapter 28
Cole was waiting outside when she arrived home, which Veronica thought strange considering that he had a key.
“Before you say anything, I just want to apologize,” Cole said the minute she got out of her car. It wasn’t even seven yet, but Cole, not a morning person by any stretch, appeared sharply coiffed and dressed.
He looked timid, which was also new.
And cute. She hated that he looked timid, nervous, and cute. Mostly because it just made her feel worse about how she’d treated him.
“I get that this is a big deal—I know that—and I shouldn’t have put all that on you, Veronica. I didn’t mean to. I was just excited. I’m sorry.”
Fuck you, Cole, for being so damn good all the time.
“No, it’s my fault. You did nothing wrong. Things with me are… complicated.”
Cole cringed, and Veronica felt his pain.
Complicated? God dammit, you sound like a Spanish soap opera.
“You can go in and get your stuff.”
Veronica didn’t think that she could feel any worse, but she could.
Cole’s expression made her feel like utter shit.
She’d been deliberately obtuse on the phone, and she could see, in a round-about way, how her words had been interpreted like her wanting to try and work things out. And judging by how crestfallen Cole was, that’s exactly what the man thought was going to happen.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Cole. I really need some time by myself.”
“I understand.” His sudden professionalism stung her. “I’ll just collect my things.”
Even with permission, Cole still waited politely for her to open the door and enter first. The man immediately went upstairs. He hadn’t come with any bags, so he just scooped up all his neatly arranged clothing in his arms. It was as pathetic as it was heartbreaking.
Veronica gave him a garbage bag. A fucking garbage bag. They’d been together for almost six months, practically living together, and she didn’t even offer him a decent suitcase to move out with?
What’s wrong with me? She chided herself. What in the hell is wrong with me?
After five minutes, the garbage bag was full of Cole’s belongings, and he slung it over his shoulder. And then he gave her a sly grin because of course he did. He looked like an old-timey pilgrim heading off to war in some desolate country.
Even though he’d been insulted and pretty much emasculated, he still had the audacity to have a sense of humor.
And to top things off, she was about to ask him for a favor.
“Cole, I’m in a bind, and I could really use your help.” The smile vanished. “I know—I know this is fucked up. Like, really fucked up. But it could work out for both of us, you know? You’re getting your first PI case, and I’m helping out an old friend.”
It was clear by Cole’s expression or lack thereof, that he wasn’t sure whether she was being serious or not. This hurt Veronica too because if he thought she was joking then he also thought she was capable of being cruel.
Veronica sighed and Cole eased the tension by saluting her with his empty hand.
“CB Investigations open for business. You know, I pictured my first client meeting being a little different than this.” He shook the garbage bag.
“Yeah, I bet you did—I bet you pictured yourself sitting in a smoking office and a pretty lady in a red dress comes in begging for your help.”
“All that’s missing is the red dress.”
Veronica shrugged.
“I deserved that.”
“Naw, not really. What can CBI do for you?”
“CBI? What kind of name is that? Sounds like a venereal disease.”
“Work in progress. Anyways, I charge by the hour, so…”
Veronica spent the next five minutes telling her now ex-boyfriend about Dylan Hall and his predicament. It felt good to tell another person. Sure, she’d spoken several times to Kristin Newberry about the case, but the woman looked at everything through the lens of the lawyer, as she should, considering she was representing the man.
Cole listened intently, only once shifting his heavy garbage bag to the other shoulder. His features remained stoic throughout.
“What… what do you think?” Veronica asked, surprised at how nervous she felt. This was Dylan’s last hope.
Cole sighed loudly.
“So, let me get this straight, for my first case, you want me to investigate a DEA case against a man who already has dozens of drug convictions? A man who had a kilo of heroin in his possession? Essentially, you want me to do the impossible?”
“Not impossible, but yeah, it’ll be tough.”
“And what timeline are we looking at, Veronica?”
Veronica felt the muscles in her neck tighten.
“One day. Maybe two.”
Cole threw his head back and laughed.
“Wow, you must really hate me.”
It was an offhand remark, just Cole being Cole, but Veronica took it seriously.
“I don’t hate you, Cole.”
“Oh, I know.” The man suddenly grew serious. “You don’t hate me, you hate yourself, Veronica.”
Veronica immediately grew defensive.
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” The lack of sleep and the stress of the day, early as it was, not to mention her resurfacing hangover, had put her on edge.
“Don’t get mad at me. I’m just calling it the way I see it. Just… forget it. I’ll do my best to help Dylan.”
He tried to slide by her, but she blocked his path.
“No, don’t do that. You said it—now, tell me what you mean.”
If last night hadn’t happened, Veronica knew what Cole’s reaction would have been. He would have made a joke, nuzzled her, kissed her, and that would have likely led to sex. But not today. Today, Cole was—rightfully—angry.
“Fine, you really want to know?”
In Veronica’s experience, whenever someone said something of this nature, it was best to plug your ears and run.
Too bad Veronica pretty much did whatever was contrary to common sense. That was her MO.
“Yeah, tell me. What do you mean by, I hate myself?”
Cole took a deep breath before answering—another bad sign.
“Well, you forgave Steve—yeah, I heard about him going to the hospital and you joining him there. You forgave Freddie—he was there, too. And I know that you will, eventually, forgive your dad. Dr. Jane Bernard, as well. But there’s one person that you will never forgive, Veronica: yourself.”
EENIE, MEENIE, MINEY, MO.
“And it’s really, really sad. I’m being serious. I care about you, whether we’re together or not. You need to forgive yourself.”
Once a killer, always a killer.
Veronica wiped tears from her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Just go.”
“Veronica, I’m—”
Veronica went to the door and yanked it open.
“Just go!”
Chapter 29
“Mr. Decker had alcohol and lorazepam in his blood,” Kristin remarked as she typed on her computer with one hand. In the other, she held a half-eaten breakfast sandwich wrapped in plastic. When she took a bite, Freddie couldn’t take his eyes off it.
“Lorazepam?”
He couldn’t remember the last time he had a breakfast sandwich. Two months ago? Three?
A long time, but he could still feel the texture between his teeth, the burst of fat as the sausage patty exploded on his tastebuds.
“Yeah.” Kristin swallowed. “Basic sedative.”
“Recreational?”
“Nope.” She took another bite of her sandwich. “Helps you sleep, maybe. But in this case? I’m guessing the person who wanted him to sleep, didn’t want him to wake up.”
Freddie rubbed the back of his neck.
“So, he was drugged then. He had alcohol in his system, as well? Maybe someone slipped the sleeping drug into his drink?”
“Impossible to know for sure. But… probably. He died of exsanguination—bled out—like the others.”
“Any chance his wounds were self-inflicted?”
“Can’t tell for certain. I managed to send some images to Dr. Thorpe, and she couldn’t confirm, either. She did, however, say that it was unlikely.” Kristin zoomed in on images of the slits on Aaron Decker’s wrists. “Notice anything different about these cuts?” She indicated first the left wrist and then the right.
