One vote for murder, p.1
One Vote for Murder, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Copyright (c) October 2022 by S.C. Wynne
One Vote
for
Murder
By S.C. Wynne
Chapter One
Maxwell
You thought you could kill my sister and get away with it?
River’s words sucked the air out of the room like a twister about to destroy everything in its path. His words made no sense at first, but then slowly, his meaning sank in. My entire career, I’d only lost one patient on the operating table, and that person had been Lucinda Pratt.
Lucinda Pratt had been River’s sister?
I blinked at him, bewildered, searching for any sign this was a sick joke. But he wasn’t laughing. In fact, his eyes were dripping with malice as he stood over me menacingly.
“What did you say?” I whispered, fighting against the drug that was rapidly stealing my ability to stay conscious.
“You heard me.” River’s face was flushed, and he wasn’t bothering to hide his hatred now. “You murdered my little sister, and then you ran away like a coward.”
I shook my head. “No. It was… n… not… my… fault.”
“Liar,” he hissed.
“It wasn’t.” I shook my head, which was a horrible mistake because that only made the room tip and spin even more. I gripped the table, feeling nauseous.
“You’re going to give me answers, Maxwell. At long last, you’ll pay the piper for your negligence.”
Licking my dry lips, I rasped, “I was cleared. You know that’s true.”
He curled his lip. “Oh, please. You were given a pass by a bunch of strangers impressed with your pedigree. We both know you screwed up that day. We both know you killed my sister. You took her sweet, young life and then just moved on as if you’d done nothing more than spill a cup of coffee.”
“I didn’t. I… I didn’t,” I groaned, trying to stand. It didn’t go well, and River had to catch me, or I’d have fallen face-first on the floor. He seemed to hate me so much I wasn’t sure why he bothered. Perhaps it was simply instinct that made him reach out to break my fall. Whatever his reason, he grabbed me in time.
“You’ve dodged the truth long enough,” he panted, his breath warm against my cheek. “You’re going to tell me everything that happened that day, or you’ll pay a horrible price.”
“It was just a normal day,” I mumbled, concerned that my heart was racing so fast I might be on the verge of cardiac arrest. God only knew what he’d given me. I was drenched in sweat and borderline nauseous.
“A normal day?” River repeated angrily. “You murdered my sister, but it was just another day to you?”
“No. That’s not what I meant.” In truth, Lucinda’s death had sent me into a personal and professional spiral. Her passing had changed my life forever. I’d failed Lucinda. Despite my undeniable skill, I’d been unable to save her. Her life had ebbed away before my very eyes as I’d struggled desperately to stop the bleeding. My devastating failure had echoed in the silent room as Lucinda bled to death. It was the most horrible moment of my life, and I’d never get past it.
Naturally, River wasn’t concerned with how gut-wrenching Lucinda’s death had been for me. He’d lost his sister, and while I didn’t have any siblings, I knew his loss was far greater than mine. He needed someone to blame, and I was the easiest target. Logically, I understood his reasoning and even his desire for revenge.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I tried again.
“Maybe you should be more tactful,” he hissed. “I realize that isn’t your strong suit, but I’m looking for a reason to hurt you, Maxwell. Don’t make it too easy.”
He slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me down a hallway off the living room. I stumbled a lot because of the drugs he’d fed me, which seemed to irritate him. I wanted to fight him, but it was all I could do to stay upright. We reached a doorway that seemed to lead to the garage. He yanked it open and dragged me over the threshold into the dark space.
The scent of motor oil and fertilizer reaffirmed we were in the garage. When he began to drag me toward a car parked a few feet away, panic rolled through me. If he managed to get me to a second location, Royce might never find me. With that thought in mind, I reached back and grabbed hold of the doorjamb. The door bumped painfully on my fingers, but I held on for dear life.
He grunted as our forward momentum was halted. “What the hell, Maxwell?” He tried to pry my fingers from the wood. “Let go.”
“Where are you taking me?” I mumbled.
He hissed, “Let go of the doorjamb, now.”
“No.” I shook my head stubbornly. “Please stop, River. This is madness.”
“Final warning. Let go of the doorjamb, Maxwell,” he rumbled, pushing the door open and preparing to slam it shut. “Unless you want to lose your fingers.”
A chill shot through me at his threatening tone, and I let go of the doorjamb. I wouldn’t have been able to hold on long anyway. The drugs were making me weaker by the second. When we reached the car, he let go of me. With a squeaking cloth-against-metal sound, I slowly slid down the side of the vehicle, landing like a sack of potatoes on the cold cement floor. Gnashing my teeth, I stayed where I was, too feeble to move.
My eyes closed of their own volition, and my head pounded painfully. The sound of River’s footsteps receding filled me with relief, but then dread replaced it as a strange grinding noise began. A mechanical creaking and scraping sound filled the area as I tried, and failed, to open my eyes. Was he going to throw me into a chipper or something? No, that was the sound of a garage door opening.
Oh, thank God.
I knew that trying to escape was my only hope. I realized that giving in to the drug was the worst thing I could do. But my muscles were mush. I truly, truly wanted to scream. I really, really wanted to fight.
Unfortunately, I did neither and instead slipped into murky nothingness.
****
When I came to, it was pitch-black. I had a splitting headache, and my mouth tasted like a dirty gym sock. Groaning, I tried to make sense of where I was and what was happening. The memory of River drugging me slammed into me, and with a grunt, I sat up. Panic roared through me as I realized my ankle was chained to the frame of whatever I was lying on. My hands weren’t tied, nor was I gagged. I found that odd but was grateful for both.
The drug River had given me was still in my system but fading. I felt jittery as I searched the gloominess for something that might tell me where I was. I was no longer in a garage. At least, it didn’t smell like a garage. River had successfully moved me to another location. He might be off his rocker, but he’d obviously planned this out thoroughly.
My only hope of rescue was Royce. When I didn’t return home, Royce would come looking for me. River knew that too, which was why he’d gotten me out of his house. When Royce showed up on his doorstep, would River actually be able to convince Royce he didn’t know where I was? River was a devious snake, but Royce was intuitive. I had to believe he’d see through River’s act.
Since he hadn’t gagged me, he’d no doubt put me somewhere no one would hear me yelling for help. He’d said he wanted answers. My concern was the truth wouldn’t satisfy him. He didn’t seem interested in hearing what had really happened. Did that mean he’d torture me until I told him what he wanted to hear?
I didn’t have my coat, yet I wasn’t shivering. At first, I’d thought perhaps I was in some type of shed, but it was too warm for an outside building. While I couldn’t see much in the gloom, I smelled the unmistakable scent of central heating being turned on after a period of disuse. So perhaps I was inside a house?
I felt around with my hands, trying to discern what I was sitting on. I seemed to be on a mattress held up by a metal frame. There was no headboard and only one thin blanket and flat pillow. The bedding smelled like lavender and sandalwood. What a considerate kidnapper River was to provide me with clean bed linens.
Asshole.
I was angry with myself for falling for River’s little performance. I should have known the second he offered me a drink, he was up to something. But I’d been trying my best to get along. I’d felt euphoric at the thought of never having to really deal with him again. That had made me too trusting. Unobservant. Thinking back now over how he’d behaved, there’d been an uneasy energy buzzing just beneath the surface. I’d assumed he was simply on edge, as I’d been. But apparently, he’d been on edge for a very different reason: he’d been planning my kidnapping.
Luc
I moved my foot and kicked something over. I felt around and found two bottles of water next to the bed. I grabbed one, twisting off the cap. It made a satisfying snapping noise, which reassured me the water hadn’t been tampered with. I drank half of the bottle, hoping to flush my system of drugs, but then stopped. I didn’t want to have to use the restroom, since I wasn’t sure there was one. Was that another layer of humiliation River wanted to lay on me? Pissing myself?
Yeah. Definitely an asshole.
I lay down on the bed, trying to control the overwhelming panic trying to take hold of me. I needed to think. I needed to be logical. Freaking out wasn’t going to help anything. I blew out two slow, calming breaths and focused on Royce. He knew where I’d gone tonight. When I didn’t come home, he’d go check things out at River’s house. I knew that without a doubt.
Of course, River would have some story in place. He might even have a fake alibi. He could easily play dumb and tell Royce I’d left his house on good terms. I frowned, remembering I’d never signed the lease. Would he say I’d never even shown up? That would be risky because it was possible one of his neighbors would have seen my car.
My car.
My car would still be at his house. Surely that would prove that I’d actually arrived at River’s home. I patted my pockets, knowing I wouldn’t find my phone but hoping to find my keys. My heart sank when I realized my pockets were empty. Even my wallet was missing.
I told myself River wouldn’t actually hurt me. This whole thing was probably designed to scare me. He wanted revenge. He wanted me to suffer because he’d suffered by losing his sister. But when push came to shove, River wouldn’t murder me or anything.
Right?
I’d simply have to trust Royce to find me. He’d done it before, and he’d do it again. If there was one person in this world I could depend on, it was Royce.
Chapter Two
Royce
Maxwell’s offhand jest had been funny at the time.
If I’m not home by 9:00 p.m., dig up River’s garden. I’ll be there waiting.
But as I glanced at the clock that read 10:30 p.m., suddenly, the joke fell flat. Naturally, I didn’t want to overreact. It wasn’t like Max was a child who was home late from kindergarten. He was a grown man capable of making his way back safely. Still, something felt off. Max knew I worried about him, so not texting or calling when he was running late wasn’t like him.
I rubbed Grumpy’s furry head, trying to work out where Max might be. He wasn’t the sort to go out drinking with friends at a moment’s notice. First of all, he didn’t really have friends, and second of all, he knew I was waiting for him. We’d planned on eating a late dinner together.
My stomach growled as if on cue, and I stood, tugging my phone from my pocket. It was perfectly reasonable to call him. I’d been very patient, but I was truly beginning to worry. I dialed his number and frowned when it went to voicemail. Stomach churning, I cleared my throat and spoke into the phone after the beep.
“Hey, Max, it’s Royce.” I laughed self-consciously. “Uh… hate to bother you, but just wondering if you’ll be home soon? I’m tempted to eat the couch. If you’re out having fun… or something… that’s fine. I’m just a little worried because I haven’t heard from you. Anyway, call me back when you get this message.” I hung up and glanced at a curious-looking Grumpy. “He’s probably fine, right, buddy?”
Grumpy blinked at me, wagging his tail. He no doubt hoped he was about to get a treat. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. My mind raced with all sorts of bad scenarios. Being a cop, it was hard not to assume the worst. I knew better than to completely panic—that certainly wouldn’t help the situation. It was, however, difficult not to worry at all. I wasn’t a machine, and trouble did have a way of finding Max.
I gulped down most of the bottle and peered out the kitchen window. A big milky moon hovered above the cottonwood in the front yard. It illuminated the driveway and the empty spot where Maxwell’s car should have been. It was the not calling part that had me troubled. Max wasn’t the type to just not call.
Grunting, I turned away from the window. The last place he’d been was River’s house. Would it be weird to go over to River’s house? Not in an accusatory way but simply because I was worried about Max. Perhaps it was more normal to call River and ask when Max had left his house. But something inside of me didn’t want to give River a heads-up. I couldn’t tell if that was my instincts talking or if I was just a suspicious bastard. Maybe it was both.
Sitting around waiting wasn’t doing me any good. I grabbed my keys and gave Grumpy an apologetic look. “I need to go check on Max. I won’t be long.”
Grumpy wagged his tail, and I told myself that meant I had his blessing.
I grabbed a jacket and left the house. My feet crunched on the gravel as I made my way to the car. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was horribly wrong. I prayed Maxwell hadn’t driven off the road or been involved in some sort of accident. I got in the vehicle and started the engine.
It was a short drive to River’s home, and I parked in front of his house. I was deeply disappointed that Maxwell’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight. Feeling frustrated, I got out and made my way to the front of the house. There were lights on inside but no sounds discernable. I made my way up the porch steps, ducking so I didn’t bump my head on some windchimes hanging above. I noticed a red bicycle leaning against the railing of the porch. It seemed out of place on the otherwise pristine veranda.
I rang the doorbell, pulse racing. I really hoped River could shed some light on when Max had left and where he’d been headed. Since Max wasn’t here, I needed a trail to follow.
The door opened, and a wary-looking River stood there. “Oh, Sheriff,” he said breathily. “I couldn’t imagine who’d be ringing my bell this late at night.”
I took in his flushed cheeks and flustered demeanor. “Sorry to drop in so late.”
He waved his hand at me. “It’s no problem at all. I simply didn’t know who it was. My door’s always open. To you.” He gave a flirty laugh. “Would you like to come in?”
“Sure.” When he moved aside, I stepped inside. Pulling off my hat, I took in the sleekly furnished living room. It looked about how I’d pictured River’s home might look. Modern. Colorful. Staged. My eyes landed on a bottle of tequila on the dining room table and the single shot glass beside it.
River followed my gaze, giving a nervous giggle. “Uh-oh. You caught me drinking alone. Lock me up and throw away the key.”
“Celebrating something?”
He avoided my gaze. “Not really. Truth is, Lucas is out of town, and I’m bored to tears.”
“I see.” He seemed nervous. Fidgety. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, and his pupils seemed dilated.
“Would you like some? I can get another shot glass.” He fluttered his lashes. “What do you say, Sheriff? Wanna loosen your tie and have a little fun tonight?”
“Nah. I’m good.”
“Oh, come on, I’m sure you’re better than just good.” His smile was coy.
River was always flirtatious with me, but it felt like he was laying it on a little thick, even for him.
I cleared my throat. “I know Max dropped by to sign some paperwork. He should have been home by now, but he isn’t. I can’t get him on his cell either. I was wondering when Maxwell left your house?”
His gaze flickered. “Left my house?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to get a timeline of sorts.”
“Oh, well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Well, gosh, Royce. Maxwell never showed up.”
Shock jolted through me. “What?” I asked sharply.
He turned his back on me and moved to the tequila bottle. “That’s right. He stood me up.”
“What? No. Max wouldn’t do that.”
He sniffed. “He did. And let me tell you, I… I was pretty upset about it at first. It shows how little respect he has for me. I mean, to just blow me off like that was incredibly rude. That’s really why I’m drinking. I truly find it very, very upsetting.” He sighed and lifted the shot glass to his lips, gulping down the amber liquid. It wasn’t lost on me his hand shook as he tipped the glass to drink.
