Paradise Falls (A Romantic Suspense), page 11
Then it hit her. When they had the bigger boy restrained against the lockers, Cole yelled at them to open his bag. The backpack full of drugs. The impact swirled in her mind. She swayed a little until she leaned back.
“It was the boy they wanted,” she said. “They killed him. Krystal just happened to be there. Jesus Christ, Jacob. I pushed her to go out with him. This is my fault.”
“It’s not,” he said. He sat next to her on the bed. “It is not your fault. There’s no way you could possibly know that would happen.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “What about your chaos theory? If I’d done something different, she wouldn’t have been there.”
He jerked back as if he’d been hit. Jennifer sniffed and rubbed at her nose with her wrist.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s alright. You’re upset.” He stood up. “Elliot came to your house about what, four or five in the afternoon?”
“I guess. Why?”
“I followed him after he left, and—“
“What?” Jennifer said. “Wait, how did you know he was there?”
“I… I put a protection detail on you. Just watching the house to see if anything… what?”
Her jaw dropped. “A protection detail? Are you serious? You were watching me?”
“Not you. Your house. I followed him after he left. Caught up with him, anyway. I followed him out of town to a biker bar and on the way back I talked to him.”
“Talked to him?”
“Slapped him around a little.”
“Like you did Grayson?”
“No, I just gave him a bloody nose. Then a few hours later Grayson went after you. That was around midnight. Sometime last night those kids were killed.”
“So?”
“There’s a pattern.”
Jennifer shook her head. “There’s no pattern.”
“I just can’t see the whole thing. These facts are related somehow.”
“I need to call her parents,” Jennifer said. “I want some things from my house. Can you take me back?”
“Yes, of course. Let me help you.” He stood and offered his arm.
“I can walk.”
She grit her teeth against the pain, but she did it. Still in her pajamas, she needed a change of clothes. Focusing on keeping her balance while moving kept her from thinking about Krystal. When she got to the steps leading down to the first floor, she stopped and sighed.
“Let me,” he said.
Jennifer nodded. She presumed he’d hold her arm and steady her, but he picked her right up off the floor. Her arm slid around his neck and she said nothing while he carried her down. Gently, he lowered her to the floor and she hobbled to the front door. When they made it to the front porch, he picked her up again, and didn’t put her down until he lowered her into the seat of the Aston Martin.
He drove slowly, easing the car around the sharp curves down the hill to town. When they pulled up to the duplex, it was even more ramshackle than before. The busted out air conditioner was like a black eye. The porch roof sagged, one corner ripped away from the house complete. A pile of rotten shingles had sloughed off the old gray wood, teeming with ants.
Jacob looked up at the damage. “I’ll have this taken care of.”
He came around to scoop her out of the seat, and then lowered her in front of the door. She reached for her keys, but the door was broken open anyway. She limped through the door and gasped at what was left of her home.
The house was utterly destroyed. Every piece of furniture was flipped over. White tufts of padding spilled out from deep gouges in the couch fabric. Fallen books from the toppled wire shelves were lying on the floor, trampled and destroyed. Her crafting bench was upended and someone even tore apart some of the paper cranes. Franklin’s picture was crumpled on the floor. Someone stomped on the frame and picture both.
“Why?” she said.
Jacob took her by the shoulders and attempted to steer her away. She shook out of his grasp and then she saw what he was trying to hide from her. After they flipped over her kitchen table and busted off the legs and tipped the fridge, someone spray-painted “WHORE” on the wall in reflective yellow road paint.
A timid voice called her name.
Mrs. Carmody stood on the front porch in her dressing gown and peered into Jennifer’s part of the house. Jennifer limped to her. Jacob drifted off and pulled out a phone.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I called the police, but they told me they was busy and they couldn’t come out until the morning.”
Shock froze her thoughts from forming. “It’s… I don’t know.”
“I saw him,” Mrs. Carmody said. “I saw that Grayson boy. I’ll—“
“No,” Jennifer cut her off. “Don’t say anything to anybody. It won’t help.”
“There were two of them. One of them was Elliot, don’t I know it. The other was tall and skinny. Both of ‘em had masks on, I couldn’t see their faces. They came in around four thirty and started ripping the place up.”
Jennifer sighed and rubbed her arms. She felt a twang in her leg and shifted her weight off of it.
Wait.
“What time did you say?”
“Four thirty. It was right after the news channel put on that show about gold they run every morning.”
Jacob handed Mrs. Carmody a card. She took it in her wizened hand and held it at arms length.
“Wilmore Group? What’s that?”
“I’ve made arrangements for some repairs and cleanup to the house. My men will come this afternoon to gather Jennifer’s things. They’ll speak to you first, before they go inside. Don’t bother with the police.”
“Are you in the CIA or something?”
Jacob shook his head. “No. They’d make me cut my hair.”
He picked Jennifer up off the porch and she put her arm around his neck. Mrs. Carmody watched, open-mouthed, as he brought her to the car and lowered her into the seat. Jennifer stared at Mrs. Carmody through the windshield even though the afternoon sun hurt her eyes. Jacob dropped in next to her.
“Okay,” she sighed. “I see a pattern.”
“What pattern?”
“Elliot was here in the afternoon. He left here, went to this biker bar you talked about, and then you lost track of him. Grayson broke into my house at one or two in the morning, right?”
“I arrived at about one fifteen.”
“Sometime after that, the kids get sh-sh-sh… the kids…” she choked up. “Howard gets the call half an hour before my house is trashed. Mrs. Carmody calls them and the say they’re ‘busy.’ There’s something going on here.”
He sighed. “I thought you’d see it.”
“We’ll start with the biker bar.”
“We?” said Jacob. “What we? You’re going to—“
“If we’re going to do this, it’s going to be as partners. I’m not your princess to lock up in a tower. Did you see what they did? It’s never going to stop, no matter where I go. I’m sick of looking over my shoulder every day, and I’m not dragging my sister into it. She’s out and she can stay out.”
“Jennifer—“
“They killed my husband, Jacob. They killed Krystal. I have as much a right to see this through as you do.”
Jacob nodded in silence. In between looking ahead or glancing at the mirrors, he stole short looks at her, keeping his face a mask. She folded her arms as she looked out the window, doing her best not to break down any more. Images of Krystal bubbled into her mind.
My best big sister teacher.
Jacob let her have her quiet. It was broken when they pulled up to the house and there was a PFPD cruiser sitting in the drive with the lights going. Jacob pulled up next to it and got out. Ellison Carlyle, Grayson’s little brother, leaned on the car.
In this case, little brother was a tad misleading. Ellison was over six feet, narrow and lean. Jennifer opened her door but Jacob motioned for her to stay in the car. Ellison stood, and adjusted his hat and mirrored aviators. The safety strap on his holster was unsnapped.
“Jacob Kane, ain’t it?” said Ellison.
“Yes, officer. Is there a problem?”
“Where were you last night?”
“He was with me,” Jennifer loudly insisted.
“All night?” said Ellison.
“Yes,” Jennifer said.
Ellison’s gaze shifted between Jennifer and Jacob. “Doing what?”
Jacob remained calm. “That’s not your business, officer. Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, there’s a problem. My brother’s in the hospital and we got two dead kids. I’m wondering where you were at the time.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother, but I don’t know anything about that.”
Jennifer pushed herself up out of the seat, grimacing as she shifted her weight onto the ankle that hurt the least. After closing the car door, she ignored Jacob’s motions to stay back and hobbled over to him. Jacob folded his arms across his chest. Ellison was about the same height, and Jacob didn’t look much bigger, but there was something about him that made Ellison appear mousy by comparison.
“Anything else, officer? You’re on my property.”
“Might be,” Ellison said. “Where you say you were, again?”
Jacob’s jaw clenched. “I was home all night.”
“With me,” Jennifer added.
“You wouldn’t be lying to me,” said Ellison. “Would you? ‘Cause maybe I got somebody that says you ate at the Wham with your sister and this guy wasn’t there. Maybe I got somebody that says he was out on Route 62 in an ’86 Dodge.”
“Do you?” Jacob said.
“You might have those things, but my landlady called you last night to report a break in. What about that?”
“Yeah,” Ellison said. “I sent a cruiser by, we took a look. Animal damage.”
“What?”
“Rogue coyote,” Ellison said. “Getting to be a real problem in this part of the state.”
Again Jacob asked what assistance he could provide.
“Yeah, you can tell me where—“
“I did. Do you have a search warrant?”
“Nope. Not yet.”
“Did somebody call you?”
“No.”
“This is private property. The property line is down there.” Jacob pointed down the hill. “You’re trespassing.”
“What are you planning to do about it?”
“I’ll call the police,” Jacob said.
Ellison nodded with a smile as he cracked his gum. “Alright, alright. I got things to do, places to be. Police work, you know? I’m a busy man. I’d give you my card but I think we’ll be seeing each other. By the way, you need to fix your taillight.”
Ellison drew out his nightstick and smashed the Aston Martin’s taillight. Ellison nodded and grinned as he pulled his cruiser around and tromped on the gas, sending a spray of gravel towards Jacob and Jennifer. She stumbled while trying to avoid it, and Jacob caught her as she lost her balance.
“That was very juvenile,” Jacob sighed.
“He’s very juvenile,” Jennifer said. “What now?”
Jennifer clenched her teeth and started hobbling towards the house. She stopped, and sighed. “Go ahead.”
He picked her up and carried her inside. “Now I need to think. You need to get off that leg.”
“I have phone calls to make,” Jennifer said. “I don’t want to call her parents, but I have to.”
“I know. Let me take you upstairs.”
Again, he carried her up the staircase and lowered her to her feet just inside the door.
“It’s your room now,” he said. “I’ll have Faisal see about getting you some clothes.”
“Please tell me you don’t already know what size I wear.”
“I don’t.”
“I need you to do something for me. Don’t move.”
“What—“
Putting all her weight on her good leg, she lifted up on her toes and kissed him. His eyes widened in shock. She resisted the urge to press against him, or even open her mouth, but it was good and warm and she needed it.
There was still a raging storm of anger and sorrow spinning through her, but now a ray of light pierced it. As she sat down on the bed and weighed calling Katie or Mrs. Summers first, she knew she would sleep in a strange house tonight, but at least it wasn’t an empty one.
To be continued…
Open Wounds
1.
Jennifer Katzenberg was tired, but sleep wouldn’t come.
She was used to lying awake, starting to drift off and forcing her eyes open again as an overwhelming sense of dread coiled in her stomach. Another nightmare was always ready to pounce as soon as she drifted off. Tonight she wanted to sleep, needed to sleep, but no matter how long she lay on the bed, sleep would not come. Her arms and legs were lead and her chest was a bag of sand, but sleep would not come.
There was a whole litany of potential reasons why. First, she wasn’t at home. She was lying on an ornate four poster bed with red satin sheets in a master bedroom as big as her old, now abandoned, home. Whatever of her possessions could be salvaged was stacked up in moving boxes along the wall. It was like sleeping a hotel room, but hotel stays end. Jennifer wasn’t going home again.
Just last night, Grayson Carlyle broke into her home and tried to spirit her away. Jennifer held her own for a little while, but Grayson was a living wrecking ball. When he was in high school, he the biggest, yet fastest, linebacker on the Paradise Falls No. 2 Sentinels. Back then Grayson was always hovering over the shadow of Elliot Katzenberg, Jennifer’s brother in law. The two were close now that Elliot’s father was a senator and Elliot was climbing the ranks behind him.
Jennifer still didn’t know why her bother-in-law had gone so far this time, accosting her in the street, showing up at her house, and finally sending Grayson to simply drag her out in the middle of the night. She only knew if it wasn’t for Jacob, she wouldn’t have stood a chance.
His house, his bed. In a way, it was her house- her great-grandfather built it back in the robber baron days, overlooking the winding turn of the Susquehanna that cascades down over the falls that give the town its name. As the family fortuned declined and the dairy struggled, it was sold off and left to rot as an empty shell until Jacob came back to Paradise Falls and rebuilt it.
She had a claim to it, though she’d rather have been at home. Jennifer rolled onto her side, tired of looking at the ceiling. The ring on her left hand itched, and she took it in her fingers and twisted it. The itch abated for a time, but when she stopped the twisting it came back with a vengeance. Her skin was already red and raw around the band of gold. It usually was. Making a fist to stop herself from worrying at it, she sat up and propped on her knees, and let out long, low sigh.
The house, Elliot, all of that was just a way of avoiding the true cause of her sleeplessness. That morning, Jennifer took a phone call from her boss, Howard Unger, the vice-principal at PF No.2. She expected storm damage to her classroom, or something of that nature. Another problem to be piled on, but something solvable, something she could work past. Instead, in a hollow, defeated voice, Howard told her that two of the kids had been murdered.
Students in Jennifer’s advanced placement English class. One of them was Krystal Summers, Jennifer’s protege of sorts. She thought of the girl as her shadow, and Krystal thought of her as a mentor and friend. Jennifer could hear her voice now, bubbling through the back of her mind.
My best big sister teacher.
She’d never hear that voice again. The recommendation letter Jennifer wrote would never be sent. Krystal would not walk at graduation, she would not come visit when she was grown, as some of Jennifer’s students had, if they didn’t leave town completely. All her potential and her bubbly, energetic wit and charm were snuffed out. All those future threads had been cut, and Jennifer was in tatters.
She blinked a few times, and wondered why she wasn’t weeping. The sorrow was heavy in her chest, like a deep cold settling into her lungs. It was a bitter reminder of grief past, from her husband, and earlier her father, and the night when she realized that while her mother was alive and well, she would never truly have a mother again, if she ever had in the first place.
A deep sigh rolled out of her, and she stood up and stretched. Pain flared in her ankle. It wasn’t as bad as she first thought, but she’d twisted it hard only a few days earlier, when Elliot and Grayson nearly ran over her in his car, and then again while she was fighting off Grayson.
Jennifer slept in pajamas with long legs and sleeves, covering her from ankle to wrist, and buttoned the top up to her neck. Even being barefoot made her nervous, and so she wore a pair of socks to bed as well. Fortunately, the house was well cooled, freezing even. The weather had gone from blistering hot to unseasonably cool almost overnight. The weather could be brutal in Paradise Falls, wild and unpredictable. One summer might be sweltering and leave the river running at half its depth, the next cool and cloudy, rain swelling the river to a raging torrent.
The lights on the new bridge flashed in the darkness. Jennifer wondered why Jacob would make his home here, overlooking the river that swallowed his family when the bridge collapsed and spilled dozens of cars into a raging, snow melt swollen Susquehanna. Jennifer didn’t want to look at it now, of all times. The waters took her husband too, and she still dreamed of the shrieking of shearing metal and the tremendous, wounded animal sound the structure made as it gave way.
Everything was piling up on her, all at once. Now she was most of the way convinced that Jacob was right and the collapse wasn’t an accident, not truly. Not intentional, but the authorities knew the structure was failing. Her father-in-law and Elliot and all their cronies, they knew, they took the money to repair the bridge and didn’t fix it. They let all those people die.
For all its size, the bedroom was stifling. The walls throbbed a little closer every time she breathed, and so she stepped out into the hallway. The rest of the house was pitch black, except for a light in the kitchen and the lights outside. Spotlights covered every angle, blanketing the world in light all the way to the tree line on one side and the downward slope of the hill on the other. There was a lot of stuff out there. Cameras and sensors and things, boxes with antennas. Jennifer looked at them through the window and moved away from it. She pulled open one of the boxes and pulled her photo album out.
