The Past, page 1
THE PAST
PAIGE STONE MYSTERIES
BOOK 2
MARIBETH GARRETT
The Past
© 2022 Maribeth Garrett
Print and eBook editions published by Admission Press
All rights reserved
eBook ISBN 978-1-955836-06-7
paperback ISBN 978-1-955836-07-4
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author
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1
While darkness consumed the last embers of light, Paige Stone sat staring at the cabin where she died. He killed me here. If Trin hadn’t saved me . . . She couldn’t complete the thought. Paralysis seized her mind. She sat motionless until night completely descended.
Every Wednesday when the sun arched over in the western sky, she drove toward Claremore and the woods that surrounded the log house. She hadn’t missed one since that night over six months ago. Each time she promised herself this would be the last trip, but the next week, she found herself here, at the place that changed everything in her life. If this situation didn’t suck enough, she thought Hank, her former partner and mentor, knew about her visits.
Finally, she forced herself to open the glove box. Her fingers shook until she grasped the Maglite inside. She stepped out of the vehicle, leaving the door to the compartment open.
The driveway stretched before her. She followed it like she had her first trip to the house. She moved forward through the tall grass that lined her path. The stems, now brown from winter’s frost, rustled in the gentle breeze of January. No animals foraged. The silence screamed through her brain, but she made herself continue the short journey.
The vacant house mocked her. Everything looked the same as it did last summer. This time, her mind told her, he’s not here. She placed the flashlight to the first window and switched it on. The bedroom remained empty. She checked every corner to make sure. Cold air filled her lungs, and she attempted to steady her hand. The beam of light still quivered.
She forced the light up to the next bedroom window. The bedroll appeared for a split second. Then her vision cleared, and she saw the room as it truly was—bare.
Her leaden feet plodded toward the kitchen’s sliding-glass door. She remembered the pink backpack that had triggered her most primal fears. The computer-filled bag had signaled the monster was there. She forced her eyes open. Though the counter tops showed no sign of the laptop or carryall, sweat poured down her back. Her hands felt clammy, and she could no longer breathe. She attempted to walk back to the south end of the cabin, but stumbled and landed on all fours. The sound of the Eagles’ “Somebody” filled her brain while she lay motionless in the dead grass. She gasped over and over, her lungs screaming for oxygen.
An eternity passed before she drew her first breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Twenty-seven times she’d been overtaken by the panic attack. Twenty-seven times and nothing had changed. He still won. He was dead, but still he won.
Her cell phone rang. She wrestled the device from her jacket pocket and glanced at the screen. The number wasn’t familiar. She answered anyway. It could be a witness from her latest case. She worked as a homicide detective for the Tulsa Police Department.
“Is this Paige Stone?”
“Who is this?” She still wasn’t accustomed to the sound of her own voice. Damaged vocal cords, a constant reminder of what had happened here, were a permanent gift from the monster her soul still battled.
“I’m Josh Stuart. You may have heard of me. I’m a good friend of Ben McCall. We made several movies together.” He sounded anxious.
“Who?” Not the Josh Stuart. Shit. He probably wanted the rights to her story. She’d received so many offers to tell what happened in this cabin. The only person she could talk to was Caroline Montgomery, her televangelist friend, and even she didn’t know everything.
“Josh Stuart. As in the movies?” She took a breath. “Are you the one who bought the cabin where Grant Windsor was killed? I saw the For Sale sign is gone.”
“No. This has nothing to do with Tulsa. Ben’s in trouble. We heard how you stopped the man who killed Heather Ballentine. I want to hire you to come help Ben. The deputies put him in the sheriff’s station in Malibu.”
“You didn’t call to buy my story?”
“No.”
“Thank God.” Her gruff voice didn’t convey the depth of relief she felt.
“I need you to come to LA to clear Ben.”
“I don’t understand how I can help you. I’m a police detective in Tulsa. I wouldn’t have any authority in Los Angeles.” Her mind raced with options, but none of them included a trip to LA. This was beyond strange. Josh Stuart. Really?
“I don’t need you to be a police officer. I need you to investigate. A man died at Ben’s house. The sheriff didn’t look at anyone else. I want you to find out what actually happened.”
“Have you spoken to Mr. McCall since his arrest?” Curiosity forced its way in.
“No. The best lawyer in LA and I played phone tag a good portion of the day, and it took some time to find you. Besides, he won’t see anyone.”
“The only advice I can give you is tell him to keep his mouth shut until he speaks with a good defense attorney. One who specializes in murder. I feel like a lowlife helping you this much. I’m on the other side, ya’ know.” She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and longed for a tissue.
“But he asked for you. Tony said he asked for you specifically. It’s the least you can do after the way Tulsa treated us when we visited.”
“I wasn’t a part of what happened to you.” She leaned back against the house to give her aching legs some relief.
“I know. If it wasn’t for you, we might still be in Tulsa. It’s the reason he trusts you. He knows you’ll search for the truth. It’s warm and sunny here in LA. Why not come and enjoy the weather? At least take a peek.”
“I have a job. I can’t just take off any time I want.”
“It wouldn’t be forever. Can’t you take a leave of absence or vacation? Something?”
“I don’t think you understand.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I would be out of my jurisdiction. I’m not a licensed PI in California. It would be difficult for me to do anything.”
“You could find out who the victim is. Ben won’t say anything to me or Tony—or the police. He wants to talk to you. Ben told Tony as much right before he left town for a film shoot. Can’t we fly you out for a day or two? The studio has a Gulfstream on standby I can borrow. I could be there to pick you up in only a few hours.”
“I don’t think so.” She sighed. Getting away was actually tempting.
“This is Wednesday. You could come for the weekend. I could fly you back by Monday morning. Please. My friend needs you.”
“I don’t know Ben McCall. Why would he trust me?”
“You saved us. You risked your life to find the real killer. The whole episode spooked him. I know he checked you out once we got back. He said if he ever got into trouble again, he’d only trust you with the truth. I didn’t think he would ever need you.” Josh paused for a moment. “But maybe he did.”
“You know his statement could mean he’s guilty. If he killed the victim, I won’t help set him free.”
“You’ll come?”
“I’ll think about the weekend plan. It’s not a done deal. Call me back in a couple of hours. I’ll decide by then.”
“Okay. I’ll give you two hours.” She could hear the relief in his voice before he disconnected.
Nothing like this had ever come her way before. The proposal felt bizarre and not in a good way. She’d get Hank’s perspective. At least he’d met the three superstars. She hadn’t. What interested her was the warm weather in LA and putting distance between her and this cabin.
She wanted her life back. Hank’s retirement was proving difficult, and her fifteen minutes of fame never felt right. She wanted to be a good detective with Hank as her partner, but Hank would never work with her again.
The shadows disappeared behind her as she walked back to the car. Josh Stuart’s offer gave her something to ponder besides the certainty of her death. The experience six months ago changed her life in so many ways. If H
Paige stopped by Hank Gettering’s. The front door to the small bungalow was unlocked. He stopped locking it the day he retired. She didn’t know why and hadn’t asked. He sat in his recliner and sipped iced tea. Often he laced it with bourbon, but they didn’t talk about the liquor either. They both had off-limit areas they never mentioned. She remained hopeful, but they hadn’t worked past them yet.
Hank lobbed a volley at her. “I see you’re out late again.”
“You know how it goes when you’re on the job.” She hit the ball back.
“You were on the job? Is that why Steve called looking for you?” Point for Hank.
Steve Cook was her new partner. He worried about her, but damn it, he shouldn’t call Hank. Her mentor didn’t need her problems too.
“What did he want? I saw him a few hours ago.”
“He told me the same thing. I think he wants to be a good friend. He mentioned the trips to Rogers County. I don’t think he’s aware I know about them.” Hank’s gaze pierced hers.
“I’m doing my job. Did he tell you I wasn’t? What the hell business is it of his what I do on my own time?”
“Maybe he’s a little uneasy about his backup if the need arises.”
“That’s low. I’ve never failed to be ready for backup. If you have something to say, Hank, just say it.”
“Fine. I will. You’re not the same. Whatever happened out at the cabin changed you. I need to know you’re going to pull out of this. I miss the old Paige. The one who flirted with Bill to get her own way. The one who asked a million right questions. The one who met every challenge. I haven’t seen her since the night she confronted Windsor. What happened to her?”
Head down, she paced the small living room and lowered her voice. “She died.”
They shared the silent room for several moments, staring at each other. Then she sat.
“I got an unusual call today. Do you remember Josh Stuart? He phoned me on my cell. I don’t know how he got my number.”
“I remember him. We thought he was the one who held you captive because we couldn’t locate him. Why would Stuart call you?”
“He claims his friend, Ben McCall, is in trouble. They arrested him for murder.”
“I saw the clip on the news. They held him without bail. What does his stay in jail have to do with you?”
“They want me to come out there and investigate what happened. Josh said Ben wouldn’t talk to anyone but me. He asked me to fly out for the weekend.”
“Huh.” Hank scratched at his day-old beard and finished the last of his tea.
“Josh Stuart offered to come get me in a Gulfstream. Can you imagine me flying off in a private jet?”
“So are you going?”
“I told him I’d think about it. Well, I told him no at first. Then I said I’d think about it when he mentioned only coming for the weekend. I could probably go without anyone missing me. Still, it sounds rather crazy. I don’t even know these guys.”
“You could call the captain and get it okayed easy enough. You’re off this weekend aren’t you?” Hank asked.
“I don’t report back until early Monday.”
“It could be a nice opportunity to get away for a few days. At least you couldn’t drive to Rogers County from there. It might be good for you.”
“I thought about the distance from the cabin too.”
She sat on the sofa for a few minutes. They both searched for something to fill the silence. She remembered how she used to sneak down the hall from her bedroom to peek at his case files. The photographs were sometimes gruesome, but she couldn’t keep away from them. Most times, she would wake at dawn with a part of the file in her hand, sometimes with the answer to the question that puzzled her before she fell asleep. But always she hurried to bed before Hank caught her.
“This old couch holds lots of memories. We solved some cases when we shared details.” She patted the brown plaid seat beside her.
“I know. You hadn’t been here a week before I could tell you snooped through my papers. I found different hiding places, but you always located the new one. I knew then I was in trouble. You’re a born detective.”
“You figured me out so quickly. I wondered why you moved your briefcase around.”
“I figured you out real fast. It made you one special girl in my book. Let’s find a way to get through this. Go get some sun, and take your mind off whatever’s eating at you. A new case, with different evidence, might be the answer.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple, but the sun sounds good. I might never get a chance to ride in a private jet again.” Her smile was more genuine this time. “It’s so hard to move past some cases. Do you remember the case when I was twelve? I think I was twelve. The one where we lost the guy and he had a young son. The perp beat his live-in girlfriend to death. You know the one I’m talking about?”
“Yeah. We figured his job made him travel. They both vanished.”
“I used to worry about the kid. I prayed for him some. I think I asked you about him every day for months.”
“The case was a tough one. If there’s a child involved, it always makes it harder to let go.” Hank rubbed his forehead, then moved his hand down to brush across his chin whiskers.
“I still think about him. All these years later. I wonder if he’s alive or if the old man beat him to death. I guess I’ll never know.”
“There’s a good chance you won’t, but we took a lot of bad ones off the street. Sometimes you lose one. It sticks with you, but you can’t stop, because there’s always a next one. They never quit coming. The bad guys, I mean.”
She forced herself to ask the question that wouldn’t stop haunting her. “What if I never move past this one?”
The compassion in Hank’s eyes squeezed her heart. “Why don’t you get on the jet? Go get some sun, and don’t come back until you get out of the funk you’ve been in.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried to clear a suspect before. It doesn’t feel right.”
“You could luck out. He could be innocent.”
“Yeah, and I could fly without a plane, but I don’t think so.”
Paige ran faster, while Sonya Busby lagged behind. The girl did this when she protested a point. “Come on, pokey.”
“I don’t want you to go to California. They’ll take one picture of you and make you a movie star. I’m not kidding. You don’t have to act or anything nowadays to become famous.”
“Oh, come on, the town’s filled with gorgeous women. I’ll fade in the background. You don’t need to worry.” By this time, their run had slowed to a walk.
“You promise you’ll be right back? My mom is . . . You’re the only one who understands how hard it is for people my age. You know what it’s like.”
“Believe it or not, your mother was young once too. I can tell she loves you. Some mothers don’t care what their children do. You need to give her a little credit.” She couldn’t help but compare Sonya’s mom with Caroline’s. The evangelist’s parent was one cold woman.
“I know, but your advice hits right on. Besides, I don’t have any friends who talk with me like you do.”
“It’s difficult for me to side with you on this subject. I lost my mom at the age of nine. I’m sure your mother does the best she can. It has to be better than no mom.”
“I get your point, but you still need to come back quickly. I’ll probably turn into a blimp if I don’t run with you like usual.”
She glanced at Sonya and grinned. The girl had a body like a stick figure.
“We haven’t got long, but we’ll talk more while I drive you home. I can call you every day. I only plan to be gone for the weekend, but right now, we have to run to keep you fast, so none of the guys who chase you can catch you.”
