Fury, page 18
“Yes. I did not kill Oscar Hyatt. Or anyone else you want to try to pin on me.”
“Have you found any other dead bodies today, Mrs. Allen?” Detective Harris asked with a smirk.
“No,” Stacey said, realizing how her words sounded. “I did not. Just Oscar Hyatt.”
“When you found his body, what did you do?”
“I left. I tried to. I wasn’t sure if anyone else was in the building, and I didn’t know who killed Oscar, so I was going to leave and call Marcus when I got back to my car.”
“Where did you get the knife?”
“It fell off the desk. When I turned to leave, my hip hit the desk, and it fell. I picked it up to set it on the desk again, and that’s when the officers found me.”
Detective Harris nodded slowly, considering her story. He rubbed his jaw and watched Stacey.
She fidgeted in her seat, hating the silence. She knew it was a tactic used by the police to make people talk. She used the same tactic, but she’d never been on the other side. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it was.
“Did you go there with the intention of killing Oscar Hyatt?”
“No.”
“Did you go there hoping to get revenge on him?”
“No.”
“Did you bring that knife with you?”
“No!”
“Did you kill him?”
“No. I did not.”
“Would you have if he wasn’t dead when you showed up?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get away. He killed his wife. He killed someone last night. He was driving that van a few days ago that had those women in it and set the fire that killed the one woman in the warehouse. He’s a bad man. He didn’t deserve to be free.”
“So, you decided to kill him so he would never be free again?”
“No. I did not kill him. Am I sorry he’s dead? Not even a little bit. But did I do it? No. That’s not who I am.”
Detective Harris leaned back and smiled. Marcus closed his eyes and shook his head. Stacey just looked between them.
“You had motive. And opportunity. I don’t know how we can let her go, Captain,” Detective Harris said.
“Let’s talk outside,” Marcus said.
Detective Harris raised an eyebrow at Stacey and smirked. Then he followed Marcus out the door.
Stacey stared at her hands. She knew he was trying to trick her into saying something, but she didn’t see it coming. He was good. Even she was starting to think she was guilty. There was no way anyone else would believe she wasn’t.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. That time, only Marcus walked in.
“What’s going on?”
“You’re free to go,” Marcus said.
“What? How? Why?”
Marcus uncuffed her and helped her to stand. “The officers at the scene found a suicide note on the computer on Oscar’s desk. They confirmed the fingerprints on the keys were Oscar’s. There were no others. You weren’t wearing gloves when the officers found you and there were no gloves found in your possession or anywhere else in the office, so there’s no reason to assume there was any foul play on your part.”
“He killed himself?” Stacey gasped.
Marcus nodded. “That’s what it looks like. His wrists were cut, left deeper than the right since he’s right-handed. There were smears of blood on the chair from where he appeared to have been when he cut himself. The knife you picked up is the only other thing in the room that had fingerprints that weren’t Oscar’s.”
“I promise you, Marcus, I didn’t kill him. He was dead when I found him. I know I shouldn’t have gone in there alone, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him getting away again.”
“It appears as though he couldn’t either. He confessed to killing Holly in his suicide note.”
“Oh, God,” Stacey breathed. She leaned forward, relief and sadness overwhelming her. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. She shook with a sob that she couldn’t hold back.
Marcus rubbed her back. He got it. He knew Holly, too. He knew all of them. It wasn’t often someone from Shelter in the Storm was lost, but when it happened, it was hard on all of them.
“I can’t believe it. I knew it, but I never thought we’d prove it.”
“He confessed to a lot of things in his letter. I guess his conscience finally got the best of him.”
“That doesn’t sound like him. I wonder why.”
Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m happy Holly can finally rest in peace.”
“Me, too.”
Marcus squeezed Stacey’s hand. “Come on. There’s someone here to see you.”
Stacey followed Marcus out of the room and into another one. Before she walked in, Wray said, “Marcus, what the hell— Stacey!”
Stacey hurried over to him and threw herself into his arms. He caught her easily and pressed his nose against her neck.
“Are you okay? Are you free? What happened?”
“She’s free,” Marcus answered for her. “Apparently, it was a suicide. Oscar confessed in his note about all the things he’s done. Stacey was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Breaking and entering is something the owner of the company can decide on, but since she didn’t actually break in, I doubt they’ll press charges.”
“Are you okay?” Wray repeated. He cupped her jaw and lifted her face to his. He pressed their foreheads together and looked her over.
Stacey nodded. “I’m okay. Scared, hungry, tired. And heartbroken for Vera.”
“Let’s get you home so you can shower and change and then go back to the shelter to see her.”
“Are you sure?” Stacey asked.
Wray nodded. “Of course. I think she needs you right now. And I think maybe you need her, too.”
Stacey smiled up at him. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”
“Feeling’s mutual.”
19
Frannie was sitting in the front room when Stacey got back to Shelter in the Storm. Stacey went in and sat with her, hugging her tight.
“Are you okay?” Frannie asked.
Stacey nodded. “I am. It wasn’t fun to get arrested, but I told them the truth.”
“I know. Marcus called. He said Oscar committed suicide.”
Stacey shrugged. “I guess. It seems too easy, but I don’t know. Maybe he couldn’t handle everything he did. I hate to say it, but the world is better without someone like him in it.”
Frannie nodded. “True, but one little girl might not see things the same way.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
Frannie shook her head. “I knew you’d want to be here.”
“Thank you. Do you want to come with me?”
“Of course.”
Frannie led the way upstairs and down the hall to the room Stacey left Vera in that morning. It was hard to believe only a few hours had passed when it felt like a lifetime. Stacey hated that she had to tell Vera she’d lost another parent, and that he confessed to killing her mom. She would learn the truth eventually, and hearing it from Stacey would be easier. Not that it would ever be easy.
Frannie knocked on Vera’s door and waited until the girl called out for her to enter. Frannie peeked her head in, smiling and asking Vera if they could talk.
“Yeah, sure,” Vera said, her voice muffled and unsteady.
Stacey walked in behind Frannie and noted how small Vera looked. She was curled up on the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her cheeks were splotchy. The collar of her gray tee was wet.
Stacey and Frannie went to opposite sides of the twin bed and both sat on the edge. They exchanged a glance before Frannie nodded for Stacey to take the lead.
“We wanted to talk to you about today,” Stacey said.
Vera drew in a shaky breath and let it out unevenly. The pain she felt was nothing compared to what she was about to feel, and Stacey’s heart broke for the girl. She was too young to know the sort of pain she was about to face.
“Did the police find my dad?”
Stacey nodded. “They did, honey. And I’m sorry, but he was already dead when they found him.”
“No!” she cried. Sobs shook her body, and she ducked her head to rest on her knees. “He can’t be dead, too. He can’t!”
Stacey and Frannie moved to sit next to Vera and held her as she cried. Stacey knew from the sessions they had that Vera adored her father as much as she didn’t trust him. She’d seen enough that she knew he had a mean streak, but he doted on her and confused her. It didn’t matter that he was evil, he was still her dad. And losing him was going to be something she would have to deal with for the rest of her life.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Frannie said soothingly. “I know how hard this is for you.”
“How would you know?” Vera asked, her tone sharp and biting.
Stacey assumed it was something Frannie was saying to make Vera feel better, but her friend and boss started to talk.
“My father was like yours. He was abusive to my mother. Never in front of me, but I knew what was going on. When she couldn’t handle it, he came after me. I tried to fight back, but that only made things worse, so I learned to let him get it out of his system.”
“I didn’t know,” Vera breathed. “My dad never hit me, though.” She averted her gaze. “I knew he hit my mom. I didn’t help her.”
“There was nothing you could have done to help her, honey,” Frannie said. “With men like that, very little gets through to them.”
“Did anything get through to your dad?”
Frannie shook her head. A haunted look crossed her face, one that made Stacey’s heart clench before Frannie continued her story.
“My dad was one of the bad ones. He wasn’t willing to see that what he was doing was wrong. The only thing that stopped him was death.”
“Your mom killed him?”
Frannie shook her head. “No. He killed my mom, then killed himself. I was thirteen.”
“Oh, my God,” Vera breathed.
“It wasn’t an easy time for me, but I knew it meant my mother was no longer suffering. And neither was my father. I don’t know what demons he had in him, but he had some. I don’t think I’ll ever completely forgive what he did, but I’ve accepted that he wasn’t well.”
“I need to know something,” Vera said, her voice stronger even as it wobbled.
Stacey and Frannie nodded for Vera to continue.
“Did my dad kill my mom?”
Stacey put her hand on Vera’s arm and drew the girl’s attention. She waited until Vera looked up at her and saw in Vera’s eyes that she already knew the truth.
“Yes. He did,” Stacey said simply. There was no way to make it easier to hear.
Vera nodded. A single tear slid down her cheek. “I hate him for that.”
“And you have every right to hate him,” Frannie said. “He took her from you. All she was doing was trying to protect both of you, but he took her. It’s going to take you time to fully process all of this, but you’re strong and smart. And we will be here for you anytime you need us.”
Vera drew a breath and pressed her lips up into a tentative smile. “Thank you.” She paused and looked across the room, then asked, “Do you know how my dad died?”
“He committed suicide,” Stacey said.
“No. There’s no way,” Vera argued instantly.
“Excuse me?”
“He wouldn’t have done that. His dad killed himself. He told me it was a coward’s way out. He hated his father for doing it. That’s not true. The police are lying.” Vera pushed her way off the bed and paced back and forth.
Stacey and Frannie stood with her, standing on opposite sides of the bed. Stacey’s mind spun with questions she didn’t have answers to. She thought back over what the room looked like when she walked in. She didn’t see Oscar’s body until she walked around the desk. He was lifeless, slumped onto the floor.
But the knife was on the desk. On the edge of the desk, because it fell when she bumped the desk.
If Oscar set it down on the desk, there would have been blood there. And all over the chair. Unless he was standing, but that seemed unlikely.
“Where’s Marcus? I want to talk to him,” Vera declared.
“He’s at work, but I’ll call him and see when he can get here,” Frannie said. “But, honey, you need to know, your father left a note. He typed it into his computer.”
“The only fingerprints on the keys were his,” Stacey added. She had to convince herself, too.
“No. He wouldn’t have done it. I know it. He would never.”
Stacey and Frannie worked to calm Vera down. The only thing that helped was Frannie calling Marcus and him promising to be there soon to talk to Vera.
She finally settled on the bed again. The vacant look in her eyes wasn’t a good one, but she needed to go through the different stages of grief.
“I’d like to tell you something else,” Stacey said.
Vera nodded.
“That necklace your dad gave you? It’s not similar to your mom’s. It is your mom’s.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A friend of mine had that necklace custom-made for her. It’s the only one that exists.”
“How did he…? Oh, my God.” She broke down in tears and curled onto her side. It was like she was holding out hope that Oscar didn’t really kill Holly, but that information shattered it.
Frannie and Stacey sat with Vera while she cried again. When she calmed down once more, they talked her into going downstairs to get something to eat and call her aunt. Holly’s sister lived in Illinois. Holly talked about moving there once Vera was done with school. It seemed like the best option for Vera now.
Andrea said she’d be there the next day, and Vera was relieved to have that piece of her life settled. She ate a sandwich and drank some water, and they waited for Marcus to arrive.
The three of them were watching TV when Marcus walked in. He nodded to Vera, and all of them moved into Frannie’s office so they had privacy to talk.
“Frannie told me what you said,” Marcus started. “I promise you, we are going to look into every possibility.”
“He would never do that. I don’t care what the letter said, it’s not possible. Someone else killed him,” Vera insisted.
“If that’s true, we will find out who,” Marcus promised her.
Fear slithered up Stacey’s spine. She couldn’t explain it, but she believed Vera. She knew Oscar didn’t kill himself. Or didn’t do it willingly.
Which meant there was someone else out there who’d been pulling the strings. But who?
Stacey finally made it home late in the day. Braden’s truck was gone, and lights were still on downstairs. She was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was eat and crash.
As soon as she opened the door, her stomach growled. Something delicious met her nose, drawing her to the kitchen where she found her three boys.
Wray came over and kissed her. “How did everything go?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“I’m so sorry for her. To lose them both the way she did.”
“You know what’s crazy? Frannie’s parents were the same. Dad killed mom, then himself.” Stacey kept her voice low so Joey and Evan didn’t hear what they were talking about.
“Wow. That’s horrible.”
Stacey nodded. “Yeah. But Vera’s convinced her dad didn’t kill himself. She said he never would because he sees suicide as weak.”
“That’s not true, though. It’s painful and the people who take their own lives do it because they can’t see any other way out. If everything was closing in on Oscar, he could have gotten to that point.”
Stacey shrugged. “I agree, but I kind of believe her.”
“Why?”
Stacey shook her head. “I can’t really explain it, but I keep seeing him lying there. And where the knife was. It doesn’t really make sense.”
“You think someone killed him?”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s very possible.”
“What’s you talking about?” Evan asked loudly.
Stacey pushed away thoughts of Oscar and focused on her family. “I was telling Daddy how good dinner smells. What are we having?”
“Pasketti!” Evan shouted.
“Ooh, no wonder it smells so good. That’s my favorite.”
“Me, too,” Evan agreed. He went back to coloring the workbook in front of him, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.
Stacey walked over and hugged him, smiling when he fought her hold so he could keep working. She moved to Joey next and looked at what he was doing, hugging him, too.
She hoped Vera would have a piece of that kind of life when she moved to be with her aunt. She deserved happiness after everything she’d been through. Stacey hoped she’d find it.
After dinner, they curled up on the couch together and watched a movie. The boys repeated half the lines of the family favorite. Stacey smiled and was grateful. It wasn’t long ago she never thought her life would look like that again.
Wray took the boys upstairs to read a story after the movie. Stacey was tired, but she wanted to make sure the kitchen was cleaned up and the pots from spaghetti were soaking so they would be easy to clean in the morning. She was too tired to do it before bed.
She wiped down the table and the counters, then hung the dishrag to dry on the front of the stove. Stacey looked around once more as she listened to Wray reading to the boys.
She loved her life.
A knock on the backdoor made her jump. Their yard was fenced, and visitors used the front door. Who the hell would be at the back?
Stacey grabbed a knife from the block and tiptoed to the door. She put her hand on the knob and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
The knock came again, this time with a voice. “Stacey? It’s Jessica.”
Stacey whipped the door open, setting the knife on the counter. “Jessica? What are you…? Is that blood?”
Jessica’s hands shook as she tried to brush away the bloodstains on her jeans and tee. “Yeah. Sorry. I just—”
