The Scent of Murder (A Veronica Shade Thriller Book 2), page 27
Chapter 62
When Steve saw Veronica’s car on the grass in front of the Trammel house, instead of slamming on the brakes, he accidentally hit the gas. It was probably the Oxy coursing through his system that was to blame—he’d popped two more pills after finding out that Veronica had been contacted by Gloria. He corrected his mistake seconds before he careened into the back of her car. His own vehicle spun out, and he opened the door before it was completely stopped.
Steve fell on the grass as his car rolled and bumped into Veronica’s.
It was the Oxy.
It had to be.
He scrambled on all fours and then he saw her.
Detective Veronica Shade, the woman who he’d been living with for the last six months, was sitting on the porch, a yo-yo dangling between her fingers.
Sitting beside her was a girl with pigtails and a giant smile on her cherubic face.
They heard him approach, it was impossible not to, given the way he’d been driving, but they weren’t alarmed.
“Veronica?”
She looked up and offered Steve a sad smile.
“What—” his eyes darted to Bev Trammel who was hypnotized by the yo-yo trick that Veronica was performing. “What happened?”
“Well, I was just teaching this cute little girl how to do a trick—it’s called Rock the Baby. How many times have you tried it now?”
“About a hundred. But I think my hands are too small,” the girl whined.
“You can do it. Here, you try—I need to talk to my friend for a minute, okay? And remember, no going inside.”
“Okay.”
The girl had no intention of going inside. She was obsessed with trying to Rock the Baby.
Veronica tousled the girl’s hair, then met Steve beside her car.
“What the fuck happened? Where’s Gloria?” Steve hissed under his breath.
Veronica grabbed him tightly by the arm, and if it hadn’t been for the painkillers, it would have hurt like hell. She didn’t speak until they were safely out of earshot.
“It was Gloria who killed those girls,” Veronica said. “Jealous of her husband who was unfaithful. Convinced herself that every woman who even came near Gordon wanted to fuck him. Remember when I was in the interview room with him? I touched his hands and she saw me.” Veronica’s brow furrowed. “Wait—what are you doing here?”
Steve repeated every word that Veronica had said inside his own head.
“Where’s Gloria?”
Veronica gave him a strange look.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, but where is she?”
“She tried to kill me, Steve. She had a gun, and she was going to kill me.”
Steve licked his lips, which were suddenly dry and tacky.
“What happened to Gloria, Veronica?” His tongue felt thick.
“She’s dead, Steve. I shot her. She’s dead.”
Emotion overwhelmed him then. Everything from the past week—shit, had it only been a week?—came crashing down on him. He grabbed Veronica and squeezed her tightly. The bandages on his back, the bandages that Veronica herself had applied, stretched, and tore, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that she was safe and that they were together.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Veronica pushed against him.
“What?” She looked up at him with those gold-flecked irises.
For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to repeat the words.
“Nothing.”
But she knew he was lying. Veronica always knew.
But had she heard him?
Steve wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed her on the lips. He would’ve kept on kissing her, but another car pulled up.
A woman with a bob haircut that looked about ten years out of style and small glasses on a pointy nose, got out.
“This is Dr. Jane Bernard, specialist in child trauma.”
Steve somehow managed to slip into professional mode.
“Dr. Bernard, I’m Sheriff Burns.”
The woman returned his smile.
“I know who you are. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
It was an odd comment, but before he could challenge her on it, several more cars drove onto the grass.
“Here comes the cavalry,” Veronica whispered. She pulled Steve in for one final hug, before disengaging and bringing Dr. Bernard over to the child with the yo-yo.
“You must be Beverly,” Dr. Bernard said. “My name’s Jane. I like your yo-yo. Do you know any tricks?”
Bev beamed.
“I sure do!”
Chapter 63
Veronica placed her hands on the cool one-way glass as she stared into the interrogation room. The scene inside was very different from when Gordon Trammel had been sitting in the chair.
Beverly Trammel was playing with her yo-yo. She was right, she was good at tricks—the girl had mastered Rock the Baby.
“Is this your cell phone?” Dr. Bernard asked, picking up the phone with the butterfly case.
“Yes.” All of Bev’s attention was on her yo-yo.
“Where did you get it from?”
“My mom gave it to me.”
“Was it for your birthday? Or maybe for Christmas?”
The yo-yo string got tangled and Bev made a face before starting over again, her tongue poking into her cheek.
“Bev, why did your mom give you the phone?”
“It was a reward.”
Reward sounded like ‘weeward.’
“For what, Bev?”
“For playing yo-yo in the street and making those cars stop. She did good. Real good. And this is me weeward.”
***
Veronica wiped the tears from her eyes. Even Dr. Bernard looked spent when she left the interrogation room.
“They used her—her mother used her to trap those girls and her father let it happen.”
Veronica’s throat was constricted, making her words sound whistly.
Jane nodded and both of them watched the social workers enter the room and address Bev.
“What’s gonna happen to her?”
Veronica knew the answer to her own question, but she was stalling.
She didn’t want to leave the girl.
“She’ll spend time with me and a couple of other psychiatrists who are better suited for dealing with this sort of trauma. When she’s ready, Bev will be placed in the foster system.”
Veronica grabbed her forehead and felt more tears fall.
The foster system.
The foster system that had fucked up Dylan Hall. The foster system that had twisted her own brother Benny Davis into a killer.
That foster system.
“Is there nothing you can do?”
It was a tough question that had no answer.
For as long as she’d known the woman, Dr. Jane Bernard always had something to say. Sometimes, Veronica didn’t want to hear what came out of the psychiatrist’s mouth. Sometimes—rarely—the woman was wrong.
But for the first time, Jane was at a loss for words.
Eventually, the social workers got Bev to take a break from her yo-yo and they brought her into the hallway. Veronica met them there.
“Excuse me,” one of the social workers, a heavyset woman with curly gray hair, said as they tried to pass.
Veronica ignored her.
She crouched and grabbed Bev’s hands in her own.
“You need to stay strong,” Veronica said, fighting back tears. “You need to stay strong, okay, Bev? The past… the past is boring—it’s already happened. The future is far more interesting.”
The girl likely had no idea what Veronica was talking about, but she nodded anyway.
“Detective, we really need to go.” The social worker tried to rouse Veronica off one knee.
“If you ever need anything, you come looking for me, okay? Veronica Shade. Detective Veronica Shade. Remember that name.”
“Veronica Shade?” Bev repeated.
“That’s right. Veronica Shade.”
“Please.”
The orderly was now physically trying to get Veronica to her feet.
“Veronica?” Sheriff Steve Burns approached in full uniform.
Veronica whispered her name one final time and then stepped aside. The social workers whisked the girl away.
They tried to keep their relationship professional while at work, but this was an exception.
Steve wrapped his arms around Veronica and held her close to his chest.
And then the tears came. The tears came hard and fast and Veronica did nothing to stop them.
She knew that children were resilient.
She was living proof that you could come back from having your parents murdered in front of you. You could also come back from having your estranged brother try to kill you before committing suicide.
But could someone come back from this?
Could Beverly ever be normal after luring women to their deaths? After her mother had murdered three people and was then killed in front of her? The sheriff was pushing to charge Gordon with four counts of murder, but if those fell through, at minimum he’d be convicted of conspiracy, accessory, desecration of a corpse, and was likely to spend at least twenty years behind bars. Could the little girl be normal after that?
Veronica hoped to God she could.
But only time would tell.
Peter Shade like to say that the past was boring, but it also shaped our future.
Veronica was living proof of that.
Chapter 64
To his credit, as much as he hated the man, Lieutenant Phil Crouch ran a mean interrogation. After Gordon found out that his wife had been shot and killed, the man had gone into shock. Phil pulled him back. And then when he started to get angry, Phil shut that down, too.
Gordon Trammel then became relieved and opened up about everything. Every horrible detail
“I promised you transparency, and I stand here before you living up to that promise,” Steve said to the crowd of media mongrels. It had grown considerably since the last time he’d spoken in front of them just a few days ago. The media attention this case had received was statewide now, with a handful of national networks stopping by. “I was guarded in my previous comments, but I can now report that we have charged Gordon Trammel with the murders of Kelsey Astor and Megan Milonakis, and the attempted murder of Angie Caufield. Very early this morning, Bear County Deputies uncovered the buried remains of another individual whom we believe to be Felize Hoffman. Estimates put her death at having occurred between three and five months ago—it is expected that Mr. Trammel will also be charged in relation to her death. I was hesitant to share this information with you until now, because we believed that he was working with an accomplice. State Trooper Phil Crouch and City of Greenham Detective Veronica Shade identified the accomplice as Gloria Trammel, Gordon’s wife. During their attempt to arrest Mrs. Trammel, she was fatally shot and killed. No officers were harmed in the process. We thank you for your patience and are confident that the people of Bear County can sleep more soundly tonight knowing that it is a safer place because of their hard work.”
Questions came fast and furious, but one in particular deserved a response.
“Was the City of Greenham officially brought into this case—this is the first we’re hearing about their involvement.”
Sheriff Burns chose his words very carefully.
“Detective Shade was brought on as a special consultant for this case only. Thank you again for your patience.”
With that, Steve turned and headed inside. Once the doors were closed behind him and he was safe behind the frosted glass, he allowed his shoulders to slump and took a deep breath. Then he popped an Oxy and ground it between his molars.
McVeigh, who had been beside him during the press conference, walked by without saying a word.
That was okay. Steve had successfully put the man in his place and put him on notice as well. McVeigh went behind his back and made the case more difficult for his own benefit. He was a good cop, but he was young and had a lot to learn.
Lieutenant Crouch, unfortunately, did not pass without comment. Instead, he squeezed Steve’s shoulder, which sent a shooting pain all the way down to the small of his back.
“Great job out there, Burnsy. Thanks for the kind words.”
“Yeah, no—”
Problem, Steve was going to say, but then Crouch pulled him close and whispered in his ear.
“But this doesn’t make up for what happened to her. I won’t forget about that. Not ever.” Crouch let go and stepped back, the grin returning to his thick lips. “I guess we finally found out why he never fucked ‘em, hey?”
Don’t answer. Don’t. Fucking. Answer.
“What?”
“The girls—stick with me, Burnsy. Gordon didn’t fuck the girls ‘cuz he didn’t kill them. And it ain’t like Gloria was gonna’ be doing some scissor action, know what I mean? But I told you something was weird about that.”
“Right,” Steve replied dryly. “You told me.”
Crouch chuckled.
“How ‘bout we have a drink to celebrate tonight, Burnsy?”
“Can’t. Have dinner plans already.”
The lieutenant winked.
“Another time then. Another time soon.”
I fucking hope not, Steve thought. But he knew, deep down, that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Lieutenant Phil Crouch.
He also knew that next time their interaction wouldn’t be as congenial.
With a shaking hand, Steve swallowed another Oxy.
Chapter 65
They arrived in separate cars, but at nearly exactly the same time and fifteen minutes before they were scheduled to arrive.
But neither of them had any intention of going inside just yet.
“No work talk at dinner, am I right?” Steve said with a laugh.
Veronica laughed, too. She looked at the bottle of red wine tucked under Steve’s arm and then glanced down at the six-pack of craft IPAs in her hand.
“Yeah, I was in a rush,” Steve admitted with a grimace.
“I know—heard you on the news.”
The grimace remained.
“I didn’t want to bring you up, Veronica, but I had to. I know you didn’t want any credit or publicity, especially—”
“It’s fine,” Veronica lied. It wasn’t fine, and there would be repercussions. She just hoped that putting a man behind bars and a bullet in his psychopathic wife’s head would help IA overlook how badly she’d bungled her actual duties.
“I need to apologize. You said that Gordon was lying and that he was protecting someone. I didn’t listen. I just—”
“I was wrong, Steve. I thought he was protecting his accomplice. But when I snuck in there, in the interrogation room, and spoke to him alone? I yelled at him, and he recoiled. Violently. In some ways, Gordon was a victim, too. I’m not condoning anything he did but—are you okay?”
Steve’s face had become deeply lined and his breathing was shallow.
“Yeah, fine.”
Liar.
Veronica let it pass.
“I thought he was protecting an accomplice, but he was protecting his daughter.”
Steve sucked his teeth.
“Shit job he did.”
Veronica couldn’t argue with that.
“You sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.”
“Tired. By the way, we dug into Gloria’s past and discovered court documents from years ago. Apparently, her father and mother got divorced when she was young, about Beverly’s age. Pretty messy, with her mother citing infidelity on his part. Custody battle was bad, and Gloria’s mom, fearing that she wouldn’t get to live with her daughter, took her and moved around a lot. I’m guessing when she caught Gordon with Felize, it triggered something in her.”
“Yeah, that first murder? A crime of passion.”
Steve’s expression soured.
“I hate that term.”
“Me too,” Veronica agreed. “But I think that after killing Felize, Gloria Trammel found herself a new hobby. And used every excuse she could think of to justify it.”
Steve shuddered, an indication that he was almost done with this conversation.
She was too.
“Wanna go in?” Veronica asked.
“Wait, one more thing.” He exhaled loudly. “We did a quick DNA test on Beverly.”
“And?”
“You’re not going to believe this, but she’s not Gordon’s child. Not biologically, anyway.”
Everything up to this point had been unsurprising to Veronica. It filled in several holes, but most she’d suspected with a high degree of certainty.
But not this.
“You’re kidding.”
Steve shook his head.
“Nope. They were married for ten years, which means—”
“She cheated on him,” Veronica finished.
“Yep.”
“Well, that’s fucked up.”
“Yep.”
Veronica shut her eyes and shook her head.
What a mess. What a fucking mess.
“Did you speak to IA about—”
The door opened suddenly, startling both parties.
Sporting a black-and-white pinstripe apron and large rosy cheeks, was Peter Shade.
“Are you guys done talking work? The food is getting cold,” Peter said.
Veronica smiled.
“Work? What’s work?”
Peter reached for the IPAs. Then he eyed the bottle of red beneath Steve’s arm.
“He can take that back with you.”
Veronica gave a knowing look to Steve, then to her father, she said, “Also, that’s bullshit about the food getting cold. I know you’re sous viding everything.”
***
“As always, that was amazing.” Veronica licked her lips. “Really amazing.”
“I told you, dry aging makes all the difference in the world. It makes meat taste better. Meatier.” Peter took a sip of his IPA, one of four that Veronica had seen him drink already. Her father was no stranger to alcohol, but usually, during their Sunday night dinners, he kept it to three or less.
He’d also snuck away for two cigarettes, thinking that she hadn’t noticed.
