The Killer in Me Read online

  Lila leaned closer.

  “I think whoever shot him might make a go of it again. And I think it’s someone trying to get close enough to the family to have that access . . . I appreciate it greatly, Ed. I’ll owe you one . . . Okay, make it two.” She hung up the phone. “Brent will be protected for now. I’ll call the hospital and give Dr. Thorpe strict instructions to allow only specific people into Brent’s room.”

  “Sheriff.” Lila stood, and Benoit paused in picking up the receiver. “I’m going back to the Barrett place and the meth lab. Something about that whole area . . .” She sighed. “It’s the key.”

  Benoit nodded. “I agree. Go with Lundquist. Both of you stick together, and watch your sixes.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lila quit the room, allowing the sheriff to make her call. “Lundquist, with me.”

  He scowled. “What for?”

  “Sheriff’s orders. I’m running on a hunch here.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Elizabeth vacated her office moments after Dayne and Lundquist. She found Fitzgerald and Fontaine loitering.

  “Ben, I need you to do some snooping.”

  His face fell. “Why?”

  “Think you can pull off an undercover job for us?”

  Fitzgerald sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “Who would I be snooping on? And why?”

  “Sheehan. He thinks you’re still batting for his team, which makes this a prime opportunity. That man knows something about what’s been going on. He won’t talk to me, or any of us for that matter, but he might let it slide in front of you.”

  “You’re dreaming,” Fitzgerald said. “I told you, he never trusted me. So, why would he talk with me?”

  Elizabeth glanced at Rafe, drew in a fortifying breath, and let it out. “Do you trust me, Ben?”

  As he stared at her, narrow-eyed and sullen, Elizabeth practically willed him to answer yes.

  “Say I do go along with this, what do I get out of it?”

  Rafe rolled his eyes and groaned.

  Elizabeth just smiled. “Why, my undying gratitude, Deputy Fitzgerald.”

  Bentley pressed against her leg and huffed.

  “That’s it?”

  “Be lucky she isn’t sacking you,” Rafe snapped.

  “I wouldn’t do that even if he refused.” Elizabeth stroked Bentley’s muzzle. “Marnie assures me Kelley will be in his usual spot in two hours. Plenty of time for you to run home, change out of your uniform, and come up with a legit reason for me to have kicked you to the curb.” She held up a finger. “That, Ben, is your ticket to getting an audience with him. He wants dirt, so give him dirt.”

  Rafe chuckled. “Right up your alley.”

  “You’re so certain he’ll fall for it. The man is as twisted as barbed wire and just as sharp. He’ll figure out what I’m doing.”

  “Play him. You don’t trust him any more than he trusts you. If you act like you’re not willing to divulge, then he’ll press the matter. He’s the shark and you’re the fisherman; fight him too long on the line, and he’ll get away, but if you wage a steady battle of tug-of-war, he’ll eventually tire and you can reel him in.”

  Fitzgerald wrinkled his nose. “Where do you come up with these metaphors?”

  She shrugged. “They come to me.”

  “She’s not wrong in that,” Rafe said. “You know the game, Ben. Sheehan is arrogant enough to believe you’re nothing more than a pawn for him.”

  “Exactly. Feed him whatever line of bull, truth or not, that will hook him. He’s ripe for gossip to use against me. Use that to your advantage.”

  “If you two think this is so easy, then why aren’t you doing it? Or better yet, send Dayne in there. She’s fresh meat. He’ll be all over that.”

  “I need Deputy Dayne doing what she was brought into this department to do: investigate.”

  Fitzgerald looked down at the floor, tapping his thumb against his bicep. Rafe settled back in his chair and cradled his head in his intertwined hands. The silence broken only by the tick of the wall clock and Bentley’s tail swishing over the wood flooring.

  “Fine, whatever. But I ain’t guaranteeing success.” Fitzgerald stood. “You better have a backup plan.”

  “I always do.”

  Once he exited the building, Rafe rotated his chair.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Now, you and I are going to the hospital.”

  *

  How she managed to convince Rafe to let her drive was a wonder. Elizabeth relished the momentary victory. However, it seemed Rafe had an agenda, and their privacy left her trapped and on the spot.

  “Ellie, we need to discuss what happened this morning.”

  She flexed her grip on the steering wheel. “You’ll have to be more specific. A lot has happened this morning.”

  “No runaround. I’m not in the mood. We crossed a lot of professional, ethical, and personal lines by kissing.”

  “I admit it was wrong professionally and ethically, but there were no personal lines.”

  “You’re my brother’s wife.”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “When it suits you. Damn it, you two were going at it like teenagers a few nights ago.”

  “I was drunk.”

  “Not an excuse.” Rafe sighed. “If you truly didn’t love Joel anymore, you wouldn’t have let him seduce you.”

  “What’s between me and Joel is complicated.”

  His attention snapped in her direction. “I don’t eat off another man’s dinner plate.”

  “No, you just covet what he eats.”

  Face flushed, Rafe ripped his gaze from her.

  “I’m tired of the same song and dance with you, Rafe. We’ve been tiptoeing around this attraction far too long, and it’s about damn time we did something about it.”

  “Not at the cost of your position. All it takes is for your detractors to catch you in one heated moment and you’ll be voted out. Sheehan is wanting an excuse to get you ousted—fooling around with me will be just the scandal he’d love to get word about.” His shoulders sagged as he shook his head. “Having an affair with your ex-husband won’t tarnish you in the eyes of your voters like an affair with a deputy.”

  Elizabeth let his statement hang between them as she drove into the hospital parking lot. Once she parked the SUV, she killed the engine and sat there.

  “I know,” she said softly. “But it doesn’t make it any easier for me.”

  His gaze dropped to her hand, still clenched around the steering wheel. Elizabeth wanted him to take hold of her hand, but, clearly, his desire to keep it professional was winning out.

  “We’ll find a way,” he said. Drawing in a breath, he looked outside the SUV. “Why are we here?”

  “I want to talk with Pratt and Sophie, without Ma around.”

  “And I’m here to deter Ma.”

  “In a way, yes. I’m done with Ma sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong and stirring up trouble. But first, I want your honest opinion on something. What’s Stephen really like?”

  Rafe scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean . . .” Elizabeth grimaced. “I don’t know what I mean. Is he really not like his family?”

  Rafe shrugged. “I guess. He’s never been in trouble with the law like Karl or Daniel. Ma treats him like a prince. And intelligence wise, he runs circles around all of them. Stephen is Ma’s ticket for a better life.”

  “No way she’d ever allow anyone to screw that up?”

  “You could say that.”

  His answers didn’t ease the niggling in her brain. There was more to what was going on with Ma. Maybe Lila’s suspicions about the Kauffmanns were leading somewhere.

  And maybe Pratt Meyer could shed a little more light on that suspicion.

  *

  There were no raised, angry voices leading her into a family showdown this time. The soft, sterile quiet hospital setting was all that greeted Elizabeth and Rafe as they strod
e down the hall.

  Olivia spotted them, and joined them at the elevators. “I hope you didn’t come for the autopsy. The victim hasn’t thawed enough for me to start.”

  “We’re not, but have you at least done the X-rays?”

  “Yes, and given him a full external exam. I’m afraid his death is similar to Regan’s and Maya’s, but I can’t pinpoint exactly what caused it. I won’t know more until I can cut into him.”

  The elevator doors whooshed open. Rafe stepped on.

  Elizabeth turned to Olivia. “Did the Meyers move to the ICU waiting room?”

  “Yes, they are there.”

  “Ma?”

  “I don’t think she’s been back.”

  Rafe’s hand shot out to stop the doors from closing.

  Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. “Interesting.”

  “Ellie, let’s go,” Rafe said as the alarm rattled.

  She stepped on the elevator. Up they went.

  “If Ma isn’t here, then I’m here for what reason?” Rafe asked.

  “To keep an eye out. Maybe take Sophie for a stroll and see if she’ll reveal anything to you.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “Won’t hurt to try.”

  “Fifth floor.”

  She found Sophie alone in the ICU’s private waiting area designated for Brent’s room. Maybe cornering Sophie would get her answers.

  “Change in plans.” Leaving Rafe outside to derail Pratt’s reentry, Elizabeth entered the waiting room.

  Sophie sat on a comfortable-looking sofa, staring out the window. Dressed to the nines in a midnight-blue blouse and khaki slacks with her hair swept up in a French twist, Sophie looked better suited for a school board meeting than a hospital waiting room. How had she survived the transition from working professional to a stay-at-home mother of three and housewife to an extremely successful businessman?

  “Sophie?”

  Her red-rimmed eyes landed on Elizabeth. Frowning, she stood, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her clothing. “Sheriff. What are you doing back here?” Panic splashed across her features. “Has something happened to Brent?”

  “No.” Elizabeth held up a hand as she would to a panicked horse. “Far as I know, he’s in the same condition he was when I left.”

  Sophie sank down onto the sofa once more. “Oh, thank God.”

  “Is Pratt still here?”

  She flapped her hand. “He needed some air or something.” Remaining in her stiff posture, she angled her body to stare out the window once more.

  Elizabeth ignored the blatant dismissal, hiked her duty belt higher on her hips, and took the armchair positioned to face Sophie. “I know this isn’t the best time, but I need to ask some questions.”

  “Sheriff”—she tilted her head to look at Elizabeth—“must you?”

  “If it’s not me, then it’ll be one of my deputies.”

  “I rather think that’s unfair.”

  “And siccing Ma on me wasn’t?”

  “Martha does what Martha wants. I was . . . in a fog. My son is fighting for his life because of the job he chose.”

  “I was under the impression you were okay with Brent becoming a police officer.”

  Silence met her inquiry.

  “We’ve come to . . . believe that whoever shot Brent may keep tabs on his progress in order to ensure he doesn’t survive.”

  Horror masked Sophie’s features. “What?”

  “Brent knows the shooter. I don’t think he was meant to survive, because he could finger the person who did this.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth calmed her jiggling leg. “I’m afraid that his being shot might have connections to the homicides we’re investigating.” She swallowed hard. “It might even have some connection to the long-standing tensions between Pratt and Ma.”

  “Ridiculous. That is utterly ridiculous.” Sophie slapped her hands into her lap. “You’ve completely lost your mind, Elizabeth.”

  Biting her tongue was for the best. “Maybe I am way off base here. But can you explain any other way?”

  “How does my son being a cop and having to deal with the hairy unwashed on a daily basis work for you?” Sophie leaned forward. “It’s because of you that he’s even doing this. Brent was going to be a lawyer or a state representative, a senator. That was how he was going to make a difference. But instead, he was swindled into believing the way to help was by being a cop. Now look at him.”

  Sophie had moved to a different stage of her grief: blaming.

  Movement by the doorway caught Elizabeth’s eye. Rafe had moved his sentry duty to better see both women.

  Not daring to touch the other woman, Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I know it seems unfair, but we need to look forward. It’s the best way to protect Brent and you and Pratt.”

  Eyes wide, Sophie paled. “Are you insinuating that his shooter might come after me and Pratt?”

  “I’m not insinuating anything, I’m flat-out warning you. The police chief has allowed me use of two of his officers to post as guards outside of Brent’s room. I will not allow anyone except those of my choosing in his room. However, I can’t offer that same protection outside of the hospital. You and Pratt need to be on alert and protect yourselves.”

  “This is absurd.”

  “This is reality, Sophie. And I would strongly suggest you stay away from Ma and the rest of the Kauffmanns until we either clear them of any wrongdoing or the shooter is caught.”

  “She was right. Pratt has turned you against her.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. What lies had Ma spun to snag her cousin? It didn’t help matters while Brent was suffering.

  The sharp rap of knuckles jolted Sophie. Rafe beckoned Elizabeth.

  “Yes, leave,” Sophie hissed.

  “Heed my warning, Sophie.”

  As Elizabeth exited the waiting room, Rafe pointed down the hall. Pratt was returning. She met up with him before he stepped into the room.

  “Sheriff? I just came from my son’s ICU room, and there is a police officer there who will not allow me to enter.”

  “I’ve asked for this. Pratt, we believe Brent’s life is still under threat. I will clear with the officer and Dr. Thorpe who are allowed to enter.”

  “You’re serious? Who would dare attempt such a thing in the hospital?”

  “A determined killer.”

  His face blanched.

  “Pratt, I also recommended to Sophie that the both of you be on alert for a threat to either of you.”

  His features hardened. “I told her the same. Martha Kauffmann is not to be trusted.”

  How she wanted to agree with the man. But he was still under suspicion, and the last thing Elizabeth wanted to do was give him an opportunity to avert attention from himself and place it solely on Ma.

  “Be diligent.” And with that parting advice, Elizabeth walked away.

  Once they were on the elevator heading down, Rafe asked, “What did you learn from that?”

  “That someone is pulling strings. And I refuse to dance to their tune.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lila stood before the rickety house, staring up at the caving roof.

  “What do you hope to find here?”

  “Answers.” She marched past Lundquist and up the back steps.

  “It’s not safe to be in there,” he called after her.

  “Well aware of that,” she shot back.

  Picking her way around the damage done by the fallen porcelain tub, she entered the kitchen. Behind her, Lundquist muttered expletives as he followed.

  “The sheriff will have my head if you get hurt again.”

  “She won’t if you’re hurt too.”

  “You’re a sadist, aren’t you?”

  She smiled at his deadpan. Inching into the dining area, she studied the room, its rubble, and the adjoining rooms. Lundquist stood in line with her but a few feet apart.

  “It would help m
e to know what you’re looking for exactly.”

  “If I’m right about Maya trying to hide out here, maybe she hid her phone or phones. Possibly Regan’s or Bobby’s. Anything of theirs that would be overlooked.”

  He frowned, looking about. “Better hope it wasn’t under the bathtub.”

  Lila sighed. “I am.” She headed for the living room/parlor.

  “Lila.”

  Stiffening, she turned casually. “What?” Well, that was weak.

  “Be careful.”

  The obvious concern in his tone unsettled her. One minute he acted like she was a thorn, the next she was a liability to the department, and then he’d flip it all on its head and suddenly he was worried for her welfare. She put her back to him. Deputy Kyle Lundquist was a riddle Lila did not want to unravel.

  “You too. My little body can’t lift your Viking butt to safety.”

  There was a strangled sound from him that made her grin. Good. He did have a sense of humor.

  “Why don’t you check over the kitchen, lightweight?”

  “If we strike out everywhere else, we’ll go there. The kitchen is too obvious of a hiding place. The killer or killers would look there first.”

  “You are talking about a teenager with an underdeveloped brain in a panic.”

  “True.” Lila lifted the edge of the ripped up carpet. “But I’d like to give Maya the benefit of the doubt and say she was being logical.” She dropped the carpet, stirring a cloud of dust.

  “Not that it would matter to you, but I wouldn’t create a dust bowl. There’s a lot of nasties in the dirt in here that can cause lung problems.”

  Lila saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  His face soured, and he stared at her.

  “What?”

  Face relaxing, he shook his head. “Nothing.” He lifted an edge of the broken table.

  Shrugging off his odd reaction, she went to work, taking his warning in advisement and not disturbing the dirt and dust too much. Together, they cleared the first floor with no success. At the bottom of the steps, Lila looked up.

  “I don’t know if we should chance it.” Lundquist squinted at the upper level.