скачать книгу бесплатно
He gritted his teeth and glanced away. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m at the scene now.”
“Is it…a suicide?”
“There’s suicide and there’s suicide,” he said.
“Yes, I know.” Deacon could picture her seated behind her computer, dark hair pulled back and fastened primly at her nape as she scowled at her screen. Her full lips would be pursed in concentration, her violet eyes shadowed with a grief that had only deepened in the months since her son’s death. “Do you have any leads?”
“Nothing concrete. I have a couple of names I’d like you to run through the usual databases, though. I don’t expect anything to turn up, but you never know. The first one is Tony Navarro. He’s the chief of police down here.”
“Any particular reason you’re interested in him?”
Deacon’s gaze went back to the couple on the porch. “Just a gut instinct.”
“You really think the chief of police could be one of them?” Camille persisted. She must have sensed something in his voice. Sometimes her instincts were uncanny.
“One of us, you mean?” Deacon countered.
She hesitated. “You know I don’t think of you that way. Besides, not everyone who went through Montauk was or is a killer. Some of the men have even gone back to their normal lives.”
“Yeah,” Deacon said. “And some of them are in psychiatric wards. Some of them are living on the streets.” And some of them had continued to kill.
“You said there were two names,” Camille prompted.
“The other is Sam Jessop. I haven’t met him yet, but from everything I’ve learned, he matches the profile. He was in the army, and he comes from a military family.”
“Okay. I’ll check them out and get back to you. Anything else?”
“There’s an abandoned army base not far from here. See what you can dig up about it.”
He heard her catch her breath. “You don’t think it was part of Montauk, do you?”
“We know they expanded the operation,” Deacon said. “And we’ve never discovered the other locations. It’s worth checking out.”
“That should keep me busy for a day or two,” Camille said. “In the meantime, keep in touch, okay? Grandfather worries about you. So do I,” she added reluctantly.
Deacon’s features tightened. “I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t deserve it.”
Camille sighed. “You’re never going to get past it, are you?”
A muscle began to pulse in Deacon’s jaw. “Get past who I am? What I did?”
“You were following orders,” Camille said. “You were programmed to—”
“Kill people.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Face it, Camille. Just because I can’t remember doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I was an assassin. You don’t move on from something like that. There’s no redemption for what I did.”
“There might be,” she said softly. “If you could somehow find it in your heart to forgive yourself.”
Chapter Four
Nona had left her front door open, and as Marly climbed the porch steps a few minutes later, she could hear the woman banging around inside.
She walked up to the door and called through the screen. “Nona?”
“It’s open!”
Marly glanced around as she stepped inside. The layout of the house was almost identical to the one across the street. The front door opened directly into a small, cramped living area decorated in country blue. Perky gingham curtains with crisp sashes hung from the windows while an army of bonneted geese marched in single file across a ceiling border.
The homey décor surprised Marly although she’d really had no idea what to expect. Nona’s mother had once worked for her family, but Marly was ashamed to admit that she’d never really taken the time to know Nona or Mrs. Ferris.
But it wasn’t because she was a snob. Far from it. Truth be told, Marly had always been a little intimidated by Nona’s brassy good-looks and her rather disconcerting habit of speaking her mind without regard to the consequences.
She’d been one of the bad girls in high school, running with a crowd that had voraciously smoked, drank, or popped whatever drug they could get their hands on at the moment. They’d gone to raves every weekend, skipped school every Monday, and generally didn’t give a damn what anyone in town thought of them. Marly had envied their freedom.
Even now, with the evidence of all that hard living etched poignantly in Nona’s face, Marly suspected the woman still managed to live life on her own terms. She might not be particularly happy with the hand she’d been dealt, but she accepted it and made no excuses or apologies for it.
And Marly still envied her.
“Well?” Nona demanded from the kitchen. “Are you going to stand there all damn day or are you going to tell me about Ricky?”
Marly walked over to the bar and pulled out a stool. “Sorry. I was just admiring your house.”
Nona gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, right.”
“No, seriously.” Marly glanced around. “It’s really warm and cozy. I like it.”
Nona shrugged. “Well, thanks. But it’s hardly in the same league as your house.”
“I don’t have a house,” Marly said. “I live in an apartment.”
“I meant your parents’ place.”
Cozy and warm were not adjectives Marly would ever use to describe the house where she’d grown up. The split-level ranch, decorated so meticulously and beautifully by her mother, had always seemed cold and unwelcoming. Oppressive.
“You want some coffee?” Nona grabbed two cups from the dish drainer by the sink and placed them on the counter.
Marly shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“You sure? It’s fresh. I just made it,” Nona said as she poured herself a cup.
“I’m not much of a coffee drinker,” Marly told her.
“A Coke then? Some juice?”
“I’m fine.” Marly’s gaze fastened on a flyer that had been tossed on the counter. Even before she scanned the text advertising an old-fashioned revival meeting at a local church, she knew the leaflet had come from the Glorious Way on Sixth Street. Joshua Rush’s church. The emblem on the front was unmistakable. The rays of light emanating from an eye symbolized enlightenment—or so Joshua had once told her.
For some reason, that eye made Marly a little uneasy, probably because she now knew Joshua’s true, pathological nature.
Noticing her gaze, Nona said, “Someone slipped that under my door the other day. I guess they’re trying to tell me something.”
Marly smiled. “I wouldn’t take it personally. They’re probably passing out those leaflets all over the neighborhood.”
“Maybe.” Nona picked up her cup, cradling the thick ceramic mug in both hands as if she were suddenly chilled. “So tell me about Ricky. What happened to him?”
“The medical examiner will make the final determination as to cause of death,” Marly said. “So what I’m about to tell you isn’t for public consumption. Keep it to yourself until there’s an official announcement, okay?”
Nona nodded, but her expression seemed doubtful. She would probably talk, Marly thought, but it didn’t really matter. Everyone in town would know about Ricky’s death in a matter of hours. Already a crowd had gathered on the street outside his house.
“It looks like Ricky died from a gunshot wound,” she said.
“Son of a bitch.” Nona let out a shaky breath. “I used to worry about him hurting someone with that damn pistol of his, but I never thought he’d up and shoot himself.”
“I never said it was suicide,” Marly said quickly.
“It was, though, wasn’t it?” Nona wrapped her arms around her middle. “What the hell is going on in this damn town anyway? Why are all these people killing themselves? Why Ricky?”
Marly lifted her shoulders helplessly, but she couldn’t help wondering the same thing. Could Deacon Cage be right? Was there someone in town, someone she knew, who could compel people to commit suicide?
Her gaze lit on the flyer again, and an uneasy shiver crept up her backbone. “I’m no expert on human behavior,” she tried to say evenly. “It’s going to take us a while to figure it all out, I guess. In the meantime, I need to ask you some questions about Ricky. Is that all right with you?”
“What kind of questions?” Nona asked with a frown.
“Just routine.” Marly got out her notebook. “You said the two of you had a recent falling out. Tell me about that.”
“If you’re thinking that might be the reason Ricky killed himself, no way. He wasn’t losing any sleep over our breakup,” Nona said bitterly.
“How do you know?”
“Because he had himself a new girlfriend. I walked in on them one night. He was…entertaining her on the living room couch. Couldn’t even make it to the bedroom.” Her voice was edged with lingering anger and hurt. “We had words. Things got a little out of hand. I ended up tossing her clothes out the front door, and then Ricky threw me out. Told me it was over between us, he was in love with someone else, and I’d better leave them alone if I knew what was good for me.” She sniffed and drew a hand across her nose.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Nona thought for a moment. “Last Saturday night. I met some friends for drinks at that new country and western place out on Highway Seven. Used to be the Tin Roof. Anyway, Ricky was there with Crystal.”
Marly glanced up sharply. “Crystal.”
“Crystal Bishop, the new girlfriend. She’s Gus Bishop’s niece. You know, the high school custodian? I’d bet good money that creepy old bastard has dirt on somebody over there because I don’t know how else Crystal could have ended up working in the school office. Her experience is not exactly clerical in nature, if you know what I mean.”
Yes, Marly thought with her own unexpected bitterness. She knew only too well where Crystal Bishop’s talents lay.
She remembered, with vivid clarity, the day she’d found the woman in Joshua’s office, the way Crystal’s long, black hair had cascaded down her tanned back…how her slim, nude body had moved rhythmically as her cries mingled with Joshua’s…
Marly had stood frozen in place, too shocked to move let alone speak. Crystal’s back had been to her, but Joshua, sprawled beneath her on the sofa, had spotted Marly in the doorway. He hadn’t looked particularly surprised to find her there and certainly not repentant. He’d merely encircled Crystal’s waist and lifted her off him, but not before—Marly would have sworn—he’d finished.
She was annoyed now to find that the memory still rankled—not because she harbored feelings for Joshua Rush—but because, for a short time, she’d allowed him to have power over her.
But that was all in the past, she reminded herself. And it had been a lesson well learned.
“What else you want to know about Ricky?” Nona prompted.
Marly forced her attention back to the conversation. “Did you talk to him on Saturday night?”
Nona shook her head. “No. I didn’t stay long. Luanne MacAllister dropped me off here before ten. Ricky came in around midnight. I heard his truck pull into the carport.”
“How can you be sure about the time?” Marly asked her.
“Saturday Night Live was just going off. I don’t usually watch the whole show, but I did that night because Matthew McConaughey was the host, and I’ve got a real thing for him. He kind of reminds me of your brother.”
“Do you know if Ricky was alone?”
“I’m pretty sure he was. I happened to look out the window, and I didn’t see anyone with him.”
“You didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary that night?”
Nona gave her a knowing look. “You mean like a gunshot? No, but that doesn’t mean anything. Takes me a while to fall asleep, but when I do, it’s like waking the dead.”
“Was that the last time you saw Ricky?”
She nodded. “His truck was in the carport all the next day, but it was Sunday so I didn’t think anything of it. I just figured he was hungover or something and didn’t feel like getting out. When I saw his truck was still there on Monday, I thought maybe his crew had gotten rained out. But then I ran into one of his buddies at the Giant K this morning, and he said the crew was far enough along on the new gym that the weather wasn’t a problem. They were mostly working inside now. Anyway, that got me to thinking that maybe I’d better get the cops out here to check up on him.”
“Were you home all weekend?”
Nona nodded. “I’m without wheels at the moment, so yeah, I was home.”
“You didn’t see anyone come in or out of Ricky’s house?”
“No.”
“No strange cars in the neighborhood?”
Nona looked startled. “What are you getting at, Marly?”
“I’m just covering all the bases.”
Nona’s eyes were like saucers. “You don’t think someone murdered Ricky, do you?”
“Like I said, these are just routine questions. Nothing to be alarmed about.” But Marly wasn’t certain if she was trying to convince Nona or herself. “How did Ricky seem to you on Saturday night?”
“Okay, I guess. But I got the impression he and Crystal weren’t exactly getting along. If you think someone killed poor Ricky, maybe you better go talk to her.”
Marly intended to, but it wasn’t a conversation she looked forward to. She closed her notebook and stood. “That should do it for now. Thanks for your cooperation, Nona.”
She shrugged. “Least I could do for Ricky. Like I said, we had our differences, but we go way back.” She came around the counter and walked Marly to the door.
“I’ll be in touch. As soon as we hear back from the medical examiner, I’ll let you know.” Marly opened the screen door, but before she could step outside, Nona put a hand on her arm.
