Читать книгу Appalachian Prey - Debbie Herbert - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Harlan considered himself lucky. Today would be so busy that thoughts of Lilah would be temporarily relegated to the back burner. Last night had been a tough and fitful sleep—was the baby his or not and why should he care?—but after numerous cups of coffee, he now had enough stamina to get through the day’s scheduled raid.

He and five other officers surrounded the abandoned older home. Kudzu crept over the windows like a living, breathing veil. So convenient for anyone hiding illegal drugs. One would expect to see broken windows and doors in a vacated building, but for all its age and the superficial facade of neglect, the front door was bolted shut with a steel chain and padlock and it lacked signs of forced entry anywhere.

Not only that but also dozens of large footsteps had tamped down the overgrown grass and weeds surrounding the house. They’d been there when he and the team had arrived.

He had a good feeling about this one.

Remote homes sprinkled Appalachia, but this place on top of Booze Mountain took the cake. It had taken them a good half an hour of driving up increasingly narrow and bumpy dirt roads to get here.

Sammy Armstrong sidled over and gave him a broad wink. “How’s your girlfriend doing?”

Harlan gritted his teeth. If it had been someone other than his old childhood friend teasing him, he would have busted his chops. “Fine,” he spat, not inviting further conversation.

Sammy nudged him. “Lilah’s more than fine. A real looker. A man could do worse.”

J.D. pulled into the lot and exited the cruiser, patting his uniform shirt pocket. “I got the subpoena. Let’s do this.”

Alvin Lee, a fellow officer, marched up the sagging porch steps with a pair of giant bolt cutters.

Harlan idly swatted at a skeeter that buzzed near his ear and swiped his arm across his sweaty forehead. The heat was brutal, even up here in the mountains.

The chain crashed onto the wooden porch with a clatter nearly as loud as a shotgun blast. Alvin kicked in the door, and Harlan followed him inside the abandoned home.

The stench of stale food pervaded—a toxic mixture of fried bologna and venison. In the center of the main room, the scratched surface of a long table was littered with boxes, string and packing tape. It looked like an assembly line set up. Easy to guess the sort of merchandise packaged here.

He glanced around the mostly ruined interior, and his spirits sank. It looked deserted. Not even a single marijuana plant in sight. So much for his intuition.

Three other officers entered via the back door, and J.D. strolled into the room, thumbs tucked into his belt. “Find any drugs?” he asked hopefully.

Harlan swiped a finger on the fine layer of white powder on the table. Much too white for mere dust. “Probably cocaine residue,” he answered, brushing off the powder on his pant legs. “Afraid that’s going to be the extent of our find.”

“Damn it. Not again.” J.D. stalked off to the adjacent kitchen. “Comb the area for leftover receipts, matches—anything left behind that might give us some clue who’s been here.”

Sammy slammed his fist into his open palm. “What is this? Almost a half dozen raids now in the last year? They’re always a step ahead of us.” He huffed in frustration. “It’s like they know we’re coming.”

Dread settled in Harlan’s gut as he assimilated the words. He didn’t want to believe it. They were a small team, and he’d grown up with most of them on the mountain. They were his friends, his colleagues, the people he trusted in dangerous situations.

But the lure of easy money could mess with a person’s mind. He’d seen it before. A younger officer, Caleb, had fallen into that trap last year. First, it was turning a blind eye on minor offenses like illegal poker games. Then it progressed to fixing tickets for family and friends. Word spread until it reached a point where everyone believed they could offer a little money in return for a favor, muddying boundaries. Even if he’d wanted to stop taking bribes, Caleb had confessed that if he hadn’t taken them, someone would have squealed.

Someone always squealed. You could count on that. It held true for inmates as well as the officers who were supposed to enforce the law.

In the end, Caleb had been fired.

Harlan tapped a finger against his lips. Caleb still dated Marla, one of the two dispatchers on the day shift. Did Marla pump him with information on their scheduled raids? Mentally, he made a note to check on that.

J.D.’s cell phone rang, and he tossed it on the kitchen counter. “Answer that while I help Alvin search the back bedroom.”

Harlan picked it up. “Sampson here,” he said, opening a drawer and searching its sparse contents as Marla breathlessly reported the latest news.

Another shooting. Another victim dead.

An icy finger of fear shimmied down his spine. Lilah—and their baby—might be in danger.

* * *

LILAH RUBBED HER swollen eyes, then riffled through the stack of bills that had collected in her mailbox during her absence. Absentmindedly going up the stairs, she almost ran smack into Luke McCoy at the bottom of the apartment stairwell.

“Whoa there, missy,” he said with a laugh. “We missed you while you were gone.” She glanced up, and his easy grin melted away. “You all right?”

Lilah gave him a watery smile. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Need a friend? We could talk over breakfast and coffee.”

Sure, but she hated to encourage the guy. He’d been asking her out for weeks now, and if she went out with him, he’d make a big deal of it.

“No, really. It was a rough night, but I’m okay.”

“Missing your family, I bet,” he said knowingly. “Ms. Cranston told me you went home for your father’s funeral and stayed awhile to take care of the estate and stuff.”

She made a mental note to be more circumspect with her elderly neighbor. “Right,” she agreed, clutching at the excuse.

A brown-and-white cop cruiser whipped into a nearby parking spot, and she idly watched as a man got out. He locked the door and turned, rapidly making his way toward them. It couldn’t be. A familiar shock of brown hair, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes... Yes, it was Harlan. What was he doing here? And dressed in his uniform, too?

“I think breakfast is just what you need,” Luke continued, unaware of Harlan approaching from behind. “Let me take you out.”

Her stomach revolted at the thought of food. “No, thank you.”

“Ah, come on—”

“The lady said no,” Harlan snapped.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

His jaw tightened. “We have business to discuss.”

Luke held up a hand and shuffled backward. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”

Well, at least he might not pester her for dates anymore. So at least something good would come of this unexpected meeting with Harlan.

“Is that him?” Harlan asked stiffly.

“What? Oh, you mean... Never mind, it’s still none of your business.”

“Seemed pretty spineless to me,” Harlan observed. “He cut out pretty quick when I came.”

“You practically ordered him to leave,” she argued. “Besides—”

“Yoo-hoo, officer!” They looked up the stairs, where Ms. Cranston stood in her housecoat. “That was quick. I just called five minutes ago.”

“Ma’am, I’m not—”

“I got to puzzling on that stranger hanging around here last night, and the more I thought on it, the more scared I got on account of—”

“Stranger?” Harlan took the stairs two at a time and withdrew a small notebook from his shirt pocket. “When? What did he look like?”

Lilah followed him, trying to quell the butterflies of alarm in her stomach.

“He was medium height, a little on the thin side and dressed all in black. Kept walking back and forth in that hallway there.” She pointed to the hall where Lilah’s apartment was.

“Did he wear a black ski mask?” Lilah asked, holding her breath.

“No. If he had, I’d a called the police right away.”

“Could you describe his face or hair?” Harlan asked.

Ms. Cranston shook her head. “He stayed in the shadows.”

Harlan sighed and returned the notepad to his shirt pocket.

“Thing is,” Ms. Cranston continued, “another feller came ’round this morning dressed all in black. I leaned out my window and yelled, ‘Hey, whatcha doin’?’ He took off running to the parking lot without even turning around to see who was talking.”

“Did you get a look at the car make and model, or a tag?”

“It was a big dark blue car,” she said. “Sorry, I don’t know models and such as that.”

Harlan nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” He took Lilah’s arm and motioned for the stairs.

“Hope you catch him,” Ms. Cranston called to their backs. “I don’t cotton to strangers roaming around here. Up to no good, I bet.”

“We’re going to your apartment, and you’re going to pack your things,” Harlan said in his no-nonsense voice. “We’ll talk on the way to Lavender Mountain.”

* * *

“WON’T BE ANY safer there,” she muttered. Inside her apartment, she whirled to face him. “You can’t just show up and start ordering me around.”

His face was as set as she’d ever seen it. “Have a seat.”

Something was wrong. Bad wrong. Her jellied legs no longer felt strong enough to support her weight, and she sank into the nearest chair, clasping her hands in her lap. “What’s happened?”

Harlan ran a hand through his hair and sank to his knees beside her, so close she could feel the heat of his skin and inhale the scent of his woodsy aftershave. “There’s no easy way to break this, darlin’.”

Who was in trouble or hurt this time? Jimmy? He’d returned to his tour in Afghanistan last week, and Lord knew that he’d been placed in dangerous missions time and again—

“It’s Darla,” he said gently, placing a large rough hand over hers and squeezing. “She’s been murdered.”

No. No, not her sister. “I just saw her yesterday,” she mumbled. How stupid. As if that meant Darla couldn’t possibly be dead. Lilah shook off the useless denial. “How...”

“Shot in the back.”

Murder again. The air pressed in and her lungs seized. She squeezed in a painful breath and exhaled. “Same as Dad?”

“Yes.”

Without thinking, she collapsed onto his broad shoulders, her body shaking uncontrollably. Not again. Not again. Harlan shifted into the chair beside her and guided her onto his lap where she felt cradled by his strength. His hands rubbed up and down her back. She focused on his touch—it was all she could grasp to stop the maelstrom of mourning, which threatened to overwhelm her.

First Dad, and now Darla. All in the space of a week.

Lilah snapped her head up, remembering she wasn’t alone in her grief. “Those poor kids! And Ed, too.”

Harlan brushed away the tears on her cheek. “We’ve called Ed’s parents, and they’re on the way. If need be, they can keep the children at their place while we get to the bottom of this.”

“Surely Ed wants them there with him. And I can go over and stay a bit until things settle down. Help him out. He must be devastated.”

“You think so?”

“Of course.” She cocked her head to the side, digesting the impact of his words. “You don’t... I mean... You aren’t saying Ed killed Darla, are you?”

“We’re not ruling anything out. Usually, a killer is someone known intimately by the victim.”

She tensed, fighting the sudden shudder that crawled up her spine. “Not in this case. It’s the same way my dad was killed, so it must be the same person. And Ed had no beef with Dad.”

“That you know of,” Harlan corrected.

“Only when he got Darla pregnant in high school. Once they got married, Dad and Ed got along just fine.”

“Did your brother-in-law ever work for your dad on the side?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Are you arresting Ed?”

“J.D.’s questioning him now.”

She jumped off his lap. “And the kids? I have to get down there. They might need me.” Guilt snaked its way through her gut, insidious and slimy. Who was she kidding? Nobody needed her. She and Darla had had a major argument over the stolen money. The last time she’d seen her sister, she’d stormed out of the house, threatening to put the cops on her tail.

Frantically, she grabbed her purse off the table, eager to leave and keep her mind and hands busy instead of dwelling on the news. “I’ve got to pack a few clothes, and...and...” She blindly stumbled into the coffee table and rubbed her shins.

“I’ll drive you.” Harlan took her purse and set it on the sofa. “Go ahead and pack. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll need my own vehicle. I don’t want to be dependent on you to drive me everywhere while I’m back.”

“Yeah, about that. The easiest thing all around is for you to stay with me. Ed and the kids have his parents to help out, and there’s no sense in you wasting money on a motel.”

No. He didn’t love her, and she wouldn’t be a burden to him or anyone else. Lilah thought fast. There was always Uncle Thad and Aunt Vi, but with their eight children, it tended to be a bit noisy and cramped.

“I can stay with my Aunt Ruth who lives about forty miles from here. She has health problems so she’ll appreciate my help around the house and my company.” She stifled the impulse to cross her fingers behind her back. Ruth was nearly seventy years old and had never married or had children—a quiet woman like her preferred the solitary life. Yes, she’d recently had minor surgery but, truth be told, Ruth was just fine on her own.

His brow furrowed. “She doesn’t have anyone else to take care of her? I don’t like you working so hard.”

“No. Besides, what’s it to you?”

His eyes trailed down to her belly. “Somebody needs to look out for you.”

Lilah couldn’t help it. She blushed.

Harlan quirked a brow. “Since when have you ever been shy with me?”

Yeah, he was right about that. No point in modesty after he knew every inch of her body. Lilah shook off the sudden images of Harlan’s intimate kisses. Now wasn’t the time for remembering such things.

“I’ll need to call the Red Cross again and get word to Jimmy.”

“I can do it for you,” Harlan volunteered.

“No. I’m family. I should.” Lord, she didn’t want to, though. Her brother had enough stress without hearing that yet another family member had been murdered.

“We’ll do it together. Tonight.”

Lilah wavered. It would be nice to stay with Harlan. There was nowhere she’d feel more protected. On the other hand, going to his place would stir up the old memories of the time they’d spent together. A happier time when she’d thought they’d be together forever.

Harlan obviously sensed her hesitation and moved in for the kill. “Come on,” he said in his husky, sexy voice. “It’ll give us an opportunity to talk. I’m still not convinced the baby isn’t mine.”

The baby. Lilah’s hand went to her stomach. She had to consider more than just her own feelings. Harlan could protect her...protect them. It didn’t mean they were a couple again. And there was no denying that she and all her family were in danger. This was far from over—something deep and rotten and evil lay at the bottom of these two deaths.

It was only a matter of time before the killer struck again.

Who would be next?