Читать книгу Fatal Reunion - Jessica R. Patch - Страница 12

THREE

Mama Jean had been moved from ICU to her own room now that she was stabilized. Piper had sat by her bedside as she slept. A few times she woke, but was disoriented and didn’t realize Piper was near. She’d left to have a bite of lunch in the cafeteria, read a few boring magazines, then called to check in with Braxton. Classes were running smoothly.

Opening the door to Mama Jean’s room, Piper pasted on a happy face. “You’re awake.” She strolled to her bedside.

Mama Jean pushed a cup of Jell-O away and gave a thin-lipped smile. “Am I dreaming, dear one?”

Piper planted a kiss on Mama Jean’s wobbly cheek. “No, ma’am. I came as soon as I heard. How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell and hit my head, broke my arm in two places and broke my leg.” Her voice sounded garbled. “The police were here a spell ago.”

Had Luke swung back by while she was in the cafeteria? “And?”

“I told them what I remembered. It happened so fast.” Mama Jean’s hand shook underneath Piper’s. “I was asleep, but a commotion in the basement, where Christopher stays—stayed—woke me.” Tears flushed her gray eyes and dripped down the wrinkly cracks on her face. “Poor child. He was doing so well.”

Now wasn’t the right time to reiterate Mama Jean shouldn’t be taking in strays. Piper had been a stray, too. Nothing but an unwanted burden not worth the effort it took Mom to love her. But Mama Jean had done her best.

Piper clamped down on the rising ache inside. “I’m so sorry this happened. Did you see who it was?” Piper held her breath, hoping it wasn’t someone from old times. Guilt seeped into every vein and overloaded her brain. She bit down on her lip.

“No. Just a dark blur. I got up thinking Christopher had the TV up too loud. I came downstairs and saw him struggling with a man— I tried to run back up but...he grabbed me and I hit my head on the stairs when I fell. The next thing I know, I’m here.”

Piper pressed Mama Jean’s hand to her cheek and willed herself to pull it together. “I’m sorry,” she whispered through a choked-up voice. For not being everything she should have, for getting mixed up with Chaz and for her stupidity during her teenage years.

“Dear one, you have nothing to be sorry for. This wasn’t your fault.”

If Mama Jean only knew. She had more than her share to be sorry for, and she was. Piper had asked God over and over to forgive her. But she wasn’t certain that He had. How could He?

Piper would make up for her mistakes and find who did this. She’d start with Christopher Baxter. “Did Christopher ever have any friends over? A girlfriend?”

“A friend of his came by a few times. Nice young man. Big.”

Mama Jean thought a smile and a polite voice that used “Ma’am” and “Sir” constituted nice. “You remember his name?”

Mama Jean tilted her head. “Ron— No, Rick— No... Riff?”

Blood drained from Piper’s head. Riff wasn’t a person. Riff was a place. One Piper knew well. “You sure that wasn’t a place they talked about playing pool in?” Riff’s was the woodwork that roaches crawled out from. Didn’t look as though things had changed in a decade.

“Maybe. I think his name was... I don’t know. But Riff sounds right.”

It was a start. She may not know the friend’s name, but if someone recognized Christopher, they most likely would have a clue about whom he hung with.

“Have you spoken with a doctor yet?”

“He says I’ll need physical therapy but doesn’t see why I won’t make a full recovery. I’m optimistic.” She patted Piper’s cheek. “Look at you. A vision.”

Piper squeezed Mama Jean’s hand. “If I’d have been here, I would have pulverized him. Protected you.” Anger spiked through her blood, splashing over the guilt. Adrenaline raced. She had to find whoever had done this. No matter what the cost.

“You and the karate chops.” Mama Jean chuckled. “God protected me.”

“Your injuries state differently.” Piper gave her a pointed look.

Compassion filled Mama Jean’s eyes. “I’m alive. You have a lot to learn about the good Lord. I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

God could have spared her. But Mama Jean was right. She was alive, strong and a fighter. “I’m going to grab some water. Can I get you anything?”

“You being here is enough.”

If she could find who’d done this and bring him to justice, without getting killed in the process, then it would be almost enough. “Rest. I’ll be back.”

She closed the door, and leaning against the wall was Luke. “What now?” Piper gritted her teeth and strode down the hall to the drink machines.

Luke ambled along beside her. “I have a few more questions. And a cab is expensive.”

Piper sighed. “I’m planning on staying the night, so don’t bother with the offer to drive me home.” She shoved her dollar into the machine, punching the button for bottled water with more force than necessary. “I was hoping you were here to bring me answers, not questions. Mama Jean is so weak and pale.” Anger brewed fresh. “I’m gonna get whoever did this. So while you run me down, I’ll actually be finding who hurt my grandmother.” She snagged her bottle of water and challenged him with a glare.

His nostrils flared. She’d struck a nerve. “First off, going vigilante isn’t smart and will only cause more problems. Secondly, did you know Boone Wiley—that’s his last name—has a rap sheet and has done time? Armed robbery, larceny, and I saw my old partner in the theft division. He says he’s suspected of being involved in a hit on a jewelry store nine months ago. But they don’t have sufficient evidence.”

The cool water did nothing for Piper’s parched throat. Theft. “Why would I know that? I told you, I’d never seen him before he attacked me, and that he was trouble.”

Luke raked his hands through his thick hair, a habit when he was frustrated. Piper always found it endearing. She focused on his face instead. Mistake. Squared, strong jaw, well-sculpted cheek and jaw bones. The green stood out in his eyes today. Must be the chambray shirt with green flecks. Full lips pursed. “Don’t you think it’s odd that this guy is dating Harmony?”

“Was. Not is. And Harmony’s only downfall is her attraction to the wrong kind of men.” Piper could relate. Things would be so different now if she’d never met Chaz Michaels.

“I think all of you are connected. It’d be easier if you’d come clean.”

Piper waited for the two additional words: for once. They were getting nowhere going down this road. And whoever had hurt Mama Jean and killed Christopher Baxter could be long gone by now.

“Did you run down that boarder—Christopher Baxter?”

“No ties to Boone, if that’s what you mean. We’re looking into it. Running the drug angle in case he had a stash hidden. If he did, his killer found it because we sent dogs in. Nothing.”

“But you’d rather focus on me. A dead end.” In more ways than one.

Luke sighed. “I decided to talk to Harmony after all. I’d rather do it face-to-face, but I can’t wait until Monday evening. She’s not answering.”

“I don’t answer numbers I don’t know.” Piper ought to call her, too. How mad was she going to be hearing Piper hadn’t followed her wishes and told the police about Boone after all? “I’ve got to get back and see to Mama Jean.” Piper headed toward Mama Jean’s room. Luke stayed with her.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked. Concern touched his voice.

“Yeah. Needs therapy. Probably have to stay in an assisted-living center while going through it. In the meantime, I’m going to try and talk her into moving into an apartment or something in a better neighborhood. Or maybe I can rope her into coming back to Jackson with me. I should have done that long ago.”

Luke shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and stopped outside Mama Jean’s room. “You—you doing okay in Jackson? Making a good life?”

The hesitation in his voice melted her. Her throat tightened. “Yeah. I’ve got a nice house with an extra bedroom for Mama Jean—if she’ll move. It’s a quiet life. Until now.”

Luke looked as if he wanted to ask something else, but he scuffed the toe of his shoe against the tiled floor. “Good. That’s...good.” He avoided eye contact, nodded and scratched the back of his head. “I’ll keep you posted. Be careful, Piper. You might be strong, but you’re not invincible.”

Piper stared at his back as he traipsed down the corridor, her insides exploding. No, she wasn’t invincible and everything told her to run, to hide. Chaz Michaels terrified her. Always had. But she couldn’t sit by while Mama Jean’s attacker ran scot-free, especially since it might be Piper’s fault. She entered the hospital room. Sterile. Lifeless. A lot like the way Piper felt.

Was her life good? On the surface, yes. But inside, Piper was never settled or at rest. Longing for a family of her own dogged her as the aging clock ticked by. Competing internationally had been a brief stint of contentment, keeping her focused and occupied, but when those karate competitions were over, Piper came home to an empty house with no one to love and no one to love her back.

“I thought I heard a man’s voice,” Mama Jean said as Piper neared her bed.

Should she tell her about Luke? He was going to ask her some questions anyway. Why hadn’t he done it just now? If Piper didn’t know any better, she’d think she’d run him off with something she’d said. But what?

“I was talking with Luke Ransom. He’s working Christopher’s case. He was here yesterday, actually. Checked in on you. He’ll want to ask you a few questions about the incident.”

“He’s a wonderful man. I always hoped you two would get married. I know how much you loved him.”

Piper wasn’t sure anyone could know how much she’d loved Luke. How much she still did. Even if she’d tried not to. It wouldn’t take. “So, what’s on TV?” Thinking of all she’d lost ached too much, and she needed Mama Jean engaged in a show. Piper had no choice but to hunt down the scumbag who had hurt her. Starting by sifting through the crowd at Riff’s.

* * *

Luke sat in his car gripping the steering wheel but going nowhere. He’d come to the hospital on his dinner break with every intent to talk with Mama Jean about the incident.

Then Piper went and talked about her good life—a life without him—and Luke wanted nothing more than to bolt.

Before he’d left the precinct, he’d received some information on Boone Wiley, sending Luke’s mind and heart into a game of tug-of-war, flustering him. His heart said Piper was innocent and would never do anything that might put Mama Jean in danger, while his mind continued to replay the night he’d shown up at Ellen Strosbergen’s house ten years ago.

Luke and his old partner, Kerr Robbins, had been staking out that bogus address Piper had given them. In the end, she’d been loyal to a criminal, and Luke had carried the guilt from the events that escalated that night. He still struggled with how it ended. How Piper flushed what they had down the toilet.

Maybe he should have never got in too deep with her in the first place. But the moment he’d walked—undercover—into that smoke-infested low-life pool hall on Beale Street, she’d captured him. Not with her beauty, though she was beautiful, but with her downcast expression. As if the world had chewed her up and spit her out, leaving her alone and hopeless. As if she needed fixing.

Turned out to be her eighteenth birthday. And where had she been? Alone, sitting at a booth.

Luke pawed his face and rested his head on the seat, forcing the memories down. He tried Harmony’s number and got voice mail again. So what now? His phone rang. Not Harmony.

Eric.

“Hey, bro.”

“I talked to one of my CIs downtown. Says he knows Baxter but he hasn’t been down for a fix in a long time. Hung out at Riff’s. Easy place to score. But he found Jesus at that shelter off Front Street. So it’s looking like our vic is clean. Not saying he didn’t have some money stashed away, but I think we need to turn direction and roll down Piper Kennedy’s street.”

Luke had a contact at Riff’s, too. The very place he’d met Piper.

“I put in a call to Baroni’s brother. Haven’t heard from him.”

The coroner had confirmed the blunt force trauma to the back of his head had probably knocked him for a loop, but it was the swift crack of the neck that had done him in. Not from a fall but a perfectly executed break.

Luke had asked if it were possible for a woman about five foot three to have done that to a man six feet tall. Unfortunately, the coroner let him know if the man had dropped to his knees from the blow, it would have been easy.

Another nail in Piper’s coffin, but the theory wasn’t enough to arrest her. And quite frankly, he couldn’t make himself believe it.

“Luke, you hear me?”

“What? No. Sorry.”

Eric sighed. “You need to get focused, man. I said no prints on the tire iron. I was hoping there would be, not that I want the Kennedy woman to be guilty, but since her prints are on file...”

No, this wasn’t going to be a slam dunk.

“I’ll meet you back at the precinct, and let’s see if we can dig anything else up on Boone Wiley. Maybe we can directly connect him to one of the old crew members. And let’s turn over a few rocks, see if any of Christopher Baxter’s friends are lurking underneath.”

Luke bought two coffees and met Eric at the precinct. Luke handed Eric his caffeine jolt and collapsed into his office chair.

“I need more information about that night back when you worked theft, man.”

Luke tapped a pen on his desk calendar. “At the time, we suspected Chaz Michaels was running a crew who burglarized the elderly in wealthy neighborhoods. In and out. No injuries. No fatalities. I’d just come on board the Crimes Against Property Bureau. A little younger than Chaz and his crew but a prime candidate for the undercover work. Get in, snoop around, see if I could get close to them.”

Eric raised an eyebrow and paused middrink. “Piper Kennedy was your in.”

Luke nodded. It hadn’t started out that way, though. He’d simply taken a seat in the booth with her. Had no idea she even knew Chaz. Never dreamed she’d been in a romantic relationship with him. But the door was open. And he went through it.

“Do we know where this Chaz Michaels is?” Eric set his cup on the desk, pulled a Twizzler from his coat pocket and went to work on his computer.

“I’ve already searched the system. It’s like he vanished after Ellen Strosbergen was brutally beaten. They arrested Sylvester ‘Sly’ Watson and he’s doing time at Riverbend.”

Eric played drums with his fingers on his desk. “Did he beat the woman?”

“Prints on the tire iron says he did. He never ratted out a single other person.”

Eric gave a side nod. “That’s devotion. Gang-like.”

“They were, in a sense.” Luke opened a drawer and found a roll of antacids.

“And Harmony Fells was wrapped up in this group?”

Luke nodded.

“She’s squeaky-clean now. A few stains on her juvie record.” Eric finished his coffee and shot the cup into the can a couple of feet away. “Score!”

“Couldn’t place her, Tyson Baroni or Chaz Michaels at the scene that night.” But he could place Piper. She’d been two blocks from the Strosbergen home, running like Carl Lewis in the hundred-meter sprint.

“I know you and she had a thing—”

“It won’t affect my job.” He’d make sure of it. Never. Again.

“I was going to say that even though you had a thing with her, we ought to take a little look-see into her Jackson life. See if she’s as innocent as she says.” He stood and clutched his jacket. “Get some rest tonight.”

“You got a date?”

Eric wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“It’s why I asked.” Luke chuckled. “And you answered my question. You don’t.”

“When I can find a woman who won’t freak every time I holster a gun to my shoulder, I’ll be set. Call if something pops.”

Hopefully, when something did, Piper’s name wouldn’t be anywhere near it. The churning in his gut said otherwise.

* * *

Beale Street hadn’t changed much in a decade. Neon lights lit up the murky sky. Ashy clouds slithered around the full moon. Not a star in sight. Piper flipped the collar of her black canvas jacket around her ears. The wind was colder and stronger coming off the Mississippi River. Shards of glass and trash littered the sidewalks. Horses clip-clopped down the street eagerly waiting for couples who wanted a romantic ride in lit-up carriages. Quite the contradiction.

Blues music drifted from clubs, restaurants and bars. Saturday night. Throngs of people packed into the buildings. Riff’s turned a blind eye and welcomed anyone who at least looked sixteen, mostly riffraff. Piper had been coming and going since she was fifteen.

The neon pink sign blared over the aged brick building. Two large windows revealed patrons enveloped in cigarette smoke and pale lighting. She stood out front, inhaling the tangy scent of BBQ and char-grilled burgers. Liquor permeated Beale Street on Friday and Saturday nights. Wasn’t even May yet. Memphis in May would draw huge crowds.

She could stand here with a million regrets or go in and try to dig up some information on Christopher Baxter.

A chill swept up her spine. That being-watched feeling coated her skin. No time to second-guess the idea. It was now or never.