A Widow's Guilty Secret (7 page)

She shook her head. “Never saw him before—or after. When I asked Peter if his friend was coming back, he cut me off by saying the man wasn’t a friend, he was just an acquaintance from the department. He seemed pretty upset, so I didn’t press the matter.” Suzy shook her head. She couldn’t help wondering if any of this was her fault. If she could have done something differently to keep Peter from getting killed. “Maybe I should have.”

“You wouldn’t have known if he was telling you the truth or not, anyway,” Nick pointed out. “That’s the trouble with someone who keeps changing his story.”

Suzy nodded sadly. “I know.” She indicated the locked door that was keeping them from looking through Peter’s things. “Do you want me to call a handyman to take that off its hinges?”

He didn’t view the locked door as an obstacle. “No need,” he told her. “I’m kind of handy myself.” But rather than taking the hinges off, Nick merely took out his wallet and extracted two very thin looking metal tools. Using both, he inserted them into door’s keyhole and swiftly began working the lock.

Glancing at Suzy over his shoulder, he asked, “I’ve got your permission to unlock the door, right?”

The gesture she used told him to have at it. “Be my guest.”

Before she’d uttered the last word, Nick already had the door unlocked and was turning the doorknob to enter the room.

Suzy was suitably impressed at how effortlessly the detective had managed that. “They teach cat burglary at the police academy?” she asked, amused.

“No, they don’t. That particular skill comes under the heading of extracurricular activity,” he answered with as straight a face as he could manage. “It’s something—if you’re lucky—that you pick up along the way from the criminals you wind up arresting.”

Once in the room, Nick looked around slowly. His first impression was that there was nothing outstanding about the room, nothing to set it apart or make it appear special. It was just another bedroom converted into a home office.

The man did have a very large desk. Was that to convey his importance, or did he just favor large writing areas? It definitely dominated the room, but the surface of the alder wood desk was completely devoid of any papers despite the fact that there was a laser printer set up right next to a computer tower. Both were turned off.

On the far side of the desk, standing next to it, was a professional-looking shredding machine. Its container, Nick noticed, was partially filled. He crossed to that first.

Removing the much heavier top portion, he found that the paper inside the container was shredded to the point that it would take a team of dedicated experts, working nonstop for several days, before they could even hope to begin to attempt to re-create the pages that had been fed through the machine’s sharp teeth. And even after that, it wasn’t a foregone conclusion that there could be anything gleaned from that effort.

Why would a sheriff of a county need that kind of a shredder? Just what was the man shredding and why?

Leaving that puzzle for later, Nick turned to the computer next. He hit the power button and waited for the tower to reboot. When it finished going through its paces, a picture came together on the screen.

“Interesting screen saver,” Nick commented as he studied it.

Peter had never had the computer on around her. Curious, she took a look and saw that the screen saver was comprised of an army of dollar signs marching off into infinity.

She wasn’t surprised. “Peter always had a weakness for money,” she told the detective. “He complained more than once that he didn’t feel he was getting paid what he deserved.” Already the marching dollar signs were getting on her nerves. “Can you get into it?”

The computer was, as he expected, password protected. “This is a little trickier than unlocking a door,” he told her. “But then again, a lot of people elect to go with things they can easily remember. What’s the date that you got married?” he asked.

She sincerely doubted that Peter would use that. That would indicate that he was sentimental about the date and she knew that he wasn’t.

But she gave the date to Nick anyway and he typed it in.

The second he hit Enter the words
Wiping out hard drive
appeared. Below it was a sixty second countdown.

And they already had just forty-five seconds left.

And then they had forty-four.

Chapter 6

“I
can’t stop it.” Nick was acutely aware that the seconds were ticking away.

His fingers flew across the keyboard and he was using every trick he could think of, but nothing was working.

The countdown continued. The seconds were slipping away.

“Damn it,” he muttered in frustration.

And then, with three seconds left to go, the screen suddenly went blank. There was no telltale sound, no indication that anything was being destroyed. He had no idea what had happened but it appeared that the crisis had been averted.

How?

Had this countdown been some kind of elaborate hoax? Nick knew that, with all his desperate typing, he still hadn’t come up with the right combination of keys needed to save the information.

So why had the screen gone blank?

“I did it?” It was more of a question than a triumphant boast, directed at the universe in general.

As he turned toward the sheriff’s widow to vocalize his confusion, it suddenly became clear.

“You did it,” Nick amended, almost amused at how simple the solution had been.

Suzy stood there with a smile on her face—and the computer power plug in her hand. She had pulled it out of the wall socket, causing the computer to stop its destructive activity and just shut off.

Why hadn’t he thought of that?

“Quick thinking,” he complimented her.

“Basic thinking,” she corrected. She looked at the plug before placing it on the table beside the tower. “Actually, it’s the only kind of thinking I’m capable of—I don’t know that much about computers, I just know that the ones that aren’t the portable kind that run on batteries need a power source. I got caught in a blackout once and the term paper I was working on disappeared because the computer shut down the moment the power stopped flowing through it.” A slight smile curved her lips. “Knew that hard-learned lesson would come in handy someday.”

Had she shut off the computer’s power source fast enough? Nick wondered as he regarded the dark computer screen.

“I certainly hope so,” he muttered out loud.

“So now what?” she asked, nodding at the tower. “Are you going to bring it to some tech expert in the police department?”

“We don’t have one of those in Vengeance.” At least, none that he was aware of. “But the FBI does.” The FBI had everything available to them. It was a matter of knowing who to ask. He’d never been very good at taking hat in hand and pleading his case, though.

“The FBI?” she asked incredulously. Did they even have a satellite office out here? “You can do that? Just walk in and bring a computer to them?”

“Probably not under normal circumstances,” he conceded, but God knew this case didn’t fit under that heading. “But right now, there’s a local police/FBI joint task force working on the murders.”

“Murders,” she echoed. For a moment, she’d forgotten that Peter’s death was not an isolated incident. She really didn’t know if that made it better or worse. “If other people were killed, maybe Peter’s death was just collateral damage. You know, wrong place, wrong time, that sort of thing. Maybe the killer didn’t want to leave a witness behind.”

“You’re forgetting about the card that was found in your husband’s pocket.” He looked at her, wishing that for her sake, he could say that her theory was right. But it wasn’t. Burris had been singled out, just the way the other two men had been. “This was personal.”

A thought occurred to her. A horrible, crushing thought. “Could Peter have gotten the other two people killed?” she asked. “Could they have been unwilling witnesses to
his
death, and then the killer eliminated them, too, to keep them from talking?”

There was only one thing wrong with her theory. “The other men had cards on them, too.”

Suzy steepled her hands before her lips, covering them, holding back the sound of anguished distress that had risen to them and was still hovering there.

“Then it
is
a serial killer,” she cried. How many more people were going to have to die before this monster was caught?

“We’re not ready to say that yet,” Nick cautioned, fervently hoping that wasn’t the case. “The last thing we need is having the public panic on us. We want to keep them in the dark as long as possible—in case we’re wrong and this is just part of some elaborate vendetta.”

She ran her hands up and down her arms, feeling a definite chill though the temperature inside the house hadn’t changed. She could feel her nerves go on high alert.

“Are my son and I in any danger?” she asked.

Nick gave it to her straight and was as honest with her as he could. “I don’t think so. The killer seemed exclusively focused on the three people he killed.”

But maybe the killing would be extended to the victims’ families.

Get a grip, Suzy. You can’t let yourself think that way.

She was struck by something Nick had just said. “Then you know it was a man who killed Peter and the others?”

“Actually, no, I don’t,” he admitted. “It’s just an assumption. Most multiple killers tend to be men,” he told her. “And given the people who were murdered, it would have had to have been a fairly strong woman to get them all out there and bury them. Process of elimination says it’s most likely a man,” he concluded.

Suzy kept going back to the other two men in her mind. She needed answers. Were they friends of Peter’s? People he dealt with?

“Can you tell me who else was killed, or are their identities something that’s being kept from the public for the time being?” she asked.

“You’ll know soon enough. We have to make sure all the families are contacted first.” The FBI was handling that part of it, the part that involved handling the media and releasing information. The names were going to be released sooner than later, because of the media that had converged on Vengeance, thanks to the Grayson disappearance and probable kidnapping. The reporters were everywhere, digging into everything. Suzy was going to hear about the other two men soon enough, but he could talk to her later about the details.

“I understand, Detective.”

“Did the sheriff ever talk about anyone in particular? Did he discuss his personal affairs with you?” Nick asked.

There was no humor in the small laugh that escaped her lips. “Peter actually talked less and less to me in the last six months or so. I think he’d started to have real regrets about talking me into getting pregnant and having a baby.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you?” She didn’t strike him as the type who would blindly do anything her husband asked her to—
unless she wanted to. “Let him talk you into having a baby?” he explained when she seemed confused.

Her initial reaction had been to say no, but then she’d changed her mind.

“Because I felt I owed it to the marriage to give it another try,” she told him honestly. “And I thought that maybe a baby would help us find that spark. The one I never seemed to have felt,” she confessed, then pressed her lips together as her words replayed themselves in her head.

“I guess that’s a little too much information.” Suzy laughed ruefully, embarrassed over what she’d just admitted to a total stranger. He had a sympathetic look in his eyes, but she didn’t want his sympathy. There was no reason to have allowed that slip out. It was much too personal. “That’s certainly not going to help you solve the crime. Any of them,” she tacked on.

“Technically, I’m only working your husband’s murder,” he told her. “We have the other two murders assigned to other people and we’re sharing information—if there’s any to share,” he qualified. It was still early in the investigation and so far nothing was being shared. “Do you know if your husband kept any files or extraneous information around somewhere? You know, things that weren’t on the computer, but he still didn’t want anyone else to see?”

As he spoke, he started to conduct a search himself. He pulled at the middle drawer, only to find that it wouldn’t budge. He looked down, his expression registering only mild surprise. “Did he always keep his desk locked?”

“I wouldn’t know. Peter didn’t want me in here.” She knew how that had to sound, but she’d really had no interest in his work, other than it helped pay his share of the bills.

“How about when he was at work?” His guess was that most women would have taken the opportunity to poke around then. “Weren’t you curious?” he prodded.

“Not really. Peter kept the office door locked. Besides, I was at work myself for most of that time.” She paused a moment, then added, “I told myself that whatever he had in this room had to do with the job.”

“And did you believe yourself?” Nick asked, watching her closely to get a handle on what she was really feeling.

She looked at him knowingly. “I’m not an idiot, Detective.”

“No, ma’am,” he agreed. “In my opinion, you’re definitely not an idiot.” He ended the sentence on a firm, upbeat note, waiting for her to follow it up with something, anything.

He didn’t have long to wait.

“I felt that as long as I didn’t ask questions and accuse him of cheating—as long as I supposedly didn’t know what he was up to, we could make our way back from there, save the marriage. Maybe start over, for Andy’s sake.” But that hope had quickly died when Peter made himself even more scarce. He’d left her no choice but to ask for a divorce.

She blew out a long, heavy breath. “Now there’s no need to start over, at least, not with Peter.” She looked up at the detective. “But I certainly will be starting over, won’t I?”

He felt her discomfort. The woman had been through the wringer today. Nick made a quick decision. “I think I have enough here for now.” He nodded at the computer tower. “I can come back tomorrow. And I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Burris.”

A bittersweet smile curved her mouth. “My loss, Detective, happened long before today—or yesterday.” She watched as he took the various plugs and cables off, uncoupling the computer tower from the monitor and all the other peripheral bells and whistles that comprised its accessories. “You need any help with that?” she asked, indicating the tower.

He picked it up from the desk and tucked it under his arm. Nick couldn’t help grinning at the offer. He was a good six feet tall with a solid athletic build while she was—what?—five-two, five-three and slight? The thought of her offering to help him carry
anything
amused him.

“Thanks,” he told her, “but I think I can manage.”

Of course he could, she thought wryly. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

He was about to say that he could find his own way out, then decided against it. Instead, he just nodded and said, “Thanks.”

She was a nice woman, he thought. And, from what he was piecing together, she seemed
too
nice for the likes of the deceased sheriff.

Suzy stopped at the front door, opening it for him. “Do you have any idea when I can...pick up Peter’s body?” That sounded so bizarre to her. Peter’s body. A man like Peter should have had at least another forty years ahead of him, not cut down so soon. “For the funeral,” she explained.

“The medical examiner has to complete his autopsy first.” Because they had no medical examiner of their own, the department had requested one be brought in from Dallas. A J. D. Cameron arrived an hour ago, looking none too happy about being temporarily transplanted. “He probably won’t be releasing any of the bodies for at least another day or so,” he told her. “Best guess,” he qualified, since he had no idea exactly how things worked in this formerly sleepy little town.

There’d never been a murder here before, at least not since it had been officially christened “Vengeance” and incorporated. Legend had it, though, that the town’s name came as a result of someone taking their revenge and killing a guilty party.

Suzy took the detective’s qualification into account. She was about to say goodbye when he stopped and put the tower down on the front porch.

“Did you forget something, Detective?” she asked.

Nick dug into his pocket and took out one of the cards that he’d had made up for himself when he accepted this job—Vengeance, it turned out, didn’t have “money to waste” on trivial things like business cards for its police detectives.

Maybe that should have warned him about the kind of place where he’d decided to settle down. But it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, all things considered, he honestly didn’t have a better place to be.

“I wanted to give you my card in case you happen to think of something before I come back tomorrow—or if you just want to talk—you can reach me at either one of these two numbers,” he told her, pointing to the two phone numbers printed in the lower right-hand corner.

Accepting his card, Suzy looked at it as she nodded in response to what he had just said. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Why did the sound of her voice, lowered like that, sound so incredibly sexy to him just now? Maybe, instead of jumping from one police force to another, he should have first gone on an extended vacation, somewhere peaceful where it would have been only him and several seashells?

“Yeah, well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbled. Turning on his heel, Nick made his way to the car one of his colleagues had dropped off for him. He noted absently that the vehicle was in desperate need of a wash.

He glanced up at the sky, wondering if it was going to rain. That would solve his problem and the countryside could certainly use a little rain these days. The land was rather parched. The summer had been a hot one and for the most part, there had been no relief except for an occasional anemic sprinkle.

He was doing it again, Nick suddenly realized as he popped the rear hood and put the computer tower inside the trunk. He was filling his mind—crowding it—with trivial information. It was a habit he’d developed years ago, a way to keep from thinking about what was
really
on his mind.

In this case, it should have been on details about the sheriff’s murder. But it wasn’t. Instead, his head was filled with extraneous details about the sheriff’s widow. Those light blue eyes that had gotten to him.

He caught himself thinking that for a woman who’d given birth two months ago, she certainly had regained one hell of a figure. That in turn made him wonder what kind of a fool the sheriff must have been, to go tomcatting around when he had
that
waiting for him at home.