Before She Dies (19 page)
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen her.”
“You’ve seen her picture?”
“No, I’ve seen her.”
“Tell me it was not in a dream.”
“No. She was in this tent.” Her face paled a fraction.
“She was my first customer here. She said she wasn’t crazy about crowds.”
“You’ve not seen her picture before?”
“No.” She looked at him, her eyes full and bright. “Grady was the one that told the press I could find a killer. I never said that.”
He pulled a notebook from his breast pocket along with a pen. “When did you see her?”
“Last week. Early. Friday, I think. Opening night. She could read the cards and a couple of times challenged me. It was amusing at first and then it got a little annoying.”
“Why?”
“I’m here to do a job. She was here to see how I handled my readings. Basically checking out and learning from the competition.”
“That so bad?”
She shrugged with a casual elegance generally reserved for an older, more sophisticated woman. “How would you like it if another detective followed you around all the time and second-guessed you?”
“Point taken. So how long did she stay?”
“She paid for thirty minutes in cash. She stayed the entire time.”
“What kind of reading did you give her?”
“Basic tarot reading.”
“Do you remember her fortune?”
“I think I gave her the standard line of success on the horizon and foreign travel. But nothing stands out in my mind.”
“And when you finished the reading, she left the carnival?”
“I don’t know if she left. I was in the tent.”
“You didn’t see her talking to anyone?”
Amusement danced in her eyes. “Despite the advertisements, I don’t see beyond the walls of this tent, detective.”
“You’ve no special powers.”
She chuckled and glanced toward the tent opening to see if anyone was listening. “None.”
He rose. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Tate. How much longer will you be in town?”
“The carnival is here for ten more days.”
“What about you?”
She’d been relaxed and confident up until this moment, but a rising tension froze the warmth from her body. “I plan to leave with the carnival.”
“Do you?”
She grinned. “Why would I not?”
“Good question.” He moved to leave and then stopped. “Why were you in court the other day?”
“How did you know that?”
He grinned. “I saw you with Charlotte Wellington.”
Surprise gave way to knowing. “You noticed me or Ms. Wellington?”
Points for perception, kid. “All that matters is that I saw you. Why were you there?” He’d checked but wanted her version.
“A minor problem with a local shopkeeper. He accused me of stealing. I was innocent and the judge agreed.”
“Were you found innocent or did Ms. Wellington do her magic and shoot holes in the Commonwealth’s case?”
“The end result is the same.” She glanced toward the tent. “Detective, I really must get back to work. Every minute you stand here is costing me money.”
“Sure. I may be in touch.”
“Of course.”
He ducked as he moved out of the tent opening and glanced at the growing line of people waiting to see Sooner. She had a dozen people waiting.
The sun had set and the lights on the rides had softened the carnival’s hard edges. Excitement buzzed in the air as more and more families and couples started to arrive.
What the hell kind of connection did Charlotte have to this place? Why had she doubled back to see Sooner?
Puzzles or mysteries irritated him until he had the answer in his sights.
Sooner shoved out a breath full of tension and fear once the detective left. The man possessed a strong aura filled with steel and resolve. He was not a man to anger. Her mind tripped to the moment she’d mentioned Charlotte Wellington to him. Though his expression did not change, his energy shifted into high gear and he clearly inwardly bristled.
She grinned. “I wonder if Charlotte knows she is in his sights.”
The next few hours were an endless stream of the lovelorn or those searching for some unattainable answer. Will I get the job? Will I find that ring? What are my chances with the lottery?
So weak were their auras, she barely could feel the energy around them. Later in the evening, a man entered her tent and caught her attention. Before he even crossed the ten feet from the door to her desk, she felt him. Like Detective Rokov, he had a strong powerful energy that had her sitting straighter and playing close attention to his features.
He wore a green baseball cap, glasses, and a dark jacket he’d zipped up to his throat. His hair was a deep brown and so long it brushed broad shoulders that appeared padded. Jeans and sneakers completed a look that was very nondescript.
As much as he tried to look like a Nobody, she knew there was more to this man. He had a need and hunger in him that teetered on starving.
Sooner cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “What can I do for you this evening?”
“Me? I thought maybe I could help you. I heard you were looking for me.” He slid gloved hands into his pants pockets.
“I’m not looking for anyone.” Her foot grazed the panic button Grady had installed under her table. Every bit of emotion in her screamed to press it as logic struggled to sooth her worries. “I am here to give help, sir. I am not searching.”
“The article said you were looking for a killer,” he said. “I might be able to help you find him.”
Fear rolled over her skin in waves. She didn’t know if he was a nut job looking for attention or something far more dangerous. It didn’t matter. She pressed the button with her foot. “You need to leave this tent now. I have security coming.”
“I don’t think they’re coming.”
“What do you mean?” She pressed the button several more times and reached for the baseball bat she kept at her side. She’d only had to use it a couple of times, but each time it had been worth its weight in gold.
“I saw the wire and cut it. No one is coming.”
Her confidence ebbed and she glanced around the tent wondering if she could reach the exit before he grabbed her. Instead of debating the issue or worrying about the buzzer, she summoned help the old-fashioned way.
She screamed.
“I’ll see you soon.” The man smiled and then quickly turned on his heel and left the tent. Bat in hand, she rose from her seat and moved to the entrance, where a few stunned and confused customers waited. The carnival’s noise and music had drowned out her scream and only those at the front of the line had heard her.
“Hey, lady, are you all right?” The question came from the first woman in line. She sported an oversized Redskins T-shirt, a bag of popcorn, and a giant panda.
Sooner searched for the man but already he’d vanished into the crowds. Whoever Mr. Creepazoid was, he was gone now. Grady had said the article would jostle the nuts out of the trees. She considered telling Grady, but hesitated. Soon she’d be on her own and would have to handle situations like this alone. And calling Rokov, well, a lifetime distrusting cops was a hard habit to break. “Fuck.”
“What did you say?” said Redskins lady.
Realizing she’d broken character, she straightened her shoulders. If Grady had taught her one thing, it was that it was the illusion that kept them in business. “So sorry. I was chasing away the evil spirits.”
“So can I get my reading?” Redskins lady said.
“Yes, darling, please enter.” Heart still pounding, she made a grand sweep of her hands and vanished into the tent.
It was past 1 a.m. when Grady was able to sit at his desk and plow through the night’s earnings. Judging by the stack of cash and credit card receipts, it had been a very good night. He’d known Sooner would be the draw that he needed. The girl was just coming into her own, and her beauty and her talent with people could make her a grand draw for years to come.
Years to come.
He reached for the tumbler full of whiskey and drained half of it.
He didn’t have years. He had months if he was lucky.
He glanced at the piles of cash, skimmed a couple hundred of the smaller bills away, and shoved them in his pocket. He wrote up the bank deposit slip, which he’d drop off in the morning.
When his work was complete, he glanced at the clock. Three fourteen. He should be tired. The doc in Nashville had told him to sleep more. But his head buzzed. Sleep had become harder and harder in the last year, and tonight he’d be lucky to get an hour or two. Glancing at his unmade bunk with a bit of resentment, he rose and moved to the window that overlooked the carnival. A few trailers remained lit up, and the sound of music drifted from Buster’s trailer, but all in all the place was quiet.
He moved to the safe, opened the door, and dropped in the bank deposit bag. He was about to close the safe door when he spotted the folder in the bottom. Digging it out, he locked the safe and went to the dinette. He refilled his scotch before he sat down.
Opening the file, he leafed through the yellowed newspaper articles.
WOMAN FOUND SLAIN
, Raleigh.
HIKER DROWNED,
Charleston. WOMAN RAPED AND MURDERED,
WOMAN FOUND SLAIN
, Raleigh.
HIKER DROWNED,
Charleston. WOMAN RAPED AND MURDERED,
Nashville. There were at least two dozen articles like these three. All featured women in the Southeast who’d been kidnapped, held, and then violently murdered.
The cities and times had been scattered enough that the cops in the different jurisdictions did not realize they were dealing with the same killer. But he knew.
Slowly, he turned each article over and over until he reached the last that he’d clipped out just days ago.
The article featured Diane Young.
Chapter 13
Monday, October 25, 9:15 a.m.
Charlotte’s legs ached as she hurried up the courthouse’s front steps. The last couple of days had been a blur of work. Friday’s client dinner had gone well, and she’d spent the weekend drawing up contracts. He wasn’t a huge fish but the work fees would help. Breaks had centered on visiting the new apartment, determining what she could keep, calling the clerk on the White case, and making sure the movers were ready to pack up her life on Friday.
She pushed through the glass front doors and hurried over to the line at security. She dumped her purse and briefcase in the bin and sent it through the scanner as she ducked under the sensors. The buzzer beeped and she glanced at the security guard, a tall black man with a shaved head and stern expression.
Without being told, she moved forward and held up her arms as he rose off his stool with his wand. “Morning, Ms. Wellington.”
She smiled and tried not to look impatient. “Morning, Oscar. How’s it going?”
“It’s going just about like any other Monday.”
“That sounds ominous.” He brushed the wand and paused at her belt. She glanced at the large buckle and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking today.”
“Naw, just a lot of harmless fun.”
Moving backward, she dumped her belt in a bin and sent it through the scanner. This time when she walked through, no alarm beeped.
“All clear.” He watched as she refastened her belt and grabbed her purse and briefcase. “I’d say by those dark circles under your eyes, you could use a fun weekend.”
“I never have fun, Oscar. Life is about work for me.” Lately, she’d envied people like Oscar who could leave work behind and just break free. The only times she’d really acted without analyzing had been her nights with Rokov. Now, she couldn’t even think about him without considering complications.
“So I hear the jury is back today?”
“It is.” It had been seven days since the judge had given the jury instructions in the Samantha White case. Never in those seven days was the case far from her mind, and though the lengthy deliberations were a good sign, the constant worry was chewing up her stomach.
“You always got work on the brain.”
“Always.”
“You’re too young and pretty not to have some fun.”
The avuncular comment had her shrugging. “Tell that to the workload. When it eases up, I will, too.”
“The work is always gonna be there, Ms. Wellington. Always.”
As much as she’d earned a bit more fun, she’d never resented the work or viewed it as a bad thing. Work meant money, and money meant freedom. And if she didn’t have time to spend her money, then so be it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The good humor of the moment quickly passed as she moved through the throng of people toward the elevators. She had a half hour before court, which was time enough to talk to Levi, who’d requested another meeting.
She found the prosecutor in the conference room. He sat at the head of the table, his head bent over an open case file. He made quick, abrupt notes with his left hand. A line furrowed his brow.
“Levi,” she said. “You wanted to meet before court.”
He glanced up, and smoothing his hand down his red tie, he rose and pulled out a chair for her. “Glad you could meet me.”
The soft scent of his aftershave wafted around him. As always, he was impeccably dressed in hand-tailored suits that drew attention to his lean waist. She’d heard he was a bit of a gym rat, but seeing as she’d never set foot in a gym, their paths weren’t likely ever to cross.
She leaned back in her chair, noting the way the hard back dug into her spine. “What do you have?”
“Involuntary manslaughter. She serves four years.”
Charlotte was shocked by such a generous deal. “My client doesn’t want any deals.”
“This is a great deal and can end this now.”
“It is over. The jury is back.”
“Take the deal, and we both win.”
“My client loses four years of her life.” Levi was a tough nut, and for him to cave was surprising. “She’s made it clear. No deal.”
He knitted his fingers and leaned forward. “Charlotte, I’m not trying to be a hard ass. I feel for this woman. I don’t want to see her suffer any more than you do.”
“You sure tried to put her away.”
“That’s my job. And believe me, I did not enjoy it.”
It was a good deal. “Let me place a call to the bailiff.” She dialed and within minutes was on the phone with Samantha. As she suspected, the woman turned it down.
Charlotte turned off her phone. “She says no.”
“You both could regret this.”
“I don’t think so. See you in court.” The butterflies churning her stomach had her glancing at her watch as she moved down the hallway. She had fifteen minutes to show time.
Show time.
Funny she could think of court like show time. That was the term her mother had used as she’d left for her carnival shows.
“Mom, you look tired.”
Mom finished underlining her right eye. “Really? I’m feeling great, kiddo.”
“Can’t you take a night off ? We can watch a movie and eat popcorn. We’ve not done that in a long time.”
“Kiddo, Momma can’t say no to work because work is what keeps us together.”
“One night won’t make a difference.”
“One night leads to two nights, and then before you know it, you’re out of a job. I’ll work until the day I die.”
Until the day I die.
She’d suffered her stroke two weeks later.
Charlotte pushed through the double doors of the courtroom and moved to the defense table. The next few minutes moved along on a steady predictable course. The bailiff arrived. Deputies escorted in Samantha White, who took her seat by Charlotte. Levi took his seat. The courtroom filled, the jury took their seats, and the judge arrived.
Judge Winston Lawless struck his gavel against his bench and announced court proceedings to begin. Black robes broadened the appearance of his shoulders and accentuated dark hair combed back from stern features. In his late forties, he’d earned a reputation as a hard-ass.
Charlotte’s back was to the courtroom door, but without turning, she knew the instant Rokov arrived. She couldn’t say how she knew, only that the energy in the room had changed. It felt more charged, almost as if it buzzed with force.
Charlotte kept her expression neutral, and she did not dare turn and look to confirm his arrival. But the muscles in her body tensed, and she kept aligning her pencil with her yellow legal pad.
“Will the defendant rise?”
Charlotte and Samantha rose. Samantha dared a glance back, searching for her mother, who had returned from the beach but had not come to the courthouse for the verdict. Carefully, she smoothed the wrinkles from her prison jumpsuit.
Charlotte took her hand and squeezed it.
“Members of the jury,” the judge said. “Have you reached a verdict?”
A short man with graying hair and a red tie stood. “We have, Your Honor.” The foreman handed a slip of paper to the bailiff.
The judge received the paper and read it. He frowned, nodded. “What is your verdict?”
“On the count of arson, we the jury find the defendant. . . not guilty.”
Charlotte and Samantha both remained rigid.
“And on the count of first-degree murder?” Judge Lawson said.
“We find the defendant innocent.”
As a frowning Judge Lawless read his final instructions, a whimper escaped across Samantha’s lips, and she leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. She started to weep. Charlotte tipped her head back, savoring the rush of this victory, and then wrapped her arm around her client.
“Thank you so much.” Samantha looked up at her with red watery eyes. “Thank you so much.”
Charlotte smiled, knowing she often came across as cold and unfeeling. “You are very welcome.”
“You’ve saved my life.”
Charlotte smiled. “I’m glad to have helped.”
She watched the bailiff lead Samantha away and then hurried out of the courtroom quickly. She paused briefly to talk to reporters and then hurried toward the exit.
She had just cleared the courthouse steps when she heard her name. “Wellington. I want a word with you.”
The masculine voice was rich with anger. Irritated by the rude delay more than fearful, Charlotte turned and faced the man. “Can I help you?”
Tall and thin, he wore khakis, a white shirt, and work boots. He’d slicked back his dark hair and sharply parted it on the right side.
“You can tell me why you helped that witch get free.” He closed the gap between them until he stood only inches from her.
This close, Charlotte could smell the hint of gasoline and motor oil on the man’s flannel shirt and jeans. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Lonnie White. Samantha killed my brother.”
And then she could see the resemblance. She didn’t focus much of her research on Lonnie because reports indicated he’d been living in Atlanta for the last several years. What facts she’d gathered ticked back: auto repairman, married, military service with a general discharge. Lonnie and his brother hadn’t been close. “I didn’t notice you in the courtroom during the trial.”
“I’m here now.” He weighed at least a hundred pounds more, and he was a good six inches taller. “Hell of a show you put on in there. Made Samantha look like a fucking saint.”
Ah, profanity, the language of scholars. “I’ve got better things to do than have this conversation, Mr. White.” She turned to cut around him toward the street corner, but he blocked her path.
Clenched fists hovered at his side. “She killed him because she wanted the insurance money. She looks sweet and nice, but she is evil.”
“The jury did not agree. Now, get out of my way, Mr. White.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Not until you’ve heard me out, bitch.”
Her grip tightened on her briefcase. She glanced around at the crowds of people milling in front of the courthouse. “I’ve heard all I want to hear. Get out of my way.” Each word was clipped and direct.
He shook his head. “Bitch, you made my brother look like a monster in that courtroom. He was a good decent man who worked hard and who loved his wife and kids.”
Anger egged on by impatience blurred her judgment. “He was a monster, Mr. White. He was having an affair with a woman at his office and wanted to marry her. But instead of asking for a divorce, he sealed every window in his house and then set it on fire. His plan was to burn the house down with his wife and children inside. Samantha hit him with that golf club because he stood between her and the only remaining exit out the house. Yeah, I’d say he was a hell of a great guy.”
“Whore. Bitch.”
“Get out of my way, now.”
His fists clenched tighter as he raised them. “I read about you. Too bad that guy didn’t kill you a couple of years ago. Scum like you and Samantha don’t deserve to live.”
The pure venom dripping from the words had her retrenching. Charlotte’s temper had skewed her judgment, and she’d miscalculated the danger. She took a step back but bumped into a solid wall of muscle. Strong hands settled on her shoulders and immediately moved her out of Lonnie’s reach. She didn’t have to turn to know who had her back. Rokov’s scent gave him away.
“Is there a problem here?” Rokov said.
Lonnie’s face paled with more fury. “Someone needs to teach this woman a lesson. Samantha White is not a fucking saint. She’s evil.”
Rokov’s dark sunglasses made it impossible to see his eyes, but his braced stance and hand on his hip next to his gun holster telegraphed menace. “Are you threatening Ms. Wellington?”
Lonnie’s eyes narrowed. “I ain’t making threats.”
“Then what are you doing? Looks like threats to me.”
Lonnie’s sudden grin revealed several missing teeth. “I ain’t like Samantha. I ain’t a curse on the world.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Hearing the verdict.”
Charlotte stepped around Rokov. “I was doing my job. Read your bill of rights, Lonnie. We all are entitled to a defense.”
“Not whores like Samantha.” The veins in Lonnie’s neck bulged. “She deserves to be burned at the stake.”
“I’m telling you to back off and find a spot to cool down.” Rokov shifted his stance in front of Charlotte. “One more word out of you and I’ll arrest you.”
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