When a Secret Kills (25 page)

Jillian looked down at the bleeding man who’d caused her and those she loved so much misery. Before Colton could stop her, she ripped the mask from his face.

He howled his outrage even as he gripped his bleeding shoulder. Stunned, she simply stared. “Elliott Darwin?” She spun to see Colton, weapon still trained on the man, approaching. He looked shell-shocked and she could easily read his thoughts.

First his uncle, now Elliott?

“He has a vest on,” Colton muttered. “No wonder he wasn’t too worried about being shot.”

EMS had just arrived, and Jillian grabbed Meg from the car and bolted over to her wounded friend. “Blake!”

One of the desk clerks sat next to him, holding a towel over his chest. “He’s still breathing, but I think his pulse is getting weaker.”

Jillian pointed to the curb and said to Meg, “Sit there and don’t move. Got it?” Without a word, eyes wide, mouth trembling, Meg sat. Jillian squatted in front of her and softened her tone as she stroked Meg’s hair. “I’m not mad, baby. It’s all right. I’m going to get help for Uncle Blake, all right?”

Meg nodded. “Hurry.”

Jillian waved down one of the EMTs. “Over here.”

She noticed Colton hovering as paramedics worked on Darwin. After she made sure Blake was getting the attention he needed, she motioned for Meg to join her.

She marched to Darwin and shoved a palm against his wounded shoulder. He hollered and slammed back against the gurney. “That’s for scaring my daughter.” Colton grabbed her and pulled her back, but not before she got another punch in. Darwin hissed and writhed with her added agony and Colton looked like he wished he’d been the one to take the swing. Like he was thinking real hard about it.

He refrained.

Jillian asked, “What was so important that you were willing to help someone kill me? Kill people who didn’t even have anything to do with that night!”

Elliott’s jaw firmed and he lasered her with intense green eyes. Hard as emeralds, no remorse. Jillian met him stare for stare with thoughts of what this man had put her and her friends through the last three months. He rasped, “You have no idea what you’ve done.” He winced and laid his head back against the mattress.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve done,” Jillian hissed. “I’ve taken a killer off the streets and exposed at least two murders.” She narrowed her eyes, grateful Colton was giving her this moment. “Did you shoot the governor? Was it you on the gravel path that night? Did you hear them arguing and decide to get rid of the problem?”

A genuine frown pulled his brows down and puzzlement showed in his eyes. “What?”

“Did. You. Shoot. Him.”

“No.”

“Well, guess what? Frank Hoffman didn’t either.”

Elliott froze, his entire being went still. He pushed the paramedic away, his wound apparently forgotten. “What are you talking about?”

Colton stepped forward. “Governor Martin was shot in the back. If you didn’t shoot him, who else was there?”

“Shot in the back?” Confusion rippled across his features.

“What happened that night?”

Jillian saw another set of paramedics whisk Blake to the next ambulance. She left Colton, keeping Meg next to her. The child stayed close, still traumatized over everything that had happened.

Hunter and Katie pulled into the parking lot. Hunter looked stunned when he saw Elliott Darwin on the gurney. “Him?”

“Him,” Jillian muttered. She looked at Meg. “Honey, sit in the policewoman’s car for a minute. I don’t need you disappearing again.”

Again, without a word, Meg obeyed. Jillian frowned, worried at her daughter’s silent compliance. Then turned her attention back to Elliott and Colton.

One of the paramedics waved Colton away, insisting they needed to get him to the hospital. Colton hopped in the back of the ambulance and Jillian knew she would have to wait for her answers.

Relief filled her. It was over.

She’d proven the governor was murdered. She’d done what she’d come back to do.

Only one thing niggled at her.

“Who shot him?” she murmured.

Colton rode to the hospital with Elliott, determined to get whatever information out of the man that he could. Even while the paramedics monitored him, Colton questioned. “What were they arguing about that night?”

“Drop it, Colton. What does it matter now?”

“What matters is the truth! I want the truth!”

Elliott grimaced and Colton felt nothing but fury for the man who’d been part of a murder cover-up.

“Tell me,” he hissed.

Elliott stared at the roof of the ambulance for a good three
minutes. Colton thought the man was just tuning him out. Then he spoke. “I guess I can answer my own question. It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“No. It doesn’t. Why don’t you go for reduced charges? I’ll tell them you cooperated. But talk fast, it’s only a five-minute ride.”

“Cooperated, huh?” A huge sigh slipped from the man. “I was in the Navy for twenty years, you know?”

“I know.”

“Your uncle was my best friend. Saved my life during one particularly nasty joint mission.”

“Yeah.”

“When we got out, he decided to go into politics and asked me to help him. He was born a politician. The people loved him. I was pushing him to think about the Oval Office.”

“Until Jillian threw you a curve ball.”

Elliott’s eyes hardened once again. “Jillian,” he spat. “All she had to do was stay gone.”

“She tried that and you still went after her, remember?”

“She was the one thing that could spoil it all.”

“All this time you thought Frank shot the governor? Were you there that night?”

“Yes.”

“So you heard the argument and saw what happened?”

“I heard the argument, but I . . . was being discreet. I stepped out of the office and let them have at it. Later, I heard the gunshot. I went running and found Frank clutching his chest with one hand and a gun with the other. The governor was dead.”

“And Jillian?”

“I saw her, but she didn’t see me.”

“Where was my aunt? And Carmen? Surely they would have heard the shot.”

“Everyone had left by this time. The clean-up crew wasn’t supposed to be there until the next morning. Your aunt came running
and I managed to stop her and convince her it was just a car backfiring. She left and I started to help clean up the mess.”

“What about Ian?”

“I don’t think he was in the house. Frank had given him the night off if I remember correctly.”

Colton looked up as they turned into the hospital emergency entrance. He was running out of time. “What was the argument about?”

“Jobs.”

“Tell me.”

The ambulance stopped. Elliott’s breathing had become more labored and the paramedic’s frown said he didn’t like it.

Colton just wanted the truth.

Elliott stared at him and then said, “Your uncle owned some property he was going to sell, the old textile plant over on Cort Road. He had a very generous offer from a real estate company who wanted the land to put up some condos.”

“I remember that.”

“Frank was in a bind. He needed money.” Elliott shifted and grimaced, his face paling a shade lighter. “He was going to sell and that was that. Harrison didn’t like it at all and tried to get your uncle to wait, see if he could get another business—and jobs—on the property. Frank said no.”

“And that was it?”

“He thought so. I guess at the party, it came up again.”

“Boy, did it ever,” Colton muttered. He looked at the impatient paramedic. “All right, you can have him.”

Elliott shot him a regretful look. “We were headed to the big time, Colt.” A weird smile crossed his lips. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?”

“Won? This wasn’t a game, Elliott.”

“No, it wasn’t. But it could be now.”

Colton frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I suppose if I can’t make a name for myself from Washington, then Columbia, SC, will do.” His eyes hardened once again. “And I will be remembered.”

“Yeah, having your face splashed on national television for helping cover up a murder will do that to a person.”

Elliott smiled easily. His eyes fluttered closed, then back open. “Tell Jillian it’s her fault. It will all be her fault.”

“What?”

Before Colton could question him further, Elliott passed out. What had he meant by that last statement? Was it drugs talking?

Colton climbed from the ambulance and followed them into the building.

He still didn’t know who pulled the trigger.

Jillian paced the floor of Colton’s living area. Megan sat on the couch watching a Disney show with Bert curled up on her right and Ernie on her left. The dogs looked blissfully happy.

So did Meg for that matter. The trauma of the morning seemed to be put behind her for now.

Jillian turned back to her two friends. Serena and Alexia watched her with frowns on their faces. “You’re really going?”

“Why not?” Alexia asked with a shrug.

“What about your dad?”

Alexia’s mouth hardened. “There’s been no change. Mom will call if she needs me.”

“What about Dominic?”

“He’s going too,” Serena said.

Alexia snorted. “He and Mom went round and round about it, but she has a good point. Dad could linger for another few days or weeks. We have our cell phones if she needs anything.” She stood up and placed a hand on Jillian’s arm. “They got the guy after you—us. We all need a night of fun. Seeing old classmates will take our minds off stuff.”

Jillian sighed. “I can’t believe it was Elliott behind everything.” She looked at Alexia. “He was the one that convinced Lori to try
and kill you.” She looked at Serena. “And you. He wanted to kill you and make it look like the work of a serial killer. He knew all these people. Lori had been in love with him since their military days and he knew she was mentally ill. But the whole serial killer stuff . . .”

Serena nodded. “He and Drake, the Doll Maker Killer, and Frank, were all in college together. The relationship wasn’t obvious, but once Dominic was able to search specifically, he found it.” She paused. “But you’re right. We still don’t know who shot the governor.”

“And we might never figure that out,” Alexia said.

Still Jillian persisted. “And who sent those letters? Someone else who knows exactly what happened that night.”

Serena’s forehead crinkled. “Do the letters even matter now?”

“Yes. I think whoever was sending him those letters was actually the shooter.”

“How did you come up with that?” Colton asked from the door to the den.

Jillian spun to stare at the man she’d loved so long ago. The man she loved still. “Because it’s the only thing that makes sense. The shooter’s the only other person who knows what happened—and the one who wants to keep your uncle believing he’s responsible.” He took her breath away. She needed a distraction. “I need to call and check on Blake.”

He smiled. “I just did. He’s going to be fine.”

“And your uncle?”

“Right now he’s stable.”

She bit her lip. “Good, I want to see him.”

Colton frowned. “Why?”

“I just . . . need to.”

Jillian saw Alexia and Serena exchange a puzzled look, but she didn’t have the words to explain it. She just needed to.

Colton glanced at the clock on the mantel. “The reunion starts in an hour.”

“I know. Maybe this won’t take long.” Jillian looked at Meg, hating the thought of making her go.

Alexia spoke up. “She can stay with us if you’re really wanting to do this.”

Jillian nodded. “I think I have to. He’s haunted me for so long that . . .” She took a deep breath and let it out. “This is going to sound weird, but I need to see him . . . weak, without that smile he always portrays to the world.” Maybe then the dreams would stop.

Colton rubbed a hand down the side of his face. “All right. I’ll take you.” His phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. “Carmen’s been going through a hard time. I invited her to come tonight. She can help us keep an eye on Meg.”

Jillian nodded. “That would be great.”

Alexia said, “Just meet us at the gym. We’re going a little early to hang out with Christina before everyone else gets there.” She gave a quirky grin. Alexia looked at Colton. “We’ll make sure Carmen feels comfortable.”

After giving Meg a hug, Jillian and Colton took off for the hospital. Jillian’s nerves wound tighter the closer they got.

“We’re going to have to tell my parents and your dad about Meg at some point.”

“I know.” She swallowed hard. “I called my dad last night and he finally answered. He was glad to hear from me.” Tears threatened. “I was afraid he wouldn’t be.”

“He loves you.”

“Yeah. He does.” She bit her lip.

“What is it?”

“What do you think your parents are going to say?”

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “I don’t know. I think Mom will be thrilled.”

“But your dad will be upset?”

“Maybe. But I’m hoping he’ll get past that.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“Why were you able to forgive me so easily for keeping Meg from you?”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Oh, it wasn’t easy, but I can’t stop thinking that my lack of self-control is one of the reasons we have her. How can I throw stones?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She whispered, “Thank you.”

“And as for what my parents think, I care, but it’s not going to dictate my life. And I’m definitely not all about covering things up or lying just for appearance’s sake.”

“Me either.”

“So,” he said. “We’ll pray, tell them, and what happens will happen. We’ll just make sure Meg is protected no matter what.”

She smiled at him and nodded, unable to force any words past the lump in her throat.

Colton stepped into his uncle’s hospital room. The man appeared pale, but better than the last time he saw him. Frank looked up and Colton’s heart ached at how much the man had aged in such a short time. But he’d brought it on himself. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about the man who’d always been there for him. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“I am.”

Should he tell his uncle all that had transpired since his entrance to the hospital? Would it lead to another heart attack? Colton glanced at the television. Better do it now before the man felt good enough to see it on the news. “We . . . uh . . . caught Elliott Darwin trying to kill Jillian. He’s been shot and is in this hospital under arrest.”

Frank’s pale features whitened even more. The heart monitor blipped a little faster. His throat convulsed and his eyelids fluttered. But he didn’t have another heart attack. “How?”

Colton told him the story and just sat there while his uncle digested everything. “I see.”

Colton waited, but the man didn’t say anything else. Colton sighed. “I found your boat. The paint matched up to the piece of fabric we found when Serena’s house was bombed. Found the line-throwing device too. It contained traces of all of the chemicals used to make the bomb.”

Frank shuddered. “I don’t know how that’s possible.”

Of course he didn’t. Colton shook his head. He’d let the man stew on the information awhile before he told him he was to be arrested as soon as he was released from the hospital. The thought hurt.

He cleared his throat. “So anyway, I have someone who wants to see you. She’s waiting in the hall.” He went to the door and motioned for Jillian to enter.

Frank’s brow lifted as Jillian stepped inside. Then stiffened as he realized who she was. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to . . . see you. I just needed to see you.”

Frank blinked and Colton thought he saw the man relax a fraction, but the wariness in his eyes didn’t fade.

The door opened once again, interrupting them. A nurse entered. “Hello, Senator, I just need to take some vitals and give you this.” She handed him an envelope. “It was delivered yesterday, but every time I brought it to you, you were sleeping.”

Frank stared at it like it was a viper poised to strike.

Colton took the envelope. “Another note?”

He nodded. “The handwriting is the same.”

Colton opened it and read, “‘CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL. YOUR SOUL IS A BLACK PIT THAT NEEDS REDEMPTION. CONFESS.’”

Frank looked like he would be sick.

Colton folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Delivered yesterday. Great. No chance to chase after the delivery person. “We’ll deal with this later.” Colton nodded to Jillian.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know that what
I thought I saw that night . . . wasn’t what happened. You didn’t shoot the governor.”

Frank, gaze still on the note in Colton’s hand, froze. Colton watched the heart monitor. Frank tried to speak, but the shock seemed to render him unable to find the words. Finally, he managed, “I didn’t?” Then he caught himself and sputtered, “I mean, of course I didn’t.”

Jillian glanced at Colton and he nodded. “Go on.”

“I saw you shoot
at
him. Only you didn’t hit him. You hit the brick wall of the sunroom. Another person was behind him and shot at the same time you did. That person hit him. In the back. I thought it was you.”

Frank flinched and twisted the sheet between his fingers. He looked at Colton. “What? I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

Colton picked up the story. “Someone was on the gravel path that leads to the pond. It was dark out there. But the person could see you clearly. After studying all the angles and going over what happened that night—”

“Not to mention the autopsy of the governor’s exhumed body,” Jillian added.

“All that adds up to proving you didn’t shoot Harrison. Ballistics did find a bullet in him when they dug him up, but it wasn’t from one of your guns. It was from a .357 Magnum.”

Frank sucked in a deep breath. “What?”

Colton tilted his head. “Why? You have one of those?”

“No. No, I don’t. I just . . . didn’t . . . expect . . . I didn’t . . .”

“You thought it would be one of your antique bullets, didn’t you?”

“N-no. No.” He closed his eyes. “I think I need to rest now.”

One other thing had been nagging at Colton. “You can rest in a few minutes. Look at me.”

Frank opened his eyes, brows furrowed. “What?”

“When Elliott was spilling his guts in the back of the ambulance, he said he’d be remembered. He said to tell Jillian it was her fault. That all their deaths would be her fault. What did he mean by that?”

Frank’s eyes widened, then shuttered. “I don’t know.”

The door opened and Colton turned to see his aunt enter the room.

She pulled up short when she saw him—then Jillian. “Oh. I didn’t know you were here. I thought you were both at the reunion.” Elizabeth looked scattered and unkempt.

“We decided to pay Uncle Frank a visit.” What would his aunt do when his uncle went to jail? What would his mother do? The thought sent shards of pain through him.

“I was downstairs in the cafeteria and saw the news. What’s this about Elliott being arrested? Please tell me that’s not true.”

She looked worn out, very un-Elizabeth-like. Her distress pierced him. Anger at his uncle’s criminal actions made him want to punch some sense into the man. Colton knew he was guilty. And yet . . . there was no evidence of anything against him other than the boat. And a good defense attorney could explain that away with no problem. Unless Elliott talked, his uncle might get off scot-free.

Colton stood and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Aunt Elizabeth. Elliott’s been the one trying to kill Jillian and her friends. He knew she had seen what happened that night and did his best to shut her up. And Uncle Frank—”

“Elliott?” Elizabeth gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. She stared at her husband. “Frank? What’s this all about?”

“Nothing, Elizabeth.” He glared at Colton even as he lifted a trembling hand and pointed toward the door. “I think it’s time you left.”

“Fine.” He would have to break the news about his uncle later.

His aunt’s shell-shocked features twisted the knife of anger with his uncle several inches deeper. As Colton nodded to Jillian and they turned toward the door, his aunt jerked from her stunned stupor.
“Oh. Wait.” She opened her purse and pulled out a cell phone. “Could you please give this to Carmen? She left it. I was . . . going to take it to her myself, but since you’ll be seeing her shortly, do you mind?” Elizabeth patted a hand over her hair. “I’m just going to freshen up a bit. I . . . I . . .”

“Carmen?” Frank asked, his voice low and shaky. “Why would they be able to give that phone to Carmen?”

Elizabeth frowned. “She’s at the reunion. Colton was kind enough to invite her.”

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” His throat convulsed and he shut his eyes. His white face turned a deathly gray. “Get her away from there.”

Colton stepped back next to the bed. “Why?”

To Elizabeth, Frank said, “Call her, now! Tell her to leave immediately!” He looked at the phone in Colton’s hand. “No, you can’t call her. Call someone she’s with. Tell her . . .” His breathing came in pants.

Colton leaned in. “Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking. You’re targeting the reunion?”

Frank simply rolled his head back and forth on the pillow. “Get her out now!”

Jillian gasped. “What do you mean, Colton? Is Meg in some kind of danger?”

Colton clenched his fists. “What is it, Uncle Frank? Another bomb?”

Elizabeth shrieked, “A bomb?”

Jillian swayed and Colton reached out to grab her arm. To his uncle, he said, “Would you let your own daughter die?”

“No,” the man moaned. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”