On Borrowed Crime Page 7

  Val stared at the ceiling for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed as she faced me. “Yes. It slipped my mind with everything. Um, a distant grandparent, I think, passed away. I think it was quite a lot.”

  “She had bought a car without her husband’s knowledge. I mean, surely she knew he’d find out.”

  Val nodded. “Maybe the money was how she planned on starting over somewhere, and she just didn’t care.”

  “That’s what I was thinking too. It explains why her car was found at the airport parking lot.” I let out a long sigh. “The rest of it doesn’t make any sense, though.”

  “When has any murder made logical sense?” Amelia crossed her legs and shifted in her seat.

  “I suppose that’s the cruel genius of such a crime. Until the police figure out the subtle clues, we’ll never have answers.” Val rubbed her forehead.

  “Someone must’ve left clues,” Melanie said from Dad’s favorite leather Crate and Barrel armchair by the fireplace; she wrapped her arms around herself. “Ergo, they wanted recognition. The suitcase could be a clue.”

  Patsy took a sip of coffee. “It’s too awful to be real. Never in a million years would I believe this could happen here. Sweet Mountain has the lowest crime rate in the state! It’s why I never moved away and wanted to raise my family here.”

  Amelia’s dark gaze grew fierce, and she dropped the cookie she held into her napkin. “The police better be doing their jobs. I have every intention to force their hand, if necessary. My brother said they should have a profiler on staff. It’s standard in weird cases like these. This case isn’t a hit-and-run or another form of manslaughter. Time is precious. Heaven help us if we have a serial killer among us.” She turned toward me. “I know it’s terrifying, but we need to know why they chose your house. Out of all the places they could have left her, why your place?”

  I held my hands out. “I wish I knew. The only thing I can presume is they believe I’m the only witness—” Chills ran up my spine. “What if the killer was watching me when I brought the suitcase inside?”

  Mel and I shared a frightful glance as Mel said, “At least we know the police are being thorough. I hate the humiliation I endured today, but for Carol, I’d do it again.”

  “Can we please just stop! Please.” Patsy’s bottom lip quivered.

  We all settled into silence for a few long moments. The crackles in the fireplace seemed to increase in volume over Patsy’s sniffles. The flicker of the firelight danced on the sandstone-colored Persian rug. The warmth coming from the fire did nothing to break the chill in the room. Losing our fellow Jane Doe member the way we had left not only Melanie and me but also the others with a sense of instability. My guests starred at the flames—the spirit of foreboding palpable in the room. You never realize how fragile life is until your perfect little safety bubble is pierced.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone. I kept picking up the phone today to call her, and had to stop myself.” Val looked at her hands clasped in her lap. “She’s always been there. Always. From the day I started middle school here. I could always count on Carol. Why her?” She swiped a hand across her cheek.

  I reached out and took her hand. “I know you loved her.” My throat felt thick as I swallowed.

  “The police are still investigating. It’s early.” Patsy’s voice quivered. “I’m not skeptical about the prowess of our police department like Amelia is. No offense, Amelia, but you haven’t been here long enough to understand that although our law enforcement may move at a different pace or operate differently from what you’re accustomed to, they’ve kept our town safe all these years. They’ll restore order. I’m sure of it.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend. I just care,” Amelia said softly.

  “We all know where your heart is. And you have every right to voice both your opinions and concerns and expect to be heard. That’s the reason we’re all here.” I smiled at my friend.

  “I didn’t mean to be hateful, Amelia. Lyla’s right. It’s why we’re here. I never dreamed of such a thing or believed we’d be discussing this. I knew Carol died, but not about the suitcase. God.” Patsy’s brown eyes were full of water as she pulled her blue cardigan tighter around herself. Her tight black curls bounced around her head as she shook it.

  Amelia wrapped her arm around Patsy’s shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m angry because I spent maybe ten minutes with the officer when he came to my house. He didn’t seem all that interested in what I had to say once I couldn’t give him dates, times, and whereabouts. I debated heavily about telling him how the judge treated her at dinner.”

  “Did you?” Melanie leaned forward.

  Amelia nodded. “I felt I had to in the interest of full disclosure. I wouldn’t want anything to hinder the investigation. What about the man you saw her with, Lyla? Do the police know who he is or if he had anything to do with any of this?” She sounded pleased to get back on topic. Amelia was like me in that she despised unsolved cases.

  “Not that they told me.”

  “What about Quinn? Has he spoken with you?” Val crossed her legs as I shook my head. “That surprises me. I can’t believe he hasn’t sat down with you. If for nothing but to check on how you’re dealing with all of this.”

  “Well, he hasn’t.”

  “Hmm. Lyla and our chief of police go way back.” Val explained to Amelia.

  “It sounds like everyone in this town goes way back.” Amelia folded her arms.

  “He has more important things he’s working on, Val. He’s an excellent chief of police. Our town is lucky he replaced that old windbag Marshall when he did. We can trust him to do his job.” Patsy pulled a pillow into her lap and hugged it.

  “I’m sure Patsy is right. Calvin believes the police can handle this case.” I folded my arms.

  Amelia looked skeptical but didn’t comment.

  “Well, I’ll have a word with Quinn tomorrow. I’m going down to the station in the morning,” Val announced. “Since I was in the vicinity, I’m required to make a statement. Y’all can’t even begin to understand how horrible I feel. I could’ve talked some sense into Carol or done something to prevent this if I’d gotten to her earlier. Carol needed me, and I just went about my life. If only I’d been in touch with her a few days ago, who knows how differently this could have turned out?”

  I reached out and squeezed her hand.

  “Kevin’s torn up too,” Val whispered huskily.

  “Why is Kevin so torn up?” Amelia wanted to know.

  “He’s Carol’s stepbrother—or was when his dad was married to her mom. They grew up together.” Explaining the connection to Amelia gave me a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach, and I felt bad I hadn’t offered my condolences to him.

  “Ellen’s a wreck about it too, and not just for Kev.” Val shifted on the sofa.

  “Sure she is,” Melanie grumbled.

  Val dropped my hand, and her tone grew stronger. “I’ve known Ellen as long as I have the rest of you. Except for Amelia, that is. And just because you and Lyla don’t get along with her doesn’t mean she and I can’t be friends, Melanie.”

  I waved my hand. “Of course not. It’s fine. At this point, I couldn’t care less about Ellen and Kevin.”

  “Under the circumstances, it would be puerile if you did.”

  I agreed with Val.

  “Ellen told me this morning she and Kevin are going to the police department around the same time as me.”

  The silence stretched out another long minute.

  Amelia leaned forward. “Has anyone else wondered if this has something to do with the dumping grounds?”

  “Let’s be careful.” Val sat up straighter. “If we’re wrong, and what happened to Carol hasn’t anything to do with that, it might stall the investigation by forcing the limited resources this tiny town has down a wild goose chase.”

  Melanie sat forward. “We won’t make a fuss until we have something solid. Carol began digging into the de
aths of I-85, and now she’s gone. What if she found out something? What if they killed her for discovering the identity of the Jane she mentioned to Amelia? Lyla has access to resources. She’ll be able to help, right, Lyla?”

  Amelia nodded eagerly. “That could be good.”

  I sat forward and nodded. “Yeah. As long as I don’t interfere with the investigation, I could do some digging. That e-mail is the last any of us heard from her. Clearly, she was struggling with what she found, to the point she reached out for help.” My gaze panned the room. “This is personal,” I swallowed, “not just because she was our friend and some abhorrent creature took her from us but also because whoever is responsible had the audacity to deliver our precious friend to my front stoop.”

  “And in my bag.”

  “Right, and they somehow managed to get their hands on Mel’s suitcase. They must’ve known hers was missing and that Melanie was on vacation. I can’t explain how they got their hands on it or why’d they be attempting to frame her, but I plan on finding out. I propose we use our club meetings to discuss my findings and see what we can do to help with the investigation.”

  Mel and Amelia both nodded eagerly.

  Patsy appeared apprehensive. “I don’t know.”

  Val sighed. “I understand the need to do something. I do. But do you honestly believe the two cases are linked? Carol’s murder and her Jane Doe?”

  I lifted my shoulders. “It’s possible. We won’t know until we follow the trail and see where it leads us. I get Val’s concerns. On the surface, it just doesn’t jive. In the Jane Doe cases, all the victims were found dumped on backroads off I-85. And a lot of them have been there for several years, most a decade or more. Carol’s identity isn’t in question. No one dumped her up I-85, and she was found dead”—I motioned to myself—“in my house.”

  “Right,” Val nodded. “It looks bad and will look even worse if you or Melanie are caught poking around.”

  “What are you saying? That Lyla or I had something to do with Carol’s murder?” Melanie sounded aghast.

  “She just said it looks bad, Mel.” I shook my head. “And it does.”

  Val looked down and scratched her forehead. “I’m not accusing you or Lyla of anything. I’m simply stressing caution. And for us to stay out of the realm of fantasy. This isn’t a novel, and Carol isn’t just any victim.”

  Amelia looked abashed. She kept shaking her head in small movements as she stared at the fireplace.

  “I agree with Val.” Patsy rose and checked her watch as she shifted from foot to foot. “Let’s let the police handle it. Trust them to keep us safe like we have all these years.”

  “They didn’t keep Carol safe …” Amelia mumbled under her breath.

  Patsy seemed to ignore her. “We all have enough to deal with, mourning our dear friend. And maybe this little group isn’t the right fit for me anymore. Now that I have kids, it just seems too morbid.”

  “Patsy, don’t say that. You’re one of us.” Melanie slid to her feet and hugged Patsy.

  Emotions were running high. Everyone was scared and hurt.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head and leaned against Mel’s shoulder. “I just don’t know anymore.” She gave Mel a pat and pulled out of the hug. “I need to get out of here. I have to get home to the kids anyway.” She started down the hall. “I’ll let myself out.”

  I rose. “Patsy, wait.”

  Val reached out and touched my arm. “Just let her go. She’s upset like the rest of us.”

  Before I could even acknowledge Val’s words, the front door closed. “Maybe we should all call it a night.”

  Amelia stood. Her conflicted expression troubled me.

  “I appreciate y’all coming out here. We’ve all suffered a terrible tragedy. Our friend had a good heart and didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

  Melanie sidled up next to me. “And we didn’t deserve to find her the way we did. Like Lyla said, whoever was responsible had to know I was on vacation and that my luggage went missing.” That caused silence to stretch throughout the room. “In most cases, victims know and trust their killers. I wonder if it’s someone we know.”

  Val stared at Mel, squinting her eyes. “Are you saying one of us is guilty?” Val sounded appalled. “Please. Melanie, you posted a status about the airline losing your luggage on Facebook. Even if you’re right, who knows how many people saw it? There’s no way of tracking something like that.” Val sounded as exhausted as I felt.

  “I wasn’t pointing the finger at anyone here.” Mel’s cheeks reddened. “I’ve had a long day and spent several hours at the police station. I was just talking through it like we do with our other cases.”

  “For the second time, this isn’t one of our cases.” Val’s eyes welled up with tears. “This is Carol.”

  Melanie tucked one of her curls behind her ear as if attempting to hide the blush in her cheeks. I squeezed her hand. We were all out of sorts.

  Val sniffed. “I’m the one who lost my best friend here.”

  Melanie stuttered over an apology.

  I rushed to her aid. “Listen, let’s all step back and take some time. We’ll reconvene when we have more information. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” everyone said in unison.

  “I’ll walk y’all out.”

  Chapter Ten

  I made myself a cup of coffee and sat outside on the screened-in back porch. The meeting had resulted in nothing but frazzling my nerves further and causing dissension within the club. I didn’t want to consider the ramifications to our friendships if something wasn’t done swiftly. With crime being mostly nonexistent in our small town, Amelia had made me wonder if our police department was up to the task. Carol’s husband, the judge, would be insistent they close the case. Perhaps, with his added pressure, the police would apprehend this guy—and fast.

  While I waited for the folks to get home, another point of stress, I read more of the dumping grounds document.

  The disclaimer: This story contains graphic images and details.

  As I mentally prepared myself, I pulled the chunky, knitted light-blue blanket over my legs and allowed the porch swing to gently sway. I stared out over the herb garden, edged in boxwoods and illuminated by the strung outdoor lighting. Mother’s parsley, sage, rosemary, mint, and lavender flourished this time of year. I sipped from the mug and glanced back down.

  To date, thirty women have been discovered along the road you drive every day. The area “the dumping grounds” stretches nearly 200 miles along Interstate 85 in Georgia. Most victims were found in the northern Georgia section of I-85, where vegetation and hills in the rural areas hide the Jane Does. The victims’ ages range from a few years old to the late sixties. From the youngest to the oldest, all were dumped and forgotten. The Janes are all someone’s daughter, possibly someone’s wife and mother, who were cast away to hide their unspeakable endings.

  I took another sip from the mug and flipped to the next screen.

  Do You Know This Jane?

  A female was found in Cam County, a mile off I-85, where a car can easily disappear around a bend thick with brush in this dense countryside. The Georgia Bureau of Investigation had only a few items to identify the victim: a tattered, faded orange and blue scarf, a small angel necklace, and an antique spoon ring. Her identity became lost with each passing year of her exposure to the elements. She hasn’t a name, a face, fingerprints, or a voice. She is mere bones. For now, she is Jane Doe.

  For Special Agent Brad Jones, her story has just begun. The GBI agent is determined to unravel the mystery behind her life and tragic death. To him, the Jane Does found in the dumping grounds have become his total focus. To him, they’ll never be forgotten.

  But he needs your help.

  My phone rang, and I jumped before glancing to see it was nearly nine and my uncle was calling. “Hey, Uncle Calvin, what’s up?”

  “I took the meeting with Judge David Timms.”

  “Not surpris
ing. He isn’t the type of man accustomed to hearing the word ‘no’ often.” I took another sip of coffee. “How’d that go?”

  “As one would expect. The judge is distraught and angry. He arranged for him and me to sit down with the chief, and there he presented the letter his wife received from her late grandfather’s lawyer, informing her she, along with Kevin Richards, was to inherit his estate worth approximately seven hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Wow.”

  “Apparently she and Kevin had several heated discussions regarding his percentage of the inheritance. Judge Timms claims Kevin attempted to manipulate Carol, using her mental instability against her, to sign over more than the ten percent he was to receive on the sale of the property.”

  I froze, holding the mug midway to my mouth. “Carol was left ninety percent to his ten?”

  “According to the documents I saw.”

  “Is he accusing Kevin of being involved?” I took another sip from the mug.

  “He’s presenting everything and letting me and the police sort through it.”

  “Melanie was really shaken up by her interview. At least it’s over—her part, I mean.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  I swallowed. “Meaning?”

  “Apparently her ex-husband can’t confirm the exact time she left his house. According to him, she borrowed his truck to make a run to the liquor store around two and took longer than it should have to return. Then they partied and he passed out.”

  “That jerk! He knows darn well Mel couldn’t have done anything like this. Well, someone can check the cameras at the liquor store or speak with the clerk.” Poor Melanie. Like she needed more humiliation.

  “Have you received any strange texts or calls? Has any member of your book club?”

  I shivered. “I haven’t, and I just met with the group and no one mentioned anything. Why?”

  “Well, that’s good. Carol had been receiving calls in the middle of the night from an unknown number. The judge said he overheard her mention Jane Doe, and then sobbing from the other room after taking a call in the middle of the night.”