Silent Witness (6 page)

That’s how he thought of it—the unfortunate incident. He hadn’t planned it. He hadn’t wanted it to turn out that way. He had just wanted to talk to the man, but things had gotten way out of control

He bounced on the balls of his feet and paced back and forth to the rap music on his radio with a nervous, uncontrolled energy. How did people listen to this crap? But he had to admit the rhythm sounded pretty good when you were high on coke.

His thoughts skittered back to the Hendersons. He hadn’t wanted to shoot them. He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes and bounced and paced faster.

No.

It wasn’t his fault. The wife had gotten a good look at him. He’d had no choice. Self-preservation. Isn’t that a human’s strongest instinct? He’d done it quickly. She hadn’t suffered. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

The music, if that’s what you wanted to call it, ended and the sound of the newscaster’s voice caught and held his attention. He listened intently. They were reporting that the kid was going home today.

Now what was he going to do about that kid?

* * *

Liz Bradford stood beside her patrol car, lifted her face and basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun. She breathed in the floral scent of the last blooms of summer. And just as she’d thought five days ago, everything appeared normal. But there was nothing normal about a little boy returning to the house where his parents had been murdered. Sadness weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Liz adjusted her dark sunglasses and looked inside the glass doors to the hospital elevator bank. She hadn’t waited long when Adam Morgan stepped off an elevator, leading Jeremy by the hand, and headed her way.

She’d felt guilty when she’d done it, but she had looked Adam up on the internet to see what he’d been up to over the years.… She’d been surprised to discover he’d won several awards for his work with children.

But, then again, Adam Morgan had been a bundle of surprises from the moment he’d returned. Not that it mattered. Liz had no time in her life for relationships, especially ones that had already failed so spectacularly. Her work was her life and she intended to keep it that way.

When they reached the car, the boy wrenched his hand out of Adam’s, froze in place and flapped both of his hands in the air. “Stranger’s car. Jeremy can’t go. Stranger’s car. Stranger’s car.”

Adam crouched down so he could be eye level with the child.

“Look at me, Jeremy.”

“Can’t go. Stranger’s car.”

Adam waited a second or two and then grasped Jeremy’s chin. He turned the child’s face toward him, released his hold and pointed to his own face. “Look at me.”

Jeremy did as he was told.

“This is Sheriff Bradford’s car. You remember Sheriff Bradford, don’t you?”

Liz waved at the child, even though neither of them bothered to look in her direction.

“Sheriff Bradford is not a stranger. She is a friend and she is going to drive us home.”

“Home. Jeremy wants to go home.”

“Good.” Adam straightened and gestured to the backseat. “Get in and we’ll go home.”

“Jeremy can’t go. No. No. Stranger’s car.”

Adam lifted the boy and placed him in the protective child seat that Liz had already secured in the back.

Instantly, a high-decibel wail pierced the air. Jeremy flailed his arms and arched his body in a futile attempt to buck his body out of the car seat.

One of the nurses had followed them off the elevator and now handed Adam a small object that looked like a miniature Kevlar vest.

“What’s that?” Liz leaned in so she could get a closer look.

“A weighted vest.” Within seconds, he had the vest on the child and the car seat belted safely. Without a word, he walked around to the other side of the car and slid into the backseat beside the child.

“Thanks, Cindy.” Adam reached through the open door and handed her a set of keys. “Tell Charlie to give us a couple of hours before bringing Rerun and the rest of my things over to the house. I want the boy to have some time to get acclimated to being home.”

“Sure thing, Doc.” Cindy flashed him a bright smile and the cutest little wave and then walked back inside.

Liz chewed her lower lip and tried not to grin.

Even in high school, Adam had never liked flirts and she could see the years hadn’t changed him. She recognized the red flush on his neck, the sheepish look in his eyes when he looked up at Liz to see if she had realized Cindy was flirting with him. His discomfort was so genuine, so sweet, she almost laughed out loud. Almost. The child’s loud, shrill screams made it impossible to focus on much else than saving her eardrums at the moment.

She climbed into the driver’s seat and twisted her face toward the back.

“Why the vest?” She had to shout to be heard over the boy’s screaming.

“Remember our conversation about swaddling? The weight of the vest and the snug seat belt should help Adam feel a little more secure on the trip home.”

As if on cue, the boy continued to sob but the sounds no longer rent the air.

“Who’s Rerun and Charlie?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get us out of here.”

A tap on the driver’s side window drew Liz’s attention. A woman she didn’t recognize held a microphone in her hand. A photographer stood behind her with camera ready and probably rolling.

“Sheriff, is it true that you’re taking the boy back to the scene of the crime?”

“Sheriff.” A second voice grabbed her attention. Harriet Townsend, a reporter from the local paper, tapped on the passenger window. “Has the boy said anything to you yet? Is he able to describe the killer?”

Within seconds, Liz saw at least a dozen more people running toward the car. Heaven help them, their little hometown secret had leaked out and was now national news.

As reporters stormed the car and banged on the windows, Jeremy’s cries began to intensify.

“Get us out of here before those idiots make the situation worse.”

Liz ordered the people to step back and slowly eased her car through the growing crowd.

She heard Adam trying to soothe the screaming child. He spoke in short, concise sentences. His voice remained low and calm.

Liz pulled out of the hospital lot and moved into the flow of traffic. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Adam held a small wad of brightly colored putty in the palm of his hand. He squeezed and stretched the putty and then handed it to the boy and encouraged him to do the same. Sobs subsided into whimpers and then hiccups rather than tears.

Liz breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to the road. She admired the way Adam was able to take charge of the situation and soothe the boy. Of course, he should know how. This was his job.

But not all psychiatrists knew what they were doing.

Fleeting thoughts of Luke surfaced and left a bitter taste in her throat.

She glanced in the mirror one more time. Satisfied with the peace that had descended upon the backseat, Liz allowed herself to relax. On the very slim chance that Dr. Adam Morgan was half as good as the reputation that preceded him, she conceded that maybe he was right. Maybe the familiar surroundings of his own home would be good for the boy. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the full-blown disaster she’d anticipated after all.

But just in case, she started to pray.

* * *

He positioned himself on the ground, well hidden from view in the brush at the edge of the woods. He’d just surveyed the area with his binoculars for the fourth time in the past hour and was certain he’d picked the optimal spot. There were no houses, no hiking trails, no reason for anyone to be walking in this area. No witnesses.

He propped himself up on his elbows and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He adjusted the scope and aimed the weapon exactly at the crest of the curve in the road. He calculated wind velocity, car speed and made all necessary adjustments. He was ready.

Where were they?

Rivulets of perspiration dotted his forehead and slid down the back of his neck. Gnats buzzed around his head, and he steeled himself not to lose concentration and swat at them.

The news on the radio had prompted him to action. He’d raced to the Henderson house to make sure they hadn’t arrived before him only to find hordes of media camped in the driveway looking for their lead story for the night.

Well, be patient, folks. Real soon now, I’m going to make sure you get the story of a lifetime.

He sniffed and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. Hours ago, he’d shot up with heroin and cocaine, known on the street as speedballing. He needed another fix and he hated himself for it. The hit of cocaine he’d had in his kitchen wasn’t taking the edge off the urge for more heroin. It simply energized him for this task so he wouldn’t nod out.

When had he become a junkie? Nothing good came from drugs. He knew that. But still… How could he ever explain how great it felt to shoot up? The feel of the rush. Wired up. Energized. Alive. And then the nodding out. The deep well of black nothingness. Maybe it wasn’t all bad.

He tapped his finger against the gun stock and tried to distract himself by beating out a rhythm to one of his favorite songs. A bead of sweat dripped into his eye and he cursed as he wiped it away. Boy, he needed another fix.

He shifted his weight and visually checked out his rifle. The barrel rested in the tripod. He adjusted the vertical cheek piece. He looked into the telescopic sight and then he saw them, approaching fast from the east. He eased his finger against the trigger and waited.

Any second now.

Wait for it.

Wait.

The police cruiser pulled into the curve.

FOUR

L
iz glanced in her rearview mirror. Jeremy had drifted off to sleep clutching the teddy bear she’d brought to the hospital the night of the murders. His thumb barely clung to his lower lip. His short brown hair, drenched with sweat from his earlier temper tantrum, was plastered in little ringlets across his forehead. He looked so tiny…and innocent…and precious.

Her heart swelled with maternal instincts she hadn’t known she had. Having children had never entered her mind, certainly not in the years she’d worked to achieve her status as sheriff of Country Corners. She hit the transmit key on her radio and reported her ETA to the dispatcher.

The air rent with a crack followed by another. Before she could identify the sound, the vehicle shuddered violently and the steering wheel jumped out of her hands.

It took a second for her to react.

But a second was all it took to careen the patrol car out of control.

Liz grasped the wheel hard like it was the reins of a runaway horse. She tried to regain control but, traveling at more than fifty miles per hour, it was a lost cause. The car propelled toward the edge of an embankment. She knew if she continued in the direction of her skid, they would catapult into the air at the curve. She turned the wheel hard to the left, trying to compensate and grab hold of the road through the turn. The rear end continued to fishtail. At any other stretch of road, she might have been able to straighten out and regain control but not on this curve. It was just too sharp.

As the car went airborne, all Liz could do was yell, “Hold on!”

The road disappeared beneath her. Nothing but blue sky above and empty air surrounded them. Then the nose of the car dipped down, traveling at top speed back to earth. Seconds later the front grill hit the ground with a bone-jarring, crushing thud.

Upon impact, the air bags flew open and the force hit her chest and stole her breath away.

The car flipped upside down and continued to slide down the ravine on its roof, bumping…bucking…grinding over every stone, rut and pebble. The sound of tree branches scratching along the sides of the vehicle sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Then absolute silence.

Liz didn’t move. She couldn’t. It took her a second or two to realize the crushing pressure on her chest was her seat belt holding her suspended in space and stealing whatever breath remained in her lungs.

Jeremy.

She pushed against the air bag and tried to find the release button on her seat belt.

“Jeremy.”

Liz twisted her head to the side, throwing her voice toward the backseat. She stifled a scream.

Adam’s face was mere inches from her own. He must have removed his seat belt so he could tend to Jeremy and had smashed against the wire barrier between the front and back seats. His eyes were closed and blood flowed down the left side of his face from a nasty-
looking cut on his forehead.

“Adam!”

She couldn’t move enough to see if he was still alive. She tried to turn her head far enough to see Jeremy. It was the deathly silence that frightened her. For once, she gladly would have opted for the sound of his earsplitting screams.

Something heavy pressed against her lower body. She couldn’t feel her legs. Panic washed over her. Why couldn’t she move her legs?

She slid her arm up and reached the radio microphone.

“This is Bravo 24. Come in.”

“This is Dispatch. Go ahead, Sheriff.”

“Officer down. Vehicular accident. Send bus. Over.”

“GPS location complete. Ambulance and backup en route.”

Liz released the button and turned her face back toward Adam. She pushed the air bag away enough to get her hand free. Pain shot through her shoulder but she didn’t stop. Once clear, she slid her fingers through the holes in the wire.

Please, God, let him be alive.

She poked the tips of her fingers through the mesh enough to feel his skin. It took several tries but she was finally able to press one of her fingertips against the carotid artery in his neck. His skin was warm and his pulse strong and steady. It was warm to the touch and Liz released a nervous laugh. He was alive.

Adam’s eyes flickered open at about the same time a scared, protesting wail sounded from Jeremy.

Liz smiled wide and welcomed her tears of relief.

Thank You, Lord. We’re alive.

“Lizzie?”

“Adam. Thank God. How badly are you hurt?”