Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

 

When I rejoined the men in the observation room, Hardy and Weber looked utterly shaken. Don pulled me aside.

"Helen, do you think he's the one?"

"He's a cold blooded murderer, a serial killer and rapist."

"I meant about the other thing, with George and me."

"So far, we haven't uncovered any evidence, Chief Weber, but if it happens to come out in the trial, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do to control the fallout. Perhaps you and Commissioner Hardy should consider coming forward with whatever these circumstances are."

"We would be ruined, personally and professionally, Helen."

"Sometimes we have to take our punishments no matter how much we'd rather avoid them." Prophetic words, I feared. Agent Seleeby wasn't likely to let go of his suspicion of me. In more than one way, it was my fault. After all, I was the one who reminded him of my criminal birthright. 

When it was all said and done, the charges filed, the arraignment held and bail denied, one less monster was on the street, even though he wouldn't confess. Lowe started playing the crazy card the second he was booked. And why not? The apple, as they say, never falls far from the tree. I should know.

Thus concluded my tenure as a detective with Darkwater Bay Police Department.

Theresa the bubbly realtor tersely informed me that since the house I leased with the option to buy was destroyed, that the seller would be opting to enforce the sale. Stuck with property without a dwelling, I debated whether to let it sit vacant or to rebuild. Considering that the property was overpriced to begin with, and the land being the major asset would be mine free and clear, the insurance money would cover the cost of a much grander home.

That didn't answer the queasy questions that roiled like time-lapse clouds in my belly.

Did I want to retire in Darkwater Bay? Would I once again succumb to temptation to mete out my version of justice, this time to Danny Datello? How would anything less than nomadic life keep Seleeby off kilter in his quest to bring me to justice?

My head throbbed with indecision. 

The knock at the seedy motel room door snapped me out of ten days of indecision. Darkwater Bay's gun ownership laws were far less strict than those in D.C. I pulled my weapon and approached the door warily.

"Who is it?"

"Johnny Orion, Tony Briscoe and Crevan Conall."

My headache multiplied by a factor of ten. I stuck the gun in the back of my jeans and opened the door. "What do you want?"

Orion sported mirrored sunglasses. The clouds had actually parted for once. He grinned at me. "Can we come in?"

"No."

"That's not very sociable of you, Doc. We're here with good news."

Crevan Conall's eyes drifted past me into the run-down digs I now called home, at least until my indecisive paralysis lifted. His nose wrinkled. "Maybe she doesn't have room for us inside, Johnny."

His snobbery irritated me. I stepped aside and waved them through the doorway. "What's this good news, Orion?"

The trash bin in the room was overflowing with wine bottles. All I'd done to spruce up the place and make it fit for temporary occupation was buy linens from the local Bed Bath and Beyond. 

"Lowe's lawyer is pushing for a speedy trial," he said. "Zack asked us if you'd be available to testify in a few months."

"I'll call him with my email address so he can contact me with a specific date when he has it. That's probably the easiest way to reach me. Is that all?"