Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 140
I FOLLOWED MELISSA FARLEY’S gaze across the shadows to the door to the left of the bed.
The door opened slowly, and a male walked stiffly into the bedroom, his eyes wild behind blood-speckled glasses.
I noticed everything as the man came toward me: black T-shirt soaked with blood; belt, stripped from his pants, dangling by its silver buckle from his left hand; ugly hunting knife clutched in his right.
My mind raced ahead, thinking not where the knife was now, but where it would be next.
“Drop your weapon!” I screamed at him. “Do it now or I’ll shoot.”
The man’s mouth formed a grim smile, the chilling look of someone who is ready to die. He continued coming toward me, pointing the bloody knife.
My vision narrowed so that I could concentrate on what seemed necessary to my survival. There was too much to focus on, too much to control.
Carolee was behind me, unsecured.
The man with the knife knew it, too. His lip curled back.
He said, “G-g-get up! We can take her.”
I calculated what would happen if I shot him. He was less than ten feet away.
Even if I got him square in the chest, even if I stopped his heart, the closing range was short.
He was still coming.
I leveled my gun, fingered the trigger, and then Melissa Farley scrambled across the bed, launching herself toward the bathroom.
“No,” I yelled out. “Stay where you are.”
“I have to go to my husband!”
I never heard the door open behind me.
I never heard someone else enter the room.
But suddenly she was there.
“Bobby, don’t!” Allison screamed.
And for one long second, everything stood still.
Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 141
THE MAN ALLISON CALLED Bobby froze. He steadied himself, and I watched his face seize with confusion.
“Allison,” he said, “you’re supposed to be home.”
Bobby! The stutter hadn’t cued me, but now I recognized his face. It was Bob Hinton, the lawyer from town who’d run into me with his bike. I didn’t have time to figure out exactly how he fit into this picture.
Allison drifted from behind me as if she were in a dream. She walked over to Bob Hinton and put her arms around his waist. I wanted to stop her, but before I could, Hinton reached his arms around her and held Allison tightly.
“Little sister,” he whispered, “you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t see this.”
My blood pressure dropped, and the sweat on my hands made the gun’s trigger slippery. I continued to gauge my shot at Hinton.
I jockeyed for a better angle, and Hinton turned the dazed little girl toward me. I could see that he was dazed himself.
“Bob,” I said, putting my heart into it. I wanted him to believe me. “It’s your choice. But I’ll blow your head off if you don’t drop that knife and get right down on your knees.”
Bob stooped, dipping his face behind Allison’s head, turning her into a shield. I knew he would put his blade across her throat next and tell me to throw down my gun. I’d have to do it.
I didn’t expect the look of terrible sadness that came over his face as he pressed his cheek to Allison’s. “Oh, Ali, Ali, you aren’t old enough to understand.”
Ali shook her head.
“I know everything, Bobby. You have to give up. I have to tell Lindsay all of it.”
A flash of red tore my attention from the haunting tableau in front of me. Melissa Farley half fell through the bathroom doorway. The front of her nightgown was dark with blood.
“Ambulance,” she panted. “Get an ambulance. Please! Ed is still alive.”
Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 142
ABOUT TEN MINUTES LATER, sirens wailed and the flashing lights of patrol cars raced up the winding road below. Medevac chopper blades roared overhead.
Melissa Farley was back in the bathroom with her husband. “Allison,” I said. “Please go downstairs and open the door for the police.” Bob still held Allison tightly in his arms. She turned her round-eyed stare on me. Her lips were quivering as she held back sobs.
“Go ahead, darling,” Carolee said from where she lay on the floor. “It’s all right.”
Ten steps away from me, Bob’s face sagged; his expression was that of a beaten man. He squeezed Ali’s shoulders, and I gasped involuntarily. Then he released the child.
As soon as Ali was safely out of the room, my anger exploded.
“Who are you two? What made you think you could get away with this?”
I stepped over to Bob Hinton, ripped away the knife, and ordered him to put his hands against the wall. I Mirandized him as I frisked him.
“Do you understand your rights?”
His laughter was shrill but sardonic. “Better than most,” he said.
I found glass-cutting tools and a camera on Hinton, which I removed. Then I forced him to the ground and sat on the edge of the king-size bed, holding my gun on him and Carolee.
I didn’t even blink until I heard heavy footsteps rumbling up the stairs.
Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 143
IT WAS AFTER THREE in the morning, and I was back at the police station. Chief Stark was with Bob Hinton in the interrogation room, where Bob was describing in detail the many homicides that he, Carolee, and Keith had committed in Half Moon Bay.
I sat with Carolee in the chief’s office, an old Sony tape recorder between us on Peter Stark’s messy desk. A detective brought cups of coffee into the room in a cardboard box, then he took a position inside the doorway as I interviewed Carolee.
“I think I’d like to talk to my lawyer,” Carolee said flatly.
“You mean Bob? Can you wait a few minutes?” I snapped. “He’s giving you up right now, and we’d like to get it all down.”
Carolee gave me a bemused smile.
She flicked a strand of hair from the front of her black silk turtleneck, then folded her manicured hands in her lap. I couldn’t help but stare.
Carolee had been a friend. We’d traded confidences. I’d told her to call me if she ever needed me. I idolized her daughter.
Even now, she was dignified, articulate, seemingly sane.
“Maybe you’d like a different lawyer,” I said.
“Never mind,” she said. “It’s not going to matter.”
“Okay, then. Why don’t you talk to me?”
I switched on the tape recorder, spoke my name, the time and date, my badge number, and the subject’s name. Then I rewound the tape and played it back to make sure the machine was working. Satisfied, I leaned back in the chief’s swivel chair.
“Okay, Carolee. Let’s hear it,” I said.
The lovely-looking woman in her Donna Karan perfection took a moment to organize her thoughts before she spoke for the record.
“Lindsay,” she said thoughtfully, “you need to understand that they brought it upon themselves. The Whittakers were making child pornography. The Daltrys were actually starving their twins. They were part of some freaking religious cult that told them their children shouldn’t eat solid food.”
“And you didn’t think to get Children’s Services involved?”
“I reported it again and again. Jake and Alice were clever, though. They stocked their shelves with food, but they never fed the children!”
“And Doc O’Malley? What about him and his wife?”
“Doc was selling his own child on the Internet. There was a camera in her room. That stupid Lorelei knew. Caitlin knew. I only hope that her grandparents get her the help she needs. I wish I could do it myself.”