Dead Run

CHAPTER 30

Sunday, November 18

3:20 p.m.

Val was waiting for Rick when he arrived back at the Hideaway. He looked pissed. “We need to talk.”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Rick muttered. Instead of his bike, he’d taken his battered but reliable old Jeep to Marathon. Usually reliable, he amended. The air-conditioning had gone out just outside Big Pine Key. He was hot, tired and thirsty. The last thing he wanted to do at this moment was tangle with his old friend.

“Cut the shit, Rick. I know where you were today. And I consider it a personal betrayal of our friendship.”

The cat was out of the bag now. Dammit. Rick laid his cell phone and keys on the bar. “Mind if I get a cold drink first?”

“Hell yes, I mind. But you always do whatever you want anyway. Don’t you, Rick?”

Margo looked from one to the other of them and ducked her head, pretending to take inventory of the drink well.

The two men exchanged a long glance. Rick swore. “Margo, we’ll be in my office.”

A moment later Rick closed the door behind them. They faced each other. “You crossed the line, my friend. You crossed it big time.”

“How did you find out?”

“Daniel called. He’s had second thoughts about sharing that sketch with you.”

Covering his ass. Smart man. Rick lifted his shoulders. “What’s the big deal? No harm done.”

“Bullshit. I want that sketch.”

Rick stalled. “It’s only a copy.”

Val held a hand out. It shook slightly with the force of his rage. “The copy, please. Now.”

Rick dug it out of his pocket and handed it over. Val shoved it into his pocket. No doubt he had another copy in a file at the KWPD. “Jesus, man, that’s evidence you’re screwing with. My investigation you’re screwing with. I’d ask what the hell you were thinking, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s over. Do you read me? You’re out of this.”

He strode to the door, yanked it open and started through.

“Ever hear of a group called the Horned Flower?” Rick asked.

Val stopped but didn’t turn around.

“It’s a group of teenagers on Key West. They’re a close-knit group, they call themselves a family. They’re involved in drugs and sex for sure. And maybe murder.”

Val turned. “Is this a joke?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Val studied him a moment, then shook his head. “A group of teenagers here on Key West, involved in murder? Tara ’s murder?”

“Yes.”

Val shook his head. “I don’t have time for this…nonsense.”

“I think you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.” Rick motioned to a chair. “Sit. Hear me out. If you think it’s a crock of shit after you do, you won’t hear from me again. Agreed?”

The other man stared at him for a long moment, then sat. “Make it fast.”

“The night Tara was murdered, remember I told you one of my employees had gone home early, claiming stomach flu?”

Val nodded. “That kid who works for you-Mark.”

“Mark Morgan. Worked for me. Past tense.”

Val’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Go on.”

“I didn’t close out my register until later the next day. Found an IOU for six hundred bucks.”

“The kid took the money.”

“Yup. It was an emergency, he said. He had to leave Key West. He promised to pay it back.”

“Yeah right, in your dreams.”

“I went to his place, looking for him. Car was gone, his rented room dark and silent as a tomb.” Rick frowned, wondering what he would have found if he had decided to go in. “I figured the money was history and chalked it up to bad judgment on my part.”

Val leaned forward slightly. “And the rest of the story?”

“A little less than a week ago Mark called Liz Ames. He arranged for them to meet that afternoon at Mallory Square. They’d never met before but she agreed because he said he had information about Tara ’s death.”

Val straightened. Rick could tell by his old friend’s expression that he had a mouthful of questions, but to his credit he held them.

“They met. Turns out, Mark was Tara ’s boyfriend. They had planned to run away together the night she was killed. That’s what he needed the money for.”

“So he says. He knew she was pregnant?”

“Yes. But it gets worse. He was there that night, in the garden.”

Val launched to his feet. “Son-of-a-bitch! We’ve been chasing our tails all over this island trying to find a suspect, and you-” He bit his words back and dragged a hand through his hair. “When did you learn all this?”

“Just last night.”

Angry color stained his cheeks. “You should have called me then and there. Shit, man! In an investigation like this every minute counts. You know that.”

“Believe me, Val, that was what I intended to do. After I closed I went to Liz’s place to collect her. I planned to insist she come with me and relay exactly what transpired between her and Mark.”

“But instead you used an old friend to help you illegally obtain evidence and in the process interfere with a murder investigation. Smart, Rick. Really smart.”

Rick sent his friend a level stare. “You want to hear the whole story? Or not?”

Val scowled. “What I want is to get out there and catch this killer.”

“Then I guess, like it or not, you need to hear it, don’t you?” The other man grunted a response and Rick continued. “ Tara was a part of that group I asked you about, the Horned Flower. Mark said they had threatened Tara. If she tried to exit their ‘family’ they would hurt her. That’s why they were running away. He went to the garden to meet her and found her there, dead. Mark told Liz that he believed they, members of the Horned Flower, had killed Tara. He also believed the Horned Flower was responsible for Rachel Howard’s disappearance.”

“No wonder the woman bought this whole load of shit.”

“That’s what I thought too. Until I saw the drawings.” Rick paused, then went on. “Liz had a journal page of her sister’s. There were drawings of a strange flower, a horned flower. I remembered that Tara had a tattoo on her thigh, a tattoo of a flower. I figured if the drawings matched, it would change everything.”

For a long moment, Val was silent. “And did they match?” he asked finally, softly.

“Yes, they did.”

His friend digested that, then murmured, “You should have brought your suspicions to me.”

“I should have.” Rick shifted his gaze. “No excuses, Val. Truth is, I wanted the answer and I knew I could get it.”

“And when exactly were you going to bring me on board? For the arrest?”

“Today.”

“Where is he, Rick? I want Mark Morgan now.”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. Where is he?”

“Missing. Which is why Liz Ames came to me for help. Mark intended to find Tara ’s killer. To do that, he planned to infiltrate the Horned Flower. That was two days ago. She hasn’t heard from him since.”

Val laughed, the sound far from amused. “Is everybody on this island running their own private investigation?”

He began to pace. After a moment he stopped and looked at Rick. “What you’re saying is, there’s a secret cult operating on Key West, an island of three-by-four miles? An island where everybody knows everybody? A cult that murders its members for no obvious reason? Do they have a secret handshake? Or do they take a blood oath? Do you realize how silly this all sounds, Rick?”

“I thought the same thing, until I saw the drawings. I think there might be a connection here.”

“Question, Rick. Did it ever occur to you that the reason the two images matched is because Pastor Howard had seen Tara ’s tattoo? Perhaps Tara even got the tattoo during the time she was being counseled by Pastor Howard. Perhaps she discussed it with the pastor. Perhaps this Horned Flower group was a figment of the girl’s imagination, one she carried to obsessive lengths.”

Rick thought he had considered every scenario, but he had to admit he had overlooked that one.

“Look at the facts,” Val continued. “Mark had a personal relationship with the victim. He had reason to want her dead. He was at the scene. Those are the facts.”

“Sometimes what looks like the truth is a lie. You know that.”

“Sometimes, but it’s damn rare. The guy who looks guilty is usually the one who did it. The big surprise twist at the end is Hollywood, not real life.”

When Rick opened his mouth to speak, Val held up a hand stopping him. “Here are some facts you should also know. I did a little digging on your friend Liz Ames. You need to be careful who you align yourself with.”

“Don’t be coy, Val. Just spit it out.”

“Last year was a big year for our Ms. Ames. Early in the year her mother died, a handful of months later her father. Her sister accepted this call and moved about the same time Liz walked in on her husband screwing a good friend of hers. Turns out the friend wasn’t his first cheat. Her marriage fell apart. A teenager in her care attempted-and nearly succeeded-in committing suicide. Then her sister disappeared.

“Liz made her decision to come here, fresh on the heels of a total emotional and mental breakdown. A breakdown that required her to be hospitalized. Her therapist begged her not to come here, he feared she would relapse.”

“A little digging?” Rick asked, voice tight. “You called the St. Louis P.D. and had them check her out. On what grounds?”

“She was first to the scene. She knew the victim. What would you have done, Rick?”

The same thing, he acknowledged. Like it or not, Val had been doing his job.

“She has issues, my friend. Serious emotional issues. I thought you’d want to know.”

Rick struggled to digest what Val had told him, to place and make sense of it. Val’s words explained Liz’s tears, the desperation he had heard in her voice time and again. Her aura of vulnerability.

His first reaction was a sense of betrayal, of having been lied to. She hadn’t been honest with him.

“What you’re saying is she’s a nutcase and I shouldn’t believe a thing she says. Is that it?”

“Hardly. I’m checking out her claims. But I wanted to warn you. Be careful, Rick. She has an agenda, one based on emotions not logic. Desperate people do desperate things. They lie. They manufacture evidence. Use whatever means necessary to achieve their goals. And they can be pretty goddamned convincing. That she’s not playing with a full deck right now makes her a little scary.”

Rick had to agree. He felt as if his old friend had delivered a swift punch to his solar plexus, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. He wanted to champion her. He wanted to deny that what Val was telling him was true.

Despite his earlier intentions, he had lost all objectivity when it came to Liz Ames and this investigation.

Val’s cell phone sounded. “Lopez here.”

He listened a moment, expression tightening. “Say that again, Carla.” He waited. “I’ll be right there.”

He holstered his phone and stood. “What is it?” Rick asked. “What’s happened?”

“Seems Naomi Pearson didn’t run off,” he replied grimly. “She turned up on Dog Beach.”

“Dead, I’m guessing?”

Val hesitated, then nodded. “About as dead as you can get. Throat slit, torso carved up.” He met Rick’s gaze. “Looks like we’ve got a serial on our hands.”