The Third Victim Part 59

"He'll have problems with any of her relationships. In his mind, she's his."

"That's it then. He found out, got angry ' "And got an alibi," Luke interrupted flatly.

They looked at him sharply. He was nearly apologetic.

"I tried, Rainie. I stayed in town till eleven last night trying to break this guy's story. I've probably p.i.s.sed off every blue blood in the city and it still holds. Mr. Avalon was in a business meeting all day Tuesday. His secretary swears it, and two high-powered muckety-mucks agree. They were working on some resort deal from noon until nearly seven o'clock at night."

Rainie chewed on the inside of her lip.

"Have you had time to run background checks on the supporting witnesses?"

"You mean between midnight and six a.m.?"

"Could be about money," Rainie theorized. "Sounds like Mr. Avalon has a lot. If they do regular business with him .. . Maybe they'd be willing to vouch for his time in return for a few favors."

"Possible. Don't know how we can prove it, though. There is one other thing. I asked Mr. Avalon if he'd ever been to Bakersville. He said absolutely not. But I ran a background check before interviewing him, and according to state tax records he owns a cabin in Cabot County, just thirty minutes away. When I pushed him on it, he said it was merely a hunting cabin. He never used it himself but kept it for business a.s.sociates. His wife nodded, like that means a d.a.m.n thing. I don't know. Something's wrong there, Rainie, seriously wrong, but I don't know what to make of it yet."

Luke's gaze returned to the street, where a teenage boy on a bicycle was coming into view. In sagging jeans and a loose jersey shirt, the kid seemed pretty nondescript. But he wore a green canvas backpack and he was staring at the O'grady home intently.

"Here's my question," Luke muttered, tapping a finger on the steering wheel as he followed the kid with his gaze.

"Why now? Melissa Avalon was twenty-eight years old. If Quincy's right and Daddy was going to melt down, wouldn't it have happened years ago?"

"Not necessarily," Quincy answered. He had noticed the cyclist as well. Then Chuckie came into view, carrying a cardboard box with four cups of coffee.

"Was this Melissa's first time away from home?"

"Yep," Luke said.

That would do it."

"I wonder if we're making this too complicated," Rainie murmured out loud, shifting in the backseat for a better view.

"Mr. Avalon's got motive. Mr. Avalon's got money. His daughter just happens to die from a single gunshot wound to the head '

"a.s.sa.s.sination," Quincy filled in.

"What if it wasn't supposed to be a school shooting? What if Danny was being enlisted to create a diversion, something that looked like a shooting to disguise Melissa Avalon's death. Except ' "Except he accidentally killed two little girls," Luke supplied dryly. He opened his mouth to argue more, then suddenly said, "s.h.i.t."

The boy was in front of Shep's house. His bicycle had slowed. His body shifted. The backpack slid down .... Luke fumbled for the door handle. He shoved it open with his shoulder just as Rainie tried to bolt, realizing too late that the doors had shut and she and Quincy were trapped in the back of the police cruiser. Down the street, Chuckie saw the commotion and dropped his coffee. Rainie watched him reach immediately for his gun.

"No," she yelled uselessly, and pounded the unbreakable window.

"Dammit, Chuckie, ho!"

The boy saw Luke bearing down on him. He turned slightly and spotted Chuckie fumbling with his holster. His expression promptly shifted from purposeful to petrified.

Luke ordered, "Stop!"

And the boy shoved his backpack at Luke with all his might and took off, while the officer staggered back in surprise. Down the street, Chuckie was still juggling his handgun. Rainie couldn't be sure from this distance, but it looked like the rookie had tears on his cheeks.

"d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n," Luke shouted. He regained his footing and let the backpack fall to the ground, but the kid ran from the street to dart between the mult.i.tude of houses. A second later he was out of sight.

With another sigh of disgust, Luke stalked back to the patrol car and settled for bailing Quincy and Rainie out of the backseat. They gathered around the backpack on the sidewalk just as Cunningham came running up, panting heavily.

"What'd he do?" Cunningham demanded breathlessly. He rubbed his cheeks.

"What's in the bag? What happened? Did he try anything?"

"One thing at a time, Cunningham," Rainie growled. She looked at Luke.

He shrugged, hunkered down, and placed his ear over the green canvas bag. "I don't hear ticking." He hefted up the backpack and frowned.

"No clinking. h.e.l.l, it feels like books."

He resolutely unzipped the main pouch. Out poured two weighty volumes with fine leather binding and rich gilded edges the Bible, Old and New Testaments. The note attached to the front said: To the O'Gradys.

Jesus forgives.

"Oh my G.o.d," Chuckie said desperately.

"I almost shot that boy."

Quincy said softly, "I think it's time we took a deep breath."

Luke picked up the two volumes. He carried them gently to the front porch and placed them in front of the door. Then, without a word, he went back to the wheel of his patrol car, slouched down to the level of the dashboard, fingered his hat on the seat beside him, and resumed keeping guard.

Friday, May 18, 11:27 a.m.

Becky O'grady placed her finger carefully over Big Bear's black-st.i.tched mouth. He regarded her steadily with his big golden eyes.

"Shh," she told him.

"We have to be very quiet."

Big Bear helped her out. Becky knew he didn't like the closet. He'd always been afraid of the dark. But now he was a very brave brown bear. He didn't make a single noise as she gently twisted the k.n.o.b on the closet door and eased it open.

There was a break in the argument in the family room. Becky froze instantly. Her mommy and daddy had been fighting for a long time now.

Something about some man her mommy had talked to this morning. She shouldn't have done that, Becky's daddy said. Why didn't she trust him to take care of things?

Becky's mommy wasn't happy. She told Becky's dad he was in denial.

Becky didn't know what that meant, but she was sad it made her mommy so angry, because Becky was in denial too. The doctors had said so.

Maybe it was a bad disease. That would explain why Becky's best friend, Jenny, no longer came over to play. Like the time Becky had the chicken pox. No one could play with her then either. And her skin had itched so bad. She'd wanted to scratch and scratch, but her mommy made her sit in a bathtub filled with hot water and oatmeal. Becky hated the chicken pox. Of course, Grammy Surmon had made her her very

own pie. Banana cream, and Danny hadn't been allowed to eat any of it unless Becky said it was okay. She'd kinda liked that.

Now the thought of Danny made Becky's chest hurt. She held Big Bear closer.

The fighting started again. Daddy was yelling that Mommy didn't care enough about Danny. Mommy was yelling that it was all Daddy's fault.

"How did Danny get the guns, Shep? Tell me how Danny got the guns."