Dangerous Passage (Southern Crimes Book #1): A Novel (10 page)

A
very took the steps up to her parents’ front porch two at a time, savoring the myriad of feelings she thought she’d lost forever. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was floating on air. The hum of the katydid’s song buzzed through her thoughts.
He loves me, he loves me not . . .

She paused at the top step and breathed in her mother’s sweet-smelling jasmine. Giving herself permission to feel again wasn’t easy. Finding someone she wanted to take that risk with was even harder. She didn’t know if in the end Jackson would be that one, but what she did know was that she couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about her right now. Wondering if his thoughts of the case had been smothered like hers by these crazy emotions. And if he felt the same way about the long, breathless kiss they’d just shared in the parking lot. Jackson might be a huge distraction, but for the moment she didn’t care.

She stood in front of the etched-glass front door, the amber glow of the inside lights punctuating the darkness, and smiled. After Ethan’s death, her mother had insisted she and Tess move back home, but she in turn had insisted on staying in her own house, knowing if she didn’t strike out on her own she wouldn’t have been able to completely recover from her loss. In the end, she’d never regretted her choice. The compromise to her mother
had been for Avery and Tess to come to family dinner once or twice a week. But for herself, knowing she could make it on her own had been an important step to finding her place in the world. And now she’d just taken another step forward.

Movement on the other end of the porch caught her eye as she twisted the door handle. She squinted in the darkness, noticing for the first time the familiar squeak of the two-seater swing. “Mom? What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing, I just . . . It’s a beautiful night.”

“Yes, it is.” If you ignored the humidity and mosquitoes. Her mother hated both.

“How was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date, Mom. It was work. Jackson and I were discussing details about my case.”

Avery bridged the distance between them. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone she’d agreed to go out with Jackson again. Or that she was afraid she’d completely lost her heart after that kiss. A smile teased the edges of her lips again. It was a feeling she needed to explore on her own.

She smiled, hoping her mother didn’t notice the flush she knew lingered on her face. “I just came to pick up Tess. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s fine. You know we love her being here. She’s inside playing chess with your father.”

“Mama?” Avery sat down on the wooden swing and let her heels rock back and forth. “You’ve been crying.”

“It’s nothing.” She turned her head away, letting the shadows envelope her face. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“Maybe, but something’s wrong.” Avery took her mother’s hand, unconvinced. The last time she’d seen her mother cry had been at Michael’s funeral. “What is it?”

She noticed the framed photo lying in her mother’s lap. She closed her eyes and slouched against the back of the swing. The
rhythmic squeak of the hinges creaked above her. How could she have been so foolish? She’d imagined Mama would cherish the photo, but it had only ended up hurting her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I knew you were looking for a good picture of Dad and when I found this one . . . I knew you wanted Michael to be there. At the time it seemed perfect.”

“It’s not that. The picture is perfect.” Mama ran her finger across the image of Michael and smiled. “I’d forgotten about this photo, but I remember the day. Your father had just been made captain. We were all so proud of him, but Michael especially. He took us out to dinner at that Chinese restaurant to celebrate.”

“Ming Chang’s.”

“Yes. Your brother loved that restaurant. Always insisted that we order half a dozen different dishes and share them.”

“And use chopsticks.”

“I never did get used to those ridiculous contraptions.” Her soft laugh competed with the sounds of chirping bugs that filled the humid air. “That night was significant to me in many ways.”

“How?”

“I was proud of your father, for one. Making captain was a huge step in his career, and one he’d reached toward for a number of years. But it was more than that. It was also seeing Michael all grown up after all we’d been through. It was a miracle to me.”

“Michael could be a challenge when he was younger.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Avery smiled at the sound of laughter in her mama’s voice. It had been so long.

“There were days while he was in high school that I honestly didn’t think any of us would survive. He was always trying to push the boundaries, trying something new and often foolish. He nearly drove your father and me crazy. And yet in the end—thanks to the good Lord—he managed to harness all that teenage rebellion and anger and make something out of himself.”

Avery reached for her mother’s hand and clasped it. “He was a good cop. A good man.”

“I still miss him so much. I wake up in the mornings, and sometimes, for a split second, I forget he’s gone. Then it hits me that it wasn’t a dream. That he’s gone, and he’s not coming back. It happens over and over, this deep ache inside me that won’t go away no matter what I do.”

“Loss is never easy, Mama. It takes time to heal.”

Her mother looked up and caught Avery’s gaze. “I know I’m not myself. I know it’s not fair to you or your father. To Emily and Tess. I just don’t know how to get rid of the emptiness that consumes me. It’s as if a part of me died, and I don’t know how to live again. Sometimes I’m not even sure I want to live again.”

“Sometimes . . .” Avery hesitated. How long had it been since her mother had opened up to her? “Sometimes I feel as if I lost you when Michael died. We all want to help you through this. You have to believe that. We love you.”

“It just hurts so much.”

“We all hurt. We all miss Michael.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Children aren’t supposed to die before their parents do.”

“And women aren’t supposed to be widows at twenty-nine. But we can’t change any of that. Death is a part of life whether we’re ready for it or not.”

Avery’s memories surfaced, and with them her own sharp feelings of loss. Three years had helped to numb the pain, but its sting had never completely vanished. Sometimes, when she least expected it, the wounds of losing Ethan reappeared like it was only yesterday when she first heard the news.

I’m sorry to inform you, Mrs. North
. . .
there’s been an accident
. . .
Your husband is dead
. . .
his car flipped . . .

“You still miss Ethan, don’t you?”

“I always will.”

“Oh, Avery. Sometimes I forget how much you’ve gone through. Losing Ethan, having to raise Tess as a single mom, working full-time. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve had a lot of help.”

Her mom wiped at the ring of mascara under her eyes. “If only your father could see me now.”

“Daddy loves you.”

“I know. I don’t deserve him.” She shook her head. “He . . . he wants me to make an appointment with the counselor at church.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I haven’t gone. Claire Hunt isn’t supposed to need counseling.” She waved her hand toward the house. “I’ve worked my whole life to make sure I have the perfect house, the perfect family . . . the perfect life. Stepping into a counselor’s office would be admitting I’ve failed.”

“No one has the perfect life. No one can avoid hurt. All we can do is take things one day at a time, and if we need a little help in the process, then what’s wrong with that?”

Her mother shook her head. “How did you deal with Ethan’s death? How did you come to the point where you wanted to go on with your life again?”

“I had Tess, which meant I didn’t have a choice other than to get up every day and do what I had to do. I had to work, cook, create some sense of normality in a world that had shattered into a million pieces. It’s just in the past year, though, that I’ve started giving myself permission to live and be happy again.”

Memories of Ethan surfaced as she continued sharing. “I remember lying on my bed at night and reading from the Psalms over and over, trying to find some reason to keep going. ‘When I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me . . .’ God has never left you. Neither have any of us. And a few weeks of counseling can’t hurt. I went.”

“I’d forgotten that.” Mama pressed the picture against her chest. “I’m afraid to start feeling again. I just . . . I don’t think I can.”

“One day at a time, Mama.”

Her mother nudged Avery with her elbow. “How did you get to be so wise? It seems like yesterday that you were Tess’s age. Full of questions. Then there were the boys who started hanging around. I didn’t think your father would let you out the door, until eventually Ethan came and swept you away. You made a good choice. And I know that if you do find love again, Ethan would be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mama.”

“What about that Jackson? Don’t tell me there’s not a glow in your eyes after seeing him tonight.”

“I like him—a lot—but I guess we’ll all have to wait and see how it turns out.”

Avery laid her head on her mother’s shoulder and felt a peace spread over her she hadn’t felt for a long time. She had her mother back. If only for the moment.

L
ate morning, Avery stopped in front of the vending machine at the end of the precinct hallway and hesitated, wishing life were as simple as choosing between a candy bar and a bag of chips. Just when she thought the case was neatly wrapped up, it had somehow managed to blow wide open. The DA was now doubting the evidence to move forward with the arraignment for James Philips, even though they still needed more evidence on the Sourns for their possible involvement.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Carlos dumped his crumpled fast-food bag into the trash can beside the vending machine. “Clarissa needed me to go with her to take Chloe to the doctor, and you know how backed up things can get sometimes at the clinic.”

“It’s okay. The Sourns just arrived and are waiting in interrogation room one.” As far as she was concerned, letting them—and their lawyer—sweat a bit was a good thing. “How is Chloe?”

“Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be something serious. Because she was a preemie, the doctor thinks she’s not producing lactase well enough.”

Avery shoved her quarters into the machine, forgoing the junk food, and pushed the button for bottled water. “That would explain her constant crying and not sleeping well.”

“And my not sleeping well.”

Avery laughed. “I’ll be honest, I’m glad those days are behind me. It does get better eventually, I promise.”

“Let’s hope those days come sooner rather than later.” Carlos shoved his hands in his front pockets. “You ready for this?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried we don’t have enough leverage to convince them to talk, and worried that even if they want to talk, their lawyer won’t let them say anything.”

Avery grabbed her water from the slot and shot up a quick prayer for clarity of mind . . . and for the truth to be revealed.

Inside the interrogation room, the Sourns sat at the rectangular table with their lawyer, Ryan Blackburn. Avery had hoped to do the interview without a lawyer present, especially one like Blackburn, who made ten times as much as she did and was happy to ensure she knew it. She studied his expression that was too smug, too arrogant, and far too confident.

She took a seat across from them, set her water on the table, and plastered on her best smile. Carlos stood behind her, ready to play the game. “Mr. and Mrs. Sourn, I want to thank you for coming in and talking with us today. I know that you just recently received the news regarding the loss of your niece, and I am very sorry.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Sourn nodded while kneading a tissue between her fingers.

“We are doing everything we can to find her killer,” Avery continued, “but there are several discrepancies we need to clear up.”

Mr. Sourn took his wife’s free hand. “Finding our niece’s killer is our priority as well. We’re happy to help in any way we can.”

“Good.” Avery looked down at her notes. “You both told us that Tala had been living in your house since graduating from high school. Her diploma and driver’s license are from her home state of Arizona.”

“Yes, that is correct,” Mr. Sourn said. “Is there a problem?”

“Actually, we’ve discovered a couple discrepancies. The first one has to do with the autopsy. The ME who worked on her case found that Tala had an enlarged spleen. Now this could mean a number of things, from mononucleosis to a bacterial infection, or even cancer, but everything he tested for came up negative. Until he tested her blood for malaria.”

Avery caught the look of surprise in Mr. Sourn’s expression. “Malaria?”

“The test came back positive.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“We didn’t either at first. Because what makes this interesting is that malaria hasn’t been a problem in this country for over fifty years, meaning that Tala would have needed to travel overseas—to a place like Vietnam—to have contracted the disease. But you told me that Tala didn’t have a passport.”

Mrs. Sourn shook her head. “I . . . I didn’t think so.”

“According to the US Department of State’s Passport Records,” Avery said, “there is no record that your niece ever applied for a passport.”

“Which is why we started digging deeper and discovered a second problem.” Carlos took a step forward and dropped a copy of Tala’s high school diploma in front of the Sourns. “For starters, I applaud whoever worked on the execution of these documents. We almost didn’t catch it, but Tala never went to high school . . . at least not in Arizona. She was using a laundered identity.”

Mr. Sourn looked to his wife. “That’s not possible—”

“It’s clear what’s going on here.” Mr. Blackburn interrupted Mr. Sourn. “My clients are the victims here.”

“The victims?” Avery’s gaze widened.

“Tala told us—”

“You don’t have to say anything else, Mrs. Sourn.”

“It’s fine.” Mr. Sourn held up his hand. “We just want to get to the bottom of this. We believed Tala was our niece. If we had had any idea her paperwork was fake, we never would have let her live with us.”

Avery tried to swallow her frustration. “You are telling us, then, that you had no idea that Tala’s documents were fake.”

“Do you know how many people have fake licenses in this state alone?” Blackburn shook his head. “You can buy kits online that make authentic-looking IDs used for underage drinking. Some of the easiest to use are sold right here in Georgia. Tala . . . or whoever she was . . . arrived three months ago on my clients’ doorstep, claiming she was the niece they hadn’t seen for years, and now it’s clear that she must have been involved in some kind of con.”

“So now your clients are the victims?” Carlos asked.

“That is exactly what I’m saying. She stole a ring worth over ten thousand dollars and carried fake documents. What else could it be?”

“There is another possibility to this scenario.” Avery wasn’t ready to let things go. “Your clients were harboring an illegal immigrant. If we bring charges against them, they’ll be facing some stiff penalties.”

“My clients are innocent.”

“And a girl’s been murdered. Have you already forgotten?”

“Robbed and murdered by some homeless professor, I was told.”

“The new evidence brought forth by the ME casts doubt on his guilt.”

“Which is your problem, not mine, and certainly not my clients’. If Tala Vuong—or whatever her name really was—were still alive, she’d be the one who would be charged—for possession of fraudulent identification documents, for posing as the Sourns’ niece, and for theft. We’ve heard enough.” He signaled
to the Sourns. “If you need anything else, Detective, you may contact me directly.”

Avery stood, fighting to control her anger. “Then let’s hope you’re right, because if you’re not, the next time we sit down in this room, I won’t just be talking to your clients about harboring an illegal alien. I’ll be talking to them about obstruction of justice.”

A minute later, Avery slammed her file folder down onto her desk, her head still spinning.

“Avery.”

“I blew it. I should have seen it coming. How did they become the victims in this situation?”

“Just because they won round one doesn’t mean they’re going to win the war. If you ask me, they’re guilty, and everyone in the room knew it.”

“But we can’t prove it.”

“Yet. They’re already running scared.”

“None of this adds up.” Avery ran her hands through her hair and slumped back down in her chair. “We have nothing to hold them on and no other suspects.”

“Which is why it’s up to us to find evidence that puts a hole in their story.”

Avery looked up at the knock on her door. Captain Peterson stood in the doorway, clearly unhappy.

“I listened to your interview outside, and I’m getting concerned about another case blowing up in our face.”

“Things just keep getting better and better.”

“You accused the Sourns of harboring an illegal alien.”

“The evidence I have points to that possibility.”

“I was under the impression that everything had already been wrapped up, and that the DA set an arraignment for James Philips.”

“Last night, the ME came to me with new evidence from the autopsy that places doubt on James Philips’s guilt.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Yes. Enough for me to move Mr. and Mrs. Sourn—no matter what they say—from grieving uncle and aunt to the top of my suspect list.”

“That’s pretty strong. Isn’t it possible that they really were the victims here?”

“That is a possibility, but I’m simply following the evidence.”

“We just need to make sure this goes down by the book. Robert Sourn has been under investigation for money laundering in the past, but we never could prove he was involved. He ended up making the department look bad, something none of us want to happen again.”

Avery nodded, hating the politics that managed to entwine themselves in every case. “I’ll be careful, but if we don’t find out the truth soon, we’re going to end up with another victim.”