In the Shadow of Evil (5 page)

Ever.

She took the frame from Alana, shoved it in the top right drawer, then hunched over the desk, scanning the papers.

All the files, contracts, and details of the Hope-for-Homes project.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Alana whispered.

"You didn't." She wasn't upset. Well, not really. It was more like she'd recognized the loss of ever getting a happily ever after in the love department. She was more grieving than upset.

"I'm really proud of you for staying with the competitive dancing after . . . well, after you and Randy split up."

Layla smiled, belying the pain. "I enjoy it. Even more without him." She chuckled. "I like having partners who are interested in good moves on the floor without the romantic entanglement."

But sometimes, late at night when Layla was alone, she did think about men and romance. About being alone.

"You know, you really ought to let me fix you up. There's this coworker of Cameron's—"

"No." A geeky software creator nerd? Cameron was great and all, really loved Alana and was good to her, but that just wasn't Layla's cup of tea. No, thanks.

"Well, if you change your mind . . ."

"You'll be the first person to know." Layla winked at her sister, then went back to the stack of files. What kind of man was her cup of tea? She'd thought it was Randy—tall, dark, and handsome. But look how that'd turned out. Now she just didn't know. She wanted someone who appreciated her as a woman. Someone who made her feel safe. Someone who made her feel loved and accepted for who she was.

"I don't know what you're looking for." Alana flipped through the electrician's contract.

Layla breathed a sigh, not wanting to dredge up old wounds right now. "I want to know every single person who worked on the project. Every electrician, plumber, construction worker."

"Why?"

Was her sister really that naive? Layla denied the sigh struggling to escape. "Because someone knew that house was empty. He knew it was complete but hadn't been moved into yet. And the first place to look is the workers. They knew the schedule better than anyone."

Alana handed her the electrician's paperwork. "Isn't this a job for the police?"

"Maybe." Layla set the pages on the pile with the others, then grabbed the listing of every independent she'd hired for the project.

"Then why aren't you letting them do this?"

Layla made eye contact with her, allowing Alana to see the despair and desperation she felt. "Because
this
is the project I just won the CotY regional award for. And I was site foreman for the job." And if there was a link between the incident and someone she'd contracted, she could lose. Worse, her reputation would be damaged beyond repair.

"Oh, Layla, I'm sorry. I didn't realize—"

"You couldn't have." Layla blew her bangs off her forehead. "Now you see why I need to check everything." She ran her finger down the list of independents.

Electrician: Denny Keys. Carpenters: J. B. Carpentry. Supplier: Y Building Supplies. Plumber . . . Bob Johnson.

Layla's gut clenched, and she snatched Bob's contract.
Please, no. Don't let it be.
But her niggling fear was there in black and white.

Bob had utilized three people from Second Chances.

Coincidence? She didn't believe in them. But Gavin hadn't been at the retreat yet. Still, what were the odds?

"What?" Alana studied her.

"Bob was the contracted plumber."

"So?"

"He used three people from the retreat."

Confusion then understanding then worry crossed over her sister's face. "You like Bob. Trust him. You talked to him yesterday. You said he was outraged at the prospect of drugs being on his site." Alana smoothed down her hair.

"I did. And he was. Someone could be involved in drugs without his knowledge." Layla touched her sister's arm. "You know how addicts hide things."

"There are signs. Physical deterioration. Loss of—"

"I know." Didn't they both know it all too well? Too intimately? How her sister could stand to be around addicts all day after what they'd lived through was beyond her.

"I'm just saying surely someone would have noticed a change."

"Maybe. Unless he didn't know them well."

Alana's eyes narrowed. "Just because three of mine were used, doesn't mean they're involved."

"I didn't say that, Al—"

"Anybody could be involved. You know this program works. You've supported it. Fred and I make sure the psychiatrist says they're ready to work before we consider letting them enter the work-release program."

"I do support it." Layla shook her head. "There might not even be any connection between Bob and whatever crew he used and the murder. I'm just trying to be proactive. Knowledge is power."

"By insinuating the retreat's residents could be involved?" Alana crossed her arms over her chest. "And don't quote
Dadaisms
to me."

"I'm not saying that. Not even implying it. I'm just trying to get a handle on everything."

"It's not even your job."

Layla swallowed hard, forcing herself not to react to her sister's hostility. It was only the fear talking. "I know. But the police will ask, and we'll already have the information prepared."

Alana cocked her head but her stare pierced Layla. "And you need to know."

"I do." She held her breath as her sister chewed her bottom lip.

Finally, Alana sighed. "I do too. If someone from the retreat is even remotely involved, I need to know. If I'm not careful, I could lose funding." She shook her head. "If it's proven the retreat is involved, it could even close me down."

Layla nodded. "So we need to do everything we can to find out the truth. To protect both of us."

FOUR

"A man of courage is also full of faith."

—MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO

ONLY ONE LEFT. JUST one.

He slammed the folder shut. He'd shredded Dennis's files as he took care of the evidence trail. He'd come so far in the past nine months . . . covering up every single lead that could come back to him. Nothing that would draw the attention of the authorities. Nothing that would link them so anyone would get suspicious.

And now he just had one building that could be tracked back to him. But that one was a doozy. He'd have to finesse his way through the last one.

What would be the best way to get rid of it? Not another burning. Couldn't do that right on the heels of this morning.

But with the bids under review and the casino jobs about to be awarded, he'd have to accelerate his schedule.

His phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. "Hello."

"You're late with my check. Again." Andrea's voice grated against his ear. "I'm sick of this. Don't make me take you back to court. I will, you know."

Yeah, he knew all about his ex-wife's fascination with the legal system. "Sorry, Andy. I'll get the check in the mail Monday."

"I've told you not to call me that."

Right. After their divorce had become final, she'd decided to go by her full name. Not the pet name he'd given her back when they were dating. How easily someone could change.

Like warping from a sweet girl with the softest eyes into a greedy, image-freak woman. Heartless.

"I'd better have it by Wednesday or I'm calling my attorney."

When had her voice turned into a whine? "I'll mail it Monday, just like I said. I don't have control over the postal service."

"Then maybe you should have mailed it sooner. Like when it was actually due."

How could he have loved her so much once? Had he really been that blind?

"And the kids won't be able to spend the weekend with you."

He curled his free hand into a fist. "But it's my weekend," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Deena and Ellie have a slumber party. They've been looking forward to it for weeks now."

"Then why didn't you offer to switch off with me this weekend?"

"Don't be difficult. They really want to go. Would you begrudge them that just to get back at me?"

She never understood. He loved his kids . . . wanted to spend time with them. He never wanted to be an absentee father. "Okay. Then it'll just be Eddie and me. We can go hunting or have a guy's night." That sounded good. It'd been a long time since he and his son hung out alone together.

Andrea sighed into the phone. "He has a date."

"A date?" His son was dating? Wasn't that something he should've been told? "He's only fifteen. He can't even drive yet."

"I'm taking his date and him to the school dance."

Over his dead body. She'd embarrass Eddie. "I'll take them." If Eddie was dating, it was time for him to have
that
conversation with his son.

"He asked
me
to drive them."

"I'll be happy to do it." But he knew she would keep this from him if she could. "If the girls are at a slumber party and I take Eddie, then you'll still have the weekend free for you." Hadn't she complained about his long hours at work, whining that she had no time for herself? She'd griped at him to make more money, then hollered at him for never being home. No pleasing the woman.

"This is important to Eddie. I'm fine with taking him." She sighed again, a long, heavy sigh. "You can get them all weekend after next. No sense messing up
our
schedule."

Typical Andrea, keeping their kids' important things from him.

"I'd rather have them my weekend. Not wanting to mess up
our
schedule and all."

"Don't get smart with me. Technically, you're so far behind on child support I really shouldn't even let you see the kids until you're current."

She held all the cards. What else was new?

But maybe . . . once he got the big bucks from the casino job, he'd hire a top-notch lawyer and take Andrea back to court. Get that absurd child support amount lowered. Or better yet, get joint custody and do away with this every-other-weekend gig.

"The check had better be here by Wednesday. And it'd better not bounce again." She didn't bother to say good-bye before hanging up.

One time. Only once did his check bounce, but she wouldn't let him forget it. Typical Andrea, always focusing on the negative.

He replaced the receiver to its base. The folder sitting on his desk mocked him.

He had one more building to take care of, then it was smooth sailing. He'd be in the clear. He'd have the money to put Andrea in her place. Maybe he'd go for full custody. See how she liked being told when and where she could see the kids.

Still annoyed and disappointed, he glanced at the calendar. Next weekend would actually be perfect to take care of this last detail. He had no plans because he'd expected to have the kids. Everyone in his circle thought he'd have the kids too. Could work in his favor.

He slammed the folder closed. Yes, indeed, fate seemed to smile at destiny and shine on him.

"MAN,
THIS
IS WHERE she's living?" Maddox stared at the government-subsidized temporary housing unit. The shotgun-style house looked to be in desperate need of repair. Paint peeling, loose boards, and tape covering breaks in the window.

Houston shut off the unmarked cruiser's engine. "This is where records show Ms. Sally Caldwell and her kids living for the time being."

"No wonder she got approved for Hope for Homes." Maddox opened the door and stood on the cracked sidewalk.

Maddox fell into step beside Houston and made his way up the rickety stairs. The handrail wobbled under his grip. The place should be condemned.

Houston took a breath, then rapped on the front door. The splintered wood vibrated in the hinges.

Shuffling sounded from the other side of the hollow door. "Who is it?" a hesitant female asked.

"Sheriff's department. We need to speak to Sally Caldwell."

A dead bolt clicked, then the door creaked open. A woman's face peered in the crack. "I'm Sally Caldwell. Can I see a badge, please?"

While Houston pulled his out, Maddox inventoried every detail about her appearance. Probably stood about five foot even. Couldn't tell about her build because she used the door as a shield. Wrinkles had etched deep into her face, belying the fact that he knew she was only twenty-six years old. Her eyes were the color of warm chocolate, at least two shades darker than her creamy cocoa skin tone.

She narrowed her eyes to study Houston's badge, then opened the door, stepped over the threshold, and shut the door behind her. "What's this about?" She hugged herself.

Against the chill . . . or them?

Houston's smile seeped into his voice. "We understand you're set to move into a new Hope-for-Homes site soon."

She nodded. "In thirteen days." When she smiled, a mouthful of snow white teeth flashed in the midday sun. "We're excited. The kids made a countdown calendar."

Something in Maddox's chest tightened. Poor woman. Didn't know yet that her kids' and her dreams had burned to the ground early this morning. He cleared his throat. "Ms. Caldwell, we're sorry to have to tell you, but there was a fire at the site this morning."

Her expressive eyes widened. "What happened? Was there much damage?"

Houston laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ms. Caldwell. The house is a total loss."