When a Secret Kills (14 page)

“Then why would he send Mr. Pike the email if he didn’t plan on doing the autopsy?” Jillian asked.

Colton shot her a look that he hoped conveyed his need for her to be quiet. But the question was a good one. He looked to Mrs. Benjamin and waited for her answer.

She said, “I’ve asked that very same question. I checked his
email and there was definitely one sent to Conrad, but it didn’t come from Gerald’s computer.” She sniffed. “I had a friend of ours who is a computer expert look into it and he said the email had been routed through so many IP addresses, it would take him days to figure it out. I told him to find out and would pay him for his trouble. He wouldn’t take my money but managed to discover that the email was sent from a local internet café, Cooper’s Corner, over on Green Street.”

“That’s on the University of South Carolina campus. There’s no way to even trace that today, much less ten years ago,” Colton said. Hunter nodded.

“Exactly.” Mrs. Benjamin drew in a deep breath. “My husband would not go to an internet café to send an email when he could do it from home. The officers I spoke to suggested he was there for reasons he didn’t want me to know about. Then I . . . received something in the mail that suggested I might not want to continue my questions. At that point, I dropped it and decided to pray about it.” She offered a slight smile. “I wonder if you’re my answer.”

Jillian felt quite sure they were the answer. This woman had been praying ten years for justice. So had Jillian. Only Jillian knew the time had come to act on those prayers.
God, please allow me to survive this and bring justice to the men who deserve it.

“He has people working for him,” she said softly.

“What?” Mrs. Benjamin looked at her, seeming to really take a good look at her for the first time. Jillian ignored Colton’s exasperated look and said, “Whoever killed your husband isn’t working alone. He has friends in high places.”

“You’re not one of the detectives, are you?”

“No. I . . . saw something ten years ago. It’s one of the things that’s led us to you. I can’t tell you what I saw yet, but trust me, your husband was murdered because of something he knew.”

Grief flickered in the woman’s eyes. “I couldn’t figure out why someone would want him dead, but a few weeks before he died, he was jittery and constantly looking over his shoulder. He wanted me to leave and go visit my mother, or stay with one of the children, but I had a daughter recovering from an operation and didn’t have time for that. And all of my questioning and prying wouldn’t loosen his tongue.” She swallowed hard. “I caught him praying
in his study, his head bent—he was weeping and begging God for forgiveness.”

“For what?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It was such a private moment between him and God, I simply turned and walked to my bedroom, knelt by the bed, and added my prayers to his.” Tears leapt into her eyes. “I don’t know if you understand this, but even though I didn’t know what Gerald was praying for, God knew. And he would hear my prayers too.”

“Did Gerald ever tell you?”

“No.” The woman lifted a hand to swipe a stray tear. Her forehead crinkled as she thought. “But he did say he’d made a decision. He said he’d done something he couldn’t live with and now he had to make it right.”

Colton said, “Did anything significant happen in the weeks before your husband’s death? Something he would have needed a lot of money for?”

The frown stayed in place. She stared at Colton. “Why would you ask that?”

“Fifty thousand dollars was deposited into your husband’s checking account on June 10th. On June 11th, that same amount was paid out to Baptist Hospital.”

The woman went so pale that Colton rose, ready to catch her should she fall from the chair. She steadied herself and he lowered back into his seat. “Tracy’s surgery.”

“What?”

“My daughter had a kidney transplant.” She rubbed her lips and closed her eyes. “We were swimming in debt, the house was mortgaged to the hilt. Tracy was dying and needed a kidney. She’d had a car accident as a teen and had to have her left kidney removed.” She shrugged. “We were concerned, but she had another good kidney and people live productive, healthy lives with one kidney. Only now, her good kidney was barely functioning. Dialysis was
working for her, but she’d let her insurance lapse and we didn’t know it. She came to us and told us she needed fifty thousand dollars before the hospital would even consider putting her on the list for a transplant. I was devastated. We didn’t have that kind of money, not with all of our debt. We were barely hanging on to the house. We started selling things off, asked neighbors to help collect donations.” She gave a little self-conscious laugh. “On the outside, we looked like we had it all. A wealthy doctor’s family. But on the inside . . .” She sighed. “On the inside, we were spinning our wheels to keep up the appearance. Only by this time, I didn’t care.” She snorted. “Appearances. What did that matter when my daughter’s life was at stake?”

Mrs. Benjamin stood, walked over to the desk, and picked up the picture of a young woman dressed in a hospital gown. “Miraculously, my husband found the money. He borrowed it from my parents. I’ll never know where they found the money—and they’re not saying—but they gave it to us.” She looked up. “And Tracy got her kidney. On June 14th. And my husband was a different man from that point on. Happy and depressed at the same time. Angry one minute, then apologetic the next. I asked and asked him what was wrong. And he wouldn’t tell me. He started losing weight, spending time in his study praying and crying.” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture that made Jillian want to hug her. “Then he died—and I was left with even more questions.”

Colton said, “Well, maybe we can find some of those answers for you. Are you still in touch with Conrad Pike and his wife?”

Mrs. Benjamin smiled as she placed her daughter’s photo back in its spot on the desk. “Yes. Every once in a while we’ll have dinner, but it’s not the same.”

“Have you discussed your husband’s death with them?”

“Of course. They also agree something wasn’t right, but we just never got anywhere with the authorities.”

“What are your parents’ names?”

“Ray and Sheila Vance. Why?”

Before Colton could answer, Jillian asked, “What did you get in the mail that made you decide to quit asking questions?”

Mrs. Benjamin stared at them for a moment, then went to the desk in the corner of the room. She opened the bottom drawer and withdrew a manila envelope. “This.”

With a raised brow, Colton took the envelope from her and opened it. Jillian scooted forward to peer over his shoulder.

Colton reached in and pulled out a photo. Jillian gasped and looked up at the woman who stood with her hands clasped in front of her. “Is that your daughter?”

“Yes. My other daughter, Amelia, with her husband and my grandson. She’d just had the baby about two months before that came.”

Jillian shuddered. “So that’s why you stopped asking questions and started praying.”

“Exactly.” The sweet picture of the family was marred by the big red bull’s-eye drawn around it with the words, “Stop being nosy or they’re next.” Jillian read the words aloud.

“I put the envelope in the drawer and never said another word about anything. Until now.”

Jillian looked at Colton, then Hunter. “So what do we do now?”

“Get this to Rick.” Colton slid the picture back in the envelope. “I don’t know that he can find anything off of here but we’ll try.” He looked at Hunter. “Will you get me an evidence bag from the car?”

“Sure.” Hunter left and Colton looked at Mrs. Benjamin. “Thank you for talking to us.”

“I want justice done.” She tightened her lips and lifted her chin. “It’s what Gerald would have wanted too.” She frowned. “I just hope I haven’t placed my daughter’s family in danger.”

“We’ll keep it quiet.”

She nodded and escorted them to the door where they met Hunter coming back from the car. Colton slid the envelope in the evidence bag and sealed it.

Mrs. Benjamin shut the door behind them and Colton looked at Jillian and Hunter. “Looks like we have a busy day ahead of us. Let’s grab some lunch and then go see what the Pikes have to say.” They made their way to the vehicle and Colton pulled his phone out. “Katie, I need you to make a visit to a Mr. and Mrs. Vance.” He spouted the address Jillian figured he’d looked up even as he was interviewing Mrs. Benjamin. “Find out where that fifty grand came from that they gave to their daughter on June 10th, 2002.”

He hung up and looked at Jillian. “Let’s get some food. I’m starved.”

Hunter climbed into his vehicle and pulled away from the curb. Colton settled in the driver’s seat of his rental truck and cranked the engine, ready to follow Hunter’s exit. Jillian sat beside him, staring out the window. The look in her eyes said she was thinking about what Gerald’s widow had revealed.

He couldn’t deny something weird was going on—or that someone was after Jillian. And his gut said his uncle was involved somehow. He simply couldn’t deny the evidence that seemed to be unfolding with every question they asked and answer they got. He glanced at his phone. Still no call from Uncle Frank.

Jaw set, he punched in the man’s number—and listened to it ring until it went to voice mail.

Pulling away from the curb, he shot a look over his shoulder and caught sight of a gray sedan sitting two houses down against the curb. It hadn’t been there when they’d pulled up.

“What is it?”

Jillian’s question jerked his attention to her then back to the rearview mirror. “Hunker down. There’s a car parked on the curb behind us.”

Fear shot across Jillian’s features, but her jaw tightened and
her hand sneaked around to her lower back where she kept her weapon. The gun had been rescued from the wreckage of his truck and returned to her. He wasn’t sure that was such a great idea.

Colton got back on the phone, one eye still on the mirror as he pressed the gas to head down the street. The gray sedan followed. “I’ve got a tail. Gray sedan. Wait until I get out of the neighborhood, then let’s play oreo. I want to know who’s back there.”

“Got it.”

“Oreo?” Jillian asked.

“You’ll see.”

He sensed Jillian tense as he got closer to exiting the subdivision.

The gray car was still behind him. To Hunter, he said, “He’s not even trying to hide. Might just be a neighbor.”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Colton stopped at the stop sign, then pulled out into the street. He went fifty yards with the sedan still on his tail, then slammed on his brakes. The car behind him did the same but was nearly bumper to bumper with Colton. Hunter pulled up fast, trapping the vehicle between him and Colton. Colton opened the door to get out of his car. He told Jillian, “Stay down, will you?”

“Be careful.”

The gray sedan’s driver door opened and a tall man stepped out, hands held in plain sight. “Is there a problem?”

“Blake?” Jillian’s screech nearly punctured Colton’s eardrum. Before he could stop her, she was out of the car and racing for the hulk of a man who’d turned to face them.

When Jillian launched herself into the man’s arms, something twisted inside Colton. Something dark and—green.

He was jealous. He took his time getting out of the vehicle since she didn’t appear to be in any danger from the one she’d called Blake.

Blake. Who still had his arms around Jillian. “I take it you know this guy?”

Jillian spun out of the man’s embrace to look back at Colton. “Yes. This is Blake Wyatt. Blake, Colton Brady and Hunter Graham.”

Colton cast glances up and down the road. He saw nothing, but that didn’t mean anything. “Can you get back in the truck? I don’t like you exposed out here in the open.”

“Sure.” Jillian backed toward the vehicle without taking her eyes off Blake.

Colton wished he could read what she was trying to communicate. Whatever it was, Blake seemed to understand, because he gave her a slow nod, then shifted his eyes to Colton with an unreadable look.

Colton turned to Hunter. “I’ve got a new hotel arranged.” He gave him the address. “Rendezvous there?”

“Yeah.” Hunter speared Blake Wyatt with a look. “You follow me, I’ll follow them. Clear?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Crystal.”

Jillian figured she’d be grilled like a steak on the way to the hotel, but Colton kept his lips sealed and his jaw tight enough to shatter.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. When she’d realized it was Blake, she’d been terrified something had happened to Meg, but his first words were that Meg was fine.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. Why hadn’t Colton said anything? Why did he look so angry? “You okay?”

“I’m great.”

Which was a big no. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted a brow and glanced at her then back at the road. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Why are you so . . . angry and closed up?”

“Who’s Blake Wyatt?” he clipped.

She lifted a brow and said just as short, “A friend.”

A snort slipped from him. “A friend? Come on, Jilly, I saw the way he looked at you.”

Jillian felt her hackles rise. “He looked at me like a brother looks at a sister, or a friend looks at another friend. There’s nothing romantic about our feelings for one another.”

For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then he asked, “How do you know him?”

She sighed and glanced out the window. “He saved my life.”

“How?”

“After I left home that night, I took bus after bus. I didn’t stop to sleep or eat or . . .” She winced at the memories. “By the time I got to California, I was about to collapse.” She waved a hand as though there were too many reasons to list. And there were. “I ended up in a homeless shelter, and one night when I went to take a shower, a man was there, waiting.” She gulped and blinked at the awful memory. “He told me not to scream and he wouldn’t kill me. I screamed anyway—and fought like a madwoman.” She’d had a baby to protect. Colton’s baby. A short laugh slipped out. “I think it shocked him and bought me enough time for someone to come to the rescue.”

“Blake.” His voice was subdued. She looked at his face and saw the tension in his jawline.

“Yes. Blake. He was out in the lobby, trying to talk his brother into coming home with him. When he heard the commotion, he beat security to the bathroom.”

“You seem to have a lot of trouble with bathrooms.”

The memory of the incident at the airport made her shudder. “Well, one every ten years isn’t terrible. That first incident was a lot scarier.” At least this time she’d been on her guard and known a few things about defending herself.

“So Blake rescued you and ten years later you’re still friends with nothing romantic between you?”

His disbelief hurt—and roused her temper. “His wife wouldn’t have appreciated it,” she snapped.

Colton’s eyes closed for a split second before he opened them
to watch the road. Then he shot her a sidelong glance. “His wife, huh?”

“Yep. His wife. A woman who ended up being one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” Sara, who’d taken her in and accepted her. Who’d loved her like a sister and taken care of Meg when Jillian couldn’t. Sara, who’d been diagnosed with ovarian cancer too late. Sara, who’d died in Blake’s arms on a wintery night in December three years ago. Jillian crossed her arms across her chest and clamped her jaw tight as she stared straight ahead. The hotel came into view and Colton wheeled into the parking lot.

He pulled into the nearest spot and spoke into his phone. “Any tails?” After a short pause, he nodded and said, “Headed to check in, then up to the room. Meet you there.”

Jillian grabbed the handle and shoved the door open.

Colton’s hand clamped down on her left wrist and she turned to glare at him.

“I’m sorry.”

His quiet apology slid under her anger, cooling her ire and easing some of the tension in her shoulders. “Don’t judge me, please.”
Not yet anyway
, she added in her thoughts. He had a right to be furious with her, but not about Blake.

He released her wrist and sighed. “Okay.” But still his eyes bored into her. “I have a feeling there’s so much you’re not telling me.” His phone buzzed and he broke eye contact to ask, “What have you got on Wyatt?”

Jillian tensed. He was checking out Blake? More listening. “Right. Okay. Thanks.” He paused, then glanced at the entrance to the building. “Still clear?”

She waited, got a short nod from him, and slipped from the car.

Once inside the lobby of the hotel, she stepped to the elevator. Colton joined her. “Wyatt checks out clean.”

“I never thought he wouldn’t.”

As Colton went to check in, Jillian scanned the lobby, her eyes
taking in every detail, noticing each person who even glanced at her. Her blood hummed and her adrenaline surged.

The lobby doors swooshed open as Hunter and Blake entered. Colton waved them over as his phone rang. He snagged it. Pressing it to his ear, he once again did a lot of listening as they rode to their floor.

The elevator dinged and Hunter stepped out first. Colton put his phone away and Blake held her back until Hunter gave the all clear.

Jillian shook her head at all the drama. She accepted that it was necessary, but she wanted her life back.

Once they reached the room, she looked around. It was practically a twin to the one they’d just left. She turned to the guys. “I need a few minutes.” She went straight into one of the bedrooms and shut the door. Her heart thudded, pounding out a familiar rhythm of fear and anxiety as she set her small bag on the bed. What was she going to do? Blake was here. He’d obviously remembered that Colton was the name of Meg’s father. What if he slipped up and said something before she had a chance?

She slumped on the bed and dropped her head into her hands.

She had to tell Colton about Meg. Jumping to her feet, she faced the mirror and took a good hard look at herself. “You can do this. You knew this day was coming. It’s time for the truth to come out.” The words bounced off the mirror. “Truth. That’s what you’re here for, remember?”

“Jillian? You okay?” Colton’s words floated through the wooden door.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second.”

“I’ve got some information to talk about and I don’t want to repeat it.”

“Coming.”

Right. Okay. The pep talk helped. Prayer would do more. She bowed her head and went still for a full minute, petitioning the
One she’d come to trust. The One who could protect. Elohim. Almighty God.

Jillian opened the door and came face-to-face with Blake, his fist lifted to knock. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Jillian lifted a brow. “Is she fine?”

“Yes.”

Relief stooped her shoulders for a brief moment. Then she stood straight and slipped around him, putting the problem his presence presented on the back burner for the moment. She looked at Colton as she took a seat on the couch. “What information do you have?”

“Dominic just called. We have the identity of the man who attacked you in the airport bathroom.”

1:45 PM

Frank crumpled the note that had arrived an hour ago. He’d barely made it to the mailbox before Elizabeth.

“I’m perfectly capable of getting the mail, dear,” she’d stated with exasperation tinting her voice. He wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if she’d rolled her eyes.

“I know that.” Without bothering to try to come up with an elaborate excuse, he shoved a few pieces of junk mail at her. “I’m expecting a check from a contributor.”

Forcing a smile, he motioned for her to go ahead of him into the house. With another puzzled, slightly irritated look over her shoulder, she shook her head and walked into the foyer. Frank shut the door behind him and turned left to head to his office.

“Frank?”

He stopped and turned. “Yes?”

“Have you talked to Colton yet?”

“No, why?”

She gave a delicate shrug. “I was just wondering what he wanted. That’s all.”

“I’ll give him a quick call.” Anything to get away from her prying eyes. He thought about the papers hidden away in his safe. Maybe it was time—

No. Not yet. After the election.

“What do you have there?” she asked, pointing toward his hands.

Frank’s fingers curled around the mail. “What do you mean?”

“You’re gripping it like it’s gold and someone’s going to take it away from you.”

His anger flared at her mocking smile. “Don’t be silly, Elizabeth. I’ll be in my office.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode down the hall to his haven. He shut the door just as his phone vibrated.

He snatched it from his pocket. “Hello?”

“She’s got a protection detail to rival the president’s,” the voice rumbled in his ear.

“What now?”