When a Secret Kills (27 page)

And for doing the unforgivable.

He’d endangered Carmen.

Frank glanced at the television screen again, pushed away the food tray, and thought about what this meant. There was no real evidence other than the boat that he’d had anything to do with the attempts on Jillian’s life. He had admitted things to Colton under pressure, but he hadn’t been Mirandized. There was no recording of his admission to knowing about the bomb. Elliott had talked, but had no proof.

Maybe there was a way out of this after all.

Hope stirred for the first time as he started to envision the press conference that he would call upon his release from the hospital.
“I had no idea about the evil side of Elliott Darwin. He was my good friend for many years—” Here his voice would choke a little, maybe a few tears as he took a moment to compose himself.

Yeah, it might work.

The door opened and surprise held him still for a moment. “Elizabeth. You’re back.”

She entered slowly, as though not sure she wanted to be there. She carried a cup of coffee and Frank’s mouth watered as she sat in the chair next to his bed. “I had to make sure Carmen was safe.”

“She is. No one was hurt.”

Her mouth thinned. “No thanks to you.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. You know I never would have put her in danger. You know that.”

Elizabeth studied him, the hard look in her eyes not encouraging him. She sipped the coffee and Frank reached for it. “Do you mind? I haven’t had any caffeine since I’ve been in here.”

She pulled the cup away and frowned. “That’s probably for a reason.”

“Oh come on, just a sip.”

She sighed. “It’s bitter. Let me get some milk and sugar.”

When she returned with a cup of water, a carton of milk, and two packets of sugar, his brow rose. Wariness stood out. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

She set the cup in front of him and opened the sugar. He poured in the milk and took a sip. Then another. She took the water and settled into the chair. “I’m being nice because I don’t want a divorce.”

His hand stopped, delaying his third sip. “I don’t want one either.”

“I found the papers, Frank.”

He stilled. “Did you see the date on them?”

“Yes.”

“That was ten years ago. I couldn’t go through with it, obviously.”

“Why? Because you didn’t want to divorce me? Or because of the way it might have hurt you politically?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. His hands tingled and he flexed them. “Probably a combination of both.”

She sat silent for a moment and Frank opened his eyes to find her staring at him. He couldn’t read the expression there, but it made him uneasy. “Elizabeth?”

She blinked. “I don’t know what to do now.”

Frank studied her. “Do you want to go to counseling?”

She seemed to consider that. “Possibly. If you think that would help. But we would have to be careful, I wouldn’t want anyone to know.” She rubbed her forehead. “The only problem is, you’re probably going to be in jail. There’s an officer posted outside your door right now.”

Frank fiddled with the coffee cup. “There’ve been no charges brought against me.”

“I know. But I think they’re coming.”

Just the thought sent shudders racing through him. He gulped more coffee, hoping the caffeine would settle his nerves. “Maybe not.”

She lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”

He told her his thoughts. “So even though I knew about the bomb, I can plead ignorance, say I had no idea Elliott was doing what he was doing.” He waved a hand. “I’ll come up with something.”

Elizabeth stood and paced. “You really think it would work?”

“Maybe. Only if you’re on my side and we can present a united front.” He sighed. “Where did it all go wrong?”

Her lips tightened. “Let’s not think about that.”

He shook his head. “I was too greedy, wasn’t I?”

“Greedy?”

“I wanted it all. And I didn’t care what it took to get it.” He sighed. “I was a fool.”

She lifted her glass of water to tap his cup of coffee. “I’ll agree to that.”

Frank finished off his coffee with a grimace and considered staying with this woman he had no love for. He pushed aside that thought.

Minutes passed as they discussed possibilities for the future. The nurse came in and took his vitals. She frowned. “Your heart rate is very slow and your lips have a blue tint to them. I think we need to call the doctor.”

Frank tried to take a deep breath. And couldn’t. He looked at her and Elizabeth. “I can’t breathe.”

Pain shot through his chest and he cried out, tried to lift his right hand and couldn’t.

Darkness pulled at him. He resisted. Weights held him to the bed. He couldn’t move!

Alarms sounded and he knew no more.

Colton sat across from Jillian and Meg in the fast-food booth, delighting in getting to know his daughter. She’d already downed three pieces of pizza and played four video games in between bites.

“Thanks for doing this. She’s having a blast.” Jillian leaned against his arm and he kissed her nose.

“My pleasure. You know I want to—” His phone rang and his brow shot north when he saw the number. “Hi, Mom.”

“Colton, I have some bad news.”

Concern hit him. “What is it?”

“Frank died about an hour ago.”

“What?” His shout echoed through the restaurant. He finished the call with his mind in a fog.

Jillian stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

He told her, shock still running through him. “I can’t believe it.”

“A heart attack?” she guessed.

“Yeah.”

She reached out and grasped his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Colton forced a small smile and said to Meg, “Come on, kiddo, I’ve got to go visit my mom.”

“I’m sorry your uncle died,” Meg told him, her brow furrowed.

“Yeah, me too.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You can cry on my shoulder if you need to.”

A lump formed in his throat. “Thanks, Meg. I might need to take you up on that.”

Jillian held his hand all the way to the hospital and he found himself grateful and full of love for the woman beside him.

Grief welled as it sank in. Frank was gone.

“It’s okay to grieve for him.”

Colton shot her a look. “How did you know I was feeling guilty about that?”

“It’s only natural. You loved the man like a father for a long time. He was good to you and was there for you when you needed him.”

His jaw tightened. “He also had a whole other side to him that I never suspected was there.”

Her fingers squeezed his. “That side probably developed over time.”

“I don’t understand. He’s the one who encouraged me to go to church, to be involved in the youth group, to go on mission trips. He even paid for a couple.”

She stayed silent for about a minute, then said, “I think some people can start out having a passion for God, but if that passion isn’t flamed, discipled, or encouraged, it can—” She stopped as though searching for a word.

“Fizzle out?”

“Yeah. Don’t you think? I mean, having a relationship with God still takes work on our part. If you ignore it long enough, it will wither and die. I’m talking about on the human end, not God’s.”

He thought about that as he drove. “That makes sense. And when one person ends the relationship, the only way to restore it is for that person to come back and apologize.” His words slowed as he got to the end of the sentence. “Kind of like what happened to us, huh?”

Tears stood in her eyes. “Yes, kind of like that.”

“And if Uncle Frank was constantly ignoring God, then do you think it’s possible he just got to the point where he couldn’t hear him anymore?”

“I do.”

Colton nodded.

“And if you’re not listening to someone, eventually they just stop talking to you,” Meg piped in from the backseat. “That happened to my friend Chrissy and me. I talked and talked, but sometimes she would just walk off like she didn’t want to hear what I was talking about.” Indignation tinted her tone. “I finally decided I didn’t want to talk to her anymore and I got a new best friend. She listens to me all the time.”

A smile curved Jillian’s lips and Colton choked on his emotion. “Exactly,” he said. “So if Uncle Frank quit listening to the one who told him the right choices to make, he was bound to make some wrong choices.”

Meg grunted. “Like I did when I went down to the pool. Boy, was that a dumb choice. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that, but I decided to listen to the part of me that wanted to go.” In the rearview mirror, Colton saw her lip quiver. “I’m sorry.”

“And you’re forgiven. You’re fine and you won’t ever do something like that again, right?”

His daughter stayed quiet.

“Right, Meg?” Jillian asked.

She sighed. “Well, I want to promise I won’t. But I’m only nine. I’ve got the teen years coming, you know.”

Jillian broke up laughing, and in spite of his grief over his uncle, Colton felt his heart lighten and thanked God for bringing Jillian and this little girl into his life.

Jillian still had a smile on her face as they walked into the hospital. She’d missed Meg and her sassiness over the past week.

As they rode the elevator, her smile faded and nerves kicked in. She clutched Meg’s hand. What would Colton’s parents say about her and Meg coming?
Please, Lord, let this go well.
She paused, then added,
And please don’t let Meg say anything too outrageous.

The elevator door opened and they made their way down the hall to the small family room not far from the surgery waiting room.

At their entrance, conversation ceased.

Colton didn’t seem bothered by the awkward moment as he walked over to his aunt and offered her a hug. “I’m sorry.”

She sniffed and nodded. When her gaze landed on Jillian, she stiffened, but said nothing.

Jillian then noticed Colton’s parents staring at Meg. Both looked a little shell-shocked as their gazes went between the little girl and Colton.

Finally his mother said, “Colton, is she . . . ?”

He nodded. “This isn’t exactly the way I wanted to introduce you, but,” he took a deep breath, “Mom, Dad, meet Megan. My daughter.” Colton placed a hand on her head. “Meg, I’d like you to meet your grandparents, Zachary and Sonya Brady.”

Meg stood silent for a moment longer, head tilted to the right as she studied the older couple. Then she grinned. “Cool. I like old people. Nice to meet you.”

A strangled choke escaped Jillian. “Meg . . .”

She saw Colton smothering a grin as Mrs. Brady lifted a brow. Even Elizabeth had a small smile on her pale lips.

A snort slipped from Colton’s father and Jillian tensed, waiting, ready to defend Meg if he said anything that might hurt the little girl.

To her shock, a belly laugh escaped the man and he knelt in front of Meg. “Well, we old people like little girls named Megan. Pleased to meet you too.” He held out his hand and Meg slipped hers into his. “Would you like to see if we can find a snack in the restaurant downstairs?”

She looked at Jillian. Jillian looked at Colton. Colton simply looked speechless. Jillian cleared her throat. “Uh, sure. Go ahead. I’m sure she’d love that.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Brady said.

“Do you think they have ice cream?” Jillian heard Meg ask as they walked out the door. She missed the answer but had a feeling Meg would get her ice cream.

Colton still stared at the door. She nudged him and he blinked.

Then the doctor came in, followed by a red-eyed Carmen, and the mood changed.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “So, what happens now?”

Colton felt his throat tighten. “We bury my uncle.”

Colton saw Rick coming and smothered a grin, exchanged a hopeful look with Hunter, and took a deep breath. Bending his head, he pretended to be involved in paperwork.

Rick dropped into the chair beside him. “This better be good.”

Colton looked up. “Hey, thanks for coming.”

“You said you had some evidence of a case you’re working on? What were you so busy with that you couldn’t just bring it to the lab?”

Colton reached into the top drawer to his right and pulled out a plastic bag. “This.”

Rick snagged it and looked. Drew in a deep breath and looked again.

“Are these real?”

“Of course.”

“Two tickets to the World Series?” Rick breathed, his tone reverent.

“Just for you.”

Rick looked at him. “I don’t understand. Why would you do this for me?”

Colton shrugged. “I overheard you talking about wanting to go one day.”

Rick’s gaze returned to the tickets. “They must have cost a fortune.”

“They did. But it was for a good cause. Trust me.”

A frown formed and Rick looked up with narrowed eyes. “This is for the same weekend as my seminar.”

Colton pasted a concerned look on his face. “I know, man, I really hate that. I mean, if you don’t want the tickets I’m sure I can sell—”

Rick snatched them to his chest. “You win.”

“What?”

“You did it. The seminar is canceled.”

Colton grinned, then frowned. “There’s just one string attached to these.”

“Of course there is,” Rick grumbled. “I’ve canceled the seminar, what else do you need?”

“You have to take Captain Murdoch.”

Rick lifted a brow and started to argue. Colton reached out as though to take the tickets. Rick huffed out a breath. “Fine.”

He turned to leave. Colton met Hunter’s gaze and stood. They did a midair high five as Rick turned back to give him a wicked grin. “This is only one weekend you know. That leaves fifty-one during the year.” He scooted for the door.

Colton sat down. “Hey! Those tickets should be good for a lifetime of canceled seminars!”

Colton shook his head and swiveled in his chair to glare at the computer screen, willing it to give him the information he’d been looking for before Rick had interrupted.

Captain Murdoch had given Colton the good news this morning. He was a candidate for captain. Satisfaction filled him even though his computer wouldn’t cooperate with him.

Dominic walked in. “What are you doing here? I would have thought you’d be with your family.”

“I’ve had enough of the well-wishers with their nosy questions.”

The media had covered Frank’s funeral and someone had leaked the fact that Frank may have been involved in the former governor’s death. Of course that had been a whole other story. One the media
now speculated about endlessly. “I’m doing my best to ignore everything, but it isn’t easy. Frank’s dead. Wish they would just let it go.”

“They won’t.”

“I know.”

Colton took a second look at the grim look on Dominic’s face. “What is it?”

Dominic sat across from him and looked at the paper in his hand. “I did some digging.”

“Yeah? On what?”

“On all of the people that could possibly be the shooter that night.”

“We already did that. Ran background checks and everything on everyone in the house that night.”

“Everyone but two.”

As Dominic’s meaning sank in, Colton’s breath left his lungs.

Colton took a deep breath. “All right. What’d you find?”

“I think I found who the .357 Magnum could belong to.”

Jillian stepped out of the car and walked up the steps to ring the doorbell. The man she remembered as Ian answered.

“I’m Jillian Carter. I’d like to speak with Mrs. Hoffman if she’s available.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. This is kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re the one, aren’t you?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant, she heard it loud and clear.
You’re the one who came back and stirred up trouble. You’re the one who changed my world.
“I’m the one.”

He inclined his head. “Come in. I’ll see if Mrs. Hoffman wishes to speak with you.” His cool tone indicated Jillian shouldn’t hold her breath. She stepped inside and he motioned for her to follow him. “If she wants to see you, it will be in her charity room.”

“Charity room?”

He smiled slightly. “She doesn’t call it an office, but it’s where she does all of her charity work.” He led her down the hall past Senator Hoffman’s office and into a small room off the den. Ian waved a hand toward the couch and Jillian sank onto it. He left and she waited.

Maybe Elizabeth wouldn’t talk to her. But Jillian had plans to be in Colton’s life for a long time and she knew he planned to be there for his aunt and cousin now that Frank was dead. She would do what she could to ease the pain.

Jillian glanced at her watch, then at the desk. Pictures.

She got up and moved to see if there were any of Colton. She spotted one when he must have been about seven. He held up a nice-sized fish in one hand. His uncle Frank stood beside him with an arm around his shoulders. Jillian’s throat tightened. Things could have been so different if the man had just appreciated what he had instead of being so greedy for more. So concerned about appearances.

She pushed closer to the hutch behind the desk where more photos had been positioned. Colton had been a cute kid. Meg was a female version of him.

As she moved, her hip bumped the table. The computer came out of hibernation mode and the screen lit up.

She gaped at the words she’d just inadvertently revealed.

“Confession is good for the soul. Your soul is a black pit that needs redemption.”

Her breath became entangled in her lungs and black spots whirled before her eyes. Then her investigative reporter instinct kicked in.

She glanced at the papers next to the keyboard.

Divorce papers. Quickly she scanned them. And looked at the date.

May 15, 2002.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

Ian stood in the door. Jillian had to get out of here, had to get to Colton. She pulled in a deep breath and put a smile on her face as she felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her shorts. “I’m . . . fine. I was just looking at pictures of Colton when he was a child.” She hoped she sounded more convincing than she thought she did.

“Mrs. Hoffman was on a phone call. She’ll be right in to see you.”

Jillian moved from behind the desk. “That’s all right. I’ll just come back later when she’s not busy.”

“No, she’s coming. Just have a seat.”

Jillian’s stomach curled. What should she do? If she rushed out, would that look suspicious?

Ian turned and left the room.

Jillian stood in thought for another thirty seconds before deciding to slip out.

Then she froze. She had no evidence. She bit her lip and turned back to the computer.

“Looks like I’m going to be a little busier today than I’d planned.”

Jillian whirled to see Elizabeth Hoffman holding a weapon. A .357 Magnum, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Elizabeth said, “I see you’ve managed to snoop your way into a bit of trouble here.”

Colton shook his head. His aunt owned a .357 Magnum? He couldn’t believe it. He’d never taken her for being interested in guns. In fact, she’d always expressed such disdain for her husband’s collection.

He looked up at Dominic. “I’m stunned.”

“I thought you might be.”

“So who had access to this gun that night? Someone must have gotten ahold of it and . . .”

“What if it was Elizabeth, Colton?”

Colton let out a small laugh of disbelief. “That’s crazy.” He rubbed a hand down his chin. “I don’t know which way is up anymore, man.”

“Why don’t we head over there and ask her about it?”

Colton stood. “All right. Sure. Let’s go.” He looked at his watch. “I need to call Jillian on the way. We were going to have lunch together. Looks like we may have to make it dinner.”

Gathering her shocked and scattered wits, Jillian managed to corral her fear and say, “Is that the same gun that you shot the governor with?”

A smile curved the woman’s lips. Unfortunately, her eyes remained chips of ice. “Indeed.”

“Why?”

“It was a mistake. He wasn’t the target.”

Jillian let her gaze fall to the papers. “Right. You were aiming for your husband, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” Her mouth tightened. “A stupid, momentary lapse of self-control.”

Jillian licked her lips. “It couldn’t have been too impulsive. You had the gun.”

“Well, true. I’d been thinking about it. Every night, Frank would take a walk down to the pond and stand on the dock. It was his quiet moment for the day. Something he looked forward to and needed like the air he breathed. I knew as soon as the party was over, he would be there.”

“And you would be waiting.”

“Only it didn’t happen like that. I got tired of waiting on him and came back to find them arguing. And then when I came up the gravel path, I could see them. Harrison was my friend,” she whispered and her cold facade momentarily softened with grief. Then hardened once again. “He asked Frank what I would think
about what he was doing.” She lifted the gun. “And do you know what Frank said?”

“What?”

“He laughed, then said I would think whatever he told me to think. Then he lifted the gun like he was going to shoot Harrison and I fired. We both did. Only Harrison moved to dodge Frank’s bullet and ran right into mine. It happened so fast, so incredibly, crazy . . . fast.” A groan escaped her.

Jillian glanced at the man standing silently behind Elizabeth. “You’re in on this too?”

“I’m not ‘in on’ anything. I’m simply the one person Elizabeth knows she can rely on.”

Jillian looked back at Elizabeth. She seemed lost in the memories she was talking about. “Why did Frank think he shot him?”

“Because he pulled the trigger. And I’d drugged him pretty good.”

Jillian blinked. “Drugged him?”

“Yes. I slipped something in his drinks.” She smirked, the grief at having murdered the governor gone now. “He had me bring them to him so I would look the attentive wife. Appearances, you know.”

“Right.”

“I kept adding a little to each drink hoping he would finally just keel over.”

“Were you really going to shoot him?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know if I was going to or not. The thought made me feel better. Holding the gun made me feel powerful. And then . . . everything happened. Harrison was dead and . . . ” She frowned, then a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Then Frank woke up moaning about killing Harrison. I let him believe it. It’s tortured him for years.”

Jillian shuddered at the pleasure the woman found in the thought. “So he knew you knew?”

“Oh no. Ian was the only one who Frank thought knew his little secret—other than you, of course. And Elliott. Ian kept me out of it.”

Jillian stared at Ian. “So you helped arrange the car wreck and set it on fire?”

He sniffed. “I did.”

“Why would you do that for them?”

“It’s a little thing called loyalty.”

Jillian would never understand that definition of loyalty. “Why the divorce papers?”