Exposed by Rage Read online

  Exposed by Rage

  By

  Sherrel Lee

  1

  The afternoon sun streaked through the blinds, forcing me to throw back the sheets and crawl out of the covers. Glancing out the second story window, I didn’t see anything but perfect gardens. Worry scratched at my brain. Jillie worked late, played later, but I’d never known her to sleep this late. Usually she just barged in and jumped into the bed to wake me the minute she was dressed. Maybe she’d stayed at Kevin’s, but it didn’t feel right. She would have called this morning when she got up.

  She’d been... relieved when I’d said I could come. Something was bothering her but she wouldn’t talk about it over the phone. Trying to shrug off the fission of worry. I took a quick shower, leaving my hair to dry on its own and slipped into comfy jeans and a t-shirt. It was great not to have to put on a uniform for the next few weeks. My stomach grumbled from lack of food, and I knew Jillie expected me to act like I was at home. In some ways, that was what this was, home.

  Instead of heading straight to the kitchen I headed around the landing, thinking I would give a light tap on Jillie’s door, just in case she was in and maybe had company keeping her occupied. There was a staircase, just past Jillie’s room, down to the kitchen. More for the use of the household staff, but Jillie didn’t have anyone who lived in so it was only used when the help came on their usual days. They’d been here recently. Everything was sparkling, polished, and tidy, not even a speck of dust had settled anywhere in sight.

  The odor slammed into me. Undeniable. Unmistakable. Death.

  Knowing it wouldn’t make a difference, I prayed to the gods for a break. There wasn’t a chance it was anyone but Jillie, but for once, I found that small molecule of hope glowing in my heart. Hesitating, just for that moment, I gathered my strength.

  The hallway narrowed and lengthened. ”Move your legs, Gibson!” Great, now Master Sergeant Craven was in my head just as he has always been when I am faced with something I didn’t want to do. I couldn’t help but wish just this once he’d show some sympathy. Call me by my first name. Ashley.

  I knew what to do at a crime scene. I’d been an MP for the last four years and had seen more than I wanted to.

  As I got nearer and the stench got stronger, my stomach rolled and pitched.

  “Don’t get sick you wimpy bitch!” Craven’s voice screamed across time. “You wanted to be a military cop, now act like one.”

  Jillie’s door stood barely open. I pressed my elbow against the wood to swing it open.

  Protect the scene.

  The full brunt of the odor overwhelmed me, forced me back a step. My friend was hidden from sight. I was grateful for the extra moment before I had to look at her. I needed to prepare. I forced myself forward and looked at the body that had been Jillie. Although I wasn’t a coroner, I was sure the corpse had been there for at least twenty-four hours.

  I could hear Craven’s voice ordering me around again, “Look. Use your eyes. Sear the scene into your brain.”

  Gossamer curtains floated gently in a sudden breeze. It had been hot, still and humid when I arrived last night. Maybe the partially closed door and no breeze had been enough to keep the odor trapped in this room. It really didn’t matter unless there was some sign someone had come in that way.

  Carefully I scanned the room like a video camera. The bed, sleek and crisp. Teddy bear nightlight by the bathroom door. Dresser drawers neatly closed. Nightgown, draped across the spread. There hadn’t been a struggle here, maybe in another part of the house? The master bath? My stomach clenched as I took a hard look at the port wine colored blood stain at the far edge of the bed. One deep breath before I focused.

  Jillie. The thing on the floor barely resembled the woman I claim as my sister.

  Fighting the burn of acid as it rose into my throat I reminded myself once more, don’t do anything to help the perp get away.

  I forced myself not to run to her. I felt guilt claw its way into my heart. Rational thought took leave as I chastised myself for not taking a moment to check on her last night. The part of me that hovered over the scene knew I would have been too late to save her.

  I’d seen dead bodies before. Cravens, my most hated taskmaster, had made sure I could stomach anything. He trained me to turn granite when assessing, remembering, tracking and trapping the purveyors of crime.

  I pulled my shirt over my head to catch the vomit as I staggered back into the hall praying I wouldn’t destroy evidence as I ran.

  * * * *

  I had arrived at the house just after midnight. Did I say house? More like a mansion atop a windswept hill overlooking the sea—but in land-locked Plano, Texas. I never really understood why Jillie wanted something so big. Sure she entertained a lot, and people visited often, but I like my cozy military quarters.

  Carefully placed lights highlighted the Mediterranean exterior and well-tended garden. But the windows were dark, dead eyes overlooking the grounds. I should have known something was wrong even though Jillie considered midnight the start of the evening. I admit I was thankful she wasn’t around. It was late. I craved sleep the way an addict craves his high.

  Digging in my bag, I found the key Jillie mailed me, after she called and begged me to come. Plano isn’t my favorite place in the world. Too much history and family keep me unenthusiastic about visiting, but Jillie knows which buttons to push. I have a hard time telling her no, since she’s always there for me.

  I slipped into the laundry room. Pulled off my boots, draped my windbreaker over the coat rack, and listened.

  Nothing.

  Nothing but silence unless you count the hammer-assaulted anvil ringing in my head.

  Apparently Jillie wasn’t home. She would have met me when I drove up if she was here, so I was sure she must be out at her club, or snuggled up to the love of her life, Kevin. Slipping upstairs I intended to fall face down and descend into the black comfort of sleep. Instead I looked around the room, noting all the changes she made since I had been here a year before.

  The walls were recently repainted a creamy ivory. Little containers of skin cream and perfume samples were laid out on a mirrored tray. A picture of Jillie and I sat on the dresser beside a vase of white roses. A friend had taken it when Jillie surprised me six months ago on my birthday. She was laughing, and her chestnut hair was swept up in a chignon with a sparkling tiara atop it as she attempted to affix a similar one to my short blonde locks.

  People said we look like sisters but we weren’t really related. She was twenty years older, had been twenty years older, astonishingly beautiful. At twenty-four I was more athletic and had a much smaller bust, but our eyes had the same almond shape and we both had full lips. I was thankful I had the picture. I slipped it in my duffle bag and picked up the phone.

  I dialed 9-1-1.

  * * * *

  Detective Braden sat across the table, waiting for me to spill my guts. A butt ugly little man, he glared at me silently. It really wasn’t working--that cop’s cliché, the one where you try to make the suspect—because the person who finds the body is always the suspect— uncomfortable. So uncomfortable they spill their life story, weeping, looking for the interrogator’s approval as they tell how they stole candy when they were a child.

  Instead, the quiet gave me the opportunity to think about how I felt about Jillie’s murder. The pain was turning to anger and I knew I had to be the one who found her killer.

  I knew it would take time to collect evidence. It would take time to start the search for the killer. It would take time to find him. Then it would take time to annihilate the bastard who’d murdered her. Annihilation is exactly what I intended to do.

  Braden broke the silence first. “So the door to the bedroom wa
s open just enough to allow you to take a peek? Nothing looked out of order?”

  The silence got to him again.

  “So you just walked in last night, went straight to bed,” he sneered. “Didn’t notice anything was wrong.”

  “I didn’t pass her door. I didn’t have to. I told your partner the exact same thing thirty minutes ago.”

  Braden gave a desperate, evil laugh. I wanted to punch the smirk off his face.

  “I was tired. I had the key Jillie sent me. I know where my room is.” Cops are not my favorite people and this one was beginning to get on my nerves. I know the routine. I know they have to ask questions. I would be just as snide and disbelieving if I was the one doing the questioning.

  “Braden,” DeMarco, his partner called from the hallway upstairs. “Leave her be. I need you to come up here and make sure Mathews doesn’t miss anything.”

  Mathews must be the crime tech I’d seen coming in through the kitchen.

  “You,” Braden yapped, “stay put. We’ll want to talk to you some more.”

  “Yeah, Yeah. I’ll sit here, hands folded neatly in my lap, like a good little girl. Maybe you’ll decide to arrest me for reporting the murder of my best friend.”

  Braden threw me a don’t-move-bitch look and walked out of the room.

  Braden was being an ass. I wondered if he knew about me. Had reasons beyond the fact I had called in the cavalry. I was tired of people in town treating me like a leper, a liar or worse. Did he know who I really was? Maybe he was just the bully on the playground. The city had grown a lot since I left when I was sixteen. Maybe I was being paranoid.

  Here, in the dazzling metropolitan center of Plano, Texas, I didn’t have a chance with people who knew my family background. Plano is a fast growing city, a part of what the natives call the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. About twenty years ago, just about the time I was learning to read about Dick and Jane, a guy named Ross Perot bought up a city size parcel of land and put Plano, a small farming community, on the map. Unfortunately, Plano was where I was born and raised and my history was too well known.

  Left alone I fought the roller coaster of emotions that swept through me. Anger. Despair. Guilt. I should have gotten here sooner. But the reality was the only thing I could do to help Jillie was to stop feeling sorry for myself and find the bastard who had done this to her. Jillie had been sister and friend. Mentor and mother. Even with only a few years difference in our ages, she gave me the kind of care my own mother hadn’t been capable of.

  DeMarco came down the stairs and crossed to me. “Tell me again, why were you here? I’d think your commander would be a bit upset finding you came to stay with a porn star.”

  Yeah he and Braden knew. I was on the shit list without having to lift a finger.

  “She didn’t do that anymore. Hasn’t in years.”

  “And you’re here because...”

  “She’s a friend. Family. She was a big sister to me.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve heard...”

  “Are you done with me yet?”

  His dark eyes stared into mine. “So, your friend called and here you are. I can’t help but wonder about the timing. She asked you to come, what a week before she’s murdered?”

  “What can I say?”

  The phone rang and I could hear one of the officers pick it up. “Detective DeMarco, there’s someone asking for Ashley Gibson.”

  DeMarco stared at me, waiting for me to answer. Who knew I was here?

  “I’m ready to get out of here. You have a problem with that? I told your partner where I’ll be for the next few days.”

  “No problem, you don’t want to answer the phone?”

  “No, and don’t worry, your partner told me not to leave town.”

  “Get out of here. I’ve got your cell and I’ll call if I need to talk to you again.”

  I didn’t want to ask for a favor, but what could I do? “Jillie was a good friend. You’ll let me know if you find anything.”

  He stared me in the eyes for at least a full minute before he replied. “Yes, if you’ll do the same.”

  I didn’t like the fact he could read me so well, but I couldn’t change that. I nodded, picked up my purse and headed out the door. I had some people to talk to if I was going to discover why Jillie had been murdered.

  2

  VixSin. Jillie’s club stood apart from the other businesses on the street, its parking lot holding only a few cars. It looked dismal in the daylight, but the lights after dark would entice the customers to enter. Inside was dark and cool. A girl half-heartedly slid up and around the pole to the beat of some old new age tune. The small tables lined the stage, scattered among the chairs were regulars. I worked hard to keep away from these places, and when I was younger, begged Jillie to leave the business. But she was stubborn and made it clear this business was superior to the one she had been in when she was in her teens and twenties.

  Butch carried beer to the bar from the back room, while Kitty wiped out glasses in preparation for the bachelor party goers and other voyeurs who would descend when the sun set. The bar gleamed and the light glinted off the brass fixtures. Jillie demanded the club be clean and you would be surprised when you walked in to discover the simple décor could be soothing, if that’s what you wanted. Most didn’t.

  When Butch and Kitty didn’t see me, a new bouncer I hadn’t met, with more muscles than brains, leered at me and strutted forward from the shadows. Apparently he thought I was a stripper looking for work.

  I sidestepped him as he reached for my arm. “Where’s Kevin?”

  “He’s busy. You need something you talk to me.” This time he grabbed at my shoulder but I spun away.

  “Kevin.”

  “He ain’t hiring.”

  .I should have slapped him for being a jerk. “Go get him, Tell him Ashley needs to see him.”

  He hung undecided for a full thirty seconds, then shrugged and walked toward the office. Almost as soon as he was out of sight, Kevin came through the door, a broad smile on his face. I hated myself for what I was about to do.

  “Ashley.” He held out his arms, and gave me a hug, but looked over my shoulder for the other woman he expected to see, the question obvious on his face when I didn’t immediately explain.

  “Kevin, it’s Jillie. She’s…” I took a deep breath.

  He refused to sit down when I suggested it and was becoming agitated. I could see him reading the bad news like a flashing neon sign.

  “Someone killed her, Kev.”

  The emotional tsunami of fear sped across his features--the disbelief, the denial, the anger. Kevin, a six foot six package of brains, pure muscle and love for the woman we had both lost, picked up the table between us, smashed it into the wall, dropped his face in his hands, and cried like a baby. A few of the customers jumped at the sudden violence, the rest just watch us for a moment before turning away.

  “Ash, you have to be wrong. She left here after closing night before last, worried about groceries for your visit. She was going to drag you along when we went out tonight with Buster and Randi.”

  Randi was the housemother, watching over the girls, making sure the customers kept their distance. Buster, ten years her junior, claimed she was the love of his life. He was bartender, guard, and escort to the girls when they had to walk to their cars after they finished their shows.

  “Kev...”

  “I bought a ring… I was gonna ask her… We were talkin’…”

  “I’m so sorry.” I walked to him, guiding him into a chair then lowered myself to eye level, and slipped my arms around his shoulders. I had told families about their loved ones, seen them shatter, plead with me to tell them it was a horrible joke. Telling Kevin about Jillie was like ripping a piece of my heart from my chest.

  “Who...would do...this... to her?” His voice hitched as he spoke.

  “I don’t know but I’m going to find out. The police will want to talk to you soon. You need to be careful how you talk
to them. They’re going to decide you killed her and you can’t take that personal.”

  “You’re a cop. They can talk to you. You can tell them what I said. Shit, they won’t believe me and they won’t really care anyway.”

  “I’m not local, Kevin. Most of them won’t trust me when they know about Trixie. They’ll find out who killed Jillie.”

  “No, they won’t. They’ll talk about her like she’s some kind of vermin. Like she was something unholy.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” If they don’t find the bastard, I will, I thought. “You just make sure you do all you can to help. If you have any dirty secrets, don’t hold back on them. They’ll find out and work harder to try to pin her death on you.”

  A flicker of guilt flew across his face.

  “Kev, I need to know it all and so will the police. If you have something else to say, you should do it now.”

  Boneless, he slid from the chair and sank to his knees. “I love her, Ashley. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

  The music had stopped and the girl disappeared soundlessly from the stage. No one bothered to start a new song or come out for another set. The customers who had been watching Kevin’s outburst lowered their eyes, studying their glasses or table tops. An avalanche of pain rolled through the sparsely populated room at Kevin’s release of unrestrained tears.

  There was nothing else I could do for Kevin. I wanted to be the one to break the news and I had done the job. I knew Braden and DeMarco would come at him like dueling bulldozers. At least Kevin would be over the initial shock by then. He would be their main suspect and I knew he was hiding something. Whatever it was would cause all of us trouble but he wasn’t the killer. I’d seen what that bastard had done to her. Kevin would never have been able to carve her up that way.

  * * * *

  There was a convention of some kind going on at the hotel. Dozens of women scurried like rats in business dresses, offering to sell part of the advertising world’s promise of youth to every woman they encountered. When a gaggle of them squeezed into the elevator I planned to take, I decided on a private table at the hotel café. I didn’t have much appetite but I didn’t need the sales pitch. I didn’t really want to sit and stare at four walls just yet, nor did I want to face talking to Trixie. The pain of losing Jillie was too raw. The contempt I felt for Trixie Dix, my loving mother, too close to the surface.