Justice Delayed Page 5

  “What are you talking about?” Brad demanded.

  “A dark SUV followed me into the airport. And if I hadn’t suddenly changed lanes and it passed me, I never would have seen it when I left. Do you think it was the man who attacked me? What if the break-in at my apartment is connected with Lacey’s death?” Andi asked. “If her phone was bugged, maybe he knew I was meeting her, and then he followed me home.” She halted. “But why?”

  “Did you get a tag number?” Will asked as his phone rang. He pressed ignore when he didn’t recognize the number.

  “No.”

  His phone rang again, same number. He almost ignored it, and then thought better of it. “Excuse me,” he said and walked away from the table. “Kincade,” he said into the phone.

  “Will, it’s Jimmy. I need your help. I have proof I didn’t kill Stephanie, and we don’t have much time.”

  Will’s heart pounded as he recognized his cousin’s voice. “What do you mean, you didn’t kill her? You confessed.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. With five days until he was set to die, was Jimmy pulling some kind of stunt?

  “Please, just listen to me. I—”

  “How did you get a phone?” Prisoners on death row did not have access to cell phones.

  “One of the guards. He could lose his job because of it, but he’s trying to help me.” Jimmy’s voice cracked. “I got this letter from a friend of Stephanie’s asking to come see me, only it wasn’t delivered for three weeks. But right now that’s not important. In the letter she said I didn’t kill Stephanie and she had proof. Can you come to Riverbend tomorrow?”

  The hair on the back of Will’s neck raised. “Did she tell you what the proof was?”

  “No. She’s coming to see me. Says she’ll tell me what it is then.”

  If only it was true. He’d never wanted to believe his cousin had murdered Brad and Andi’s sister. “Who is this woman?”

  “Lacey. Lacey Wilson.”

  Will’s throat tightened. “What? Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I’m looking at the return address and her signature now.”

  “Let me talk to the corrections officer.” Will waited while Jimmy handed the phone off.

  “Hello?”

  “Who is this?” Will asked.

  “Walter Simmons. I’m one of the COs here at Riverbend where Jimmy is incarcerated. He’s telling the truth.”

  “You’ve seen the letter he’s talking about?

  “Yes, sir. It looks like the real deal.”

  “Can you take a photo of it and send it to me?”

  “I’ll take a picture, but I don’t have one of those smartphones. I’ll have to get my granddaughter to help me tomorrow.”

  Will bit his bottom lip. “Tell Jimmy I’ll be at Riverbend first thing in the morning,” he said and disconnected. He’d take his own photo. But if it was true and Jimmy didn’t kill Stephanie, then who did?

  Lacey Wilson hadn’t shown for her meeting with Andi, and now she was dead. If she’d written Jimmy a letter saying he didn’t kill Stephanie, was she going to tell Andi the same thing? And maybe divulge who did?

  People had been killed for much less.

  Andi kept her gaze on Will as she pushed her salad bowl away. He had turned as pale as Treece’s plate.

  “You okay?” she asked when he stuffed his phone in his pocket and returned to the table. He looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

  “I don’t know.” He sat in the chair he’d vacated and stared into space.

  Goose bumps raised on her arms. “What’s wrong?”

  He turned to Brad. “I may know why Lacey Wilson was murdered—if she was. She wrote my cousin Jimmy a letter stating he didn’t kill your sister. And from what you said earlier, she was going to see him before she left town.”

  Silence rocked the room. Andi clenched her fists, and the pizza settled in her stomach like concrete. “That’s not possible. He confessed.”

  “I know, but I’ve always had a problem with that confession . . . with Jimmy being Steph’s murderer,” he said.

  “But he did it!” Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Your cousin still had the gun in his hands when Mom and I walked into the studio. He had blood on him—Steph’s blood—and she had a restraining order against him. He’s a violent person.” She held Will’s gaze. “Just what part are you having trouble with?”

  “Look,” he said, “I didn’t mean to stir up trouble.”

  Brad leaned forward. “Well, you have.” He turned to Andi. “But like Treece said, sit down and let’s hear Will out.”

  “No!” Her brother’s calm voice threw gas on the fire raging in Andi. How could he sit there so calmly and want to hear anything that contradicted the evidence that Jimmy Shelton killed their sister?

  It couldn’t be true. She’d focused for so long on Jimmy as Stephanie’s killer, her mind couldn’t accept that he might not be. A thought wormed its way past her anger. Why did Lacey suddenly want to see her after all these years? She’d wanted to tell her something about Steph. And if Lacey had been murdered, was it because she knew something? “I want to see this letter.”

  “So do I,” Will said. “I plan to drive to Nashville tomorrow right after my meeting with David Raines in the Cold Case Unit.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m going with you.”

  Will mimicked her action. “No, you’re not. I’m not sure I’ll go until I clear it with the lieutenant.”

  She tried to stare him down, but Will wasn’t easily intimidated. “Will you let me know if you go?”

  He hesitated and then finally nodded.

  “Thank you.” If Will Kincade drove to Nashville in the morning, she’d be in that car.

  “Okay, back to our case,” Brad said. “Have you remembered what the intruder said?”

  “Diamonds.” The word popped out of her mouth.

  “Diamonds?” Will repeated.

  It all came rushing back to her. “He said I had diamonds that belonged to him. I tried to tell him he had the wrong person, that I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I couldn’t breathe, much less talk.”

  Brad scratched his head. “Why would he think you have his diamonds?”

  “I don’t know. If he’d looked around the apartment, he should have realized I didn’t have them.” To say her apartment was sparse was an understatement. “Could he have made a mistake and broken into the wrong place?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Brad said, “but tomorrow we get you two set up with a security system. Mrs. Casey too. When is she back in town?”

  “She’s planning to stay with her daughter a couple of weeks,” Treece said. “I’ll call her.”

  “You think you can get one installed that fast?” Andi asked.

  “I hope so, because I’m spending the night here until you have one.” Her brother gave her a look that dared her to contradict him.

  Unexpectedly, Andi’s heart warmed at his offer. “You’ll give up your comfortable bed for my couch?”

  “Ouch. I hadn’t thought about that . . .” A grin spread all the way to his eyes. “I’m not leaving you and Treece unprotected.”

  “If you have an air mattress, I’ll keep Brad company,” Will said.

  She blinked back tears. It was hard to believe these were the same two who years ago had locked her in what later became Stephanie’s studio so she couldn’t tag along to their ball game. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, no air mattress.”

  Will’s shoulders drooped.

  “I have one,” Treece said. “I’ll get it, then we’ll go across the hall and set up everything.”

  Andi didn’t argue, and ten minutes later she was settled in her recliner while they worked on getting everything set up. The headache had ebbed after she’d eaten, but it was now back with a vengeance. She took a tablet from the pill bottle she carried, then hesitated. The prescription said one or two as needed for pain, and one wasn’t doing the job. After swallowing two pi
lls, she leaned back and waited for the pain to ease.

  Once the air mattress was inflated and sheets put on it, Treece dusted her hands. “Done. I’m going to bed.”

  “I’ll go with you and secure your doors and windows,” Will said. “Then we’ll leave the doors to both apartments open.”

  Andi glanced at the clock. “Wait, the news is on. Our segment on runaways airs tonight. Let’s watch it together.”

  “And sit where?” Treece said.

  Andi really did need to do something with her apartment. Other than the recliner and sofa that now had sheets on it, she had one stool at the bar where she normally ate and a chair at the table where she usually worked at her computer.

  “Drag the chair from the table over here by me, and they can sit on the floor,” Andi said, nodding toward the men. Treece rolled her eyes but did what Andi said, and she clicked on the TV just as the ten o’clock anchor welcomed the viewers.

  A twinge of jealousy pierced Andi’s heart. Snagging an anchor spot was her goal, Treece’s too, but she didn’t see one opening up anytime soon at the station. The investigative pieces they did together were going to get them noticed and into bigger markets.

  Fifteen minutes into the news, their segment with Andi interviewing a girl of sixteen aired. She was in silhouette with her voice disguised, and under Andi’s questioning, she told how she started doing drugs at thirteen and ran away from home when she was barely fourteen. At the end of the segment, she thanked Andi and Treece for rescuing her from the streets.

  “Wow,” Will said. “Powerful stuff.”

  The admiration in Will’s eyes tightened her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Thanks. Treece is a genius at editing. She knows just how to frame the segments.”

  Andi high-fived her friend even as she tried to figure out why Will was having such an effect on her. Must be from getting knocked in the head.

  “It’s good reporting,” Brad said. “You do good sometimes, Squirt.”

  She made a face at him. He’d called her Squirt since she was old enough to tag along after him.

  “Would you two consider coming down to the street mission where I volunteer and talking to the girls?” Will asked.

  She’d forgotten he volunteered at the mission. “Sure.”

  “Set it up and give us a call,” Treece said.

  Andi nodded in agreement as her friend stood, and Will walked her to the door.

  “See you in the morning,” Treece said.

  It was time for her to hit the sack too, and she climbed out of the recliner. On impulse, she hugged her brother. “Thanks for being here for me.”

  “I hope you know I’ve always got your back,” he said.

  Were those tears in his eyes? “I know, and sometimes I make that hard. I’ll try to do better.”

  Her cell phone rang. Andi glanced at the ID. The station manager? “I’ll take this in my bedroom.”

  Once in her room, she answered. “Hollister.”

  “Andi, there’s a girl on another line saying she needs to talk to you. Won’t say what it’s about other than mumbling something about the runaway segment that just aired. Can I give her your cell number?”

  “Of course.” It wasn’t uncommon to get calls after one of their segments aired. A minute later, her cell phone rang again, and she answered. “This is Andi Hollister. How can I help you?”

  “Uh . . .” Silence stretched over the airways. “C-can you h-help me? I saw your program and how you helped that other girl.”

  “Are you a runaway?”

  “No . . . yes . . . but . . . he promised me a modeling job. Two days later, he had me stripping and . . .”

  Andi pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to ease the throbbing in her head. She didn’t want to deal with this right now.

  “I’m scared.”

  Fear in the girl’s voice raised goose bumps on Andi’s arm. “What’s your name?”

  “Chloe.”

  “Would you like me to help you get back home, Chloe?”

  “No!”

  Nothing was ever simple. “What do you want then?”

  “I . . . want off the streets.”

  The pounding in Andi’s head intensified. “Are you downtown?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Go to the mission—it’s close to the Greyhound bus station.”

  “He’ll find me and kill me if I do. I gotta get out of Memphis, and you helped that other girl to get away. Will you help me?”

  Andi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why did you call me?”

  “Because . . .” Chloe took a jerky breath. “On the news, when you talked to that girl, you cared. It showed in your eyes. I don’t trust anyone else. If you’ll help me, I’ll do an interview for you warning girls not to run away—but only if you can disguise my voice.”

  Another interview would be great, but that was not why she would help her. She did care. Too much, maybe. Which meant she had to do it. “When?”

  “I’m working on Beale tomorrow night near the clubs on the east end. And if you bring any cops, you won’t see me. He’ll find out and kill me.”

  “Why not tonight?”

  “Can’t leave where I am. Tomorrow night. Nine o’clock at the corner of Beale and Third—there’s a park.” She caught her breath. “Gotta go. This guy’s waking up.”

  The line went dead. Andi couldn’t tell the girl’s age from her husky voice. She wants out. And somehow, Andi would help her.

  6

  AT EIGHT O’CLOCK WEDNESDAY MORNING, David Raines picked up Will Kincade’s folder and perused it one last time, satisfied with the choice he’d made.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  He looked up. “Yes. Have a seat.”

  David placed the folder on the stack on the corner of his desk. He studied Will as the lanky detective sat in the straight-back chair and clasped his hands together. The sergeant’s only sign of nervousness came from the way he pressed one thumb against the other. Time to put the man out of his misery. “As I’m sure you already know, you’ve been chosen to join the Cold Case Unit. This just makes it official.”

  A grin the size of Texas spread across Will’s face. “Thank you, sir! And nothing is certain until it’s official.”

  “You earned it.”

  Will was the first addition to the unit, and David hoped there would be more, but it depended on funding. He had several officers in mind who shared his passion for seeing that families received closure and justice for their murdered relatives. And Will did that. “Do you have any cases that need to be wrapped up?”

  “Only one from last night I was assisting Brad Hollister with.”

  David nodded. Eventually, he hoped Brad Hollister would be one of the officers he added to his unit. “Good. Can you turn it over to him? Administration okayed you starting today. Take an hour and move your stuff to the desk in the next room, and then we’ll meet in the conference room.”

  A slow grin crossed Will’s face. “It won’t take an hour.”

  David chuckled. “Then get a cup of coffee when you get your desk cleared. Harper retired, and I need to pick up his cases.”

  “Uh, sir. I’d like to talk to you about a case I’d like to work on—”

  “Hold it until our meeting in an hour.”

  Will stood and extended his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I may be your superior, but ‘sir’ and ‘lieutenant’ will get old quick,” he said and accepted Will’s hand.

  “Yes, sir—uh . . . that may take some getting used to.”

  “Fine, just make it quick. And you can leave the door open on your way out.”

  After Will left, David opened the file cabinet to pull a folder he needed to drop off when he picked up the retired detective’s cases. The Cold Case Unit received cases only after a detective either died on the job or retired. Otherwise, a detective’s cases stayed with him until they were solved.


  A throat cleared behind him, and he turned around. A mere slip of a woman stood in the doorway, loose gray curls framing her face. “May I help you?”

  “I hope so. My name is Mae Shelton. Will Kincade is my nephew.”

  Her voice held the genteel Southern accent of the older generation, and he nodded. “Will isn’t here. You just missed him.”

  “I know. I saw him when I got off the elevator, but I wasn’t up to talking to him.” She pinned him with eyes the color of steel. “I understand that he’s likely to join your cold case team.”

  “Yes. We just made it official.” David waited, uncertain where this was going.

  “My son is Jimmy Shelton. He was convicted seventeen years ago for a murder he didn’t commit.”

  Her reason for coming became clearer. He motioned for her to sit in the chair Will had vacated. Unfortunately, the only thing he could offer her was a sympathetic ear.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” The soft-spoken woman leaned forward. “I know this isn’t exactly a cold case, but I thought . . .” She took a deep breath. “My boy was framed and wrongly convicted of Stephanie Hollister’s murder.”

  Stephanie Hollister . . . Jimmy Shelton. Hollister? Brad Hollister’s sister? Details of the case flooded his mind . . .

  David had been the first officer to arrive on the scene eighteen years ago. He’d been a rookie patrolman, and his main duty had been to take charge of the gun that Jimmy Shelton still held in his hand. Then he’d moved the woman and her daughter out of the small house where they had discovered the body. Once the homicide detective arrived and David had given his report, he left the scene.

  He sighed. “It’s really not a cold case since your son confessed to the murder.”

  She shook her head, the gray curls bouncing. “My boy was too intoxicated to know whether he killed Stephanie Hollister or not. Will went with me to see Jimmy in jail that night—he never remembered us being there. So I know somebody put words in his mouth. And he never signed the confession.”

  He wished she wouldn’t look at him with such hope in her face. “I don’t know how I can help you—unless new evidence surfaces.”

  “Will is really good at detective work—you made a good choice adding him to your team. I thought with him working with you, maybe he could investigate the files, find out what really happened that night. I know my boy didn’t kill anyone.”