CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

 

Arno put his hands on his hips, gazing down at me with his ugly smile. “I had so many people to hang this murder on, but I never expected it would be you.” He snickered. “I guess you were right after all. I did railroad the first person I set my sights on.”

“You killed Paige Rafferty,” I said, pulling myself up. I stayed seated so I could see Marco, but Arno stepped in between us, blocking my view.

“Where are the files, Abby?”

“And you killed Reilly.”

“He’s not dead.” Arno looked over at Reilly who was still motionless on the ground. “He tried to shoot me and I clocked him one. Knocked him out cold. Weak chin I guess.”

“How do you think this is going to end, Dutch?”

“Not well,” he said. “Not well at all.”

“How do you expect to get away with this? Are you going to frame all three of us?”

“It’s not going to be easy, but I’ve had a lot of practice.” He pulled his jacket back, once again revealing his service revolver holstered under his arm. “Let’s see, disgraced ex-cop gone rogue. Two private investigators with nothing to lose. I can make it work.”

Marco tried to speak. He was still partially pinned under the railroad axle. His face was scratched badly, but he was breathing steadily. He could hardly move to look up at Arno, but he tried.

“You stay put, hotshot,” Arno said. “There’s nothing left to do but hand over the files. Tell me where they are and maybe I’ll let you live.”

Marco’s eyes fluttered closed again and his head dropped to one side.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Reilly’s hand begin to move. I knew there was no way Arno could allow us to live. The only way out at that point was to stall him until the police showed up, or Reilly came to. I tried to shift Arno’s focus solely onto me.

I turned to my husband and inched toward him, making a point to show how weak I was. Once Arno was facing away from Reilly, I continued. “You can’t let us live, Dutch. I know that, but the least you can do is tell me why. Why did you murder Paige Rafferty?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t want to kill you. You do good work. We’re one in the same, you and me.”

I accidentally laughed out loud. I couldn’t help myself. “What makes you think we’re the same?”

“I’ve been watching you for years,” he said. “You don’t give up.” Arno bent down slightly and looked over my wounds, now bleeding profusely. “Look at you, still going. You’re about to bleed to death and the only thing you want is to know the truth. Good for you, kid.”

“I know you killed her, Dutch.”

“You call me Dutch one more time and I will put a bullet in you,” he said between gritted teeth. He stood up looked back at Reilly, who was still lying face up on the pavement. “Tell me, how do you know that I was the one who killed her?” he asked. “What proof do you have?”

I knew what he was getting at. He wanted me to confess that I had the video files, but I wouldn’t give it up. I put my hand on Marco’s face, then pulled my purse from around my body, the video files still secured in the outside pocket, and used it to cushion Marco’s head from the ground. “I don’t have any proof, but the evidence all points to you.”

He gave me a mocking laugh. “Evidence and proof are two very different things. I learned that the hard way, but like I said, I never make the same mistake twice. I leave nothing to chance, and once you’re out of the way, there’s only one person responsible for closing this case. Me.” He reached his hand for his gun in an attempt to threaten me once again. “Tell me where they are.”

“Tell me why you murdered Paige.”

“You don’t hold the cards here,” he shouted. “Where are the files?”

“Did you even have a plan?” I asked. “Because it seems like you didn’t have one at all. You stumbled from one suspect to another. You planted evidence and threatened people to confess. What kind of plan is that? You’re supposed to be the best detective in town.”

“The only kink in my plan,” he said as he drew his weapon. “Was you.”

“You are the worst detective,” I continued. “You’re not even good at planting evidence, let alone finding it. How many people did you have to frame, three? And you still couldn’t get it right.”

“How could I when you show up at my heels every step of the way? This plan was airtight. Slade Rafferty murders his wife, stages the robbery, done. Guilty. But then here comes Abby Knight, the florist, knocking on that door as I’m staging the damn house. There goes the husband theory, so then I turn to Luke, hiding his phone in this dump, all ready to take the fall, until I see you two nosing around at the bar. There goes that plan. Then you show up looking for Dylan and what do you know, the snitch is about to snitch on me. You just can’t trust anybody these days.”

“How could you do this? You are supposed to be protecting people.”

“Ask your Sergeant. He knows how the system works. He let a guilty man walk free because of a technicality. How is that protecting people? While I informed the parents that the man who murdered their daughter was going to live out the rest of his life as a free man, Sean Reilly was receiving a commendation and a promotion. All I had to do was plant that school book and Barnes would be rotting in jail right now.”

“Is that your justification for breaking the law? You get more convictions than anyone, but how much of it is actually the truth?”

“The system doesn’t always work. That’s the truth. But I go to work every damn day. I see criminals get away on technicalities all the time. How is that right? Justice shouldn’t have technicalities. I simply swing the balance back onto our side. Do you have any idea how many people would have gotten away with their crimes if I hadn’t been there to nudge the truth every once in a while? The truth isn’t always black or white, Ms. Detective. True justice is dirty. I live in between the lines. I get results.”

“You ruin people’s lives.”

He laughed maniacally. “Are you talking about Luke, the abusive drunk, or Dylan, the thieving drug addict? How long before one of them ruins someone else’s life? What’s so bad about getting these people off the streets for good?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m talking about Luke and Dylan, but also Slade and Paige Rafferty. You took her life and ruined his. And what about Sergeant Reilly? He was your best friend. He’s a better cop than you’ll ever be, Dutch. You hurt innocent people.”

“You’re right,” he said as he pointed the barrel at my chest. “Paige Rafferty didn’t deserve to die, and Sean Reilly was my best friend, but here’s another piece of truth.” He pulled back the hammer on his revolver. “No one is truly innocent in this world.”

I closed my eyes just before the shot rang out and the percussion blasted by my ear. The explosion echoed throughout the empty lot and for the next few seconds all I could hear was the high-pitched tone that seemed to pierce my skull.

I opened my eyes to see Arno clutch his right shoulder, then heard another loud pop as he fell to his knees, the revolver hanging upside down on his trigger finger. He looked at me, his face turning white as I watched the blood soak through the shoulder of his dark brown trench coat. Arno fell to the ground in front of me, and under the lamp light I saw Sergeant Sean Reilly, still standing firm in his firing position, smoke rising from the barrel of his pistol.

Reilly came up from behind and secured the gun, lowered Arno onto his stomach and began cuffing him. “Save your speech for the jury, Detective.”

As Arno desperately submitted under Reilly, I turned to my husband. I was beginning to feel lightheaded, the adrenaline wearing off and the bleeding from my arm and leg starting to take effect. Reilly joined me and together we lifted the heavy axle from Marco’s back. Sean then produced a white handkerchief from his back pocket and tightened it around my leg.

We moved Marco onto his back and he came to, his eyelids slowly opening as we heard the distant sounds of sirens. Arno was still flailing and cursing at us, but it was just noise at that point. I sat down next to Marco and caressed his face.

Still handsome, even with the tousled hair, scratched face and bruised eye, my husband looked up at me and smiled. “Nice form, Sunshine” he said and tried to laugh. “You saved me.”

“I had to,” I replied, then leaned down to give him a kiss. “I’m not spending an entire week alone on that cruise with my family.”

As Reilly pulled Arno to his knees we heard a small cracking sound on the ground behind us. I limped closer and noticed Paige’s cell phone had fallen from Detective Arno’s coat pocket. On the ground next to the pink case were a few scattered crystals.

“I would say that’s a very convincing piece of evidence,” I said.

Arno didn’t say a word. He just curled his upper lip and glared at me with disgust.

Several police cars and two ambulances arrived on the scene. As Reilly and I were given initial assessments, Marco was put onto a stretcher. The medical techs were ready to wrap me in some heavy duty bandages, but I asked to sit with Marco first.

As the EMTs helped me over to the stretcher, I saw Captain Fontaine speaking with Reilly, so I said to Marco, “I’ll be right back.” Marco lifted his head, his neck secured with a stiff brace, and managed a wink. I blew him a kiss and met up with Reilly and Fontaine, gathered around Arno’s stretcher, which was still resting on the ground near the second ambulance as the medical techs wrapped his wounds. From my purse, I pulled the video files and Arno scoffed, still clinging to his innocence.

“That proves nothing,” he said. “This town will fall to pieces without me. I’ve solved twenty murder cases in that past five years. No one pulls those kinds of numbers.”

“This town will be just fine without you,” I said. The stretcher lifted off the ground and Detective Richard Arno kept his eyes locked onto mine as they raised to meet me. “Because as of right now, Dutch, we just solved twenty-one.”

“You and me, kid. Were the same. How long until you need justice so bad that you blur the lines just enough to cross them? “

“Justice shouldn’t have technicalities,” I admitted. “You’re right about that, but there is a line I will never cross.”

“I thought the same thing once.” Arno laughed and coughed, his chest restrained by the straps. “But you will cross that line one day. And I won’t blame you when you do.”

I patted the stretcher with a smile. “Take him away boys.”

Reilly stood proudly next to me and we watched Dutch squirm in place and swear as he was loaded into the ambulance. “Take him away, boys?” Sean asked. “Was that really necessary?”

“No, but it sounded cool. Didn’t it?”

He folded his arms and gave me a look, but before he could answer I said, “Come on, Sarge. Let me have this one. I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

“You got it, Abby.”

“One more thing, Ms. Detective,” Arno called from the inside the ambulance. His chest was strapped down and his arms were cuffed to the stretcher. He could barely lift his head to look me in the eyes. “Why don’t you ask your friend, Reilly, why they never found the man who put your father in a wheelchair?”

Reilly took a step back and I felt the air around me turn cold as the words collided inside my mind. I felt a hand on my shoulder and Reilly’s words in my ear. “Don’t let him get to you. It’s all over now.”

Arno smiled as the medic secured the stretcher and started sealing the interior, but before the back doors closed he stated finally, “That’s what I thought, Abby Salvare. You come see me when you want to know the truth.”

The ambulance drove away, leaving his final words hanging in the air around us. Reilly’s hand pulled away from my shoulder and I walked back to see Marco, trying desperately to shake Arno’s words from my thoughts.

For now.

 

…

 

 

My staff from Bloomers made sure our hospital rooms were fully decorated with the most beautiful bouquets the shop had to offer. After several days laid up the hospital, and numerous visits from staff, family, and police, Marco and I were released to finish our recovery at home. My muscles still ached, and the sutures under my bandages throbbed, but it was a good feeling, a reminder of my accomplishments. Had it not been for the last two weeks of painfully intensive workout sessions, who knows if I would have the strength to save Marco, mentally or physically.

We were both relaxing in the living room when the doorbell rang. I looked at my husband, reclining on the sofa, petting our giant Russian Blue nestled on his lap while also stroking our little mutt, Seedy, stretched out on the sofa next to him. “I guess I’ll get it.” I stood and groaned in agony, slowly making my way to the front door.

I opened it to see Reilly and his fiancé standing there.

“You look about how I feel,” Reilly said, as I let them both in. His cheek was black and blue and his eye was dark and puffy.

I offered to get drinks, but Marie insisted that she make them for us, assuring me she knew her way around a kitchen. Reilly let out a sigh as he settled down next to Seedy on the couch. Marco gave him a nod then winced at the movement but I was all smiles, even with nearly half my body wrapped in bandages. I sat down on the chair across from Sean and Marco, the three of us making quite a frightening sight. We sat in silence for a few moments, finally rejoined after our harrowing night at the truck yard.

I leaned in across from Sean and Marco. “Well, Sarge, fill us in.”

“It’s not Sarge yet,” he corrected. “There’s a long review process before I’m allowed back to work.”

“He’s in no hurry,” Marie called from the kitchen. “He deserves a little time to heal.”

“That reminds me,” I said. “What happened after you left the car with Arno?”

“I followed him out into the parking lot, but I was careful. I had my gun drawn, and stayed behind him. That’s when I heard Paige’s phone ring.”

“How did you know it was her phone?” I asked.

Sean thought for a moment before answering. “I had an idea what he was up to, but I guess being friends with him all those years, when that phone rang I knew what he had done. I told him to put his hands up, but he came at me, violently.”

“Has he confessed yet?” Marco asked.

“No,” Reilly answered. “And I doubt he ever will. He knows how it works. He’s going to deny it until the day he dies, no matter what kind of proof we have.”

“What about the files?” I asked. “Did Dylan catch anything incriminating on those cameras?”

“He sure did.”

Marie came into the room with our drinks. She handed them out as Reilly thanked her and continued, “Turns out Dylan didn’t steal Paige’s laptop or wedding ring. The camera in Dylan’s bedroom showed Detective Arno planting those items under his bed, and then showed the same scene several hours later when he came back with two officers, who found the evidence and arrested Dylan.”

“I’m assuming Dylan’s been released,” I said.

“Eventually he was, but not before we got the full story out of him. It doesn’t matter now if Arno ever confesses because Dylan witnessed the whole thing.”

Marie sat down in the chair next to me and we listened as Reilly told us the full story.

“Dylan was at the Rafferty’s house and the scene played out just as you had imagined, Abby, but when he saw Arno at the back door he knew something was wrong. It turns out that Arno had been visiting Dylan way more often than he needed, because he had his eye on Paige Rafferty.

“According to Dylan, she spent a lot of time outside tending to the yard and garden after marrying Slade, according to witnesses. Arno was at the Cutler’s house for information about the neighborhood robberies when he first saw Paige across the street. We think that he used the robberies as an excuse to get near her. After that, Arno would visit Dylan daily, leaving his car parked in front of the Cutler’s house while slipping across the street to see her.”

“Was there something going on between them?” I asked.

“We don’t know for sure,” Reilly answered. “But we do know that there were no signs of sexual assault before the murder.”

“Everyone we talked to said Paige couldn’t say no to anyone,” I said.

“A slick talking, persuasive detective would be a very hard man to turn away,” Marco added.

“We found phone records between Arno and Paige,” Reilly said, “but they were one way. He called her, but she had never once called him. We also know that Arno called Slade Rafferty the morning of the murder and set up a phony appointment under the guise of being a prospective home buyer, making sure he was away when Arno visited Paige.

“My theory is that she finally turned down Arno’s advances,” Reilly continued. “She may have threatened to call her husband or the police when he wouldn’t leave and that must have set him off. We’re guessing he choked her before she could make the call then pocketed her phone. If you hadn’t been there to stop him staging the crime scene, Abby, he might have gotten away with it, too.”

“So Dylan was just an innocent bystander,” I said. “He was caught in the middle.”

“Right,” Sean agreed. “He was afraid if he didn’t confess to the murder, Arno would send him back to prison and let everyone know he was working as an informant. That was enough of a threat to keep Dylan quiet. And the kid admitted he was very close to accepting the blame, as well. That’s how scared he was. He said Arno made it very clear what happens to snitches in prison.”

“What about Luke?” Marco asked. “How was he involved?”

Reilly took a long sip of his drink and answered, “Arno knew about him as well. He’s a good detective, I’ll admit that. He dug into Paige’s past and found every person he could frame for this crime. Luckily, we didn’t give him enough time to do it properly. You two really saved the day.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” Marie said. “In fact, we want to do something special in return.” She glanced at her fiancé, who was beginning to blush. “Do you want to ask them?”

Reilly shook his head, a secretive smile on his face. “You do it.”

Marie turned to us with a smile as she smoothed the fabric around her belly, revealing a tiny baby bump. “We’d like you to be the godparents of our firstborn. We can’t think of anyone more worthy.”

A wide smile spread across my face as I looked at Marco, whose face was too bruised to show much emotion. “Of course we will,” I said. “It would be our honor.”

Marie and I stood and I gave her a long hug.

From over her shoulder I watched as Sargent Sean Reilly extended his hand to my husband. Marco proudly stiffened his jaw and reached his hand over, clasping together in a strong shake. “Congrats, Sarge,” Marco said.

Just then the doorbell rang. “You two need to stick around for a while,” I said eagerly. “My mom and dad are bringing over lots of food, and Marco’s family is coming over as well. We’ll have a get-well party.”

Sean and Marco both had looks of exasperation on their faces, but Marie was all smiles. “That sounds lovely.”

I hobbled into the hallway, more out of habit than necessity. I was healing quickly, but I wasn’t prepared for who I saw when I opened the door.

Jillian stood before me in full workout attire, a yoga mat under one arm and a large rubber ball under the other. She stared me straight in the eyes and said, without hesitation, “You, me, Pilates…now.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE END