Gone in a Flash: A Naked Eye Cozy Mystery Page 9

  Chapter 20

  “Got it!” Julia crowed. She turned the knob and pulled the door open to demonstrate.

  “You sure you’re a thirteen-year-old actress and not a cat burglar?” Marissa teased.

  Julia grinned at her. “I could play a good one, huh?”

  Marissa nodded. “Definitely. Now, let’s make tracks, ladies!”

  She eased into the hall, trying to be as quiet as possible and the twins followed, holding hands. Marissa strained her ears, listening for any sound that might indicate they weren’t alone in the house, but heard nothing. They moved through the halls in the direction of the front door, and Marissa was just beginning to hope that they might actually pull this off...

  ...but that hope was soon shattered an instant later.

  Sirens screamed in the distance and gunfire erupted somewhere outside. They heard tires squeal outside the house and then a car door slammed.

  “Oh no! He’s back!” Jessie moaned

  Another gunshot cracked against the side of the house as the front door flew open and banged against the wall. There was a rapid exchange of bullets and it was heart-stoppingly loud in the quiet neighborhood.

  “Go, go! Back to the room!” Marissa ordered. She turned and pushed the twins back the way they’d come.

  Together, they scurried into the bedroom they’d just escaped from and Marissa had the foresight to relock the door before pulling it shut. She herded the twins into a corner and crouched beside them, listening to the chaos in the front of the house.

  A bullet tore through the drywall above their heads and Jessie shrieked. Both girls cowered against Marissa and she wrapped her arms protectively around them. She could feel them shaking and Julia had started to cry.

  Another shot, then two followed in quick succession. Then silence descended.

  “Are we going to die?” Jessie whimpered.

  “No, honey, we’re not,” Marissa soothed, trying as much to convince herself as the girls. “We’re going to be fine, I promise.”

  “We’re going to die!” Jessie moaned, burying her face against Marissa’s shoulder.

  “We are not going to die!” Marissa said more firmly. She ran a soothing hand through the girl’s tangled blonde hair.

  They heard heavy footsteps moving quickly down the hall and Marissa tensed in anticipation. She didn’t know who was coming for them, but wouldn’t let anything happen to these precious girls. Pushing them down so that the boxes blocked them from the view of anyone coming through the door, she got to her feet and picked up a short length of wood from the pile in the corner. She was pretty sure she could swing it with enough force to knock someone out.

  The door opened and Marissa swung.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Ranger Lawson ducked aside just in time to keep from getting smashed in the face with the splintery 2x4. It thudded into the wall just above his head, leaving an impressive dent and knocking his hat to the floor.

  “Oh no, I’m sorry!” Marissa gasped and released the weapon. It landed on top of Ranger’s hat and the worn felt caved in.

  “It’s all right,” Ranger soothed, “but darn you’re fast, sweetheart.” His eyes scanned her face, then the room beyond her and he frowned. “Are you hurt? Where are the twins?”

  Marissa exhaled heavily and felt her body begin to tremble in the aftermath of shock. “No, I’m not hurt. And they’re behind the boxes.” She gestured in that direction.

  Ranger’s expression darkened when he saw the rough rope burns on her delicate skin, but didn’t comment for the moment. Rounding the haphazard pile of cardboard, he crouched in front of Julia and Jessie and looked them over. He was relieved to find them apparently unhurt.

  “Julia, Jessie, my name is Ranger Lawson. I’m a police officer. You’re safe now, ok? I’m here to take you home.”

  “What about Tyrone?” Julia whispered, eyes wide.

  “He can’t hurt you anymore,” he reassured them firmly. He rose and held out a hand to each of them. “Now come on. Let’s get the three of you out of here.”

  The girls hesitated for only a moment before taking his hands and letting him pull them upright. They left their temporary prison behind for the second time in almost as many minutes and started down the shabby, poorly-lit hallway. At the end, Marissa spied a pair of jean-clad legs sticking out of an open doorway and Ranger quickly turned the girls away so they wouldn’t have to see the body.

  Once outside, Jessie tilted her head back and smiled up at the sun but Julia continued to stare at the ground and bite her bottom lip. Marissa put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and the girl shifted closer to her.

  Half a dozen squad cars were pulled up at willy-nilly angles in the street, driveway, and front yard of the unassuming little house. Cops in bulletproof vests and holding high-powered rifles and shotguns were everywhere. An ambulance screamed to a halt and paramedics piled out. After conversing with the officer in charge, one of the EMT’s went back to their vehicle and turned off the sirens. They unloaded a gurney from the back, unfolded the legs, and wheeled it into the house. Their measured, unhurried pace told Marissa they already knew that there was no one inside who was still alive to benefit from medical attention.

  What she wasn’t expecting, however, was the diminutive shape of the body under the white sheet when the paramedics exited a moment later. She had a sinking feeling she knew who was on the gurney, and it wasn’t Tyrone Brown.

  Chapter 21

  “How are you holding up?”

  Marissa turned to find Ranger leaning in the doorway of the shabby little police department break room.

  “I’m all right,” she replied as she raised the cup of mediocre coffee towards her lips. “Just tired. Will I be able to go soon?”

  He nodded, though something dark and sad touched his expression. “Another hour or so, maybe. There’s a social worker about to interview the girls. Care to listen in?”

  Marissa’s brows rose. “Isn’t that against protocol?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Yeah, but you’ve earned it and I know you won’t exploit them for your magazine.”

  They halted outside the interview room and through the one-way mirror. Marissa could see a plump Hispanic woman sitting across the battered table from an exhausted-looking Julia and Jessie. Siena, not surprisingly, wasn’t present. Ranger had told her on the walk from the break room that the twins’ mother was busy working the media into a frenzy with tears and overdramatic histrionics. Marissa just rolled her eyes.

  “I know you two have been through some very scary things the last few days and I want you to know that you’ve been very brave,” the social work started calmly.

  “When can we go home?” Jessie demanded.

  “Soon, honey. I just have a few questions to ask you. First, can you tell me what happened to you on the day your bodyguard was killed?” the social worker asked gently.

  Jessie and Julia exchanged a glance and it was Jessie who started talking first. The story she told was pretty much the one Marissa and Ranger had already pieced together. Tyrone Brown had been waiting in the backseat of the car, gun in hand, and had ordered Thomas to drive to a rundown neighborhood on the outskirts of L.A. Once there, he’d forced Thomas out of the car, shot him, then drove the girls to another neighborhood. He locked them in a tiny bedroom filled with empty boxes and construction debris.

  The social worker studied them with compassionate eyes. “Did Tyrone ever say why he took you?”

  Jessie shook her head but Julia just dropped her chin and stared at her hands.

  A chunk of ice suddenly appeared where Marissa’s stomach used to be and the hand holding the Styrofoam cup of coffee began to shake. She had an awful feeling that Julia knew something.

  Ranger must have come to the same conclusion because he straightened up and his gaze sharpened.

  “Julia?” the social worker prompted.

  The girl hesitated so long that Marissa thought she wouldn’t answer
, but after what felt like an eternity, the younger twin raised her head and nodded once.

  “Can you tell me?”

  “It’s my fault,” Julia all but whispered. “They’re dead and it’s all my fault!”

  The social worker’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

  Tears began to slide down Julia’s cheeks but she didn’t sob. “I asked Tyrone to take us away, but he didn’t do what he’d promised. Then he killed Thomas and Ryan, too, I think.”

  “Why did you want him to take you away?” the social worker asked.

  Julia was crying in earnest now and Marissa felt her heart break for the poor kid.

  “He said he knew our dad!” Julia wailed, finally losing her composure completely. “He said he knew who he was and where he lived and that he would take us to live with him!”

  Jessie put her arms around her sister, but remained silent.

  “And why did you want to go live with your dad?” the social worker prompted after a moment.

  Julia wiped her nose with the tissue she was handed and sniffled a few times. “Because we hate our mom. She doesn’t care about us, just the money we make.”

  “Honey, I’m sure your mother—“

  Jessie cut the woman off with a determined shake of her head. “We might be kids but we aren’t stupid, and she isn’t very quiet when she’s on the phone. We hear her complaining to people about it all the time.”

  The social worker clearly didn’t know what to say to that, so she turned back to Julia. “What else?”

  “We don’t want to act anymore,” Julia continued, “but mom says we have to and Jensen isn’t any better. They’re both exactly the same! Tyrone said our dad lived in Colorado and that he was a soccer coach.”

  “I love soccer,” Jessie piped up, “I’d rather play than act.”

  “I just wanted us to be normal,” Julia concluded, “and I thought if we could go live with our dad…this wasn’t supposed to happen. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. I’m so sorry!”

  The twins hugged each other tightly and the social worker dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex.

  Ranger sighed. “Those poor kids.”

  “Yeah,” Marissa agreed. “And their mother, though I’m using that term loosely, has no clue I’m sure.”

  Ranger’s expression hardened. “I honestly don’t think she cares.”

  “How did you find us?” She’d been waiting for three hours to get to ask him that.

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a grim smile. “I’m a detective. I detected.”

  “No really,” she pressed, “How?”

  “When you didn’t answer your phone and no one at the hotel could reach you, I drove on over and started asking questions. One of the housekeepers said she’d seen a man fitting Tyrone’s description lurking around and a guest’s kid saw you arguing with him outside a little later. There were fresh tire tracks behind the hotel, so I called in a favor one of the forensic guys owes me and got him out to look at them. He told me they were from a newer model Escalade. The next building over has a functional security camera and it caught a black Escalade leaving the alley at a high rate of speed about three minutes after the kid said he saw you. From there, it was just a track-down job. The SUV was registered in Tyrone’s name.”

  “So you weren’t waiting for him to pick up the ransom?” she asked in surprise.

  “Nope, but the 19th Street bridge is only ten blocks from where he was keeping you. I was headed that way already and just happened to be first in line for the chase when he fled the scene.”

  “That...is amazing luck.”

  Ranger grinned. “Nobody said he was a smart criminal, for all his bragging, and when we get the fingerprints back from the ransom note, I’m sure they’ll be a match. Just another nail in his coffin.”

  “How long do you think he’ll get?” Marissa asked. Her voice was as hard as her expression.

  “Hard to say,” Ranger hedged, “Depends on whether or not Ms. Marlow presses charges—“

  “—she will if it puts the spotlight on her,” Marissa interrupted.

  “True, and Tyrone has a sheet as long as your arm. If he takes it all the way to trial, I can’t see a jury letting him off. Hopefully they’ll put him away for the rest of his miserable life.” He made an exasperated noise. “It’s just as likely they’ll plead him out on lesser charges, though.”

  Marissa was aghast. “Can they do that?”

  Ranger nodded. “Happens all the time. Our current D.A. figures the certainty of something is better than the possibility of an acquittal.”

  “Does Ryan’s murder factor in at all?”

  Her suspicion about the smaller body being wheeled out of the house had been right. Officers had found Ryan Chase lying in another room of the house, dead by strangulation. A length of the same rope that Tyrone used to tie their wrists had been found around Ryan’s neck.

  “They’ll call it a gang killing. He’ll get some time for it, probably more than for the kidnapping, anyway,” Ranger explained.

  “And the twins?” She was afraid to ask but needed to know before she went back to New York. “Will they be charged with anything?”

  “Again, that’s up to the D.A., but I really don’t think so. They were kidnapped and held for ransom when it sounds like all they were trying to do was run away. So the most they could be looking at is maybe interfering with a custodial parent or something. Even if they are charged, as lead detective, the D.A. and the judge will ask for my thoughts. I’ll make a recommendation that they receive psychological treatment instead of time or fines.”

  “I think that should probably happen anyway,” Marissa said as she tiredly rubbed her eyes. “Those poor girls are seriously messed up.”

  Ranger nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Detective Lawson?”

  They turned to find a man in green cammies striding towards them. His high-and-tight haircut was a little grown-out and he looked exhausted, but Marissa still recognized the man from the picture in Julia’s journal.

  “Yes...” Ranger hesitated and squinted at the chevrons on the newcomer’s shoulders, “Staff Sergeant. I’m Detective Lawson. What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Christopher Murphy and I’m here about Julia and Jessie Marlow. I’m—“ the man swallowed thickly, “I’m their dad.” His blue gaze darted to the one-way mirror. “Can—they don’t know me, but is there any way I can go in and see my girls?”

  Tears welled in the detectives eyes and he nodded. “I think we can do that. Come on in, sir. Your daughters have been waiting for you.”

  Ranger Lawson drove Marissa to the airport two hours later so she could catch a red-eye back to New York. They arrived at LAX with more than two-and-a-half hours to spare, a marked difference from her chaotic trip out to California.

  “Dunno how you can stand being cooped up in those flying tin cans for hours on end,” he said as he pulled her duffle bag out of the trunk and slammed it shut.

  “It’s not so bad when you’ve got interesting seatmates,” she said with a laugh and reached for her bag, but Ranger held it out of reach.

  “At least let me walk you to security, okay?”

  She smiled and nodded in agreement. The airport was as busy as when she’d arrived and the ticket line was long, but it moved with efficiency this time and she didn’t feel the imminent departure of her flight breathing down her neck. They halted just short of the beginning of the security line.

  “So do you think he has any chance of getting custody of them?” Marissa asked speculatively.

  “I expect so. The courts don’t automatically favor the mother like they used to,” Ranger mused, “And Chris Murphy has a stable career, a good career. It’ll take them all some time to adjust to one another, but he seems willing to put in the time and work.”

  Marissa couldn’t help but smile as she pictured the scene of Julia and Jessie Marlow meeting their father for the first time.
Turned out that Sergeant Preston had contacted Staff Sergeant Murphy in Germany after seeing a short blurb on the news about the girls’ kidnapping, and he’d been on a plane home within hours. While he’d known Siena Marlow was pregnant when they split up, she’d cut off all contact with him and her battalion of lawyers had kept him at bay ever since. Money really could buy pretty much anything, whether it was good for your kids or not, Marissa had mused.

  “You know,” she said at last, “I finally have some confidence that the Marlow twins are going to be okay.”

  “Me, too,” Ranger agreed, then changed the subject as he passed over her duffel bag. “Now remember, it’s possible you’ll be subpoenaed to come back and testify.”

  “I don’t think my editor-in-chief is going to like that, but I’m happy to do it. I want to see that sleaze-ball Tyrone get as much time as possible,” she replied vehemently.

  “You’re a brave lady, Miss Larkin.” Ranger smiled and tipped his hat to her respectfully. “I admire that in a woman. Don’t be a stranger now, you hear? You’ve got my number.”

  “And you have mine. Don’t hesitate to call if you’ve got a hot case that needs covering. Oh, and you’ll send me all the photos you can of the house?”

  “I said I would. Nothin’ too graphic, mind you, since those’ll be considered evidence. But the crime scene guys always take a ton, so you’ll get enough for your story.” He laughed and they parted ways with a firm handshake before Marissa turned and headed for her security checkpoint.

  It was time to go home and write her story.

  Chapter 22

  “…and in other news, two women were detained while attempting to leave the Hollywood property of actor Mike McConaugh. Camille Jones and Ethel Saunders, both eight-two, were stopped by security after they reportedly broke into the actor’s home to fulfill an item on their bucket list. Mr. McConaugh has declined to press charges…”

  Marissa choked on her coffee and began to laugh so hard she couldn’t breathe. It got her a few odd looks from other patrons in the airport coffee shop, but she didn’t care. They’d actually done it! Frail, grandmotherly Ethel and Camille who’d sat next to her on her flight from New York had somehow managed to break into a celebrity mansion.