Something cold spread through Billy’s chest. “Who do you mean, Ms. Alcott?”

  “You’ll see, Mr. Chief of Police. She won’t be able to keep herself hidden from you long.”

  She?

  “See yourself out, Billy Brannigan. I’m tired now.”

  Billy said good-night and did as the lady asked. As he walked through the darkness to his truck he wondered who in the hell she was?

  He drove straight back to the funeral home and parked in the lot. It was late but the lights on the second floor were still on. Billy climbed out, hit the fob to lock his truck and headed for the front entrance. Rather than just unlock the door and go on in, he called Rowan’s cell. After four rings it went to voice mail.

  “Hey, maybe you’re in the shower or something, but I’m coming up. I need to talk.”

  He hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket. After unlocking the door, he deactivated the alarm. “Ro.”

  The silence was deafening. He closed and locked the door behind him. Even if Ro was in the shower, where was Freud?

  “Freud! Come, boy!”

  Billy palmed his weapon and moved toward the stairs. He took them two at a time. Living room, kitchen and dining rooms were clear. He moved on to the bathroom and the parents’ bedroom.

  Clear.

  He paused at the bottom of the stairs leading to the third floor. “Ro?”

  His throat constricted as he rushed up the stairs. He checked the bathroom first. No Ro. Bedrooms were empty, too.

  “What the hell?”

  He dug out his cell and called her again. After the first ring, he drew the phone away from his ear.

  Her cell phone was somewhere in the house.

  He hurried back down to the second floor. Called her phone again. It was on the sofa, half under a throw pillow.

  He picked it up, watched as it went to voice mail.

  He shoved it into his pocket and took off down to the first floor. He put through a call to Culver, as he raced from room to room downstairs. Kramer was in refrigeration, as was the body of Renae Cyrus.

  Where the hell was Ro?

  Culver’s phone went to voice mail. “Call me back,” Billy ordered.

  He shoved his phone into his pocket, his heart thundering now. He moved down the corridor toward the rear entrance and the elevator that went down to the mortuary room.

  The newly installed back door stood open.

  Billy rushed out the door. He stumbled, almost fell flat on his face.

  He righted himself and looked down to see what he’d tripped over.

  Body. Blood, lots of blood.

  “Son of a bitch.” He crouched down and rolled the body over.

  Culver.

  His throat had been cut. Blood covered his shirt and jacket. Was all over the porch.

  Hand shaking, Billy checked his carotid artery. He was dead. Skin was cold. Lips blue. He’d been dead half an hour or so.

  “Goddamn it!” He laid the man back onto the porch and scanned the yard as he called for backup.

  Once the call was made, he used the flashlight app on his phone and searched for tracks in the blood. He followed the small tracks—Rowan’s tracks—down the steps until they disappeared in the grass.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  Barking drew his attention to the back gate. It was open. Billy ran in that direction. The lock had been pried away from the wooden gate post. Beyond the back alley, Freud was on the street at the corner of the block. When he saw Billy he started to bark again.

  “You okay, boy?” Billy gave him a quick once-over. No visible injuries. “Where’s Ro, boy?”

  The dog stared at the street going away from the funeral home and started to bark again. Billy used the flashlight app again to check the sidewalk and the street. A smear of something dark on the sidewalk snagged his attention. He touched it, rubbed his fingers together.

  Blood. Still damp.

  He scanned the street in both directions. Whatever had happened, it ended right here, with Rowan being taken in a vehicle of some sort.

  Billy thought of the way Culver’s throat had been cut.

  Addington.

  Twenty-Three

  The man was dead.

  Rowan’s body shook. He wasn’t the first dying man she’d held in her arms by any means, but he’d died while telling her to run.

  She blinked. Stared at the woman behind the wheel. Wanda Henegar had driven past on the side street that ran parallel to the funeral home at the exact moment Rowan had been running for help. Freud had been right behind her, but when Rowan got into Wanda’s car, she had taken off before Rowan could help Freud inside. Her door had slammed shut with the momentum of the car’s lunge forward.

  Had Wanda seen something or someone? Had Freud frightened her? He had that effect sometimes.

  Rowan felt her pockets. She needed her cell. Blood was the only thing she found. The man’s blood. It was all over her from where she’d caught him as he’d fallen on her porch.

  She’d left her cell phone upstairs—she’d only been going down to let Freud out one last time before going to bed. She hadn’t planned to go outside. No need to take her phone or her weapon. It was a minute, only a minute.

  Except she’d made a mistake.

  “I need to use your cell phone.” Rowan licked her lips. Her throat was so dry.

  Wanda felt the pocket of her jeans. “Check the console or the floorboard. It’s gotta be in here somewhere.”

  Rowan checked the cup holders, and between the console and the seats. She felt around the floorboard. Her heart thundered harder with each passing second.

  “What happened back there? There’s blood all over you.”

  “A man is dead.” Rowan couldn’t find the phone. Damn it! “He was murdered. I need to call Billy—the chief of police. I can’t find your phone.” Rowan looked out the windows to get her bearings. “Just take me to city hall. Someone will be there.”

  It was closer to city hall than it was to Billy’s house. She could have the dispatcher call him. Send units to the funeral home.

  Jesus. Mr. Kramer and Miss Cyrus were in refrigeration. She’d locked the unit. Something she’d started doing since that body was stolen. But the back door was open. She would have gone back into the funeral home and called for help except the dying man had told her to run and Freud had been standing in the doorway barking as if someone were inside that only he could see or hear. Rowan had instinctively run away from the threat, calling for Freud to follow.

  Rowan blinked. Tried to gather her wits. She stared at the passing houses. Wanda was going the wrong way. Maybe she was upset. Confused. She’d run into Rowan on the street with her covered in blood and shouting for help.

  She turned to the driver. Only the console and about eighteen inches separated them. “City hall is the other way.”

  “Just stay calm, Ms. DuPont.”

  The words echoed in the car but Wanda’s lips hadn’t moved—the voice wasn’t hers.

  Rowan twisted around to see the woman to whom the voice belonged. Sue Ellen Thackerson sat in the back seat. The handgun she held was pointed at Rowan’s head.

  At least now she had confirmation that these two had been working together.

  “You know—” Rowan looked from Sue Ellen to Wanda “—whoever talks first can probably cut a deal with the district attorney and get a lighter sentence.”

  “Sit down and put on your seat belt,” Sue Ellen demanded.

  Rowan sank back into the seat. Freud would be on the street barking his head off. Someone would hear him and call the police. Billy would come.

  Unless whoever she was supposed to run from was still there. He might have cut Freud’s throat, too. God. No.

  Fear gnawed at Rowan.

  “I have a question,” she said, then drew in a deep breath.

  “Shut up!” Sue Ellen kicked the back of Rowan’s seat.

  Rowan considered wrenching the door open and jumping out, but it was too late for that. Wanda was going too fast now. There was little chance she would survive the crash.

  “This is important,” Rowan insisted. “We could all be in danger.”

  Another kick to the seat back and a scream for her to shut up.

  “Let her talk,” Wanda snapped. “Maybe she knows something we need to hear.”

  Thank you, Wanda.

  When Sue Ellen didn’t argue, Rowan spoke again. “Did either of you kill that man back there? The one who was bleeding to death on my porch?”

  Rowan had no idea who he was. She’d never seen him before. It wasn’t a stretch to assume he was a cop Billy had ordered to watch her. Oh, hell, another dead cop. Agony welled inside her. She closed her eyes and fought back the overwhelming emotion. Now was not the time. She had to focus.

  “What man?” Sue Ellen demanded. “We didn’t even get out at the funeral home.”

  “What happened?” Wanda asked as she slowed for a turn.

  Rowan had no idea where they were headed, but they’d left the city limits behind a mile or so ago.

  “Someone cut his throat. He told me to run.” Rowan tried to think if he’d said anything else. No. No, he hadn’t said anything else.

  “What man?” Sue Ellen demanded again.

  “A cop. He was watching my house.” That had to be the case. There was no other explanation.

  “A cop?” Sue Ellen sat forward. She glared at Rowan. “There was a cop watching your place and someone killed him?”

  Rowan turned to her, noted from the corner of her eye that Wanda was checking the rearview mirror repeatedly. “Yes. It was probably Julian. He’s done this before. Remember that cop who was murdered in the funeral home parking lot back in May? That was Julian.”

  Silence.

  Now they were scared. Rowan relaxed into her seat, facing forward once more.

  Good.

  She should screw the tension a little tighter.

  With that in mind she suddenly twisted around to look at Sue Ellen again. “You should know he’s capable of anything.”

  Sue Ellen looked taken aback. “How the hell would I know?”

  Rowan had to bite the inside of her jaw to prevent herself from smiling. “You stated that you believe he murdered your father.” She glanced at Wanda. “And your husband. If he’s here, any one of us could be next.”

  Wanda slowed for a turn onto a road running through a field that went on as far as the moonlight would allow Rowan to see.

  “No one followed us out of town,” she said.

  Sue Ellen turned around to stare out the back window. “I sure as hell hope not.”

  “It’s me he wants,” Rowan offered. “Let me go and I’ll walk back to town. If he’s out there, he’ll follow me.”

  Silence lingered for half a minute.

  “No,” Sue Ellen said. “We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Wanda argued. She parked in front of a dark house. “Nothing’s happened yet. She doesn’t know anything for sure.”

  Sue Ellen laughed. “Are you stupid? We just kidnapped her! That’s, like, a federal offense. Can you say ‘prison’?”

  “Kidnapped?” Rowan said this as if she had no idea what Sue Ellen was talking about. “I thought you were helping me get away from a killer.”

  “We were,” Wanda said.

  Sue Ellen swore as she got out of the car. “You’re pathetic,” she mumbled as she opened Rowan’s door. “Get out.”

  Rowan climbed out as ordered. She looked around. Beyond the small house was an old barn. It was too dark to determine the condition, but like the house, it leaned precariously. “What now?”

  “Inside,” Sue Ellen ordered.

  Wanda was already at the door, unlocking it with the aid of a flashlight. Rowan climbed the two steps and moved carefully across the creaking wood porch. From what little she could see in the flashlight’s beam, the house was fairly dilapidated. It was cold and dark. Obviously no electricity. Certainly no heat.

  Rowan followed Wanda inside. Sue Ellen came in behind her and closed the door.

  A flame flickered. Rowan blinked. Wanda lit what looked like an old-fashioned kerosene lamp. The lamp sat on a small rickety table. Other than the table, the only other furniture in the room was a wooden ladder-back chair.

  “In the chair,” Sue Ellen said.

  Rowan exhaled a weary breath and crossed to the chair. She sat down. “Why are you doing this? I’ve done all I can to help you both.”

  The best way to stay alive was to pretend she had no idea what they were doing. Hopefully this ploy would also garner her the most information. People couldn’t help themselves. They wanted others to know about their accomplishments even when they were illegal. It was human nature to want the admiration and/or respect of one’s peers. Particularly one that wasn’t expected to survive to tell.

  When neither Wanda nor Sue Ellen answered, Rowan ramped up the stakes. “Did he pay you to bring me here?”

  The two exchanged a look. Wanda was terrified; Sue Ellen not so much.

  Sue Ellen asked, “How much do you think you’re worth to him?”

  This was priceless. Rowan could see the wheels turning in the woman’s head. She was already calculating what she might do with even more money.

  “He’s a very wealthy man. I couldn’t possibly estimate his worth but it’s quite large. Millions, at least. He would do anything to have me.”

  Sue Ellen looked at Wanda, who remained uncertain and clearly terrified, and then back to Rowan. “Anything?”

  Rowan nodded. “He’s obsessed with me. Don’t you watch the news?” She wouldn’t have bothered asking her if she read the paper.

  “We need to talk,” Wanda said, anger radiating in her voice, making it shake.

  “Give me a minute.” Sue Ellen handed her the gun. “If she moves, shoot her.”

  Wanda stared at the gun as Sue Ellen went outside.

  Rowan seized the chance. “Wanda, I don’t know what’s going on with Sue Ellen, but she’s going to get you killed.”

  Wanda stared at her. “Just shut up and sit still.”

  Ah, a burst of bravado. “You don’t understand,” Rowan urged. “If the police find you—and they will—you’ll go to prison for the rest of your life.”

  “They’re not going to know it was us.”

  Rowan wanted to shake her. “They already suspect the two of you.”

  She shook her head. “We have alibis.”

  “Chief Brannigan knows you hired someone to do the killing.”

  Wanda’s face paled. “No, we didn’t. That’s ridiculous. We had no money to do that. They controlled everything—including the money.”

  Keep talking, Rowan silently urged.

  The door opened and Sue Ellen walked in carrying a backpack. Wanda clamped her mouth shut. Rowan refused to allow defeat to set in as she watched Sue Ellen pull a length of nylon rope, orange in color, from the backpack. Obviously, she should have watched a few more of those crime shows. She was hauling around the same kind of rope used to restrain her father when he was murdered. Oblivious, Sue Ellen set to work securing Rowan to the chair.

  Rowan shifted her attention back to Wanda and held her gaze until she looked away. She was scared. This was good. As long as Wanda was scared, Rowan had a chance.

  “Maybe—” Sue Ellen stood “—you’re worth more to us alive than dead.”

  Wanda glared at her. “Shut up!”

  Sue Ellen laughed. “You think she doesn’t know why we brought her here? She worked for the police in Nashville. She’s a damn shrink. She knows what we’re doing. Don’t you, Doc?” she sneered at Rowan.

  Wanda shook her head. “I should never have listened to you.”

  Sue Ellen snatched the gun from her hand. “Then you’d still be stuck with that impotent old bastard for a husband and I’d still be kissing my daddy’s ass hoping for a bread crumb.”

  “The person you hired is the one who will be charged with murder,” Rowan lied. “The two of you could still get away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. You could claim abuse. That’s a surefire way to get away without any criminal charges and still get to keep the insurance proceeds and anything from the estates.”

  “Maybe you aren’t as smart as we thought.” Sue Ellen smirked.

  Rowan held her gaze. “Perhaps not.”

  “We didn’t hire anyone to do the killing,” she explained.

  “But you have alibis,” Rowan protested with all the naivete she could muster.

  Wanda looked as if she might throw up.

  “I took care of her problem and she took care of mine. That way we each had an alibi for the time when the murder happened and we were equally committed to and invested in what had to be done.”

  Rowan wasn’t completely surprised. This was where Billy’s investigation was headed. They only needed a single piece of evidence to allow them to move on the theory.

  “I didn’t want to do it,” Wanda admitted. “But Stan was threatening to divorce me, leaving me with nothing. I would have nowhere to go.”

  “He was a piece of shit,” Sue Ellen told her. “Just like my daddy. All they cared about was themselves and how good it made them feel to treat us like slaves.”

  The picture cleared for Rowan then. “You discovered your mutual problems and became friends?” She looked from Sue Ellen to Wanda.

  “That’s right,” Sue Ellen snapped. She took Wanda’s hand. “We found each other two years ago. Wanda was walking to town because Stan never allowed her to have the keys to her own car and I picked her up. I guess I was bored. We started to talk and one thing led to another.” She glanced at the other woman. “A few months ago we realized what we had to do.”

  “But everything’s a mess now,” Wanda wailed. “None of it was as simple as you said it would be.”

  Sue Ellen shushed her. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get through this and we’re taking all that money and disappearing. We’ll lie on the beach somewhere and sip those pretty drinks and flirt with the kind of men who will appreciate us.”