Chapter Three #3
Emmy waited to dial Taybee’s number until they were on the road. Her cousin sounded more anxious than usual when she answered the phone.
“Where the heck are you, lady?” Taybee had to raise her voice over the boisterous crowd of mourners. “You’re missing your own mama’s funeral.”
“I’m sorry.” The apology sounded perfunctory even to Emmy’s ear. “Listen, I need to know if you’ve got a client named Allison Vickery.”
Taybee went uncharacteristically silent. She was a divorce lawyer with a reputation for flaying her adversaries to the bone. Emmy should’ve used her when she’d divorced Jonah but she hadn’t wanted her cousin to find out what a fool she’d been.
“Taybee?”
The background noise faded, then stopped altogether. There was the soft tap of a door closing, then the sound of Taybee’s heels across wooden boards. She’d gone outside for privacy.
“It’s a lie, isn’t it? The little girl who accidentally shot herself?”
Emmy didn’t answer.
Neither did Taybee, because in addition to being a Clifton, as an attorney she knew the person talking was always going to be the person giving too much away.
Emmy relented, “Allison was murdered. Mandy was shot. Her chances of making it are slim.”
Taybee sucked air through her teeth. “Was it Bill?”
Emmy figured she had confirmation to her question. There had been whispers in town about Allison and Bill getting physical with each other, but not many people knew the extent of the abuse. “When did Allison hire you?”
“I’d have to look at my files for the exact date. It was a few months after they got married.”
Emmy had thought she was finished with surprises for the day. “That was six years ago.”
“I tried to refund the retainer when Allison went back to him, but she asked me to hold on to it. Wanted an escape hatch, I guess.” Taybee huffed out a frustrated breath.
“She showed up at my office maybe eight months later. Had her arm in a sling. Told me she was really gonna leave him this time. But she didn’t.
Then a year later, the same thing, but with a bruise on her face the size of a goose egg.
The next time, he ruptured her spleen. This was probably a year ago.
We got as far as hiring a forensic accountant to look at the books, but she called it off before Bill could be served. ”
Allison had never told Emmy that she’d gotten so close to leaving, but it made sense. Statistically, it took an abused woman roughly seven attempts before she finally managed to leave an abusive man. “Bill said he never formally adopted Mandy.”
Taybee laughed. “Allison told me he used to dangle it over her head. Even got a lawyer to draw up the paperwork. But he never went through with it. God forbid the Garrisons let some of their precious money pass outside the family.”
Emmy didn’t think the Cliftons had much room to talk. Taybee’s farmhouse had been built by one of the original Clifton brothers in the 1800s. She was such a fan of nepotism that she’d married a third cousin once removed.
“I really thought Allison was gonna get away this time.” Taybee’s voice was filled with sadness. “She was so determined. I told her to be careful. Bill never suffered a damn consequence for anything in his life. His family’s always kept him out of trouble.”
Emmy switched the phone to her other ear. “Every time I tried to arrest him, he threatened to have Allison arrested, too. She was terrified of losing her job.”
Taybee’s laugh this time was more of an incredulous bark. “Lady, remember who you’re talking to. No cop is gonna lose their job off a domestic violence charge. She woulda gotten desk duty, then she woulda been back on the street a few months later.”
Emmy stared out the car window. They were turning into Clifton Gardens. Sunflower Trail rolled out ahead of them like an expensive carpet.
Taybee said, “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this today, cousin. You should be here grieving your mama.”
Emmy had been grieving the loss of her mother since the Alzheimer’s diagnosis.
“Nobody would blink twice if you headed over here for half an hour. I know you like being alone, but times like this, it’s good to be with your people.”
Gregg pulled onto Iris Drive and parked behind the GBI’s crime scene van.
Emmy looked at the house. Crisp white trim.
New windows and doors. She remembered Jude’s observation—it was a nice place for a cop’s salary.
There was no way Allison could’ve afforded it on her own.
“How much money did Allison ask for in the divorce?”
Taybee let out a long sigh before she answered.
“There was no pre-nup. I was ready to rip out Bill’s short hairs, but she told me all she wanted was her retirement and the clothes on her back.
Poor thing was barely getting by with her PI work and consulting jobs.
She told me it was worth it just to get away. ”
The suitcase in the driveway. The half-packed bag on the bed.
Allison had almost made it.
“Thanks, cousin.” Emmy ended the call. She turned to Gregg. “Find Brett and tell him I need a status update.”
“Yes, chief.”
Emmy got out of the car. Cole was leaning against his cruiser reading his phone. He was wearing his uniform and duty vest instead of his funeral suit, which meant he’d gone home to change in addition to disobeying her order to stay with Jude at Taybee’s.
“Mom.” Cole pocketed his phone when she approached.
“I filed search warrant requests for the CCTV from the Lazy Eight motel, all of Allison’s credit card and bank statements, and both her and Mandy’s cell phone records.
Uncle Cleetus is still at Taybee’s. He says he’ll sign off on everything as soon as he finishes his cobbler. ”
Her clever son was making a show of usefulness, but Emmy hadn’t wanted him to be useful. “I told you to drive your aunt to the farm and stay there with the family.”
“Jude wanted to go home.” He shrugged off the fact that Jude was not his boss. “I need to work, Mom. You know what Papa always said. Keep your head down and do your job.”
Emmy felt her teeth grit. “Did you think to bring me a clean uniform from the house?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He opened the back door of his cruiser. Handed over a duffel bag and her HAIX tactical boots, then slung her equipment belt over his shoulder like he’d just taken down a grizzly bear.
Emmy ignored the smug grin on his face as she started walking toward the GBI’s crime scene van. The back door was hanging open. The space was tight, but there was enough room to move around. She threw the duffel bag inside. Climbed in. Left the door cracked so that Cole could hear her.
“Anything from Sherry yet?”
“No, ma’am. They’ve been processing the house since you left, though.”
Emmy took off her shirt. Opened the duffel. There was no way her son had thought to put a hairbrush, deodorant, and wet wipes in the bag along with clean underwear and socks, which meant Jude had done the packing, which churned up the familiar wave of irritation with an undertow of gratitude.
Cole said, “I checked out Mandy’s socials.
Looks like she’s into shopping, K-pop, and faeries.
Complains about her mom a lot. I saw a few group videos with some guys she hangs out with, but it’s hard to tell if anything was serious.
Looks like her core group is two girls. Talia Wilkinson and Skylar Guthrie. ”
Emmy’s shoulder pinched when she reached back to unzip her dress. She was going to have a nasty bruise where Reggie had shoulder-checked her. “Did Mandy ever mention her birth father?”
“Not that I could see.”
Chunks of Sheetrock fell out of her clothes when she undressed. Emmy grabbed the packet of wipes. “Did you happen to get contact details on her friends?”
“Yes, ma’am. Already tracked down their addresses and phone numbers. Just waiting for your instructions.”
He was being annoyingly thorough today. “What do we know?”
Cole cleared his throat. He recognized the prompt. Gerald had taught it to Emmy. Emmy had taught it to Cole.
He said, “At approximately one o’clock, four shots were fired at sixteen-oh-one Iris Drive in the Clifton Gardens neighborhood.
Two victims were found at the scene: Allison Vickery, deceased, and her sixteen-year-old daughter, Mandy, who suffered a gunshot wound to the head.
The gunman fired on one of the responding officers before fleeing the scene. ”
“Your aunt is not an officer. She’s a retired FBI agent.”
“A responder, then.” Cole continued, “The subsequent search of the woods came up empty. License plate scanners didn’t throw out any unusual cars.
Door-knocking is ongoing, but so far, no neighbors report seeing anything suspicious in the area either today or in previous days.
We provided an email address to upload all footage from doorbell cameras.
I’ve made a list so we can follow up on people who haven’t sent anything by tomorrow morning.
There are reports of a red Hyundai KONA speeding down the road prior to the first gunshot.
The driver has been identified as Drake Saddler, twenty-eight years old.
Two speeding tickets. No prior arrests. Works in electrical over at the factory. Lives with his mom.”
Emmy slipped on her pants. She knew Ginny from book club. “Did anybody talk to Drake?”
“Not yet, but we’ve got a BOLO on the Hyundai and I called Uncle Wally at the factory to get a list of guys who work on Drake’s shift.
A few of them picked up when I called. Sounds like none of them knew Drake that well.
So, I went down to Ms. Saddler’s to ask if she knew how to find him.
I think she was in bed when I rang the doorbell.
Didn’t look so good when she opened the door. ”
Ginny had probably been sleeping off a Friday night binge session. “Keep going.”
“She told me Drake spent the night out and she hasn’t seen him all day.”
Emmy was about to task him with finding out who Drake had spent the night with, but Cole beat her to it.
“His girlfriend’s name is Hailey West. Twenty-three. Lives in Ocmulgee and works part-time at the Good Dollar so she can go to college at night. I called her up. Drake left her place a little before noon, but he didn’t say where he was going.”
“Priority one is to locate Drake. He’s our only known witness.”
“I’ll find him before the sun goes down.”
Emmy ignored the gunslinger bravado. She brushed her hair, used the tie Jude had packed to twist it into a loose knot at the back. She slipped on her duty vest. The weight of the ballistic panels felt reassuring. It was like she’d put her skin back on.
She gave Cole the second prompt. “What do we think we know?”
“The victim was leaving her husband. There’s a long history of domestic violence. The most dangerous time for an abused woman is when she’s trying to leave her abuser.”
Emmy sat down on an overturned bucket to lace up her boots. A jolt of pain took her breath away. She had forgotten about her bruised tailbone. “Broaden the scope. Who else?”
“I mean …” He paused. “Reggie, right?”
“Ignore Reggie. Who else?”
Cole paused again to think. “Allison tried to sue the police department for wrongful termination. She dropped the case last year, I think? But it pissed off a lot of people.”
“She dropped it two months ago, and it was for workplace retaliation,” Emmy said. “Who else?”
Cole went silent for a beat. He was trying to put together the pieces. “If you take out Bill and Reggie and all the other stuff we know, that leaves a retired cop and her daughter both being shot in broad daylight in the middle of a residential area on a Saturday afternoon.”
Emmy placed Hannah’s Nikes on top of her dirty clothes inside the duffel. She pushed open the door, reached out for Cole’s hand so she could jump down without jarring her tailbone.
“Keep going.”
“That’s a really brazen way to kill somebody. It’s like they’re trying to send a message.”
Emmy traded the duffel for her utility belt. “Who’s they?”
“Allison used to run the narcotics squad. Could be she put away a trafficker who bided his time to get revenge.”
Emmy checked her Glock to make sure Jude had left a round chambered. “I imagine Reggie’s thinking the same thing. He’s probably got his people combing through her cases right now.”
“But Reggie had a thing with Allison, right?”
Emmy nodded.
“So if Reggie’s actually the shooter—”
“Then he’s going to find someone else to pin it on.”
Emmy reached into the trunk of her car and fished out her First Aid kit. She was dry swallowing some Tylenol when three figures in full Tyvek suits came out of the house.
She recognized Sherry before the masks and hoods came off. She was shorter and slimmer than the men who flanked her. She had to tilt up her head to talk to them. Emmy knew what that was like. Sometimes she got home at the end of a shift and felt like every nerve in her neck was pinched.
Sherry unzipped the suit as she walked down the porch stairs.
Emmy asked, “You find anything?”
“Not much,” Shery said. “Just the murder weapon and three hundred grand in cash.”