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Oakley’s house was set up like a backward L with the garage tacked onto the house to the left forming the bottom of the L. There was the garage door that came in off the street, then there was a side door that led into the mudroom, and into the kitchen. Then there was the other door out of the garage that led to the back yard. The back yard had an entrance that led right into the living room.
I highly doubted that Bella would’ve locked herself in, either. If she’d known that she’d been caught stealing, she would’ve left the scene. She wouldn’t have stayed and opened more boxes.
She also wouldn’t have brandished a weapon.
But, Jackson said that she had one.
It’d been Oakley’s, of course, but it hadn’t even been operational. She’d apparently gone duck hunting with her brother when she was younger and had broken the shotgun that she’d used after falling over the side of the boat. It’d taken her two weeks, but she’d finally found the shotgun that had been submerged in a pond for all that time.
She’d kept the broken shotgun for sentimental value, but anybody with half a brain could tell that the shotgun wasn’t functional.
The stock was broken in half and swelled from being waterlogged, and the barrel was stained a muddy brown.
Honestly, he really should’ve been able to tell that the gun wasn’t functional. I’d taken one look at it lying beside Bella’s body and had known it wasn’t capable of firing a shell.
“My mom hasn’t shown back up yet,” I said softly. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that she was there. It was likely her idea.”
Which I hated. My mother hadn’t cared whose life she fucked up as long as hers was easier.
Hence the reason I hated her guts.
I just wished it’d been her that had died in Oakley’s old house, and not Bella.
Bella was still at least—or had been—young enough to turn her life around. But now she would never have the chance to do that.
“Do you think she saw anything?” Oakley asked. “I mean, honestly, she couldn’t have left that back yard. She had to have been hiding in it or I would’ve seen her. I could see a pretty long way off. I didn’t see anything at all.”
I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips.
“I’m going to find her and talk to her,” I said. “And then I’m going to take her to the police station and make her talk to them. Because I have a feeling Jackson is playing a game that we don’t know the rules to.”
“A game we don’t even realize we’re playing,” Oakley muttered.Chapter 19I think I’ve passed my best use by date.
-Text from Pace to Oakley
Pace
We made it home, and I was thankful to see Ford standing at the house looking forbidding.
“Your brother’s pissed,” I said.
“My brother’s pissed,” she agreed. “Really pissed.”
We got out of the Jeep and headed in Ford’s direction.
We’d only gotten three feet onto the grass when my mother came sprinting out of the shadows of the porch from behind Ford.
Ahh, so I got the reason he was pissed.
Or more pissed than he should’ve been.
My mother had a way with people.
“Oh my God!” my mom cried. “That man shot my baby!”
Before she had a chance to throw herself into my arms, Oakley stepped in front of me and blocked her charge toward me.
“No,” she said. “You stay over there away from him.”
My mother narrowed her eyes, but she backed up as if sensing that Oakley wasn’t in a playing mood.
“You were there?” I guessed.
My mother didn’t even have tears in her eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “I was there. And I watched that man kill my daughter.”
I looked over at Ford, and he took the hint by pulling his cell phone out and my guess was recording my mother’s confession.
“How about you start from the beginning,” I suggested.
But before she could begin, Ford’s phone started blowing up.
“Shit,” he said. “SWAT call. Gotta go.”
Before either of us could say a word, he tossed me his phone—which was still recording—and hurried away.
“We went over there because I thought it might be a great idea to get a few things to pawn,” my mother started, fidgeting with each word she spoke. “I was in the garage looking through the boxes while Bella was in the bedroom looking through ones in there. We’d entered through the unlocked door in the garage when…”
A cruiser pulled up and none other than Jackson stepped out.
God. Dammit.
“And that man shot my daughter!” my mother bellowed. “He pointed his gun at her, didn’t say a word, and shot her!” My mother got increasingly agitated as she waved her finger in Jackson’s direction. Jackson stiffened imperceptibly, but I saw him reach for the service weapon that was no longer there. The chief had taken it as per department protocol. “Then he set the scene up so that she looked guilty!”
