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“You won’t shoot me,” he argued again.
“Give me the gun,” Cagle demanded, suddenly next to Finley, her face twisted in fury. “I’ll do it.”
Finley angled her a warning look before nudging Ray again. “I’d get moving if I were you.”
“Okay, okay.” He pushed to his feet and shuffled into the cell.
She turned to her father. “Lock it.”
He shoved the door closed and locked it. Cagle moved to the bars and stood there staring at the man who had murdered her daughter.
“Houser is on his way,” Finley’s father announced as he passed Finley’s phone back to her, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion.
Finley let go a breath. Drew in another, but she couldn’t seem to get enough into her lungs. “Thanks.” She tucked the phone into her back pocket. Her legs felt rubbery, and her heart pounded hard enough to burst from her chest.
Her father collapsed onto the bench. Cagle joined him there. The poor woman looked ready to fall over. Finley turned to join the two, but her phone vibrated with an incoming call. While Ray ranted through the bars at his brother, Finley stepped away to check her cell.
Randy.Her favorite lab guy.
She moved farther from the fray and answered. He was likely calling about the DNA comparison. Ray hadn’t smoked those cigarettes, but someone related to him had. Finley hoped it wasn’t Ian. She needed good news on this one for a change. “Hey, Randy. You have something for me.”
“I do,” her friend confirmed. “The genetic material tested from the cigarette butts was not from a brother of your client.”
She watched the two men glaring at each other through the bars. A smile slid across her face. “I’m listening.”
“It was from your client’s father.”
Now that was the best news Finley had gotten all week. “Thanks, Randy. I’ll pick up those results later.”
She ended the call and put her phone away. Took her first deep breath since she’d found her father’s car in her neighbor’s driveway. She surveyed the bizarre scene. This, Finley had a feeling, was going to take some time to fully sort.
She settled on the bench next to her father and the woman who had been carrying this awful burden for thirteen long years.
If they were lucky, it was almost over.
5:45 p.m.
Ray Johnson had given his statement, which was basically all lies. Jack had rushed over to mediate the questioning. Finley didn’t relax until the bastard was placed under arrest and removed from the premises. She really had to talk to Jack about his choices in clients.
After Ray had left, Houser questioned Ian. The younger Johnson provided details about the family operation going back two decades. These operations included everything from drugs to human trafficking. When the latter had begun, Ian had known he had to get out. Sadly, that was about the time Lucy sought him out for research purposes, setting the two of them on a collision course toward tragedy. Ian had broken down as he explained in detail how Lucy’s life ended.
Now they sat at the kitchen table with Cagle as she prepared to tell her story. Houser had read her rights to her, but she refused representation. Finley had ignored this and stayed put. Jack too.
The Judge had arrived. She and Finley’s father were on the front porch, waiting for his turn to give an official statement. Matt was with them. Finley was glad he was here. Her father would need someone to serve as a buffer. The Judge wouldn’t be so understanding or forgiving of his secrets. Finley was still damned pissed herself, but a part of her could see how he had reached those painful decisions.
“I started watching Ray Johnson several weeks after my daughter’s murder,” Cagle explained to Houser.
Finley still couldn’t get right with the idea that Helen Roberts was Louise Cagle, a.k.a. Louise Scott. As it turned out, Roberts was her mother’s maiden name. Helen was her middle name. When she’ddecided to go dark, she’d known she needed a new name and place to hide herself away with her prisoner.
Damn. Twelve years was a hell of a long time to keep a guy in a basement. The past year he had lived in the house with Cagle, a good deal of that time taking care of her. Right across the street. Finley was still stunned by the idea.
Cagle had admitted that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to abuse or neglect him—not even in the beginning. She’d followed the usual prison protocols for violent criminals. The skylights had been installed in the garage to give him an hour or two in the sunlight each day. He’d been able to roam the garage under her supervision. When she’d learned the whole truth—that it was Ray who’d actually murdered Lucy—she had wanted to see that he got what he deserved. Eventually she’d been well enough, and she and Ian had started to plan. When their plan had seemed to be going awry, Ian wanted to go after Ray on his own—the way he should have long ago, he’d insisted. Cagle had locked him up again—only this time to protect him.
“I hired a private detective, and he discovered the connection between Lucy and Bart O’Sullivan,” Cagle was saying to Houser. She glanced at Finley as she continued. “Lucy had been working on a special project for her senior thesis. She’d gone to Bart for research information. My investigator learned that when Lucy would leave the social services office, she would go to a car wash and meet with Ian Johnson.”
Finley frowned, then blanked her face. This was not exactly the way the story went, based on what her father had said. Finley opted to keep her mouth shut and see where Cagle was going.
“By the time he reported this news to me, Ian was missing.” Cagle took a sip of water. “That’s when I knew I had to follow Ray to determine if he was hiding his brother. I suspected he was, in an effort to protect the family.”
