“Frank was abusive,” she said, her voice faint. “Hit me. Punched me. Bethany knew he did, gave me love and support. Told me he loved me, and that she’d get him to stop it. Stop hurting me.”
“Did she?” Skinner asked softly.
Lindsey shook her head. “Made it worse. Frank took all his anger out on me, blamed me for squealing on him to his sister. She took me to the hospital when he broke my arm, two ribs.”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“Before.” Lindsey swallowed hard and began again. “Before Frank killed himself, he said – said – he’d take me with him.”
“What?” I demanded, almost spilling my coffee.
For answer, Lindsey pulled her shirt away from her chest. To the left of her sternum was a puckered scar. And a longer one that indicated surgery. She never raised her head nor her voice.
“He shot me first,” she murmured. “He thought he killed me. He then put a bullet through his brain.”
“Oh my God.” Skinner shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Lindsey. I really am.”
“I survived by sheer luck,” she continued, covering her chest. “The bullet missed my heart by a millimeter. I still came very close to dying on the operating table.”
My fury raced through my blood. “So why is his sister targeting you? Her brother was bad to the bone. She knew it. What’s her deal?”
Glancing up at last, Lindsey smiled slightly. “Because I lived.”
“Bullshit.”
“Had I died, she’d have mourned me and Frank. Except I lived. Her brother is gone. She claims I fought him for the possession of the gun, shot him in the head, then played the victim of an attempted murder-suicide.”
“That makes no sense at all,” Skinner exclaimed.
“She says I murdered him and then shot myself.”
“Thatstillmakes no sense,” he went on, belligerent. “You could have claimed self-defense. With a record of abuse, it could have stood up in court.”
“I know.” Lindsey continued to smile. “But Bethany isn’t thinking or behaving with logic, with reason. She’s all emotion, driven to vengeance for what sheperceiveshappened. Not whatdidhappen.”
“She’s nuttier than a squirrel’s cache,” I commented dryly. “Must run in the family.”
“So now what?” Lindsey asked, taking a sip of her coffee. “You know everything. Can you arrest her if she shows up here?”
Skinner nodded. “I’ll ask for extra patrols around your neighborhood. Call me, any hour, Lindsey, if you see her. The same for Rivers. Either of them comes around, pick up the phone, then the gun. Got it?”
I nod, hiding my smile.If that bitch comes anywhere near Lindsey, she’s so much ash in the wind.“We got it.”
“Okay. Good.”
Skinner finished his coffee, stood, and shook our hands. After Lindsey saw him to the door, she sat beside me once again. My arm around her shoulders, I pulled her against my chest. I kissed her brow, then rested mine against it.
“I’m sorry you had to tell your story that way,” I murmured. “I’m sure you wanted to tell me on your own terms.”
“Yeah. But it feels good to have it out. That you know. I don’t have to hide it anymore.”
“Me, too. Carrying a secret can be hard. Strains the soul.”
She sighed, rubbed my belly. “And we told Skinner the truth. I don’t like lying. Never was any good at it.”
“I promise you, babe,” I murmured. “If Bethany comes around, Skinner won’t find anything of her to arrest.”
***
