PART 4
Unknown
FIFTY-FIVE
Kaycee stepped from the white stone police station building, a cold Ale – 8-One in her hand, and gazed up East Main. May in Wilmore. On both sides of the street, cherry trees blazed pink. Another few weeks and the town would hang the large multicolored baskets of flowers from hooks on every lamppost. These would stretch from the railroad tracks up East Main, then to the right on North Lexington, all the way to the outskirts of town.
She tipped the Ale – 8-One to her mouth and drank.
Today was her
“One man,” Mark had reminded her last night over supper in Lexington. It was their ninth date — but who was counting? “He was just a man.”
Kaycee prickled. “Easy for you to say.”
“Hey, I’m not saying he wasn’t dangerous.” Mark held up both palms —
She thought of Officer Nelson’s wife and two children at his funeral. Hannah’s nightmares. Her own father’s dead face, her mother’s life on the run. “Yeah. Me too.”
Chief Davis had alerted the FBI regarding Rodney’s claim of an Atlantic City bank robbery twenty-six years ago. Over the past four weeks of investigation the story had unfolded. A record heist at the time, unsolved until now, and the inexplicable circumstances of Martin Giordano and his wife and daughter. The families of La Cosa Nostra in Atlantic City had long since lost their power, but in the early 1980s the organization was alive and well. Rodney List — Joel “Nico” Nicorelli — had been a part of the Lucchese family. Like Mark said — just one man. With his own failures and fears.
Mark slid his hand across the table and placed it over Kaycee’s. “You make peace with Mrs. Foley?”
“I’m not screaming at her anymore if that’s what you mean.”
“At least she knows you’re not crazy. You’re vindicated.”
“Like she’d ever admit it.”
Mark’s lips curved. “How’s Hannah?”
“Haven’t talked to her for days now. Her dad’s still mad at me. Can’t blame him.”
“You brought her back. Safe.”
“I’m the reason she was taken in the first place.”
Mark shook his head.
“I’m just giving them time.” Kaycee lifted a shoulder. “That family has so much healing of their own to do. Hannah needs to be talking to her father and stepmom right now, not me. And she’s getting better. They all are.”
So was Kaycee. She looked over her shoulder less these days. In time she would regain the strength she’d had before Mandy’s death. And one day she would conquer her paranoia completely.
Mark squeezed her fingers. They were silent for a moment.
“You write that column?” he asked.
“You know I did, Mr. Self-Satisfied.”
“See. I was right.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Now standing on Main, Kaycee smiled at the memory. She took another drink of Ale – 8-One and started up the sidewalk. Behind her, the glass door swished. “Kaycee.”
She turned around. “Hey, Chief.”
“Where you headed?”
“To Tastebuds for a pizza and soda. Wanna come?”
“Can’t, I’m going out to do DARE in a minute.”
The DARE car — the spiffy 1968 Ford Galaxy 500. “You promised me a ride last week.”
“That’s why I came out. Here’s your chance.”
“Cool. I’ll wait here; you bring it around.”
He glanced toward the building. “It’s just down in the basement.”
Okay. Hidden agenda. He’d obviously been talking to self-appointed therapist Mark. Kaycee gave him a look. “What happened to your velvet touch?”
One side of his mouth turned up. “You coming or not?”
It was a chance to face down a fear. The basement would be lit. Chief would be with her.
It would be terrifying.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”
She followed him back inside the building and through the station. Out the rear door and to the rickety- looking wooden steps to the basement.
The fear gripped her before she hit the last stair. Kaycee’ s knuckles whitened around the Ale-8-One bottle. Her mouth creaked open.
Shoulders drawn in, she stepped onto the concrete floor. She glanced around, eyes grazing the wood and stone walls, the door to the storage area. The shiny DARE car sat in the center, backed in and facing the basement’s wide double doors.
The wooden posts and low-beamed ceiling closed in. Kaycee’s stomach flipped. Her right hand jerked to the base of her neck.
“You okay?” Chief asked.
She nodded stiffly, eyes bugged.
“We’ll be out real soon.” He hurried over to push the doors wide open. Sunlight streamed in. “Okay, in the car.”
Kaycee got in the passenger seat, gripping the Ale-8-One bottle, her spine like stone. Chief started the engine and drove into the blessed afternoon.
She exhaled. One deep breath. Two. Sweat trickled down her temple.
Chief Davis put the car in park. “I’ll get the doors.” He gave her an encouraging nod. “Good for you, Kaycee. You did it.”
She looked back through the doors at the mine-like basement. A shudder jagged between her shoulder blades. The place looked like it would eat her alive.
Kaycee managed a wan smile. “Yeah. I did it.”
