Buried Memories. Carol J. Post

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СКАЧАТЬ investigating an incident that happened two weeks ago, also in Jacksonville. There are some similarities, and we think they might be connected.”

      “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I wasn’t there.” She unlocked the door and ushered them inside. After a few quick sniffs, Callie apparently decided the visitors were okay and plopped down in front of the entertainment center, dark eyes alert.

      Nicki motioned toward the sectional sofa. “Have a seat.”

      Once they’d settled onto the couch, Mulling turned back the cover on a notebook.

      Granger clasped his hands loosely in his lap. “Thank you for talking to us.” Although the female detective was sitting closer to Nicki, it looked as if Granger would be the one asking the questions. “I’m sure it’s going to be difficult, but I need you to tell me everything you can remember about that night.”

      She drew in a deep breath. Yeah, it would be difficult. Not because she still grieved for her mother. She’d come to terms with her death years ago. In fact, if events hadn’t gone the way they had, Nicki’s life would have turned out quite differently. Ending up in the Jackson home was the best thing that had ever happened to her. No, this was going to be difficult because she didn’t want to remember.

      She leaned back against the padded leather. “I was spending the night with a friend, Lizzie. She lived next door.”

      “Do you remember Lizzie’s last name?”

      “McDonald. Elizabeth McDonald.”

      “What about her parents’ names?”

      She shook her head. “I never met her dad, and I just called her mom Mrs. McDonald.”

      Granger continued while his partner filled up the first small page. “Was anyone there when you left to go to your friend’s house?”

      “My mom and my sister. I don’t remember anyone else.”

      “When was the first time you learned about your mother’s murder?”

      “The next morning. Mrs. McDonald said something awful had happened. She was crying. And she wouldn’t let me go home.” In fact, Nicki never set foot inside her house again. By lunchtime, the authorities had gathered up her belongings and whisked her away to the first of many foster families.

      “Did you know of anyone who’d have wanted to hurt your mother?”

      Hurt or kill? “A lot of them hurt her.”

      “How?”

      “Slapping her, punching her, throwing her against the wall, pushing her to the floor.” Fights were a regular occurrence, especially after a night of heavy drinking and shooting up.

      Granger leaned forward, sympathy filling his eyes. Or was it pity?

      She drew in a deep breath and lifted her chin. She didn’t need sympathy. She’d put her past behind her a long time ago. And she didn’t want pity.

      “These men who used to hit your mother, did you ever see any of them with a knife?”

      She shook her head.

      With a signal from Granger, Mulling removed a picture from the back of the notebook and handed it to her.

      “Does this man look familiar?”

      She looked down at what she held. Cords of steel wrapped around her chest and throat, squeezing the air from her lungs. It was a booking photo. Wicked tattoos reached out from beneath the wife beater shirt, and eyes as black as sin glared back at the camera with a lethal hatred. To a seven-year-old child, the man had seemed huge. Judging by the thick neck and monster pecs, her perception hadn’t been far off.

      All the men had scared her. But this one had frightened her the most.

      She shook off the fear. He had no reason to hurt her. And her mother was beyond his reach.

      “Uncle Louie.” She handed the photo back to Mulling.

      “No blood relation, I take it.”

      “No, same as all the others. I had more uncles than any girl alive.”

      Granger gave her a soft smile. It held the same hint of sympathy she’d noticed earlier. “What can you tell us about Louie?”

      “He was there a lot the last few weeks before my mom was killed. I think he was mostly living there.” A shudder passed through her. “I didn’t like him.”

      “Why not?”

      “I was afraid of him. He had an awful temper. Whenever I was home, I’d stay in my room and sneak to the kitchen to get something to eat once he and my mom were passed out.”

      She closed her eyes, events she’d tried hard to forget bombarding her. “Once I made the mistake of taking the peanut butter to my room. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed me into the wall. When my mom tried to stick up for me, he turned on her and beat her to a bloody pulp.”

      She suppressed another shudder. At the time, she’d thought it was her fault. Now she knew better.

      “You haven’t heard from him since that night, right?”

      “No.”

      “He was picked up near Ocala the morning after your mother was found and jailed on drug charges. Ended up doing fifteen years. But he was never charged with the murder. He had an alibi, albeit a shaky one, and although he was a suspect, we were never able to find enough evidence to convict him. Two weeks ago, another woman was stabbed to death. She’d recently ended a rocky relationship...with Louis Harmel.”

      Nicki nodded, a cold numbness spreading inside her. Maybe her mother’s killer would finally pay for his crime. But how long would it take? And what would she go through in the meantime? How many memories would have to be dredged up before it was all over?

      “Do you have any contact with your sister?” Granger’s words cut across her thoughts.

      “No. We were separated after our mother was killed.” And even before that, they hadn’t been close. They’d shared a room—a dinky space hardly big enough for the two twin beds and single chest of drawers. But Nicki hadn’t taken much comfort in her sister’s presence. No matter how terrifying the sounds coming from the next room, Jenny had never let her share her bed.

      “Six months ago, I hired a private investigator to find her,” Nicki said. Although the dysfunctional home and five-year age difference had kept them from being close, she’d thought of Jenny often over the years. Now Jenny was the only family Nicki had left.

      “Are they making any progress locating her?”

      “Yes and no. Three different times, the investigator has gotten leads, but every time he gets close, she disappears. It’s as if she doesn’t want to be found.”

      There was probably a good reason. A criminal background check had turned up a hefty list of arrests. Nothing too serious. Just a bunch of petty stuff—forged checks, shoplifting, possession of marijuana, СКАЧАТЬ