Kennedy Stern Christian Suspense Complete Box Set (Books 1-9)

Straightened-20

“Tell you what,” Sandy said. “Why don’t you tell Carl I’m out here and I have him a sandwich and a small picnic packed for whenever he’s ready. I’ll just stay in here so Woong can get a little more rest. And take your time. The longer Woong sleeps, the easier it’s gonna be on my poor nerves today.”

As Kennedy entered Carl’s massive church, she thought about Sandy’s foster son. She knew it was possible for two people to have a close relationship even if they didn’t share the same moral values. Her friendship with her roommate was a perfect example. Willow knew that Kennedy didn’t drink, didn’t do drugs, and wasn’t planning on having s*x until her wedding day. And as much as she teased her about it in her good-natured way, Willow never tried to change Kennedy’s mind about any of it. Likewise, Kennedy knew Willow partied hard and slept around with just about everyone in Harvard’s theater department. That didn’t stop the two of them from enjoying a peaceful co-existence that eventually morphed into friendship. They enjoyed each other’s company and shared a mutual respect for one another, different as they were. Kennedy didn’t try to change Willow’s behavior, and Willow didn’t try to change Kennedy’s convictions.

She stepped down the carpeted hallway, glancing into the large St. Margaret’s library. As she approached Carl’s office, she heard him talking with someone. The door was open, so she took a peek inside.

“Kennedy!” Carl boomed. “You get tired of my wife dragging you around from one store to another?”

His visitor turned around, and she recognized the chaplain from the Boston Police Department.

“Have a seat.” Carl pointed to an empty chair. “Dominic just stopped by to tell me who set fire to our house last night.”

CHAPTER 27Carl seemed in a good mood for someone discussing the fire that nearly destroyed his home. “Should you tell her, or should I?”

Even Dominic had a slightly bemused expression on his face. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

Carl crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Well, my home insurance adjuster won’t like it one bit, but at least now we know who our arsonist is. He’s about three and a half feet tall, ten years in age (give or take), and his two favorite words are hungry and yucky.”

Kennedy looked for any traces of a jest in Carl’s expression. “Woong did it?”

“Yup.” Carl chuckled. “Boy’s been obsessed with fire since the day we brought him home. Bul! Bul! Shouts it all the time. Social worker thinks probably that’s how he kept warm in the winters when he was out on the streets. Maybe that’s why it’s so important to him. We don’t know. What we do know is he got hold of Sandy’s long-nosed kitchen lighter. Probably saw her using it to start that busted burner on the stove or whatnot, and he decided to try the magical fire maker out for himself.”

“So it was just an accident?” Kennedy asked, finally beginning to understand the reason behind the general lightness of mood.

Carl nodded. “Best news we could have gotten. Well, except now I’ve got to beg our insurance policy to cover the damage. But I’d rather shell out a ten-grand deductible than know someone is out to hurt me or my family. It sure is a load off my shoulders.”

“Do you want me to ask the fire chief to come have a talk with your son?” Dominic asked. “Scare a little bit of safety into his system?”

Kennedy thought he was joking, but Carl paused as if taking the question seriously. “Let me run that by Sandy. She’s been reading up on all the new ins and outs of adoption. Got a whole list of do’s and don’ts, what topics you can broach, what topics are taboo, how much time you need to spend doing what with your kid each day .... To me it’s just a bunch of psychobabble. Back when we were adopting out of the foster system, we didn’t have time or energy for any sophisticated set of rules. But everything’s different now. All these new adoption bloggers. A whole lot of stuff and nonsense if you want my opinion, but my Sandy, she swears by it. So let me ask first and see what she thinks. Maybe one of her books has a chapter about children who set fires to their new homes. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Kennedy couldn’t help but smile at Carl’s attitude toward everything. She’d been something of a pyromaniac when she was Woong’s age, too. She couldn’t count the times her dad sat her down and lectured her for half an hour or made her watch fire safety videos over and over again until she could recite all their dozens of precautions and rules from memory. He never thought to have the fire chief show up, though. Maybe that would have been more effective.

Carl reached out and shook Dominic’s hand. “Thanks again for the good news, brother. Now, let’s pray our adjuster will accept our claim. I’m just waiting for them to pull out some kind of exclusion clause when it comes to children playing with lighters in the middle of the night. Now, if we could only find out who set fire to the Abernathys’ place.”

Dominic frowned. “Well, I have a feeling that’s not going to remain a mystery for too much longer.”

“Does that mean they have their guy?” Carl asked.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Well, who was it?”

Dominic sighed. “The fire started in Wayne Abernathy’s home office. We’ve known that since the beginning. At first, everyone assumed the suspect set the fire to hide the evidence. Now, it’s looking more and more like the senator was trying to get rid of evidence at the time of his murder. The department’s best guess right now was he was burning some papers or files at the time he was killed. Whoever the murderer was, she left the fire going and didn’t lift a finger to put it out before splitting the scene.”

Carl leaned forward in his seat. “I’m sorry. Did you just say she?”

Dominic nodded. “I did. Video surveillance from the Abernathys’ residence shows a young twenty-something pulling up into the Abernathys’ place just after the son drove off. Someone let her past security — Abernathy himself, we presume. She left about fifteen minutes later, and within another quarter of an hour, the senator was dead and the whole mansion was going down in flames.”

CHAPTER 28Kennedy held her breath.

“Any clues as to who this mystery lady is?” Carl asked. Kennedy didn’t understand why he didn’t sound more excited. Didn’t he see what this meant for the case?

“Your guess is as good as mine at this point,” Dominic answered. “And of course, I’m telling you this off the record. It’s got to stay under wraps for now.”

“Of course.” Carl drew his fingers across his mouth as if he were zipping his lips shut. “I won’t say a word. But it would be nice to know something about the suspect.”

“It’s all conjecture now. Last I heard, they were working on retrieving her plates from the surveillance. That’s gonna give us a place to start. For all we know, she could be anything from a hit woman to a jilted mistress.”

Carl bristled visibly. “Wayne Abernathy wasn’t that kind of man. He may have had some skeletons in his closet, but they weren’t the kind that went around wearing high heels and risqué undergarments.”

Kennedy might have giggled in different circumstances.

Dominic stood up. “Anyway, I can let you know more as information is released to the public. I’m just glad that you and your family can rest easy tonight knowing nobody’s holding a death wish against you.”

Carl and Dominic said goodbye, and Kennedy remembered she was supposed to tell Carl about his picnic lunch out in the car.

“This whole case just gets stranger and stranger, doesn’t it?” he asked once they were alone.

“At least you got some good news. I mean, now you know that the fire was just an accident.”

Carl nodded. “Houses can be replaced. That’s just what I’ll have to keep telling myself as we dish out a small fortune to pay for the repairs. But at least it’s not winter. It’s not like we’re going to freeze while we wait for the builders to take care of it. Lots to be thankful for.”

“Like Noah being innocent.”

He frowned. “What did you say?”

“I said it’s good news that Noah’s innocent. Since the video showed the killer was a woman.”

She couldn’t understand why he looked so serious again.

“I guess you missed that part of the conversation.” He adjusted his glasses, which were starting to slip off his nose.

“What part of the conversation?” Kennedy didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Didn’t like the tone he was using.

“When Detective Drisklay arrested Noah, it wasn’t for murdering his father. It was for the stabbing that killed Marcos Esperanza, the counselor.”

Kennedy stared at him stupidly. “But wait, when the detective came, he ...” She stopped. Had Drisklay actually said he was under arrest for the murder of his father?

Or just for murder? Was that why Drisklay took Noah in?

But he was innocent.

Wasn’t he?

“Wait a minute.” Kennedy did her best to replay the details of the conversation on Nick’s roof. “He had an alibi. A friend he was out with. I forget his name. Dawson? Something like that. The two of them were together. The bartender at this club could vouch for them. They were jumped ...” She stopped when she noted the resigned sadness that clouded Carl’s dark complexion.

“That’s the same story he told his mom when he called her from the police station. Vivian phoned me earlier. Asked me to track down this friend, get the exact name of the bar.” He shook his head. “That woman would do just about anything to keep her son out of prison.”

Kennedy remembered how regal Vivian Abernathy had appeared when she confessed to her husband’s murder. She knew she’d be handcuffed and taken into the police station, but she had looked so stately. So calm.

“I know about this Dayton friend of Noah’s,” Carl continued. “His mom came to see me a few months back, wanted to know what she should do when she discovered her son was using a fake ID and sneaking into gay bars. After I talked with Vivian this morning, I called his mom. Explained that Noah was in trouble with the law so I needed Dayton to tell me where they were last night.”

Carl leveled his gaze. He had that same look in his eyes as Kennedy’s parents twelve years ago when they told her that her grandmother was dying. That blunt but painful honesty you find every so often in a nurse who has the decency to tell you when you’re a kid that yes, your shot’s going to hurt, but then you’ll be just fine.

Carl let out a heavy sigh. “Dayton’s spending the summer with his father. He’s been in Florida since June.”

Kennedy let the words sink in. “So that whole story was a lie? The gay bar, the bouncer, the skinhead? He made all that up?” Kennedy couldn’t believe it. Up on the patio of Nick’s apartment this morning, Noah had sounded so convincing. She remembered his weak stomach. That wasn’t the kind of thing even a trained thespian like her roommate could conjure up at will.

“People do crazy things when they’re scared.”

“Stupid things, you mean.” Kennedy didn’t get it. If all Noah was trying to do was establish an alibi, why did he pick something that was so easy to shatter?

“Like I said, he was probably scared. Told you guys the first thing that popped into his head.”

“But he’s the one who sought us out,” Kennedy protested. “He wouldn’t run right to us if he’d really been guilty.”

“No? He’s a kid, remember? A kid who’s accused of murdering his own counselor, whether or not he meant to. It’s very possible he turned to Nick because he didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“But he was so shaken up ...” Kennedy stopped. Maybe it made more sense than she was willing to admit. The upset stomach. The obvious guilt. The fear. Did he make up a story about beating someone up in self-defense in order to cover a more heinous crime?

She still didn’t want to believe it.

But maybe she would have to.

She and Carl stared at each other across his cluttered desk. She was so tired. She wished she could be like Woong and take a nap in the back of the Lindgrens’ Honda.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Sandy has a sandwich waiting for you in the car. Woong’s dozing, so she said you could take your time.”

“Pastor?” The timid voice at the doorway made Kennedy snap her head up in time to see Vivian Abernathy scurrying in. She looked something like a mouse scampering away from a cat. A mouse in high heels and a short skirt.

Vivian held a bundle of papers in her hand and set it on top of a pile of Carl’s unopened mail. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but you need to see something. I found the papers that explain why my husband was murdered.”