Murder of Innocence (Murder Is Forever) Read online

  The dinner hadn’t done much to smooth over the tension between Mark and Glen, but Kathy and Glen had struck up an unlikely friendship. Soon Glen was calling at night just like Susan. Somehow, Kathy had become the confidante of the two major figures in Mark’s life. She told herself she was doing it for him, that she gets personal with these people so he can stay professional, but she realized recently that she seeks these connections because of the growing gulf she feels between herself and her husband. Kathy knew being an FBI agent’s wife would be challenging, but she hadn’t expected this type of loneliness. Kathy feels like she’s just biding her time until they can get out of Pikeville. She can’t imagine living her whole life here, which is one reason she pities Susan, who is probably stuck here forever.

  “Glen might look, but he’ll never touch,” Kathy says now, defending Glen. “He can be inappropriate at times, but he’s harmless. He’s just a big teddy bear.”

  “Humph,” Susan says. “A teddy bear that won’t stop staring at my tits.”

  “So what else is going on with you?” Kathy asks.

  “Oh, Clint smacked me around again today,” Susan says. “He didn’t used to hit me in front of the kids, but nothing stops him now.”

  Kathy isn’t sure if Susan’s claims that Clint hits her are true. She’s learned to take a lot of what Susan says with a grain of salt. But one thing is certain: with or without domestic violence, the poor girl is in a terrible living situation.

  “Susan,” Kathy says, “you’ve got to get out of there.”

  After Susan testified against Cat Eyes, her relationship with her ex became more and more volatile. Kathy and Mark had both hoped that Susan would use the four thousand dollars she received for testifying as a way to get out from under Clint. But instead, she gave Clint half the money. What they didn’t understand until later was that it was the only way Susan could get back into the trailer to be with her children.

  Neither Mark nor Kathy had known that Clint, not Susan, was the one who got custody of the two children in their divorce. Which explained the mystery of why Susan still lived there—so she could be with her kids.

  “Do you think Mark could pull some strings so I could get back custody?” Susan asks.

  “Sorry,” Kathy says. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  As she talks to Susan, Mark walks in, appearing tired after a long day. He looks at her quizzically, asking without words who is on the phone.

  Susan, she mouths.

  “Does she need to talk to me?” he asks.

  She shakes her head no, and he gives her a thumbs-up.

  “I should probably get dinner on the table,” Kathy tells Susan a few minutes later, but Mark is already in his running clothes and heading off. The leaves are changing color and the night is coming earlier. It will be pitch-black before Mark gets back from his run. Kathy looks out the window as her husband disappears into the distance, and as she listens to Susan drone on about her situation, Kathy feels an overwhelming sadness.

  I’ve got to stick it out. I’ve got to be strong for my husband.

  That night, after the kids are asleep, she brings up Susan’s request about custody.

  “Is there anything you can do for her?” she asks as Mark brushes his teeth. “She was really useful to you, but now her whole community has turned their backs on her. She needs the agency’s help.”

  Mark spits a stream of toothpaste into the sink.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he says, wiping his mouth with a towel. “But don’t hold your breath that it will make much difference.”

  “Don’t be cynical,” Kathy says. “Just help her, Mark. Give her another chance.”

  CHAPTER 15

  A WEEK LATER, MARK lies awake in bed staring at the ceiling, which in the gray light looks like the surface of the moon. Mark feels like he’s floating in outer space with no way to find mooring.

  He has an early meeting at the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Lexington, a good three-hour drive away, but he has too much on his mind to sleep. The monumental chop-shop case devours most of his time and energy. He is making progress, and arrests are inevitable, but he hadn’t realized just how much time it would take.

  Having a partner he doesn’t like makes matters even more challenging. Glen Bell is a loose cannon who plays by his own rules. After he’d been on the job for a month, one of the other agents in the Lexington office confided to Mark that the reason Glen had been sent to Pikeville was that no one in Lexington wanted to deal with him. So here was Mark, a rookie figuring things out as he went, paired with a rogue agent whom the higher-ups in the FBI wanted to forget about. Glen resents Mark’s gung-ho attitude and hates how every supervisor in the region sees Mark as a golden boy with a bright future. Unsurprisingly, they don’t make a particularly effective team.

  Mark had hoped to hand Susan off to Glen as an informant. It’s a smart idea in theory—Glen works mostly on drug cases, which Mark isn’t particularly interested in and which Susan has a lot of information on—but Susan hates working with Glen. Mark’s sympathetic; he’s seen the way his partner looks at her and has heard the inappropriate comments Glen makes. Susan prefers dealing with Mark, so more often than not, he ends up being the liaison between them.

  In truth, her usefulness to the agency seems to have run its course, yet Susan has come to love working for the FBI. It’s given her a sense of purpose. He hates to think what would become of her if the FBI cut her loose entirely. And for better or worse, she’s more Glen’s informant than his now, so Mark can’t close her file. Honestly, even if he could, he isn’t sure he would. He’s known Susan almost a year and a half, and they’ve grown close. When they talk, alone in the car on a backcountry road, they have great conversations, laughing and sharing stories.

  He doesn’t talk that way with Kathy anymore.

  That is another problem weighing on him. To say his marriage is strained is putting it mildly. But he doesn’t know how to fix that relationship and do his job to the best of his ability.

  He listens to Kathy breathing next to him in bed. He wants to roll over and put his arms around her, snuggle like they used to. When they first started dating, they’d been so intimate. Now they hardly touch, usually just a peck on the lips when he says good morning and another when he says good night. As Mark considers taking his wife into his arms, the telephone rings, shattering the silence of the house. He jumps out of bed, trying to reach it before the ringing wakes the kids.

  “Putnam residence,” he says, keeping his voice low. Mark hears a woman crying. He can tell at once that it’s Susan.

  “Can you pick me up?” she says, sobbing. “I don’t have anyone else to turn to.”

  Helping Susan beats lying in bed tangled up in his own stressful thoughts and pining for the woman next to him, who might as well be on the other side of the Grand Canyon.

  Besides, he has a fat envelope of cash he needs to deliver to Susan. Why not do it now?

  “Tell me where you are,” he says, “and I’ll head right over.”

  CHAPTER 16

  SUSAN STANDS IN THE shadows of the trees in her usual spot. A bank of fog hangs over the hills, glowing in the moonlight. Skeletal branches reach out of the mist like phantoms.

  The night has a positively eerie feel to it, but Susan’s spirits aren’t dampened. As soon as Mark said he was coming, she felt better. Her life is in complete disarray. She can’t get her kids away from Clint, and she can’t live with him anymore. That arrangement has collapsed. All her friends in the area have stopped speaking to her, so she’s not much use as an informant, which means she has no source of income except her welfare checks. She feels like the walls are closing in on her, and there’s no escape hatch and no one to rescue her.

  Except Mark.

  When she’s with him, she forgets her troubles. She’s tried to put her attraction to him out of her mind, but being treated with dignity and respect—being treated like a person—is as addictive as any pill she’s ever popped or
line she’s ever snorted.

  Headlights appear through the fog, and a minute later Mark’s car appears, the engine chugging exhaust into the cold night air. She climbs in. Without hesitation, Mark heads to one of their usual parking spots.

  “Thanks,” she says. “I just … I just can’t stay with Clint anymore.”

  “I couldn’t sleep anyway,” he says.

  She studies him as he drives. She usually sees him in a tie, but tonight he’s dressed casually in sweats. His face glows in the light of the dashboard display. He’s still as handsome as always, but he looks tired. His forehead is creased with strain, his shoulders are hunched, and his hands are strangling the steering wheel.

  “I’ve got something for you,” he says once he puts the car in park. He tugs a thick envelope from the pocket of his sweatpants and holds it out to her.

  “What’s that for?” she says.

  “For all the work you’ve done for us,” he says. “I talked it over with Glen and we decided that you deserved it for all the tips you’ve delivered.”

  Susan eyes him suspiciously. She can’t stand Glen. If only Mark had a little bit of Glen’s unscrupulousness—or if Glen had a lot of Mark’s good looks …

  And good manners.

  And decency.

  And … well, the list goes on and on.

  “It’s another four thousand,” Mark tells her. “Hopefully you can use it to improve your situation. Maybe hire a lawyer to work out your custody issues with Clint.”

  Instead of snatching the envelope, Susan throws her arms around him in a tight hug. He holds her for a moment, but Susan doesn’t want to let go.

  It feels so good to be in his arms.

  She imagines an alternate universe where the two of them met under different circumstances. She closes her eyes and pictures what that might look like.

  As Mark pulls away, Susan says, “You seem stressed out. Your whole body is tense. I can feel it.”

  Mark lets out a deep breath, and, dropping his guard—a rarity for him—he says, “Sometimes I feel like I’m in way over my head in this job.”

  His vulnerability breaks her heart.

  “Lean forward a little,” she instructs him, and she shifts in her seat so she’s on her knees. With her head near the ceiling, she reaches out to his shoulders and begins to work the muscles with her fingers. “What you need is a good massage.”

  She expects him to resist, to tell her this isn’t appropriate. Instead, he groans with relief. She digs her fingers into his hard muscles, first on his back close to his neck, then on his upper arms around his shoulders. She rubs his neck and then runs her fingernails through his hair. He leans back against the headrest, eyes closed, and she shifts her position and kneads the muscles in his chest.

  Mark opens his eyes and the two stare at each other in the half-light. He looks at her in a way she’s never seen before.

  Is this really happening?

  Mark reaches up and gently guides her face down to his. Their lips meet, and they begin to kiss slowly. She tastes his tongue and the sweat on his lips. His stubble scratches against her chin. Susan pulls back for a moment and appraises him.

  They could stop. It’s not too late.

  But Mark’s sweatpants can’t hide his arousal, and Susan takes her hand and runs it up the inside of his thigh.

  Then, as if a dam has broken, their movements gain speed, and they kiss and embrace in a passionate flurry, separating only long enough to tug off each other’s clothes.

  CHAPTER 17

  MARK SHOWERS IN THE spare bathroom, and Kathy pokes her head around the curtain.

  “Did you sleep at all?” she asks.

  “Not much,” he says, his hair lathered with soap.

  “Where did you go last night?” she asks.

  “Susan,” he says, unable to think of a lie.

  He feels like he has guilt written all over his face, but this one-word answer is enough for Kathy. She doesn’t balk at him running out in the middle of the night to meet his needy informant.

  “Did you give her the money so she can hire someone to work on the custody issue?” Kathy asks.

  “Yeah. I meant to tell her it was your idea,” he says, “but you know how Susan is. She kept talking about her situation with Clint.”

  “It’s no big deal,” Kathy says. “I don’t need credit. I hope it helps her.”

  She closes the shower curtain, and Mark lets the hot water spray his hair and run down his face.

  He hates himself.

  He can’t believe how weak he was. He tells himself it was a small mistake, a little indiscretion. If only it was like college, when he could pick up a girl in a bar, screw her brains out, then never see her again.

  He and his buddies had a motto: Love ’em and leave ’em; fuck ’em and forget ’em.

  This doesn’t have to be a big deal as long as he and Susan don’t make it one, he decides. But it will not happen again, he vows.

  It was just a one-night stand that didn’t mean anything.

  But all through his drive to Lexington and back, he keeps thinking of Susan’s body pressed against his, their mouths locked in a passionate kiss. All day he feels as horny as a teenager falling in love for the first time.

  That evening, when he gets back to the Pikeville office, Mark can’t help himself. He calls Molly’s house, where he dropped Susan off after they made love in the car.

  “I was hoping you’d call,” Susan says.

  “I want to see you,” he says. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  CHAPTER 18

  KATHY HANGS ORNAMENTS ON the tree in the living room while carols play on the radio. She’d put off trimming the Christmas tree, hoping it was something they could do as a family. But Mark never seems to be home these days, and Kathy decided not to wait any longer.

  Putting up the tree was no small feat for her to handle solo. She’d had to drag the tree she got from the Christmas-tree lot to the house, adjust the base so the tree would stand up straight, and hang the lights, all while contending with two small children. Little Evan crawls through the room trying to put ornaments in his mouth. Jenny wants to help, but she lacks the motor skills to hook the ornaments onto the branches by herself.

  Kathy stands on a chair and attaches the star to the top, then gets down and moves a few steps away to appraise the lopsided tree. She feels incredibly sad. Before she knows it, she’s fighting back tears.

  She doesn’t know how long she can keep doing this—taking care of the children without help, never seeing her husband, never knowing when he’ll be home.

  She knows that after the first of the year, the FBI is finally going to start making arrests in the chop-shop case. She’s hoping that Mark might have more time after that—or at least be less stressed—but even if he does, that will change when the court case gears up. He’ll have to make sure his informants will testify, drive to more meetings with the U.S. Attorney. Things might not ease up until the culprits are actually in jail. But then there will be another case, and another.

  Maybe things will never ease up, not as long as they’re in Pikeville.

  At what point will the FBI let us leave this godforsaken hellhole?

  After the tree is finished and the kids are in bed, Kathy heads to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. Leaving the bottle uncorked, she takes a large swallow from her glass and then refills it.

  The phone rings.

  She doesn’t want to answer it. She figures it’s probably Susan, and she’s just not in the mood to hear the woman’s sob stories. Glen Bell is getting on her nerves lately too.

  But it might be Mark. “Putnam residence,” Kathy says, trying not to sound upset.

  “Where’s that FBI husband of yours?” a rough male voice says.

  “He’s unavailable,” Kathy says. “May I take a message?”

  “Yeah, y’all can give him a message from us,” the voice says.

  Us? Kathy thinks. Who is us?

 
; “Tell him we’ve been watching him,” the man says, his voice gravelly and sinister. “We know what he does. We know where he lives. We know he leaves his pretty wife home all alone with the kids.”

  A cold chill shoots up Kathy’s spine.

  “It would be a shame if something happened to the things he loves the most,” the voice says. “Lots of hiding places out in these hills. It would be easy for a person to disappear.”

  Kathy hangs up, unable to listen to any more. Her lungs are heaving, her heart hammering in her chest. Kathy rushes to the bedroom and throws open the closet door. Her fingers wrap around the grip of the .357 that Mark keeps hidden on the top shelf.

  With trembling hands, she checks to make sure the gun is loaded. Then she hurries through the house, checking every window and door to make sure they’re locked. She pulls the blinds down and switches off all the lights.

  She dials Mark’s office number, hoping he’s there taking care of paperwork. In truth, there’s no telling where he is; he could be anywhere in the whole tri-corner area.

  “Damn it!” she exclaims when there’s no answer.

  Kathy forces herself to sit at the kitchen table instead of pacing the house. This is where Mark finds her three hours later, the bottle of wine now empty, her hand still gripping the gun.

  “Jesus, honey,” he says, taking the gun from her. “What the hell is going on?”

  When she tells him about the call, he’s sympathetic but doesn’t seem to take it as seriously as she wants him to. He doesn’t feel she and the kids are in any real danger. Whoever called just wanted to intimidate him into not moving forward with the indictments for the chop-shop case. “They’re just trying to scare you,” he says.

  “Well, it fucking worked!” she snaps.

  “So don’t answer the phone anymore,” he says dismissively.