Bullet in the Night Page 2

  He looked up from the paper. “What does Tucker do at the foundation?”

  “Main paper shuffler. Lenora has him do state and local reports, things like that. She dislikes anything to do with numbers.”

  “What’s his full-time job?”

  “Researcher at a small Illinois college. He spends four days a week there and comes home on weekends.” I added soap to the dishwasher dispenser, shut the door, and pressed wash cycle. “Nick, I’m wondering how to approach this investigation about Kirk. Any ideas?”

  He jumped up and strode over to me. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he turned me toward him, locking his eyes on mine. “If you mean interviewing suspects, you’d be hunting a murderer again. Remember what happened with the Albert Windemere situation?”

  I trembled. It had been a year since I’d almost been shot myself. “I’ll be careful.”

  “I’d rather you not get involved, but I’ll help any way I can.”

  “You’re a good man, Mr. Trevor.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Come with me to Tucker’s to pick up Kirk’s file. The kids will be okay for forty-five minutes.”

  Nick’s eyebrows lifted. Normally, I was very independent.

  “I know, but tonight I don’t feel like driving alone to the scene of a crime. Humor me, please.”

  “Sure.”

  We left at eight forty-five with the kids settled doing homework. A lump formed in my throat as I realized I was about to see the shooting scene.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Evening shadows streaked the forest with a blackish hue as Nick steered around sharp curves on Old Bend Road. Tucker’s driveway, a half mile straight up and carved through wooded terrain, came into view. “How appropriate Lenora named this place Wooded Hill, don’t you agree, Nick? No houses on either side or directly behind their house and must be a hundred trees on the property, most of them huge.”

  Nick whistled softly. “Impressive. It seems remote, yet it’s only ten minutes from downtown Lake Geneva.”

  “What a find. Lenora loved—loves—this place.”

  “I can see why.”

  My limbs went numb. “The rustic beauty of Lenora’s hilltop home with its quaint small wings seems to mock her absence. I’ve never been here without her.” My heart fluttered in my chest. “It isn’t right.”

  A few raindrops seeped through the clouds and spattered our windshield. “That’s a warning of more to come.” Nick frowned. “Did you bring an umbrella?”

  “I usually keep one in my car.” I groped behind me. “Sorry, must have taken it in. At least it’s only a light patter.”

  Nick parked in front of the house. “Ready to make a dash for it?”

  We hurried up the flagstone path leading from the parking area to the main house. My toe caught in the gravel filling the space between the stones. I staggered and almost lost my balance.

  Nick grabbed my elbow. “Careful, honey.”

  “Right.” Remember, Jennifer, rushing gets you into trouble.

  Nick surveyed the house. “How long have the Lawrences lived here?”

  “Since they married, seven, maybe eight years. There he is now,” I mumbled.

  Tucker’s huge figure filled the open door frame. He must have seen our car lights approaching. He’d changed into a denim shirt and jeans and still managed to look suave.

  “Hurry before you get wet. This shower seems to come out of nowhere.” He motioned us onto the porch.

  A few seconds of silence followed. Were we both thinking about the shot coming out of nowhere to penetrate Lenora and change everything?

  Tucker’s hulking form reminded me of Gulliver entering the land of giants. He remembered his manners, bent over and stretched out his huge hand to shake mine.

  “Sorry I’m not more presentable.” Tucker threaded his fingers through his near-perfect hair, moving aside to let us enter the foyer. I might have laughed if I wasn’t still traumatized.

  “Please accept my sympathy over your wife’s tragic shooting.” Nick offered condolences with his usual graciousness. “We’re praying she’ll recover fully.”

  Tucker nodded. His eyes narrowed as he answered quickly, “Her condition’s the same.”

  Unchanged. Lord, I’d been hoping for an instant miracle. I hunted for words of comfort counselors provide and only came up with platitudes I bit back.

  “I’m going back to the hospital to spend the night.”

  “I hope you didn’t come here just for me?”

  “I needed a change of clothes.” That’s right, he had said that earlier. Where was my memory? Floating about somewhere in the tragic event threatening Lenora’s life.

  We followed Tucker down a quarry-tiled hall. A sense of heaviness overpowered me. What if Lenora never returns here? I’d last seen my colleague in her living room in a tailored black pants outfit looking elegant, her chestnut hair swept off her forehead, except for a few strands that had escaped the barrette.

  Two teardrops slid down my cheeks. I pushed them away with the back of my hand and focused on the pattern of the Berber carpet in the great room, the array of natural wicker and painted baskets strewn extravagantly on shelves, tables, on the floor next to furniture and in corner nooks.

  Not simply showy, her accessories held audiotapes, CD’s, tea, and napkins. This open, cozy setting reflected Lenora’s sense of beauty and practicality, making me even sadder.

  Tucker dropped into a chair at an oak dining table with carved legs massive enough to support a grand piano. Nick and I chose chairs on either side of him. The kitchen area with its maple cabinets was adjacent to us. Three bananas and two apples filled a wooden bowl on the table.

  I scanned the rooms quickly. My eyes focused on the ornate glass-faced gun cabinet. I jerked back around to find Tucker had followed my gaze. “I used to be a hunter,” he said, “but Lenora couldn’t bear for me to shoot the deer and wild turkeys on our property. Not even a rabbit, although I will say she nearly weakened when a pesky woodchuck kept burrowing under the house.”

  I tried to manufacture a smile.

  “Incidentally, the police checked my guns to see if the bullet came from one of them, thinking perhaps Kirk had used it. He hadn’t.”

  And to check you out, I imagine. Routine. Husbands were always prime suspects.

  Tucker brushed his hand across the polished tabletop. “Lenora enjoyed informal entertaining in this room. Unfortunately, because of my work, I missed too many events. She tolerated my schedule, but neither of us liked it.” His lips stiffened.

  I leaned forward. “You were away a lot, but I never knew her to complain.”

  “All the same, I can’t stop berating myself for being overinvolved at the university this past year and barely available for Lenora’s foundation work.” He shook his silver head. “I suppose you hear similar things in counseling all the time from grieving spouses.”

  “More than I’d like.” I nodded.

  Tucker shrugged. “At least I could bring the foundation paperwork with me and complete it in the city.”

  “I’m sure you were a big help,” Nick offered.

  I agreed. Why? Courteous response. How could I know? I disliked when I spoke automatically.

  Outside, an owl emitted a deep hoot. What night creatures were present during Lenora’s tragic shooting? If only birds or animals had voices to tell us now what happened that night.

  “Tucker, would you be willing to repeat what you told me earlier for my husband, Nick? As a lawyer, he may catch something in the sequence of events that I missed. Plus, I could benefit from hearing it again. I admit I was pretty much in semi-shock earlier when you told me.”

  He nodded. “I realize talking is supposed to help, but does it really? I’ve been over this several times, and it remains traumatic.” Tucker lifted his hands, palms up, in a helpless gesture. “This probably isn’t the last time I’ll ever have to speak of the horror of last night.”

  “I understand.” Nick averted his eyes.

>   “Well, I took the train home for the weekend from my job in Illinois, arriving at my usual time, ten-fifteen p.m., just as paramedics loaded Lenora on a stretcher.” He turned his head as if to block the picture before completing the account of the chain of events.

  “And Kirk’s story?” I asked.

  “Says he had a seven p.m. appointment with Lenora but arrived late, around nine, due to a flat tire.”

  “He came for...?” Nick leaned toward Tucker, concentrating his gaze.

  “Kirk was to have had a coaching session with Lenora and review his first week on the job for her Second Chance Prison Rehab Foundation.”

  “She’d been counseling him for how long before giving him the job? Sorry, I’d never paid close attention when Lenora told me about her plan to hire him.”

  Tucker counted out loud. “Several months, maybe six...”

  “If Kirk had intended to shoot Lenora the evening of their appointment, he’d be foolish not to have a better alibi,” Nick said.

  “Exactly.” I spoke the word with such vehemence my face flushed. I hated to think Lenora’s protégé would have turned on her.

  Tucker shook his head. “The police pieced together a logical scenario. Kirk and she argued about the job, he stomped outside, drove away, but stopped at the road that borders the hill behind our property. He pulled a rifle from his trunk, entered the woods, climbed up, and shot her from a spot behind the house where he had visibility.”

  “Why all the back and forth?” Nick probably knew the answer but wanted to hear the police theory.

  “His intent in all this was to make it look like he wasn’t involved. This guy, Kirk, was known to have a bad temper and carry grudges.”

  “Not good.” Nick looked at me.

  “Why try to save Lenora afterwards?” I brushed a piece of lint from the tabletop.

  Tucker shrugged. “Remorse can be a powerful emotion as well.”

  Nick stared at me. “We’re talking about a crime fueled by passion...anger...committed by an irate man. Jennifer, isn’t it unlikely he’d have the self-control to enter the woods and wait patiently for a good shot?”

  I nodded in response. “And ridiculous to think guilt could set in that fast when someone is upset enough to attempt murder. And Tucker, Kirk’s story is...?”

  “Says he arrived around nine and found Lenora passed out in a pool of blood. He called 9-1-1. The police arrived within minutes after he reported the shooting and found Kirk hovering over her bloody body holding a towel against her wound.”

  “Where was she exactly?” Nick asked.

  “Still at her desk. They immediately took Kirk to the station for questioning.”

  I closed my eyes to block out the vision of Lenora covered with blood.

  Tucker continued. “Kirk claims he wanted to call to tell her he’d be late due to a flat tire but had forgotten his phone. When he arrived, the door was unlocked. He walked in because Lenora was expecting him. He used her desk phone to call the police...that part was true.”

  “Which undoubtedly saved her life,” I interrupted. “Kirk waited for the rescue squad at Lenora’s side. How noble and tragic as well.” My voice caught.

  Tucker crossed his arms. “Or an attempt to throw off suspicion. My wife is a wonderful woman. Anger is a terrible motivator.”

  “What evidence do the police have?” Nick focused on facts; emotion was my territory.

  Tucker appeared to pull his words from a point of pain I could only imagine. “No gun residue on his hands, so he was smart enough to wear gloves, although his fingerprints were in the study and the kitchen. The police checked for footprints, but the ground was too dry. From the angle of the shot, they determined where he stood in the woods.”

  The image of Lenora stripped of her cozy idyllic existence infuriated me. “Have you been to look at the spot yet?”

  “I can’t bring myself to. The police combed the area but found nothing.”

  “Then evidence is circumstantial so far,” Nick commented more to himself than us.

  “But all pointing to Kirk.” Tucker clenched and unclenched his fist.

  “Tucker, you sound confident he’ll be convicted, but,” Nick clarified, “circumstantial won’t do it, not for attempted murder.”

  Tucker shook his head in disagreement. “All I know is the police sergeant told me they have what they need to put him away.”

  “Fresh out of prison, where would Kirk get a rifle?” I asked out of curiosity.

  “An ex-con?” Nick shrugged. “With their network of contacts, guns or drugs are no problem. Kirk could have had a rifle stashed somewhere before he went in, possibly even in these woods.”

  Tucker snarled. “Of course, he denies he had one.”

  “Tucker, you said earlier today you didn’t think Lenora’s shooting could have happened during a robbery? Are you still of that opinion now that you’ve had more time to check?” I asked.

  Tucker shot me an impatient look. “I told you nothing was taken.”

  Nick tapped his fingers on the table. “Makes sense. A sniper attack is unlikely for a robbery. A thief would come into the house, not shoot through a window, and then enter. Too risky.”

  “Is it possible a former client of Lenora’s had developed affection for her which she did or didn’t return?” We female counselors work hard to keep male clients from developing inappropriate attachments. “Rejecting a man with an already unstable mind could make him dangerous.”

  “A disgruntled previous client,” Nick agreed. “Makes sense if he knew her habits, realized she was home alone, and psychologically didn’t feel capable of killing at close range.”

  Tucker shifted in his chair. Obviously this thread of conversation displeased him. “Are you suggesting my wife might have been in an inappropriate relationship which she’d called off?”

  “Of course not. We’ll know more when Lenora recovers enough lung function to be off the ventilator.” I hastened to add, “I simply hope, for her sake, her protégé wouldn’t have done this.”

  The unspoken words “if she can get off the ventilator” hung in the air. Again my heart hurt for Tucker.

  “Truth will come out.” Nick used his lawyerly tone of reassurance.

  Tucker blew his nose and cleared his throat.

  I gave him a moment, then asked if he had the paperwork for me.

  He turned, picked up a manila folder from a shelf in the oak sideboard next to the table, and handed it to me. “The complete data on Kirk Corsini from the Second Chance Foundation’s files. In addition to giving him a job, Lenora counseled him for personal issues from his past. All her notes are in there.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get this back as soon as possible.”

  “No hurry. The police have another copy.”

  “Has anyone else at the foundation worked extensively with Kirk?” The thought had just occurred to me.

  “Chuck Denton, Chairman of our Board, Vice-President of Equitable Union Bank, sat in on the interview Lenora had with Kirk for his position. The head of Mr. Denton’s bank encouraged his involvement with our foundation as a community service. Mr. Denton may have some insights about Kirk. You can reach Chuck through the bank.”

  I turned to Nick. “Do you know this Chuck Denton?”

  Nick shook his head no.

  “He’s a helpful guy.” Tucker started to stand, then fell back onto his chair. “What will happen to the foundation without Lenora? What will happen to me? This is so awful. Do you think she’ll make it through? She must...”

  I reached over and rubbed the back of his hand on the chair. “What we can do is pray and make sure she gets the best medical care.”

  He rose and stood tall. “No doubt about that. I’m seeing to every detail.”

  “One last thing, as long as we’re here, may we briefly see her office where the shooting occurred?” I couldn’t leave without going in there.

  “Yes, the crime scene team released the site. Follow me.”

 
; My blood chilled. Did I want to see the scene of Lenora’s shooting? No way. But there might be a clue.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Soft rain pattered the roof as Tucker led us down the hall and through pine French doors into Lenora’s spacious, wood-paneled office. Russet swags imprinted with multi-colored bird designs topped windows framed in white. A massive, antique library table dominated the center of the room. Piles of journals and manila folders clustered beneath it and were scattered in stacks across much of the floor. A shiver ran down my spine. I rubbed my hands down my arms to drive away the coldness in the room.

  Tucker flicked on a wall switch. “This is...was Lenora’s sanctuary. It’s been a zoo with detectives and photographers.” He sighed and picked up a remaining fragment of crime scene tape.

  A hush fell over us as Nick and I examined the hole the bullet had made in the screen, raw edges of mesh turned back ever so neatly.

  “I hope the forensics team knew what they were doing,” Nick whispered in my ear. “It’s not like we’re a big city where dealing with attempted murder is commonplace.”

  Tucker walked over and turned on the desk light. “It still seems surreal.”

  I remembered reading in a mystery novel about surveying a crime scene in three dimensions. I looked up, down and around, studying the room from different angles.

  A huge picture window with smaller windows on each side faced the woods, giving Lenora a great view. It also gave Lenora’s attacker a perfect view of the room.

  Tucker cleared his throat, interrupting my silence. “Lenora insisted on perfect order everywhere in the house except her office. The cleaning lady rarely set foot in here.” He pointed to the carpet. “Lenora used the floor like a gigantic desktop for all her journals and research papers on prison reform and rehabilitation.” The first hint of a smile on his face appeared for a second. “Believe it or not, she could find anything instantly.”

  He picked up a letter opener in his Goliath-sized hand and put it back in the center desk drawer. Tidy man.