The Fourth Victim
Praise for the novels of
TARA TAYLOR QUINN
“Tara Taylor Quinn has consistently created excellent fiction of the highest quality…. Don’t miss The Chapman Files or anything written by such a wonderful storyteller.”
—New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
“One of the skills that has served Quinn best…has been her ability to explore edgier subjects.”
—Publishers Weekly
Street Smart is filled with “deception, corruption, betrayal—and love, all coming together in an explosive novel that will make you think twice.”
—New Mystery Reader Magazine
“Combining her usual superb sense of characterization with a realistically gritty plot, Quinn has created an exceptionally powerful book.”
—Booklist on Behind Closed Doors
“Tara Taylor Quinn’s In Plain Sight is character-driven suspense at its best with rapid-fire pacing that makes you feel as if the pages are turning themselves.”
—Hallie Ephron, Edgar® Award–nominated author of Writing and Selling Your Mystery Novel and crime fiction book reviewer for the Boston Globe
“Lisa Jackson fans will fall hard for Quinn’s unique ability to explore edgy subjects with mesmerizing style.”
—BookReporter.com
“Tara Taylor Quinn delivers deeply emotional tales, steeped in psychological suspense…. I consider them essential to my bookshelf, and you will, too.”
—New York Times bestselling author Maggie Shayne
Also by Tara Taylor Quinn
WHERE THE ROAD ENDS
STREET SMART
HIDDEN
IN PLAIN SIGHT
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
AT CLOSE RANGE
Also in The Chapman Files:
THE FIRST WIFE (Superromance)
THE SECOND LIE
THE THIRD SECRET
TARA TAYLOR QUINN
THE 4TH VICTIM
For Penny Gumser, Phyllis Pawloski, and LeeAnne Williams. The three women who, in their own ways, introduced me to Big Girl Panties. I thank God for the three of you. And love you so much!
Dear Reader,
Kelly Chapman really did it this time. She was considering a case, getting ready to open one of her files to me, something to do with her foster daughter, Maggie Winston. She went inline skating while she pondered. Alone. In December. In Ohio. There’s this converted railroad track, now a paved bike path, where she skates on a regular basis. During the spring, summer and early fall the path is well traveled. But not in December.
Without intending to, Kelly put herself at risk and there went her plans. That left me with no heroine and a paved bike path as a crime scene. Now, this was a problem for the book—a kidnapped and out-of-commission heroine. It turned out to be a personal problem, too. Like Kelly, I’m an avid inline skater. I skate for peace of mind. For freedom. For health. I love flying across cement with the wind in my hair. I love pushing myself to get up the steepest hills and I laugh out loud when I race back down.
Kelly just so happens to use the same bike path I skate on. And after she came to harm there, I couldn’t skate on my path anymore for the months it took me to write this story. It felt like darkness. And danger. Instead of joy waiting for me out there with the wind, there was danger lurking just behind me.
Kelly wouldn’t let me give up, though. She pushed herself—to survive. And she pushed me. I’m happy to report a recent fourteen-mile skate. And even happier to report that I can’t wait to get back out there. I’m happiest still to bring you Kelly’s story. She’ll keep you guessing. That’s a promise.
I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 13584, Mesa, AZ 85216, or www.tarataylorquinn.com.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
1
Chandler, Ohio
Thursday, December 2, 2010
“You okay?” I glanced over at the young woman riding in the front passenger seat of my blue Dodge Nitro. Maggie, whose hair was all one color now—a shade of blond that complemented those big brown eyes—stared straight ahead.
“Yeah.”
“No, really.” Maggie knew I wouldn’t let her hide from me.
“I’m fine.”
Some days, being the new and single foster mother of a fourteen-year-old—a girl who’d been sexually active far more recently than I had—was more challenging than sorting out the various personae of a patient with dissociative identity disorder.
I had experience with the latter. And training.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, making a turn and then another.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“You don’t owe her anything.”
Maggie’s head swiveled toward me, and the emotion I could see in her eyes caught my stomach. And my heart. “Don’t I?” the girl asked, her voice more mature-sounding than any teenager’s should have been. “Whatever else she did, she gave me life.”
That was something Maggie’s mother did often—invoking the invisible bond of biological family. A bond that was meant to comfort but sometimes twisted insidiously and could lock you into a seemingly inescapable hell.
“And then she stole it from you,” I said without a pause. “One fact negates the other.”
“So why’d you come back to Chandler and take care of your mom until the day she died?”
I didn’t regret telling Maggie my life story. It had won me a measure of her trust, which helped save the girl’s life. As a result of the whole mess—what her mother had done—I had custody of her for the next four years.
But all things came with a price. I could have pointed out the differences between her story and mine—if I’d had the time, which I didn’t. But it wouldn’t have mattered. Maggie couldn’t hear me right now.
With a heavy feeling of dread, I turned into the prison complex.
“Maggie?” If she’d still been a client I could’ve distanced myself.
“Yeah?”
I waited until she turned and looked at me. “I’m here to stay.”
The girl nodded, but her solemn face told its own story. Maggie wasn’t believing in happily-ever-after at the moment.
With what she’d been through, how could I blame her?
Even the unlocked halls in a prison were creepy. Gray. Long. Not enough doors. Staying as far as she could from the butch-looking prison guard walking her down to the dining room, where some female prisoners got to sit at the tables to have visiting time with their families, Maggie tried not to think about getting trapped in there. About some wacko criminal breaking loose.
“You been here before?” the gray-uniformed woman asked. Her voice was all sweet and high, like she was talking to a freakin’ puppy. Maggie wondered if the guard knew how bad she looked with that in
ch of gray showing at the roots of her pitch-black hair.
“Yes,” Maggie told her. Because being polite was important. “Once.”
Kelly had offered to come with her today, like she had the first time, but Maggie needed to be alone with her mom.
Now she wished she’d asked her foster mother to walk with her to the dining room. Kelly had a way of making the craziest things seem not so bad.
Probably came from being a shrink.
Maggie spotted her mom right off—at the same table they were at before. The one in the corner as far away from everyone else as they could get in the too-small room.
Tables here were only big enough for four. To keep down the chances of riots and fights, Kelly had told her.
To keep these freaks from forming gangs, Maggie figured. Like they’d ever be able to prevent gangs. Rape and violence happened in prisons. Maggie knew that. She wasn’t a kid.
There were only a couple of other orange-suited women in the room, with one visitor apiece.
“Hey, baby,” Mom said as Maggie nodded the guard away and slid onto the hard plastic seat across from her mother. Her mother in the orange jumpsuit.
“Hey.”
Mom reached out her arms, like she was going to hug her. Maggie pretended not to see, staring up at the ceiling until the stupid tears went away.
There were a couple of bruises on her mother’s arms.
And—something that had been happening a lot lately— Maggie had a flashback….
She was about six. Wearing a new pink polka-dot dress. She’d tripped getting out of the car, fell in the dirt outside the trailer door and stained her dress. She’d started to cry about her pretty dress, but before she could do more than hiccup Mom was there, scooping her up with both arms, holding her close and telling her everything was going to be all right. That nothing was worth seeing her baby cry. It was only a dress….
Coming back to the present, Maggie blinked. It wasn’t only a dress anymore. And everything wasn’t going to be all right.
“Kelly said you got ten years for child endangerment and solicitation of a minor.”
“It’s not fair, Mags,” Mom said. “I had no idea Mac and you—”
Maggie’s face must have shut down because Mom stopped and took her hand. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s not your fault. Don’t ever think any of this is your fault.”
Maggie wanted to shrug off her mom’s hand. Because it was warm. And familiar. And inaccessible for the next ten years.
Because her mom had betrayed her. Lied to her.
Her mom’s sentence had nothing to do with Mac. Mom had sold her to a corrupt deputy as a drugrunner.
She held on to those fingers for all she was worth. “I love you,” she told the woman who’d given birth to her at sixteen rather than have an abortion. The woman who’d quit school and kept a job for every single one of the next fourteen years; who’d been able to chase away the boogeyman when Maggie had nightmares; who’d sat with her when she had the flu and thrown up all over the place; who’d always made sure there were presents under the tree at Christmas.
“I know, baby. I love you, too.” Mom leaned forward. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Maggie wanted to ask the same, but couldn’t. Those bruises… She wondered if anyone had gotten to her mother. Hurt her. She was scared to death of that.
She lay awake in bed at night wondering about it.
“How’re your classes going?” Mom had asked every single school day of Maggie’s life. Until this year.
So far, Maggie’s first semester in high school had been pretty much a nightmare. Living on the wrong side of the tracks in a small town had been bad enough—but being the victim in a major criminal scandal that involved drugs made fitting in at school almost impossible.
“Good. I’m getting all A’s.” She had to. She was going to college.
They talked about her classes. Her teachers. Mom asked if she missed cheerleading. Maggie didn’t. And then she asked if Maggie’d met any cute boys. Maggie didn’t bother to answer that one.
What Mom didn’t ask about was Glenna. About being at school without her best friend who’d been murdered by the bad cop. The one who’d paid Maggie’s mom for access to Maggie.
And she didn’t ask about Kelly. About life at Kelly’s house.
“She’s never going to replace you,” Maggie finally blurted out. It was part of what she’d come here to say.
“I know.” But Mom’s eyes filled with tears. And Maggie changed her mind about saying the rest of it. She’d been stupid to even hope that Lori Winston would be okay with Maggie’s growing feelings for her foster parent.
But maybe Kelly had it all wrong. Maybe it was all Maggie’s fault. If only Mac would contact her like he’d promised. He’d help her see the truth.
Kelly wouldn’t approve of Mac talking to her. She’d freak. Call the cops. But that was because she didn’t understand.
Maggie wasn’t like other teenagers. She’d grown up fast. And smart. She was mature. Didn’t act like a drama queen.
Mac loved her. It wasn’t their fault that he’d been born twenty years before her. Or that she was only fourteen.
“Listen, Mags, I’ve been talking to someone in here.” Mom’s voice got that tone, like when she was planning to schmooze the landlord out of having to pay rent. Or calling in sick when she wasn’t sick at all.
Maggie felt like she might throw up. She wanted to leave. But she couldn’t, even though the guard was right behind them, leaning against the wall, watching Maggie and waiting for her to signal that she was done.
“I want you to be careful.” Mom’s voice got all whispery. “There’s this woman in here who used to be an attorney. She says Kelly Chapman can’t be trusted. She says Kelly lies to people to get them to tell her things, and then she turns them in.”
“The only reason she called the cops on me is because I was a minor,” Maggie said. “She had to. By law. And for my own safety.”
“You were safe, Mags. What you were doing, delivering that stuff, you weren’t in any danger. And we were making enough money to get you to college.”
“That stuff was drugs, Mom. And we could’ve gotten loans for college. I wish you’d talked to me. We could’ve figured something out….”
It was the same old story. Maggie went over it and over it in her head. And never got anywhere.
“We would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for that woman.”
Mom stopped and Maggie knew she was thinking of Mac. Mom didn’t get it, either.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Mom said. “I didn’t have anything to do with the drugs. Never saw them. Never touched them. I don’t take them. And I made sure you weren’t in danger. I’m a good mother. And when I got worried about you, I got help. I trusted that woman, Mags. I sent you to her so she could help us, and instead, she took you from me. Took you for herself. Look at her, with her fancy degree and her house and her money. But does she have a husband? Has she ever had a kid? No. She lets people like me sacrifice and do all the hard work and then she takes the rewards of our efforts for herself.”
Mom’s reasoning was skewed. But not completely.
“I have my rights, Mags. That’s what Thea, this attorney, was telling me. They strong-armed me. Scared me about losing contact with you.”
Mom was right about that and Maggie felt sicker.
“Thea says I can go back to court. I have grounds to make a motion because of the way they kept yelling at me that I’d never see you again. I’ll get a hearing and if Mac won’t testify for me, then we’ll subpoena your records from Kelly. They’ll show that I had your best interest at heart. They’ll show how much I love you. I’m the one who called the damned shrink….”
Mac was a good guy. They could say anything they wanted about him, but if he was so bad, they’d arrest him. They didn’t because they knew he wasn’t a criminal. Maggie was sure of it. They said he had another life, a family, but Maggie didn’t believe it. They were
confusing Mac with someone else. Mac was hers. He would’ve told her if he’d had a family. He loved her.
And she loved him.
“Mac can’t testify for you, Mom. You pled guilty.”
“Only because they dropped a bunch of stupid charges. That’s why they said I did so much stuff, honey, so they could scare me into saying I did some of it. Thea told me how it works. It’s all to save the state from having to go to trial. But with the new motion I’ll get a hearing.”
Maggie knew what a plea agreement was. She’d done a lot of reading on the internet since Mom’s arrest.
“Mags, please, just until I find a way out of here, watch your back, okay? I love you so much….”
“I know. I love you, too.” That was always there. This attachment between her and Mom.
“You’re my life, Maggie. You’re everything good about me. The only good thing I’ve ever done.”
“That’s not true. You’ve done lots of good things.”
“Just take care of yourself. I’ll get out of here, I promise, but until then we can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Starting to feel scared again, Maggie thought of Kelly. And Sam. They were keeping her safe. They had to be. They’d made sure she didn’t get in any trouble for the stuff that she’d done. They knew she hadn’t understood what she was doing.
This was just another one of those things Mom didn’t get, right?
And then she thought of something else. Mom had said she was getting out….
Mom, who always figured out how to get around whatever got in their way. Maggie leaned forward. “You aren’t planning to do anything that’ll get you in more trouble, are you?”