The Library: Where Life Checks Out Read online

  Mark ran his hands through his hair. “I’m not sure. The homeless man who was murdered behind the library that I told you about…” She nodded for him to continue. “He was in a business deal with Burke and the city for the library’s property. It seems he owned parcels of land on both sides that had just been cheap strip malls. The library has several buildings which sit on several acres of land.” Mark sat back against the backrest of the swing and looked up at the overhang. “Let me just work this all out aloud. Your mom dated Burke through high school. Captain Davis dated Buck’s daughter, Jessica. At the end of high school, Burke suddenly dumps your mother and dates Jessica. Davis and your mom would have both been upset, as I’m sure they knew each other. Jessica had worked at the library, so she would have known Mrs. Davis.” He stopped and thought about Jay’s words, Mrs. Davis would do anything to save her precious library.

  “I’m trying not to interrupt, Mark, but you just dazed off.”

  Mark patted her knee. “Hang on. Jessica would have had firsthand knowledge of the deal and she would have known everything Mrs. Davis was doing to sabotage it.” Mark leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He remembered his father doing this exact same thing when he was working out a scene. “Could Mrs. Davis have found something on the Burkes?” He sat upright again. “Could she have discovered a connection between the Burke family and the death of your great-grandmother? Maybe she told Jessica and Jessica confronted Gregory.”

  “Oh!” Ashlyn clamped her hand over her mouth. “You think Gregory Burke might have killed Jessica and then killed her father?”

  Mark nodded. But then shook his head. “That’s a lot of conjecture.”

  “Well, I can’t have that family anywhere near my baby.” Ashlyn pushed herself off the bench and paced across the porch. “Oh, my God. They’re all murderers. Great-grandfather, father, and son—well, attempted murderer. Hell, I’m sure the grandfather must have been guilty of something too.”

  Mark walked over to her and took her in his arms. “Ash, again, I’m sorry. This is all conjecture—”

  “There are a lot of suspicious holes, Mark.” She dropped her head on his chest. “Will my baby be all right? Will he inherit these genes?”

  Mark stroked the back of her head. “Nurture plays a major role in character, Ash. Your son won’t be growing up in the Burke household.”

  “That’s why I can’t tell them. None of them.”

  The door opened and Laura stepped out. The woman’s previous distaste for him appeared to have surged to the surface. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, Mom.”

  Laura Allan glared at Mark, her hazel eyes darkening by the second. “What did you say to her?”

  “Mark didn’t do anything, Mom. Something else…” Ashlyn trailed off, obviously not wanting to get into the details with her mother yet.

  “Oh, okay. Sorry, Mark,” Laura apologized through her teeth, clearly doubting Ashlyn’s defense of him.

  He waved his hand. “No, no, I’m fine. It was an easy misunderstanding.” Actually, he was quite pleased that Laura was attempting to come to the rescue of her daughter. She’d never defended her before, according to Ashlyn. Of course, he couldn’t say that aloud.

  “Can you give us a minute, Mom?”

  “Sure, sweetheart. Dinner’s ready, though, so don’t be too long.” Laura walked back inside, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Ashlyn pulled in a deep breath. “What should I do, Mark? I’ve not asked you, as I wanted to handle everything on my own without dragging you into this mess. But now I don’t know what to do.”

  Mark took her hand and led her back to the swing. “Let me talk to Gregory Burke. I’ll get to the bottom of this without mentioning you. Our baby has nothing to do with this mess. And I agree; I don’t want the Burkes anywhere near our son until we know.”

  Ashlyn nodded. “What did I do to deserve you?”

  He kissed her softly. “Ashlyn, I ask myself that same question every day. Only in reverse. You are a beautiful, smart, and wonderful woman. I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

  She laughed. “Right. Mr. Perfect.”

  Mark couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Not even close. Remember I have a couple skeletons in my closet too. My sister’s in prison for murder. That’s not something I’m proud of. And my personal life hasn’t been so squeaky clean either. Thankfully, all my loose ends have moved away.”

  Ashlyn crinkled her nose. “Speaking of loose ends. Was Miss Beautiful Strawberry Blonde working with you this week?”

  Ignoring her jealousy—which he knew was only because she was pregnant—he decided to go with a different approach and said, “Almost Mrs. Beautiful Strawberry Blonde is sitting right beside me. You have nothing to fear, baby. You’ve hooked me forever. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled her hand to his lips. “I woke up at five a.m. and drove five hours today just to kiss you. I’ve never done that for any woman.”

  Ashlyn leaned against his shoulder. “I guess we better get inside before Mom comes looking, or worse, burns dinner.”

  Mark stood up and again extended his hand to his beautiful bride-to-be. She accepted and stood up next to him, moving in closer for a kiss, he assumed. He lowered his head to kiss her, but she moved to the side.

  She lifted herself up on her tippy toes and whispered in his ear, “My door will be unlocked tonight. I’ll expect you exactly twenty minutes after I go to bed—to comfort me, of course.”

  Mark leaned back to see if she was teasing him, but the fire in her chartreuse-colored eyes told him everything he needed to know.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He gathered her into his arms and her lips parted in acquiesce. Mark wasted no time in tasting those soft and full lips that always tasted of cinnamon. Their tongues moved together as though in a slow and sensual dance.

  Ashlyn worked her fingers into his hair, and he did his best to keep his hands from wandering. As much as he wanted to feel her skin beneath his fingertips, they were outside and the neighbors might see.

  Mark released a groan as he realized they had to stop or he wouldn’t be able to walk back inside the house. “So, what time is bedtime? I’ve been up since five, so I’m exhausted.”

  Ashlyn smiled. “Mom and I were up late again talking, so I’m guessing she’ll crash right after dinner.”

  “Let’s go eat,” Mark said, taking her hand and pulling her into the house. As a cop, he was used to eating on the run. Tonight would be a sprint.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The next day, Mark sat in front of a custom-made mahogany desk as he waited for Gregory Burke. It had surprised him that Burke was willing to see him on a Sunday, and with such short notice.

  The only thing it took to get the man’s attention was mentioning that he was investigating the murder of Wade Buchanan.

  The door swung open and the tall man strutted behind his desk without bothering to shake Mark’s hand. “We meet again.” Burke pursed his lips and held up his arms, then dropped them onto the armrest of his mahogany-colored leather chair that matched his expensive desk. “Any news on my son’s murder, Detective?”

  “Devin’s case has been closed, sir. I’m here about the death of Wade Buchanan. I understand you were business partners, and you were engaged to his daughter, Jessica Buchanan, who was found murdered along with her mother. Many of the people you know seem to die, Mr. Burke.”

  Gregory Burke leaned back in his plush leather chair. “So, Buck’s dead?” he said, ignoring the rest of Mark’s thinly-veiled accusations.

  Mark nodded. He saw no reason to speak as long as Burke was willing to supply the conversation. He’d only stated all that, so he could watch Burke’s reaction.

  “How did he die?”

  “Shot.”

  “Do you know who shot him?”

  Mark scratched the back of his neck. “We haven’t made an arrest yet, sir, if that’s what you mean.”

  Burke removed his glasses. Taking a
handkerchief from his pocket, he proceeded to breathe moisture onto the glasses and then wipe them off.

  “That son of a bitch killed my fiancée,” Burke said as nonchalantly as though he were talking about the weather.

  “Tell me about that, Mr. Burke,” Mark said. “What makes you think he killed his wife and daughter? What motive did he have?”

  Burke shrugged. “I figure he had a mistress. When things started going sour with the deal, he ran.”

  Mark leaned forward. “But the deal didn’t go through, right?”

  Burke rested his hands in front of him, addressing Mark with a frown as though he were an employee who’d screwed up. “It wasn’t completely over, but it was heading that way. So Buck cashed the first installment of the money we’d given him—the night he murdered his family, I might add—knowing the deal wasn’t final until the acquisition of the city property, and ran.”

  “But he didn’t run.”

  Burke cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean? He’s been gone for twenty-eight years. Of course he ran.”

  Mark sat back in his chair, watching as Burke mirrored his actions. Either Burke was an incredibly good liar or he really didn’t know that Wade Buchanan had disguised himself as a homeless man. Of course, that’s not to say that Buck hadn’t taken off and then come back recently. Maybe he’d owed debts to someone else and they caught up with him.

  The information was public record, so Mark saw no need to hide the truth. Rather, he thought it’d be better to watch Burke’s reaction. “Wade Buchanan was homeless. He’d been seen in the library, even made friends with one of the librarians and a few of the vagrants. So far I’ve traced his activities back six months.”

  “What about the cop? Jessica’s ex-boyfriend. I never liked him. And he just so happened to be the first on scene.”

  “Mr. Burke, I came here to discuss Wade Buchanan’s death, not his family’s.”

  Burke bolted out of his chair. “Find out who killed Jay and you’ll find out who killed her father.”

  A clammy wetness spread over Mark’s skin. “What…did…you…say?” His throat caught and the room seemed to drop in temperature about twenty degrees. Mark looked at his hands. They were pale white. He dropped his head between his knees and tried to ignore the blood pumping in his ears.

  A distant voice, as though he were in a pool of water, asked if he was all right. Mark attempted to shake his head, but wasn’t sure if he’d managed to move it. His head no longer felt attached to his body.

  “Mark…” Jay’s voice came to him loud and clear. “It’s okay, Mark. I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

  Mark sat up slowly and the beautiful redhead was standing in front of him. He glanced about the room, but no one else was there. He was still in Burke’s office. Was he dreaming again?

  He reached out to touch Jay, but though she looked as real as Ashlyn, his hand moved right through her. Her image broke apart, as if he’d waved away steam from over a pot of boiling water. Her image reappeared next to him, causing his heart to thrash even harder. He was going insane. He had to snap himself out of this. But then again, maybe there was something else in his subconscious that he’d missed—or seen. Maybe he’d seen something in the library when he was a child.

  Deciding that he should take advantage of his dream, he asked, “Who killed you, Jessica?”

  She moved her head back and forth. “My friends call me Jay. You’re my friend, right, Mark? You wouldn’t hold a little thing like being a ghost against me, would you?”

  Mark blinked his eyes, trying to dispel the image. “You’re just a figment of my imagination, Jay. Or else Burke would still be here.”

  “You okay, Detective Waters?” Gregory Burke spoke from behind him.

  Mark whipped around and saw the older man carrying a can of Coke.

  Burke handed him the aluminum can. “They say the syrup helps. You looked as though you were in shock. Never saw the blood leave someone’s body the way it did yours. You looked like a ghost.”

  Mark choked on the soda and covered his mouth. He glanced around the room for Jay, but of course, she wasn’t there. He really was going insane.

  “Are you diabetic? Do you need a candy bar or something?”

  Mark waved his hand. “I’m fine. I didn’t eat this morning, so my blood sugar must be low.” He sat back in the chair and took a deep breath, still unable to keep his gaze from darting around the room. Burke probably thought he’d smoked crack before coming here. He was acting paranoid.

  Burke sat down behind his desk again, his mood friendlier. Maybe he should have a panic attack in front of all suspects, Mark mused.

  “Where were we?” Burke asked.

  Mark squeezed the back of his neck, not really wanting to know the truth, but hoping he was wrong. If Jay was currently a librarian, and it was just a coincidence that he’d called his fiancée Jay, it would mean he was just suffering from delusions, not seeing ghosts. “Who is Jay?”

  “Jay was my fiancée. Her name was Jessica, of course. But she always signed her notes with just a ‘J’, so everyone called her Jay.”

  Mark inhaled a breath, willing his heart to slow. “Do you happen to have a picture of her?”

  “Sure.” Burke got up and crossed the room to a bookshelf. He grazed his fingers across four leather-bound books. Selecting the one farthest to the right, he pulled it out and walked back to Mark. “I don’t have any photos. Wife wouldn’t have liked me keeping any, but I have my high school yearbooks. Jay was a grade behind me, so it’s in black and white, though.”

  Burke flipped through a few pages and then stopped. He traced his fingers over the paper and then walked toward Mark, lowering the book and pointing to the image.

  Mark’s heart felt as though it would pound itself right out of his chest as he stared down at the beautiful young woman. She would have only been sixteen, but it was the same Jay he knew…met… whatever they’d call what they’d done. Connected, maybe?

  He ran his hand across his mouth. Not sure where to go with this information, he decided to ask Burke a few more questions and then get out of there. He really needed to question Jay, he supposed. But she’d said that she didn’t know who killed her. Only that it was one of four people.

  “Do you know Laura Allan?” Mark asked.

  For the first time, Gregory’s countenance changed. His shoulders drooped and his mouth fell. The man appeared to have aged ten years before Mark’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “You dated her, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you break up?”

  Gregory Burke looked up. A sheen of moisture covered his blue eyes. “Money.”

  “What do you mean? I thought your family was well off.”

  Burke sat back in his chair. “My grandfather and father threatened to cut me off if I didn’t break up with her. But I didn’t care. I loved Laura. I would have given up everything I had and everything that was coming to me for her. Prom night I posed the question, asked her if she’d still love me if it weren’t for my family’s wealth. She’d tried to play it off, but no matter how I asked, it was clear. She wouldn’t want me if I was penniless.” Burke blew out a long breath. “And I was right. After Jay died, and I’d refused to talk to anyone, including Laura, she went to Hollywood and married some big exec. The moment he retired, however, she was calling me, saying she didn’t want to be with a ‘nobody’. I’d married my current wife by then, though. Laura even had the nerve to apologize about Jay’s death even though she’d harassed her before she died.”

  “What kind of harassment?”

  “Just phone calls and such. Even when she wasn’t volunteering, Jay spent most of her time in the library working on school projects. So Laura would call the library. Evidently, she had shown up a few times too. I’m not really sure what she said; Jay never told me. Jay was a tough girl. Sweet as can be, but smart as a whip. She’d laughed it off, saying she knew exactly how to handle Laura. Insisted the next t
ime she saw Laura she could guarantee that she wouldn’t come back.”

  He could see that in Jay, even if she was a ghost. He laughed internally, but then realized how ridiculous it sounded that he thought he knew a ghost. He wondered if he could commit himself or if he’d have to get his mother or Ashlyn to have him committed. What could she have found that would have caused Laura to back off? How would she have known?

  Mark nodded, just enough to let Burke know to continue.

  “But I guess one time it’d become rather heated. I assume it was with Laura, as she was the only person who ever seemed to upset her. Jay never gave me specifics, but when I’d picked her up after work one night, she was shaking, asking me if I knew some woman.”

  Mark leaned forward.

  “I don’t remember why, but she wanted to know if my father or grandfather ever mentioned the woman’s name to me.”

  “Do you remember the woman’s name?” Mark asked.

  Burke shook his head, but then his lips moved as though he were trying a few names. It looked as though he were mouthing the alphabet. Mark had done that.

  “E, I think,” he said. “Edie, maybe? Edna?”

  Mark’s stomach fell again. Jay had known about Edda. He didn’t want to give Burke any names, but he was so close. “Edda?”

  Burke slammed his hand against the desk. “That’s it. Edda.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “How did you know that?”

  “Edda Barrett was Laura Allan’s grandmother. She was murdered when she was nineteen.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Gregory Burke looked up as his door swung open and an older gentleman, who had the same white-as-snow and thick-cropped hair and bright blue eyes as he did, walked into his office without knocking.

  His father, Mark presumed. The hair and brows were distinctive; he’d recognized the same traits in Devin. Evidently, the male gene was dominant in the family, and the thought sent a swell of fear through him. He’d never once had a concern about fathering Ashlyn’s son. He’d looked forward to it actually. At twenty-nine, he’d started to feel the pull toward fatherhood. He’d hoped he wouldn’t end up like his father and not have a child until he was forty-something.