Retribution Read online

  “I’ll have to tell you later. I have a detective here right now. There’s no chance Kelly might have it, is there? The gun, I mean?”

  “No, I don’t think so, but I’ll ask her. Do you need me to come over?”

  “No, not right now, but thank you.”

  Until Nevvie or Tom contacted him, Tyler wasn’t sure what else he could do. Then he called his father. “Dad, is there any possibility Karen or Bill might have taken something from our gun safe? The one in our bedroom closet?”

  “What are you talking about? Take what?”

  “The nine millimeter. The Glock. It’s a handgun, the one I killed Alex with. It’s missing from our gun safe, and the detective wants to take it in for ballistics testing.”

  Andrew went quiet. “Son? What’s going on?”

  “This is very important. Do you have it?”

  “I’d have to check the gun safe here. There’s no way Karen or Bill would leave a firearm loose with Chloe around. Anyway, they don’t have any guns as far as I know.”

  “Can you check it right now for me? Please?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. This is urgent.”

  “I’ll try. Been a while since I opened it.”

  Tyler heard the sound of his dad walking, then noises like he was moving aside clothes in the closet. A moment later, Tyler heard the tell-tale clank of the door being opened.

  “All right, I have it open. What, exactly, am I looking for?”

  “Nine millimeter.”

  “Tyler, that means nothing to me. I don’t think I ever saw the gun you shot him with.”

  “A semi-automatic handgun. It’s black. Something that’s not a rifle or shotgun.”

  “Hold on, I need to put the phone down.” Tyler heard noises, then a moment later his father returned to the phone. “There’s a gun in there, a handgun, but I don’t know anything about it. It’s black. I’m not picking it up. I don’t even know if it’s loaded or not.”

  A rush of relief rolled through Tyler. “Brilliant! Hang on.” He turned to the detective. “I believe it’s at my father’s house in the gun safe there, although I don’t know how it got there, or when. He lives next door.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Tyler told him. “Leave it there. Do not touch it. We’re coming for it right now.”

  Tyler practically ran out of the house with his car keys, barely remembering to lock the door and set the alarm.

  The detective followed him in his car. Five minutes later, they were trailing Andrew down the hallway to the master bedroom.

  The detective went first after pulling on another pair of nitrile gloves. After a moment, he spoke. “Mr. Paulson?”

  “Yes?” Tyler and Andrew both said.

  “Eh, senior. Is this the gun?” He turned with a gun in hand to show it to Andrew.

  “That’s the one I just told Tyler was there. I believe it was Peggy’s or Adam’s. Eh, Adam Kinsey, meaning Tom’s father. Who’s deceased. Not Adam Kinsey-Paulson—”

  “Dad.”

  “Sorry. I’m not sure who it specifically belongs to. Unless it’s Tom’s. It’s likely been in there since I met Peggy.”

  Tyler’s heart sank. The snub-nosed revolver was a .38 special. He knew that much about it from all the research he’d done on handguns over the years.

  It wasn’t the gun. In fact, he remembered when Tom bought that gun fifteen years ago, to keep on hand after the final showdown with Alex when they were immersed in a media frenzy of F5 tornado scale.

  “That’s Thomas’ gun,” Tyler quietly said.

  At the time Tom had purchased it, they hadn’t yet finished the renovations on their house, and Tyler had wanted it kept secure.

  “This is the only handgun you have in the house?” the detective asked Andrew.

  “As far as I know, yes. Bill and Karen don’t shoot. The rifles were Peggy’s and Adam’s. Tom said they didn’t have room for the rifles in their gun safe, and it’s not causing me any grief keeping them.”

  The detective returned the gun to the zippered case it’d been in. He tried to hand it to Andrew, who held up his hands and refused to take it. Dunn returned it to the gun safe, where he’d found it, and then Andrew closed and locked the safe.

  “That’s not our murder weapon,” Dunn said to Tyler. “And your gun is still missing. You don’t have any idea when it disappeared?”

  “No. Until Thomas calls me back, I have no answers for you.” Tyler had a thought. “Can’t you compare the round you retrieved from Cole Johnson’s body with the ones from Alex? Ballistics will show if they’re the same or not. I put six rounds in Alex.”

  “The round from Cole Johnson?”

  “You told us he was shot. I’m assuming at least one round stayed in him for you to retrieve and know it was a nine millimeter, correct? Unless your department is now into reading Tarot cards or tea leaves or something.” Tyler knew he should ease up on the snark, but dammit, he was pissed off they were still being looked at when they were innocent.

  The detective slowly nodded as he stared at him. “I’ll look into that. A comparison. See if the evidence is still available.”

  Tyler recognized that look, as well as that tone of voice. “Listen, I am a writer, in case you missed the memo. I write about a serial killer and other dark subjects, and have for over thirty years now. I know police procedures because it’s my job to know them. If I thought anyone in my family was guilty, would I be suggesting ideas to you that you might not have thought of? Besides, we all have alibis. We were all home. Your own department cleared us.”

  “He was killed nearby.”

  “He lived nearby! What, not even fifteen minutes away? Using that logic you’ve just made approximately a quarter of Coastal’s student population persons of interest. Considering how many other victims he had, that’s probably not far off the mark, either. What are we up to now on that tally, eh? Thirty? Forty?”

  Tyler knew at this point he should be shutting up and calling Bob, but he refused to believe in any way that their family wouldn’t be exonerated.

  The detective ignored the potshot. “You have a concealed carry permit, Mr. Paulson?”

  “I used to, for Florida. At the time I got it, there was reciprocity in Georgia for a Florida license. I never got around to getting one for Georgia when it expired, because that was years after the incident and I no longer carried.”

  “Does Mr. Kinsey have a concealed carry permit?”

  “Yes, he does, for Georgia, but it’s expired, and he doesn’t carry. He got that after I killed Alex. He hasn’t carried in years, either.” He pointed at the closet. “That gun is the one he carried.”

  “Why doesn’t he carry now?”

  “Because he hasn’t needed to, has he? Once our paranoia died down after Alex’s attack, and the media attention waned, we all realized how silly we were being. We were only in true danger from Alex. He murdered Tom’s sister, if you’ll recall. Not to mention at the time we had two very precocious toddlers, and newborn twins. We were more worried about keeping guns out of their hands.”

  “Who else in your family has access to firearms?”

  “My father-in-law, John Fleischman. He’s who I called from the house. He’s retired military and shoots skeet with Nevvie.”

  “I’d like to talk to him.”

  “We can go right now. He lives thirty seconds away.”

  Andrew saw them out. They headed across the road, and John looked suspicious as Tyler gave him the summary when they showed up.

  “Mr. Fleischman,” the detective asked, “do you own a nine millimeter handgun?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

  “Do you have Mr. Paulson’s gun, or have knowledge of its whereabouts?”

  “No. Tyler, shouldn’t you call Bob about this before you talk to him?”

  “Well, obviously, if I thought we were going to be named as suspects, but we are not guilty of anythin
g.”

  John pointed at the detective. “Uh, he’s here questioning us. He wants to take your gun in for testing. Which is now missing. He’s suspecting someone in this family, but he doesn’t know specifically who yet.”

  Tyler stared at the detective, swallowing hard. “Look. None of us would have pissed on the bloody bastard had he caught fire, but we did not kill him. We went to the authorities and filed a report and were letting the system work. Why would someone in our house kill him, for fuck’s sake?”

  “Your wife swore she’d kill him.”

  “And she was an upset mother! Had your department handled everything more professionally from the start, you wouldn’t have had Cole Johnson and his parents there at the same time we were.”

  “She wanted revenge,” the detective said. “People have been killed over far less.”

  Tyler felt weak, finally processing John’s advice. “We are not guilty,” he insisted. “We’re innocent.”

  At least, he knew he was, and he was the only confirmed shooter in their family.

  Except…Nevvie knew how to shoot. And she had become a rape survivor at eighteen—which was why she’d now finally agreed to counseling to help her, following Zoey’s rape.

  She was also an extremely upset mother who had screamed dire threats at the boy in the police station, in front of dozens of law enforcement officers as witnesses.

  Tom grew up with firearms and felt guilty as hell that they’d been in Brussels, even though them being home wouldn’t have stopped what happened.

  John was retired military and shot skeet and trap, and was a loving, devoted grandfather. Kelly also knew how to shoot.

  Mikey and Adam were both excellent shots. Even Zoey and Willow knew how to shoot a little, thanks to John and Nevvie taking them skeet shooting.

  About the only one in their immediate family he could be absolutely certain couldn’t handle a firearm was his own father.

  Bloody hell.

  Chapter Five

  “Ty, what the hell? You know we’re at the counselor. What do you need?” Tom sounded seriously annoyed. In trying to get hold of him, Tyler hadn’t left any messages, other than to call him back immediately.

  “The gun safe in our bedroom. When did you last open it?”

  “What? Seriously, what the hell? You’re calling me to ask that?”

  “I’m deadly serious. I need to know. Now.”

  “I…I don’t know. When I got our passports out. I don’t know, whatever day that was.”

  “Is Nevvie there? Ask her the same thing.”

  “Ty—”

  “Please!”

  “Fuck. Nev, when was the last time you opened the gun safe?”

  He heard her in the background. “God, I don’t know. Couple of months. Why?”

  “Thomas, when you opened the safe to get our passports out, did you close it again?”

  “I—” He went silent so long Tyler had to check to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. He was painfully aware of Detective Dunn watching him. “Ty,” Tom said, his tone now deep and serious, “what’s goin’ on?”

  “My Glock is missing.”

  “What?”

  “Detective Dunn is here and wants to take it in for ballistics testing. Please tell me you know something about its whereabouts that I don’t.”

  “No! Last I remember, it was in the safe. Did Bob clear this?”

  Tyler ignored the question. “Ask Nevvie.”

  “Nev, do you know where Tyler’s Glock is?”

  “His what?”

  “The gun he shot Alex with.”

  It sounded like she took the phone from Tom. “Ty, what the hell is going on?”

  Tyler closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “The gun is missing, our gun safe was open, and Detective Dunn is standing in our living room looking at me. Darling, please, if you know where the gun might be—”

  “We’re on our way right now. Do not say another word to him until we get there. And call Bob. Now.” She hung up on him.

  Shit.

  Tyler was already thumbing in the call to Bob as he turned to face the detective. When Bob answered, Tom closed his eyes. “It’s Tyler. I have a serious problem.”

  “What?” Tyler summarized it and had already pulled the phone away from his ear when Bob roared his next words. “Do not say another word! Put him on the phone. Right now.”

  Tyler held out the phone. “It’s our attorney. He wishes to speak with you.”

  Detective Dunn’s expression turned into a mask as he talked to Bob. After a moment, he returned the phone to Tyler.

  “I’m going to have the local attorney there in about thirty minutes,” Bob told Tyler. “Dunn can either chill his ass out in his car, or he can have you meet him at the station, but you get him out of your house, right now, and if he wants to come back inside, he’s gonna need to show you a fucking search warrant. You hear me?”

  “But…I need to report the gun missing, don’t I?”

  “Tyler!” he screamed. “Listen to me! I am your attorney. You do what the fuck I’m telling you to do, right now!”

  “Right. Sorry.” Sick didn’t begin to describe how he felt. “Then I’ll just wait for the other attorney to show up?”

  “Yes, Tyler. You will wait there, in your house. If Dunn wants to wait in your front yard, fine, but like a goddamned vampire, uninvite his fucking ass out of your goddamned house right the fuck now.”

  Bob hung up on him.

  Shit.

  Dunn was already heading for the door, on the phone with someone. “Don’t worry, Mr. Paulson,” he called behind him, sounding all too cheery. “I’ll have that search warrant in about twenty minutes.” He let himself out, not quite slamming the door behind him, but close enough.

  * * * *

  Just before midnight, Tyler, Nevvie, Tom, Crystal, and the triad’s local attorney, Davis Hammond, stood in the driveway and waited. They’d sent Mikey, Willow, and Zoey next door to Andrew’s to wait there.

  Now, Dunn and Cash were emerging from their house, along with a K9 officer.

  They’d taken nothing from the house, other than the zipper case for the Glock and the spare magazine, but Nevvie could see through the front door it was a disaster in there.

  “You know I’m going to take pictures of everything you did and complain like hell, right?” she yelled at Dunn from across the driveway. “You could have brought the damn dog in first instead of destroying our house, asshole.”

  Nevvie wanted to slap Dunn’s smirk off his fucking face. “We needed to be thorough, ma’am.”

  They’d also searched their vehicles.

  “Hope you fingerprinted the goddamned safe before you started,” Nevvie called after him as he walked over to a car, leaving Detective Cash behind.

  “We didn’t find any prints on the safe,” Cash said. “We’re going to need you all to come in tomorrow morning to talk to us at the station and give additional statements.”

  Davis Hammond looked less than thrilled. “Why, detective?”

  “We have…additional questions.”

  “Detective Dunn.” The officer calling him stood by the back corner of the house. He waved Dunn over.

  They disappeared. When Dunn returned five minutes later, he looked smugly satisfied as he walked over to the triad. “I thought you told us all the entries in your house are rigged with alarm sensors.”

  “They are!” Tyler said, sounding at the end of his tether. “All the doors, all the windows.”

  “One window isn’t.”

  He turned and they followed him. When they reached the back side of the house, which sat on a slope, he pointed at the small basement window that sat over the washer and dryer inside the basement. Maybe a foot square, it had a crank to open, but the handle was missing and they’d never opened it as long as they’d lived there. In fact, it was painted shut.

  He pointed. “That window doesn’t have a sensor on it.”

  Nevvie had literally had enough o
f his shit. “All right, Sherlock. How’d someone get in and out of it without breaking the paint seal on it? Or without a handle to crank the damn thing open?”

  Dunn frowned. “What?” He played a flashlight over it to get a better look.

  “Right,” Tyler said. “And which of us blokes do you think is in possession of some magical ability to shrink themselves down to the size of a squirrel!”

  Davis stepped in, holding out his hands. “All right. Officers, have you released this premises?”

  “Yes,” Cash said, glaring at Dunn, who was still obviously trying to puzzle out the fact that it was plainly clear the window hadn’t been opened in over a decade.

  Tom stepped in. “The reason that window doesn’t have an alarm sensor on it is a) look at the fucking size of it, and b) look and see it’s nowhere fucking near a door or other window someone could reach from it to unlock, and c) it’s fucking painted shut, and, oh yeah, d) look to see it doesn’t have a fucking handle to open it!” Tom’s voice had steadily increased in volume until he yelled the last part.

  Everyone froze and stared at him. Throughout the evening he’d remained fairly quiet, deferring mostly to the attorney.

  He stared. “You fucks really are clueless, aren’t you? No wonder you’re trying to pin this on Nevvie. Y’all are too stupid to find your way out of a goddamned brown paper bag. Get the fuck off our property, and not a goddamned one of you better set foot back on it unless you have a brand new goddamned search warrant!”

  Davis Hammond smiled. “You heard him, folks. Leave. Now.”

  “Do you want me to help you tidy up?” Crystal asked Nevvie.

  “No, thank you, hon. I…we need to be alone with the kids and talk to Davis. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  Once the cops and Crystal were gone, Nevvie stepped inside the foyer and stared. Fortunately, the police hadn’t destroyed or damaged anything, but they’d gone out of their way to make a mess. Tyler walked down the hall toward their offices and she heard him doing something in there.

  Overwhelmed, she followed him and found him adjusting the urns and the picture, setting the two rings and the chain back in place on the shelf.