Deadly Impulse by Olga Bicos

Author:Olga Bicos
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

18

Clay missed his next appointment with Piper.

He figured it was for the best. He was taking a break, not sure of his next step. He needed time to figure out what was going on inside his head, that image of his hand holding his dad’s gun bizarre and disturbing.

He hadn’t gone near his camera since he’d taken those photos of Piper outside her house four days ago. And he’d stashed all the photographs in the file cabinet in his darkroom, another place he’d given a wide berth.

The last three nights, he’d dreamed of Jillian.

She stood in the dining room of their place in South Beach, the same room where she’d died. But in his dream, she was very much alive, waiting for him with a smile. He could see she was trying to say something, but there was no sound to the film spinning in his head, just his wife mouthing a single word.

Each time, he woke up clutching his head, a pain like a sledgehammer having a go at his skull.

He had a medicine cabinet full of stuff—none of which he ever bothered to take. For him, it wasn’t about numbing the pain. Ever since the trial had ended in a hung jury, he needed those memories back—needed to know the truth.

That’s why he’d pushed so hard with Piper. He couldn’t accept the prosecution’s interpretation of the facts, couldn’t imagine a scenario where he might want Jillian dead. He’d never felt that kind of rage and he couldn’t imagine a situation that could tap into some Neanderthal inside and give him life. But here in the Keys, he was plagued by doubts.

For days, he’d been holed up here in the house he’d inherited from his father. Tavernier was a quiet community just south of Key Largo. It was a favorite destination for eco-tourists searching for the solitude and beauty of lagoons and mangrove swamps. His father, who’d worked for the parks and recreation department, had loved it, the turquoise sea and waving palms. His mother, an artist whose ceramic creations still decorated almost every horizontal surface of the small conch house, loved the community and came to visit occasionally. Before his father had died three years ago, they’d both found peace here.

That’s what Clay had been searching for the last few days. Peace. Not that he’d found any.

So instead, he’d been trying to figure out a strategy for his meeting with Burton. He’d told the P.I. to give Burton the heads-up, that the two of them needed to talk, but he hadn’t heard squat. The P.I. was still there, of course, his little shadow.

Clay wasn’t sure if Jillian’s father would see him. If he knew Burton, the only thing he’d want was to put a bullet through Clay’s heart. Not that Clay could blame him, not if Burton really believed he’d killed Jillian.

When the front doorbell rang, he imagined Aidan making another go at him. No one else ever sought him out here in the Keys. Since their last meeting at Aidan’s place, Clay had refused to return his calls.

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