Worth Killing For Read online

  “You know what’s wrong with her. You still have any money left over from that modeling pageant you were in?” Duke asked. “I’ve got to get into the city.”

  “Spent,” Sarah said. Sarah was tall and trim, with thick, blond hair and green eyes. Marjorie and Duke had pushed her into entering a local beauty pageant a month prior, where she came in second place, raking in a whopping thirty-dollar prize and free modeling lessons at Barbizon. “I used it to buy headshots. The photographer was going to give me a big discount if I let him take a couple of pictures without my shirt on, but the guy was a creep.”

  Sarah pulled out the last piece of Wonder Bread, scraped the mold off, and slathered a thin layer of margarine over the top and then coated it with a package of brown sugar.

  “Smart move. Make wise choices about your body, Sarah. You’re a pretty girl and you’re going to need that to marry a rich man one day. Julia, she’s got the smarts in the family. We got some letter from the school saying she reads at the level of a sixth grader. Imagine being that smart,” Duke said to Sarah. “Your sister is only six, but she’s probably smarter than you. Don’t worry about it, though. Some people are born with beauty and others are given brains. Julia, she’s a rarity. She’s got both.”

  “Seven, Daddy. I turned seven today. I’m not six anymore,” Julia said.

  “It doesn’t matter how old you are. You’re still an idiot baby,” Sarah snapped, turning on Julia over Duke’s hurtful comment.

  “Don’t talk that way about your siblings. You’re going to need to step up when I’m gone.”

  “Where are you going, Daddy?” Julia asked, but Duke answered with just a wink.

  Sarah stuck out her tongue at Duke, grabbed her coat, and headed out the front door.

  “It’s your sister’s birthday,” Duke called out to her.

  “Happy birthday, idiot baby,” Sarah said. When Duke turned his back away from Sarah, she shot him and Julia the finger and then shut the door behind her.

  “Why’s she so mean?” Julia asked. “She got mad at me for being in the bathroom too long and smacked me on the butt so hard, it left a big red handprint. I didn’t tell Ben, because I knew he’d be so mad, I didn’t know what he’d do to her.”

  “Don’t you worry about Sarah. She’s just going through some growing pains that happen when you hit the teenage years. Now, my Julia, let me see your hand. I think I know what you’re trying to hide from me.”

  Julia reluctantly gave her father the hand that held the bracelet Ben had given her.

  “My, my. That’s a beauty. Let me put that on for you.”

  Duke clasped the cheap bracelet around Julia’s wrist, and she was sure she had never seen anything quite as beautiful as she admired it.

  “Now, it was your other hand I was talking about.”

  Duke’s eyes fell down to Julia’s throat as she swallowed hard and her Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, giving her nerves away.

  “No need to be scared around your daddy. Now come on. Do as you’re told. Don’t disappoint me, Julia. You know how much that hurts me.”

  Julia’s eyes filled with tears as she slowly brought her right hand out from behind her back and Duke pulled it toward him.

  “I need to talk to Ben,” Julia cried.

  “He’s helping your mother. Now come on, open that hand up. Don’t disobey me.”

  Julia’s hand trembled as she opened up her small fist. The smile that spread across her father’s face when he saw the ten-dollar bill made Julia feel sick to her stomach.

  Duke carefully grabbed the money and slid it into his pants pocket.

  “Just as I thought. Birthday money. It’s always the sweetest. Now, what’s with the tears? I’ll buy you the biggest steak dinner tonight when I get home later. I know that’s your brother’s money. He won’t mind, and I’ll triple his loan when I get home.”

  Julia nodded, but she knew her dad was lying when he grabbed his old suitcase by the front door. She stood stalk still as Duke whistled some old Frank Sinatra song she’d heard him listen to on his record player. He picked up the car keys to his Chrysler, spun around, and gave Julia a big wink.

  “See you soon. And happy birthday, kid.”

  Julia pounded her fist against her leg as the shame of what she did hit her. She wanted to run outside and beg Duke to give her Ben’s hard-earned money back. But the Chrysler roared to life, and Duke navigated it out of the driveway until it disappeared down their road.

  “Are you ready?” Ben asked.

  Julia turned to see her brother, who was now in the kitchen unplugging the iron Duke had left on.

  “You put the bracelet on. It looks nice. How come you look sad?”

  “Something happened,” Julia cried. She stared down at the floor, unable to face Ben. “Daddy took the ten dollars! It’s my fault. I should have told him no, but he made me show him what was in my hand and then he took it. I’m sorry. I should have fought harder for you. You would have done that for me.”

  Ben’s eyes closed into angry, determined slits and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

  “That jerk,” Ben said, his voice suddenly sounding deeper and much older than his nine years.

  “I ruined everything. It was going to be a special day.”

  “It’s okay,” Ben answered, softening his tone. “Come on. Mr. Cole said he could use his lawn mowed if I had time. I told him I was twelve so he wouldn’t think I was too little to work hard, and he’s got a push mower, so I’ll be fine. We’ll get the ten dollars back another way. Then we’ll go down to the boardwalk and ride the bumper cars. Sound good?”

  Ben’s dark eyes now looked warm and hopeful, and the terrible feeling that Julia had carried that she had disappointed him eased.

  “I promise. You’ll still have a great day,” Ben said.

  Julia trailed her brother outside and watched as Ben picked up a rock and pelted it in the direction of their father’s tire tracks in the gravel.

  “How come you never give up?” Julia asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You act like everything is okay, when it’s not.”

  Ben kept his gaze leveled at the flies buzzing around the mountain of discarded junk and garbage that had been piling up for weeks next to the fence on the side of their house.

  “I have to. I can’t give up,” Ben answered.

  “How come?” Julia asked.

  “Because I’ve got you to take care of. Come on, let’s go see if Mr. Cole is home.”

  Julia fell in place alongside Ben, her brother standing closest to the road to protect her from any passing cars, as they started the trek to their old neighbor’s house three miles away. Julia didn’t mind the walk, though, and heard herself sigh with contentment. Things were going to come right. Ben would make sure of it.

  But Duke left the Gooden family for good that day.

  And Ben was abducted a month later.

  * * *

  Julia got out of the car and tried to block out the Frank Sinatra song her father sang the day he abandoned the Gooden family, but it kept playing in a nonstop loop in her head. She walked along the broken path to the front door, wondering what in the hell she was doing, and rang the bell. When no one answered, she opened the gate to the fence that led to the backyard. Her heart beat triple time as she followed the route to the outside patio and the sliding glass screen door that led to the bedroom she had shared with Ben, the place she had last seen him after they fell asleep the night he was taken.

  The flimsy metal screen in front of the glass door fell away in Julia’s hand as she tried to open it, and she threw it on the yellowed grass. She wiped away a circle of dirt from the sliding glass door and tried to peer inside when she felt something small and solid shove itself into her lower back.

  “You scream, I’ll kill you.”

  A large hand spun Julia around and she looked way up to see a very pale, bald man with a tiny, thin nose. He had on a black suit and held his
gun steady at her chest.

  “Where is he?” the man demanded.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Your dad. Is he inside?”

  “I have no idea. I haven’t seen my father in years.”

  “I hate liars. You’re meeting him here, aren’t you?” the pale man asked. As he moved in closer, the air between them filled with the foul smell of dead cigarette smoke.

  “My dad’s an asshole,” Julia answered. “I haven’t seen him in over thirty years. If you find out where he is, do me a favor and tell him to go to hell.”

  The pale man started to smile and then backhanded Julia across the face. “Let me ask again. Where’s Duke?”

  “Nobody hits me,” Julia warned, and dove her hand inside her purse for the folding knife with the three-inch blade she always carried.

  The pale man’s free hand grabbed Julia roughly by the shoulder, and he pushed her in front of him, with the gun now wedged in the familiar place in the small of her back.

  “Walk,” he commanded.

  “Who are you?” Julia asked.

  “Not your place to ask questions, but you’re right. Your dad is an asshole. You tell me where Duke hid it, and I won’t have to take you to see my boss.”

  “Hid what?”

  “Nice game, but it’s getting old. People take what isn’t theirs, then things get taken from them.”

  Julia tried to turn around, but the pale man shoved the gun in deeper into her flesh until it pressed hard against her kidney and she gasped. Julia stumbled forward toward the front of the house and a putty-colored sedan parked behind her car as the pale man pushed her forward.

  “You should eat more. You’re nice-looking, but men prefer their women with more curves. Doesn’t matter, though, if you give good head. You up for that?”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Your choice.”

  The pale man stuck his gun in his rear waistband and opened the trunk of his car. Inside was an overweight, older man with a bloodied letter “A” etched across his forehead. He lay hog-tied on a garbage bag that covered the floor and his eyes were shut tight. Julia assumed he was dead, until the man in the trunk let out a weak, begging moan from somewhere in the center of his chest.

  “Jesus, what did you do to him?” Julia asked.

  The sound of her voice made the man in the trunk pop open his eyes. The one that was still in the socket was bloodshot and brown and looked pleadingly up at Julia.

  “Oh, my God! Hold on. The police are coming,” Julia lied as her mind worked on how she could possibly save herself and the man in the trunk.

  “No, they aren’t. The big cop you were with is still back at the scene with the dead guy in the field,” the pale man answered, and then looked on at the man in the trunk with bored annoyance. “Jesus, I thought you were dead already.”

  Julia turned away just in time as the pale man raised his gun toward the trunk and pulled the trigger. The pale man then slammed Julia against the car and pinned her in place with his hips.

  “You aren’t going to get away with this,” Julia warned.

  “Shut up,” the pale man answered. The high-pitched wail of a car alarm sounded from a neighboring street and the pale man snapped his head in the direction of the noise, giving Julia the opening she needed. Julia reared up her strong runner’s leg and slammed the man as hard as she could in the meaty part of his thigh.

  Julia started to run, but the pale man yanked her back by the arm, and Julia froze when she felt the cool steel of his gun against her temple.

  “Stupid bitch.”

  The front door of the house swung open and a male voice called out, “Hey, Jameson. Looking for me?”

  The pale-faced man, Jameson, pivoted his gun toward the house and then started to duck behind his car, but he was too late. A shot rang out from the front porch, hitting Jameson squarely between his eyes.

  Duke Gooden seemed to float as he moved quickly out the front door and up the path, his gun held steady in front of him as he coolly panned the scene.

  Julia stood frozen as she looked back at Duke and worked her way through the initial shock that the father she hadn’t seen in thirty years had just killed a man. Julia felt as if something had lodged in the center of her throat, making it almost impossible to breathe, as she took in the strange, yet hauntingly familiar person who had almost crushed her spirit as a child, but who had also just likely saved her life.

  Duke was older now, but still handsome, a well-aged version of the younger, reckless father Julia remembered. Duke’s hair was still thick, but now entirely white, and contrasted beautifully against his tan skin. Deep creases etched in a starburst pattern along the corners of his blue eyes, which had always reminded Julia of pieces of shimmering topaz, exquisite gems standing out against the ordinary.

  Julia opened her mouth to begin a well-rehearsed, yet long-ago discarded, tirade against her father, where she would tell Duke to go to hell and to get out of her life. But instead, her plan for vindication was derailed by an unexpected memory from her past, a rare, happy moment between father and daughter that held her tight.

  Julia could picture herself curled up by Duke’s side on their worn plaid sofa as she read him a few pages from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Julia had carefully scanned the shelves of her elementary-school library for the book after Duke had mentioned the Mark Twain novel was his all-time favorite.

  (“You’re a great little reader, Julia,” Duke said. “You keep reading the way you are, you’re going to own the world one day. Mark my word.”)

  Julia pushed away the forgotten memory as Duke Gooden shot her a quick, assessing glance. He then slid down, careful not to let his pants touch the ground, and lifted Jameson’s gun and billfold from his body.

  “You kept your cool. That’s good,” Duke said.

  “We have to call the police. There’s a dead man in the trunk. The guy you shot killed him,” Julia said.

  “No police. Don’t say a word about this, Julia. Not a word,” Duke said. He popped open the trunk and shook his head as he took in the sight of his dead friend inside.

  “Damn it. They got to Chip. That freakin’ Indian did it. Carved the first initial of his name in Chip’s forehead, that sick bastard.”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Julia demanded.

  “I can’t. You need to stay away from this,” Duke warned. “There’s only one story you tell, that I’m dead and the last time you saw me was thirty years ago when I took off. Don’t trust anyone who comes out of the woodwork and starts asking questions about me. You let it leak that I’m alive or that you saw me today, you’ll be killed. I’m not joking around, kid.”

  Jameson’s phone began to ring in his suit coat pocket, prompting Duke to retrieve a pair of clear plastic gloves from a vinyl duffel bag, which lay by his side. Duke snapped the gloves over his hands and carefully retrieved the ringing phone, Duke’s face remaining void of emotion as he looked down at the number.

  “You need to get out of here. When they don’t hear from Jameson, they’ll be swarming this place.”

  “Who is Jameson? You have to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Sorry, darlin’. I can’t. You’ve only got a couple of minutes to get out of here. Do you have a gun?” Duke asked. He slid his hand down to his ankle and pulled out a second weapon and offered it to Julia.

  “I don’t want that, and I don’t need your help. I learned how to take care of myself after you left.”

  “Your choice,” Duke said, and slid the gun back in its place. He then picked up Jameson’s body from underneath the armpits and began to drag him in the direction of the rear yard and the fence that led to a side street. “My car is around back. You won’t see me again. Sorry about all this, kid.”

  “You’re sorry? That’s all you can say to me? You don’t get to just walk away this time,” Julia said.

  Duke, still dragging the recently deceased Jameson across the length of the backyard, paused at the gate a
nd offered Julia his killer smile, the one she could never fully forget, his blinding, glorious grin that could surely melt the Devil’s own heart.

  “See you around.”

  “No, you won’t,” Julia whispered, but Duke had already slipped through the gate.

  Now alone and with her father’s warning ringing in her head, Julia ran to her car as fast as she could. She got inside, hit the gas, and kept one eye locked on the rearview mirror until she reached the highway.

  After thirty years of silence, Duke Gooden had returned to Julia’s life and in a very violent way. As she reached for her phone to call Navarro, she thought about the saying that you could never go home again. At that moment, Julia realized she could go home. But if she dared, it would likely suck the everlasting life out of her.

  CHAPTER 6

  Julia kept the speedometer of her SUV locked at a heated ninety as she beat a fast track out of Sparrow and whatever fresh hell her father had dragged her into. She blew off I-75 toward Rochester Hills, desperate to get home, as the horror show of what had just transpired in Sparrow played out in her head. One thing Julia was sure of, she wasn’t going to let herself be used as bait again for whatever mess Duke was in. But more so, she wasn’t going to let her father’s dangerous chaos trickle down to her children.

  Julia eased off the gas when she neared Paint Creek Trail and what looked like a father and son riding their bikes along the side of the road. She used hands free to call her housekeeper and self-appointed den mother, Helen Jankowski, to be sure her boys were okay. Helen was a whippet-thin, older woman with a distinct Polish accent and the best pierogi recipe north of Detroit. Helen had moved in with Julia after Helen’s husband, Alek, had died of a heart attack a few months earlier, causing Helen to christen Julia’s house “wdowa centralny,” or “widow central.”

  “Are the police there?” Julia asked as Helen answered. “I’m five minutes away.”

  “Yes. Two sheriff deputies. I just gave them cake.”

  “Thanks for the hospitality, but they don’t need cake. They should be watching the house. Where are Logan and Will?”