Page 49 of Dirty Valentine
“Hughes,” I said.“That’s one of the families whose ancestors testified against Bridget Ashworth.”
“Now we need to figure out if she’s the killer or the next victim,” Jack said.“Let’s head over to River Road and see what we find.”
“I’ll get EMTs to transport the body,” I said.
Since the jogger had called 911 it was automatic that the ambulance arrived on the scene, which was nice considering I was shorthanded with Lily and Sheldon both being out.It would be a while until the scene was cleared so I’d have time to go with Jack to River Road.
Somewhere in this river, Colonial ships had once carried tobacco to market, their holds filled with the wealth that had built the great plantation houses of King George County.Now those same waters reflected the lights of a modern crime scene, witness to murders that spanned three centuries.
The drive back through the Virginia countryside felt different this time—less ominous, more determined.We had a name, an address, a concrete lead to follow.But as we passed the darkened fields and sleeping farmhouses that dotted the landscape, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were racing against time.
Somewhere in King George County, Judith Marie Hughes was either in mortal danger or planning her next murder.And somewhere in the shadows of history and revenge, a killer was waiting to complete their three-hundred-year-old mission of blood and justice.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The driveto River Road stretched before us like a descent into something darker than mere night.Our headlights carved narrow tunnels through the Virginia darkness, illuminating ancient oaks that twisted overhead like arthritic fingers reaching across the asphalt.Spanish moss hung from their branches in ghostly curtains, swaying in the humid breeze with an almost hypnotic rhythm that made my skin crawl.
“Do we know anything about Judith Hughes?”Cole asked over the radio from Martinez’s car, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence that had settled over us since leaving the crime scene.“What are we walking into?”
“Her name came up initially when we did the cursory background checks on ancestors we were able to trace from the names of the marked graves,” I said, scrolling through my phone.“I’m pulling up the file now.We’d placed her down on the list because her current address is listed outside of King George.She’s a grad student at Georgetown.Twenty-four years old.Both parents deceased when she was nineteen.Her father to cancer and then her mother six months later when she and a couple of friends were robbed at gunpoint outside of Ford’s Theater.Took a bullet to the chest when she tried to push the attacker away.”
“Losing both parents in a short amount of time could make a person a sociopath and go on a killing spree,” Martinez said, his voice thin through the receiver.
I opened Jack’s portable laptop that was attached to the dash in his Tahoe, an idea forming.It took less than two minutes to find what I was looking for.
“Judith Hughes purchased a Walther P22 from a shop in Richmond in December of last year.”
“That’s why I never believe in coincidences,” Cole said.“I guess we need to ask her if she’s recently shot anyone with it.”
The deeper we drove into the plantation district, the more the landscape seemed to change around us.Modern subdivisions and strip malls gave way to vast stretches of farmland punctuated by the skeletal remains of old tobacco barns.Massive houses set far back from the road loomed in the darkness like sleeping giants, their windows dark and unwelcoming.
“There,” I said, pointing to a rusted mailbox that leaned at a drunken angle beside a crumbling stone pillar.“1247.”
The driveway was little more than a dirt track that wound through an avenue of live oaks so old they might have witnessed the original land grants being signed.Their branches formed a canopy so thick that even our headlights seemed to dim, and I found myself holding my breath as we navigated the narrow path.
Then the house appeared, and my heart sank.
The Hughes mansion had once been magnificent—a perfect example of antebellum architecture with its soaring columns and wraparound veranda.But neglect had taken its toll.Paint peeled from the shutters in long strips, several porch boards had rotted through completely, and ivy covered half the structure in a green shroud that made it look more like a mausoleum than a home.
“Looks like she didn’t keep things up after her parents died,” Jack said.“It’d be hard for a kid to even know where to start with a place like this.”
“You’d think she’d have sold it,” I said.
“Family legacy is a weird thing sometimes,” Jack said.“The blood of her ancestors is soaked into the dirt of those fields.And the stories those walls could tell might be the only thing she has left of her family to hold on to.”
Jack parked behind an old pickup truck that sat in the circular drive like a monument to better times.No lights showed in any of the windows, and the only sound was the wind moaning through the broken shutters and the rhythmic creak of a loose board somewhere on the porch.
Cole and Martinez parked on the other side of the circular drive so we could all get out easy in case of an emergency.
“Maybe you should stay in the car,” Jack said, his hand on his holster.“She could be dangerous.”
“You go, I go,” I said, reaching in my bag for my Beretta and sticking it in the small of my back.
The truth was I was always armed.There’d been a time when I’d stared into the eyes of my killer and had nothing to fight back with but weakness.I thought I’d breathed my last breath, and don’t remember anything until I’d woken up in the hospital attached to machines.That was over two years ago, when Jeremy Mooney had nearly strangled me to death.
I’d been driven to arm myself first out of fear, but then I’d seen it as a necessity for the kind of work I’d been called to.I wouldn’t be a weak link for Jack or any of the team.If I went with them on a call they deserved to have someone to watch their backs.Not someone who needed saving.So I’d trained and worked until the fear was gone and I wasn’t a liability to anyone.
Jack looked at me and nodded.I knew he was thinking of the baby.I was too.But the baby needed a father and I trusted Jack with both of our lives.
