Killing Bliss Read Free Page B

lending her cousin money. He didn't bother defending himself, say how he'd kept in touch with his mother until she died and sent a regular monthly check. His business.
    "That it?" he asked, wanting to end the conversation.
    "No. The big reason is Frank Bliss is being paroled after serving seven years for manslaughter."
    Stan interjected. "Go back a bit, Susie."
    She pursed her lips. "A few months after the murder, I met with Frank Bliss. I'd hoped to learn something the police hadn't—stupid, I know—but..." She took a few steps, then turned back to face him, her expression defiant. "Ever since, I've felt that boy knew more than he'd told."
    "You 'felt'?" Even though Cade's career centered on building a whole loaf from discarded chaff, he'd learned to distrust the I felt phrase—so often too close to its sister phrase, I wish, to be worthwhile.
    "I figured you'd glom on to that word, but regardless, I'll stand by it. Frank Bliss was either lying or not telling everything he knew."
    "If you consider his mother was brutally murdered—literally before his eyes—why would he lie? What do you think he'd gain from it?"
    "I have no idea," she said. "But ever since the murder, Frank Bliss has been in jail more than he's been out. I suspect he lies for all kinds of reasons."
    "And his brother?"
    Stan answered. "Dead. Knifed in an alley after a fight in some club. About three years after the murder."
    "Unlucky family," Cade said. "A good psychologist might say it was his mother's murder that turned Frank bad in the first place."
    "He'd be wrong," Susan said, "because Frank didn't like his mother."
    "He told you that?"
    "He didn't have to. It was in his face, in his eyes. I think he was happy she was dead."
    "Even if you're right, it still doesn't prove—"
    She stopped him with a raised hand, her eyes coal hard and direct. "If he didn't care about his mother, he certainly wouldn't care about a sixteen-month-old baby. Whatever his reasons, I think he lied." She waved her hand in a frustrated action, her voice rose. "Maybe he killed his mother, maybe the lies were to protect himself, or his kid brother—"
    "That's a lot of maybes, Susan." Cade said quietly. "Besides, you said the police checked Brett's alibi."
    "They could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time."
    The room went quiet, and Stan arched a brow and looked at Cade, his expression bordering on sympathetic. "Susie hasn't let this case go since she found out about Josh. She's not about to stop now," he said.
    Maybe not, but Cade knew they'd stepped hip deep into the realm of conjecture and wishful thinking on a murder that occurred fifteen years ago. "It's a waste of time. Mine and yours," Cade said. He hadn't left WSU to get mired in someone else's problem, someone else's grief—or to work a case with a serious case of freezer burn. He'd walked this walk before. Swampland in a fog. "I'm sorry," he said again, more firmly this time. "I can't help you."
    Again the room fell to silence, broken finally by Susan's heavy sigh.
    "I didn't want to do this," she said. "But you leave me no choice." She met his eyes, her gaze unwavering. "You do this for me, Cade, and I'll forget what your mother owed me, which over the years came to over sixty-five thousand dollars."
    She might as well have hit him in the gut with a two-by-four. His breath swooshed out, then he shook his head, muttered, "Son-of-a-bitch."
    "No," Susan stated in a clear, measured tone. "I'm the mother of a dead daughter who's missing her grandson. Sons-of-bitches don't even come close."

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    Cade plumped the pillow behind his head and settled his gaze on the ceiling. The house was a minefield of boxes, some for the movers, some for the local thrift shop, and some for the trash. Most for the trash.
    The thrift shop cartons were his killing field. Dana's things.
    She'd been gone for months, but her clothes, hanging in the closet, still carried her scent. Dust grayed the garment shoulders like