Evil Never Dies

“Lies.”

Lizzy continued to flip through the pages. “I don’t see anything that even remotely suggests homicide.”

“She told me more than once that friends of hers, perfectly healthy people when they arrived at the nursing home, were dying. In the end, I believe Helsie knew too much about whatever was going on in that place. She said they were asking her a lot of questions, and she was sure they would come after her, too.”

“Who was asking her questions?”

“Staff members at Shady Oaks Nursing Home.”

“According to this report,” Lizzy said, “your wife had dementia.”

“More lies. Told by the doctors hired by Shady Oaks.”

“How long was she there?”

“Two years.”

“If she didn’t have the disease and she was healthy, why would you agree to put her into a nursing home?”

He laid a shaky fist on top of Lizzy’s desk. “Yes, it’s true. Helsie was diagnosed with vascular dementia four years ago.”

Lizzy sighed.

“It’s not what you think. She went for regular checkups, and her doctor was always surprised by how sharp she was. She knew exactly what was happening to her, physically and mentally. Sure, she had difficulty walking down stairs and she tended to burn the chicken every once in a while, but I swear her memory, more often than not, was better than mine. And then, two years ago, out of the blue, Helsie a

“I’m sorry.”

Lizzy could almost see the memories swirling about inside his head, all the memories of the life he once knew. “Helsie died two months ago. Heart failure.” He shook his head. “Makes no sense. She was in great shape. I went to visit her every day.”

“So how did she seem in that last week before she passed away?”

He shook his head, slowly, regretfully. “That’s the kicker in all of this. My son thought I needed a break. It took some doing, but he finally convinced me to come visit him in Montana. We set up camp in the mountains where nobody could bother us. The weather was surprisingly good for that time of the year so we even stayed an extra few days. By the time I returned home, Helsie was dead.”

Lizzy’s heart went out to the man.

“I had a dozen missed calls by the time I returned. The nursing home’s chief medical officer told me she died of heart failure caused by clogged arteries. It didn’t make sense, but I was in shock and why would I doubt what the doctors told me?”

“I don’t know,” Lizzy said. “Why are you doubting them now?”

“Because of an anonymous note I found in my mailbox.” He gestured with his chin toward the folder. “It’s in the very back.”

Lizzy flipped through the file and picked up the handwritten note. It had been written on a simple stationery with a squiggly design in the bottom right-hand corner. The message was short and sweet.

EVERYTHING IS NOT WHAT IT SEEMS. NEED AUTOPSY.

Lizzy looked at Gus. “Did you have the body exhumed?”

“I tried. My application was denied. I guess that only happens in the movies. I should have requested an official autopsy when I first learned of her death. But like I said before, I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time.”

“I understand.”

“I thought you would.”

“How is that?”

“I’ve read about you. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to help me?”

She stared into Gus’s rheumy gray eyes. “I can try, but you should know that I’m having a difficult time just getting through the day.”

“I call it teetering on the edge of insanity,” Gus said.

She looked at him for a long moment. There was something about the old man that calmed her. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but it was simply there, like the air that she breathed.

“I don’t have much money,” he went on, “but I can help you out if you ever need any work done.”

Lizzy tapped her pencil against her chin. She didn’t want or expect anything from Gus, but she didn’t want to offend him, either. “What kind of work?”

“You name it . . . plumbing, electrical. Whatever you need done.”

Lizzy offered him a hand. “Well, Gus, it looks like you’ve got yourself an investigator.”

They shook hands. For an old guy, his grip was surprisingly strong.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hayley walked outside, where Kitally was waiting by the car. Instead of her usual avant-garde getup, she wore jeans, T-shirt, dark sunglasses, and a white baseball cap. Hayley might not have recognized Kitally at all if it weren’t for the rainbow-colored dread hanging over one shoulder.

The jeans and T-shirt complete with silly logo weren’t the only things throwing Hayley off. There was an eleven-by-fourteen magnetic sign on Kitally’s Toyota. It read: H & K HOUSE CLEANING SERVICES. In the backseat of the car were buckets and mops and all sorts of cleaning supplies.

“Looks like you thought of everything.”

“Pretty much,” Kitally said, holding up a T-shirt with the H & K logo. “This one’s for you.”

“I’ll pass.”

Kitally shrugged. “Your loss. Do you have the flash drive?”

Hayley patted her pocket and then held up a large envelope filled with porn.

Kitally looked inside the envelope. “Gross. Where did you get these?”

“I’ve been collecting all sorts of goods that could be used as evidence we might need to put these guys away. This is just one of my gold mines.”

“Maybe you should have left those pictures wherever you found them so we could report that particular weirdo.”

“No way,” Hayley said. “The loser I took these from likes to look, but he doesn’t touch. Those guys are a dime a dozen. We can get him anytime. Right now, we need to focus on the pervs who are doing the most damage. And Holmes needs to be put away. Besides, he’s number three on the list.”

“I didn’t see anything on the news or in the paper about Owen Dunham, did you?”

“Never heard of him.”

Kitally lowered her voice. “The guy without balls . . . does that ring a bell?”

Hayley stepped closer and said in a low voice, “Listen. Unless we’re talking to Lizzy about any of the people on our list, it’s best if you don’t ever mention his name again. Let it go. That’s how it has to be, OK?”

“Got it,” Kitally said before they both climbed into the car.

On the drive from Carmichael to West Sacramento, Kitally said, “Do you think this will work?”

“It has to.” Donald Holmes was a guard in the state women’s prison. After a yearlong investigation, he was convicted of raping two teenagers and yet all he’d gotten for it was community time and probation.

“Did the investigators ever talk to any of the women in the prison who filed complaints?”

“No,” Hayley said. “They’re merely prisoners, so they don’t count.”

“What little time I did in detention was enough to make me realize I don’t ever want to end up in prison,” Kitally said. “I have to say, I am begi

“What do you mean?” Hayley had never spoken a word to Kitally, Tommy, or anyone else about the man whose life she’d taken months before. Sometimes she woke up in a cold sweat at the thought of what she’d done. She couldn’t say she regretted it—the man had destroyed too many lives to count—but still, the act itself had left a bad taste in her mouth. Nobody else knew, and she was determined to keep it that way. “I thought you were excited about Wallace getting ten years,” Hayley said. “What happened to the enthusiasm?”