Eric did the same. So much for getting a solid night’s sleep. Crime never rested, and he wouldn’t have been able to anyway. Piper was back and mixed up in this somehow. A train sounded in the distance. Horns blared and tires squealed over Poplar Avenue, piercing through the chilled night.
A uniform filled him and Eric in on the scene at hand. “Girlfriend said he didn’t come to bed. Found the vic in the bay. His face is pretty mangled.”
Luke followed the officer into the bay, the smell of oil and exhaust wrinkling his nose. A Caucasian male, early thirties, lay in a pool of blood, a stained tire iron beside him. That would definitely rough up a face. Brought back memories of poor Ellen Strosbergen.
It might have been used to bloody the vic’s face. But from what Luke could tell, it wasn’t the cause of death. The man’s head was lying at an odd angle.
“Neck broke?” Eric asked.
“Pretty sure. I’m interested to know which came first, the bludgeoning to the face and head or the snapped neck. Medical examiner on his way?” Luke browsed the area. Two cars raised on jacks, a few tires lying around. Tools in disarray, but not due to someone tossing the place—just seemed business as usual. A few greasy rags dotted the grimy concrete floor.
“Yeah. Crime-scene unit, too,” the officer said.
“Name?”
“Tyson Baroni. Thirty-four. Owns the shop. We called his next of kin. Has a brother that lives in Arlington.”
Tyson Baroni. He was hardly recognizable. Luke’s stomach soured, and he chomped on the inside of his lip. Squatting, he carefully retrieved Baroni’s wallet. A card fell out.
He read the name scrawled across the middle.
God, why now? I’m finally getting beyond it after all this time.
“Whose card is that, Ransom?” Eric asked.
“Piper Kennedy’s. Business card for her dojo in Jackson.”
“The granddaughter from the hospital?” Eric’s eyes held questions.
“Yep.” Piper claimed she wasn’t involved, that she was clean. “I want to talk to the coroner and the girlfriend. Rule her out.” He reached into his jacket pocket and popped two antacids. With skilled martial-arts training, Piper was more than capable of snapping a neck. Was the girlfriend? Dread churned like a frosty tornado.
“What do you think she had in common with him?” Eric stared at the body, squinting.
Everything. “Ten years ago, Baroni ran with Chaz Michaels. A low-life dirtbag who got his jollies burglarizing the elderly who lived in wealthy neighborhoods. He was the wheels.”
“You think he had something to do with the robbery-homicide earlier? How does that link with the granddaughter?”
Luke stretched his neck from one side to the other. “Piper Kennedy was Chaz Michaels’s girlfriend for a while.” And much more. “She and Baroni were friends.”
Eric stroked his thumb across his lower lip. “So, you like Baroni for the robbery and think the Kennedy chick retaliated for knocking her grandmother around?”
Possibly. Whoever was in Mama Jean’s basement had a mission. The question was: Did they accomplish it? Did they find what they were after? And if not, what next?
“Let’s interview the girlfriend, then pay Piper a visit when sun’s up and ask.” Luke had hoped he wouldn’t have to see Piper again—at least not under these circumstances. Where she was concerned, he had a hard time discerning truth.
God, give me the strength to see clearly.
“It has to be Chaz. A tire iron? Interesting choice of weapon.” Piper gnawed her thumbnail. Had she made the right decision not calling Luke or the police in general? Her thigh throbbed.
Harmony laid a hand on Piper’s shoulder. “No way. Why now? It makes no sense.”
“He’s come to get even. He has to believe I knew Luke was undercover the whole time.” Which she hadn’t. By the time she found out, she was already in love with Luke. “He blames me for Sly getting caught and going to prison for assaulting Ellen Strosbergen. Or he thinks I took something from the house.”
“Did you?”
“What do you think?” Piper paced the kitchen floor. “I should call the police.”
Harmony sighed. “You said yourself Luke suspects you. Will he believe your story?”
“Probably not.” She had no one to blame but herself for that. She had no concrete evidence that she had even been attacked. Luke might accuse her of making the whole thing up to throw suspicion off her. Call her a liar. Again.
No way was it random. Not after the attack with a tire iron.
Harmony took Piper’s cold cup of tea to the sink and dumped it. “Maybe you should come with me to the Realtors’ conference. Get out of Dodge.”
“And leave Mama Jean? No way. I have to find out who this is.” With or without Luke’s help. Piper rubbed her chilled arm. “Because if Mama Jean saw the attacker, he might come back to finish off what he started. Could be why he came after me tonight—he might think she told me who it was.” Confusion twisted in her chest.
Harmony sank in a kitchen chair. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. But for tonight, I think it’s best if I sleep in your master bedroom. You’ll be safer upstairs. If he comes back, I want to be downstairs where I can hear.”
“You’re scaring me, Pipe.”
“I’m trying to protect you.” Piper was scared, too. And she had no idea what to do, but maybe by morning she’d have a clue. It was after midnight now.
Harmony grabbed Piper’s hand. “I’ll go upstairs. But I don’t suspect either of us will be sleeping.”
There was truth to that. Piper followed Harmony to the master bedroom. “Why do you need this house? It’s huge.”
Harmony switched on the light. “It’s my way of hoping for a family.”
A dream they both shared. But Piper had relationship paralysis. The few men she’d dated, she’d measured against Luke. Every single one came up short.
Hairs prickled the back of Piper’s neck again, as if a presence was in the house. Or outside. Watching. She switched off the light.
“Hey—!”
“Shhh.” Piper peeked out the window that overlooked the backyard and beyond into the woods. “Where does that lead?”
“A creek and then I don’t know. I’ve never taken a jaunt.” Harmony closed the blinds and then flipped on the lamp. “I think we’re safe. And
