Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing

“He tied you up?”

Hank nodded. “But then Avery screamed, and I got mad. I twisted until I got that knife and cut the ropes.” He jerked his hands as he might have done that night. “Then I tiptoed to the door and peeked into the hallway. Avery’s door was cracked.... I could hear her crying....”

Jaxon swallowed. If he’d been Hank, he would have killed the animal, too.

“Then what happened?”

Hank pinched the bridge of her nose. “I had the knife in my hand, and I tiptoed across the hall. I wanted to sneak up on him, stop him once and for all. Make him feel pain for a change.”

He paused, his expression twisting with horror. “But Mulligan was on the floor at the foot of Avery’s bed. He...was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes wide like he was dead. Blood soaked his shirt, and he wasn’t moving....”

Jaxon leaned forward, trying to visualize the scene. “He’d already been stabbed?”

Hank nodded. “Blood was on his shirt and the floor. One of his hands was covered in it where he’d grabbed his chest.”

“Where was your knife?”

“In my hand.” Hank slowly lifted his head, eyes cloudy with confusion. “Then I...saw Avery holding one.”

Jaxon would have to check the police reports to see if there was any mention of a second knife. And he needed to look at the autopsy reports. “Then what happened?”

“She was pitiful, crying and rocking herself back and forth.” He gulped. “So I ran over and took the knife from her. Then I wiped it off.”

“If he was dead, why did you stab him?”

Hank gripped his thighs with his hands. “I don’t know. Avery was sobbing, and I thought she’d get in trouble, and I couldn’t let that happen. She was already suffering enough.”

Jaxon felt for the kid and his situation.

“I wanted to cover for her. And I don’t want to get her in trouble now.”

“Let me worry about that,” Jaxon said. “I just want the truth. Tell me about stabbing Mulligan.”

Hank shrugged. “I was so mad. I had to make sure that monster never got up and hurt her again, so I lost it. All that rage and hate I had for him came out, and I went after him. I just started stabbing him, over and over and over.”

Hank closed his eyes, pressed the heels of his hands against them and sat there for a long minute, his shoulders shaking.

Jaxon understood the man’s—the boy’s—rage. He’d felt helpless. Had felt responsible for his sister.

But there were still unanswered questions, pieces that didn’t fit. “Hank, what happened to the knife you brought into the room?”

He looked confused for a moment. “I...don’t know. I think I dropped it when I ran to Avery.”

“Did Avery have blood on her hands? On her night clothes?”

Hank shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Jaxon breathed a small sigh of relief. If Avery had stabbed Mulligan, she would have had blood on her. She was only nine, too young and traumatized to have stabbed someone and clean up the mess.

Hank made another guttural sound in his throat. “Then Avery didn’t kill him?”

“I doubt it,” Jaxon said.

“That’s the only reason I confessed, to keep her from being taken away.” Hank gripped the edge of the table. “But if she didn’t kill him, then I’ve spent my life in a cell for nothing.”

Jaxon knew his boss wasn’t going to like it. But he actually believed Hank Tierney.

“There’s one major problem with your story,” Jaxon pointed out. “You and Avery both claimed there was no one else in the house that night.”

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose again. “There had to have been. Maybe someone came over after Mulligan tied me up in my room.”

Jaxon gritted his teeth. That was a long shot. But it was possible.

Even if the man had killed Mulligan, Mulligan had deserved to die. Hell, Hank Tierney was a hero in Jaxon’s book.

He didn’t deserve a lethal injection for getting rid of a monster.

He should have been given a medal.

And if he hadn’t killed Mulligan, then someone else had. Someone who was willing to let Hank die to protect himself.

* * *

AVERY WAITED IN an empty office for the Texas Ranger while he questioned Hank. She was still reeling in shock over her conversation with her brother.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him over the years. She’d been too busy trying to survive herself, working to overcome the trauma and shame of her abuse and the humiliation that had come from being a Tierney, born from a family of murderers.

Therapy had helped put her broken spirit and soul back together, although she still bore the physical and emotional scars.

But she had been free all this time.

Her brother had been labeled a murderer and spent most of his life behind bars, living with cold-blooded killers, rapists and psychopaths.

Hank didn’t belong with them.

She had to talk to that lawyer. The guards had confiscated her cell phone when she arrived and would return it when she left, so she stepped to the door and asked the mental health worker if she could use the phone.

“I need to call my brother’s lawyer.”

The woman instructed her how to call out from the prison, and Avery took the card Hank had given her and punched the number. A receptionist answered, “Ellis and Associates.”

“This is Avery Tierney, Hank Tierney’s sister. I’d like to speak to Ms. Ellis.”

“Hold please.”

Avery tapped her shoe on the floor as she waited. Through the window in the office, she could see the open yard outside where the inmates gathered. Only a handful of prisoners were outside, four of them appearing to be engaged in some kind of altercation.

One threw a punch; another produced a shank made from something sharp and jabbed the other one in the neck. All hell broke loose as the others jumped in to fight, and guards raced out to pull them apart.