Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) by Colleen Connally
Authors: Colleen Connally
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she began dating Dewayne Marius. A townie. It infuriated Russell.
“Russell met up with Dewayne when he was walking up to see Heather. Walter said he hadn’t a clue what Russell had planned. He saw Russell swing the bat back. Walter said he and Adian ran when he heard the crack of the head.”
“He left the kid there to die?”
“Walter ran to find Jack, who came to me, and we returned to find the body.” Dr. Keegan swallowed. “Russell was nowhere to be found. Before morning, Witt Ashcroft appeared with his lawyer…before any of the students were interviewed.”
“He hushed everything up because he feared Walter’s connection to Russell?”
Dr. Keegan nodded. “It would seem so.”
“I don’t understand how it got covered up,” Brophy interjected. “If so many people knew what happened.”
Looking away, Dr. Keegan pressed his lips together. “I gave my statement to the officers. No one ever came back to me. The headmaster asked me not to pursue the issue. Russell Stanford was expelled. Marius’s family moved out of town shortly after. Heather Morgan withdrew. As far as I know, the case was closed.”
Brophy sat back in his seat, flabbergasted. He realized that the information did absolutely nothing to help his present case, but fuck! Witt Ashcroft covered up a murder…pure and simple. All to protect the name of Ashcroft.
He saw the disappointment in Cruz’s face. Nothing more to be done.
* * * *
“Okay, thanks.” Cruz scowled, ending the conversation on her phone.
Brophy glanced over at his passenger. Cruz had never been one to hide her feelings. She wasn’t happy. Neither was he.
After listening to a man try to justify covering up a murder, he was annoyed. His visit to the local police station did nothing to alleviate his irritation, especially finding out from the local police that the official report held only the body was found by a teacher, Samuel Keegan.
There was no mention of finding the bat or that he dated a student at Washington Ridge Academy, much less the names of Russell Stanford, Heather Morgan, or the Ashcroft boys.
“Fill me in.”
Taking his eye off the road for a moment, he took the curve too fast and nearly swung into oncoming traffic. He straightened the car as the driver of an old Chevy looked strangely at him. Certainly different than Boston. In the city, he would have been flipped off.
“Want me to drive?” Cruz asked dryly. “Get me home in one piece. I do have children who depend on me.”
Brophy had almost forgotten Cruz was a mother. She didn’t seem the sort. Tough as nails. No nonsense. Didn’t think she had a maternal bone in her body.
“I’ll get you home before dinner,” Brophy assured her. “Now, what did you learn?”
“Maggie, Kincaid’s assistant, ran down twelve Heather Morgans living in Marblehead community in the last forty years. She found her. Unfortunately, Heather Morgan died eighteen years ago.”
“Sure it’s the right Heather Morgan?”
“Yeah. Her obituary said she was a graduate of Washington Ridge. Thirty-eight. Right age. My guess it was breast cancer since the family asked for donations to a breast cancer foundation. She never married.”
“Damn,” Brophy muttered. Over the last hour, the two had been hunting down leads to confirm Dr. Keegan’s story. It was damn hard after such a long time. “So do you really think that Walter wasn’t there when Russell Stanford beat the kid to death?”
“He was there all right.” Cruz shook out a cigarette and cracked the window. “From what Dr. Keegan said, I sensed that if not for the other brother, Jack, the body might not ever have been found.”
“Jack Ashcroft,” Brophy repeated. “That’s the one who committed suicide.”
“Supposedly,” Cruz said, sarcasm evident in her tone, and let out a stream of smoke. “The high and mighty Ashcrofts. Wonder what other secrets they have buried.”
Brophy didn’t comment. He hated when people believed they were above
“Russell met up with Dewayne when he was walking up to see Heather. Walter said he hadn’t a clue what Russell had planned. He saw Russell swing the bat back. Walter said he and Adian ran when he heard the crack of the head.”
“He left the kid there to die?”
“Walter ran to find Jack, who came to me, and we returned to find the body.” Dr. Keegan swallowed. “Russell was nowhere to be found. Before morning, Witt Ashcroft appeared with his lawyer…before any of the students were interviewed.”
“He hushed everything up because he feared Walter’s connection to Russell?”
Dr. Keegan nodded. “It would seem so.”
“I don’t understand how it got covered up,” Brophy interjected. “If so many people knew what happened.”
Looking away, Dr. Keegan pressed his lips together. “I gave my statement to the officers. No one ever came back to me. The headmaster asked me not to pursue the issue. Russell Stanford was expelled. Marius’s family moved out of town shortly after. Heather Morgan withdrew. As far as I know, the case was closed.”
Brophy sat back in his seat, flabbergasted. He realized that the information did absolutely nothing to help his present case, but fuck! Witt Ashcroft covered up a murder…pure and simple. All to protect the name of Ashcroft.
He saw the disappointment in Cruz’s face. Nothing more to be done.
* * * *
“Okay, thanks.” Cruz scowled, ending the conversation on her phone.
Brophy glanced over at his passenger. Cruz had never been one to hide her feelings. She wasn’t happy. Neither was he.
After listening to a man try to justify covering up a murder, he was annoyed. His visit to the local police station did nothing to alleviate his irritation, especially finding out from the local police that the official report held only the body was found by a teacher, Samuel Keegan.
There was no mention of finding the bat or that he dated a student at Washington Ridge Academy, much less the names of Russell Stanford, Heather Morgan, or the Ashcroft boys.
“Fill me in.”
Taking his eye off the road for a moment, he took the curve too fast and nearly swung into oncoming traffic. He straightened the car as the driver of an old Chevy looked strangely at him. Certainly different than Boston. In the city, he would have been flipped off.
“Want me to drive?” Cruz asked dryly. “Get me home in one piece. I do have children who depend on me.”
Brophy had almost forgotten Cruz was a mother. She didn’t seem the sort. Tough as nails. No nonsense. Didn’t think she had a maternal bone in her body.
“I’ll get you home before dinner,” Brophy assured her. “Now, what did you learn?”
“Maggie, Kincaid’s assistant, ran down twelve Heather Morgans living in Marblehead community in the last forty years. She found her. Unfortunately, Heather Morgan died eighteen years ago.”
“Sure it’s the right Heather Morgan?”
“Yeah. Her obituary said she was a graduate of Washington Ridge. Thirty-eight. Right age. My guess it was breast cancer since the family asked for donations to a breast cancer foundation. She never married.”
“Damn,” Brophy muttered. Over the last hour, the two had been hunting down leads to confirm Dr. Keegan’s story. It was damn hard after such a long time. “So do you really think that Walter wasn’t there when Russell Stanford beat the kid to death?”
“He was there all right.” Cruz shook out a cigarette and cracked the window. “From what Dr. Keegan said, I sensed that if not for the other brother, Jack, the body might not ever have been found.”
“Jack Ashcroft,” Brophy repeated. “That’s the one who committed suicide.”
“Supposedly,” Cruz said, sarcasm evident in her tone, and let out a stream of smoke. “The high and mighty Ashcrofts. Wonder what other secrets they have buried.”
Brophy didn’t comment. He hated when people believed they were above
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