‘Your dad. He’s kind of banged up, but he came along for the ride.’
‘Really?’ Molly took off down the walk through the gardens of the bewitching front lawn. When she was almost to the car, she stopped, and looked back suspiciously at the detective.
The rear window of the car rolled down, and Rob looked out. ‘Molly,’ he called out anxiously.
‘Dad!’ Molly rushed over to the car, just as Lianna arrived at the front door. She saw her daughter leaning into a strange car.
‘Hey,’ she demanded. ‘What the hell . . . Molly!’
Molly straightened up and waved at her mother. ‘It’s Dad,’ she said.
Rob gazed at her, unsmiling, out the car window, and lifted a hand in greeting.
‘What’s my ex doing here?’ Lianna asked nervously.
‘May I come in?’ asked Detective Ortega. ‘I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.’
Lianna frowned, but stepped out of the way. Detective Ortega came inside, and waited for her. Lianna led the way down the hall to the sunroom. She flopped into a wicker chair and pointed to another one. ‘What’s this all about?’ she asked.
Detective Ortega took a moment to absorb the sight of her. She was curvaceous and lissome at the same time. Her face had a symmetrical perfection that was rare to see, although she seemed unconscious of her beauty, and did almost nothing to enhance it. Her clothes were faded, and she had no visible make-up, although one didn’t ordinarily see such a flawless complexion, even with make-up.
‘Mrs Janssen,’ he said. ‘Are you acquainted with a man named Norman Cook?’
Lianna blanched. ‘Why are you asking me about Norman Cook?’
‘Mrs Janssen?’ said Ortega politely but firmly.
Lianna sighed. ‘Yes. I mean, I was, years ago. I knew him. A lifetime ago.’
‘When’s the last time you saw him?’
‘Not for years,’ she said. ‘What is going on?’
‘Do you know where he is?’
Lianna glowered. ‘Why?’
‘Just answer the question,’ said Ortega.
‘He’s in prison,’ Lianna said. ‘Serving a life sentence. Why are you asking me about Norman?’
‘Have you heard from him lately?’
‘No,’ said Lianna. ‘Why would I?’
Detective Ortega stared at her. ‘What was your relationship with Norman Cook?’
Lianna sighed. ‘All right, look. I was involved with him. It was a lifetime ago. He was a guy with a wild streak, and I was young and very naive, when we met. I did whatever he told me to do. I shouldn’t have, but I did. It was a terrible mistake to ever get mixed up with him in the first place. I’m not the same person now. I have moved on.’
‘Are you aware of the fact that he escaped from a prison work detail a few weeks ago and stole a car?’
‘Norman escaped?’ she cried.
‘Yes.’
Lianna shuddered.
‘You seem uncomfortable with that idea.’
‘I am uncomfortable,’ she said. ‘I don’t want Norman Cook to be trying to find me. Or anyone else.’
‘Do you think it’s likely that he would try to find you?’
‘I don’t know. It’s possible. I stopped answering his letters years ago.’
‘Mrs Janssen, we have reason to believe that Norman Cook did just that. He came here looking for you a few weeks ago.’
‘Came here?’ Lianna yelped. ‘No.’
‘Apparently, he went first to the home of your ex-husband in Manayunk. Then he was directed here, to your present address.’
‘Directed by whom?’ Lianna asked suspiciously.
‘By Chloe Kendricks,’ he said.
Lianna’s eyes widened. ‘Oh my God. Wait a minute. She talked to Norman? Oh my God. Was he the one who told her? Of course, he did. Jesus . . .’
‘Excuse me?’ said Detective Ortega.
Lianna sighed. She got up and walked over to the door of the sunroom and glanced into the house. Then she closed the sunroom door firmly. ‘Look, I was just a teenager myself when I got involved with Norman Cook. OK? I was young and I got pregnant. Before long I found out that he was still married to somebody else. But, by then, I was afraid of him. He was a very violent man. He killed two men. Two perfectly innocent men who just happened to be in his path. That’s what he was like. I mean, I was relieved when he went to jail. He begged me to wait for him. Of course I said I would but . . . well, I didn’t mean it, as you can imagine. I got away as soon as I could.’
‘What happened to your child?’
‘You met her,’ said Lianna flatly. ‘At the door.’
‘The young girl with the glasses?’
Lianna exhaled a noisy sigh. ‘Yes. My daughter, Molly. But she doesn’t know about the terrible things her father did, and I don’t want her to know.’
‘Did you see Mr Cook when he came looking for you?’
‘No,’ said Lianna. ‘God, no. I had no idea he had escaped from prison, let alone was in the area. And, of course, Chloe did not see fit to tell me.’
‘So, you’re telling me that you did not see Norman Cook, or speak to him.’
‘No. Why are you asking me this? What difference does it make if I saw Norman Cook or not?’
‘Mr Cook was shot to death. His body was found floating in the Schuylkill.’
‘WHAT?’ Lianna jumped to her feet. She put a protective hand over her belly as if to hide her pregnancy from view.
If her surprise was not genuine, Alex thought, she ought to be in movies.
‘Do you know anything about his death?’
‘Do I . . .’ Lianna was gasping for breath, shaking her head. ‘No. No, I don’t know anything. I never even . . . Who shot him?’
‘Well,’ said Detective Ortega. ‘I was wondering if you did.’
All the color drained from Lianna’s face, and her eyes became unfocused. Then, her irises rolled back and her knees gave way. Ortega jumped to his feet and reached out to try to catch her but he was too late. Lianna fell, with a thud, to the floor.
THIRTY-FOUR
F
aith Latimer sat cross-legged on a canvas tarp, putty knife in hand, staring glumly at a bucket of sheetrock mud. Her husband, Brian, humming to himself, came into the room wearing paint-stained clothing and a painter’s hat. He looked down at his wife’s slumped shoulders sympathetically.
‘Hey babe,’ he said, leaning down and placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t try to do that today. Go on up and lay down. You’re exhausted. When this is all over with your dad, there’ll be time to get this done.’
‘When this is all over my mother is gonna have to move in with us. Where will we put her? We haven’t got one room done in this house.’
‘Yes, we do,’ he said. ‘I just finished painting that little room off the kitchen, so your mom can have that. She can’t really make the stairs.’
‘My parents’ bedroom was upstairs,’ said Faith sadly.
‘I know but this will be easier for her,’ said Brian.
‘I’m sorry about all this, honey,’ Faith said.
‘Hey, it’s your mom,’ said Brian kindly. ‘And as moms go, she’s not bad.’
Faith managed a crooked smile and her eyes glistened. ‘You’re the best. I’m so lucky.’
‘I’m the lucky one,’ he said.
The doorbell sounded. Brian frowned at his wife. ‘You expecting anyone?’
‘No, and I don’t want to talk to anyone either,’ she said.
‘I’ll get rid of them,’ said Brian. He started to pick his way past the mud buckets to the front door.
Faith sighed, and stood up. At least there was no viewing tonight. Her mother was staying with her friend, Judy, and Faith and Brian would be there early tomorrow. The service began at ten. She still could not believe that her father was gone. And a suicide. She hadn’t been the one to find him. That dreadful sight had greeted her mother when she walked in the door from one of her meetings. Her partner in life, dangling from the light fixture in the kitchen. The chair tipped over beside him. Faith squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the thought of it. She couldn’t bear to imagine it. Tears began to splash on her mud-covered hands.
Brian leaned into the room. ‘It’s . . . um . . . your boss’s brother?’
‘Dr Winter’s brother?’
‘Yeah,’ said Brian.’
‘Why is he here?’
‘I don’t know. Do you want me to send him away?’
‘Yes,’ said Faith. And then she shook her head. ‘No, wait. I probably should see what he wants.’
‘I’m going to tell him that you’re tired, and not to stay too long.’
Faith nodded. Brian was right – she didn’t have the heart to do anything today but grieve for her father. She cleaned off the putty knife, and pressed the lid back on the bucket of joint compound. All of this could wait.
‘Faith?’
Faith looked up and saw a shabbily dressed man in his thirties, with thick, graying hair and strong features. She could see the resemblance to Dr Winter, although the facial features looked better on a man than they did on her boss. Faith nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘I’m Glen Winter. My sister is your . . . I understand you are my sister’s assistant.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Sorry about your father,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’
‘Listen um, I don’t want to bother you at this time. But I’m trying to find some doctor that took care of your parents.’
‘Why?’ said Faith.
‘For my sister,’ said Glen evasively.
‘Dr Winter?’
‘No. No. Actually for my other sister. It’s kind of complicated.’
‘Why didn’t Dr Winter just call me?’ Faith asked.
Glen shrugged. ‘She told me to do it. Kid brothers. We do all the errands.’
Faith was looking skeptical. ‘You know, if you need a doctor and you don’t have insurance, those urgent care clinics don’t require it. You could try them,’ Faith said.
Glen looked perplexed. ‘What?’
‘Well, pardon me for being suspicious, but Dr Winter and her sister came to my father’s viewing and I heard my mother telling them about this particular doctor. It’s true that he is a very wonderful doctor who never charged them. He’s been treating my mother on and off for years, since she had a stroke. And more recently, my dad had to go to him also. He’s just a rare person who wants to help others. I mean there are not many doctors like that. He really did it out of the kindness of his heart. But if that’s what you’re looking for – a doctor who won’t charge you – you should really look elsewhere.’
‘Hey, I didn’t even know about that,’ said Glen. ‘But, now that you mention it, that’s pretty radical. A doctor who treats patients for free!’
Faith frowned. ‘Obviously he can’t do that for everyone. I think he just felt sorry for my parents. My dad was hard working, but he could never afford the insurance once he lost his job. Anyway I really wouldn’t want this doctor to think that you heard about this from us. That would be no way to pay him back for his kindness.’
‘Of course not,’ said Glen solemnly. ‘But I assure you, this is not for me. I know I look a little bit . . . down at the heel. But my sister, Shelby, has money and insurance and all that good stuff. I think she just wanted to see this particular doctor – maybe it’s because of his specialty or something like that.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Faith asked worriedly.
Glen spread his hands wide with a smile. ‘Hey. They never tell me anything. They send me to do the dirty work. It’s always been that way. So, I’m just here to get the name.’
‘But what are your sister’s symptoms?’ Faith asked.
Glen shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t even know,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Faith. ‘Please. You’ll have to go now. There are lots of doctors in the city. Find someone else.’
THIRTY-FIVE
S
helby opened her eyes. She lay on her side, curled up in a fetal position. All around her was blackness, and, for one moment, when she realized that it was not the grave, but a dark enclosure, and that she was still alive, she felt a giddy exhilaration. And then it quickly passed. Her head felt like it was being pounded with a hammer. There was tape covering her mouth. Her hands were tied behind her and her ankles tied together. When she tried, groggily, to straighten out her legs, she realized that she was being restrained in a cramped, tiny space. And beneath her, in the darkness, she heard something humming.
An engine.
Shelby’s eyes widened. Part of her brain was still sedated, but her natural adrenalin was kicking in, overwhelming whatever tranquilizer he had given her. She remembered now. He was coming toward her with a needle and she was struggling, trying to free herself from the bonds that held her to the examining table. And then, everything else was a blank. Somehow he had moved her out of his office – probably under cover of darkness – and now she was back in the trunk of his car, and he was driving her somewhere. She did not know where, but she knew that he meant it to be her last stop.
Was it worth it, she asked herself? Now, she knew everything, but she would not live to tell about it. Or to see justice done for Chloe. Jeremy would not have his Shep, and her promise to Chloe, to always be there for her son, would be void and broken. Would anyone seek justice for her, as she had for Chloe? Shelby could not imagine it. She had never felt such a failure.
She thought about her captor. Harris Janssen was still trying to regard himself as a victim and a decent man, but there was no decency left in him. Killing Norman Cook had been one thing. If he had only stopped then, he might have found absolution. But he had gone ahead and methodically arranged for Chloe’s death. He had given Bud Ridley an assignment too grievous to bear – and Bud had carried it out. Bud was unable to live with his conscience. At least he
had
a conscience, Shelby thought. Harris Janssen had lost his somewhere along the way.
When did it happen? He had been an admirable man when Chloe worked for him. When did character begin to crumble in the face of desire? Was it at the moment when his patient, Lianna, looked helplessly, admiringly into his eyes and he decided that he had to woo her away from her husband? Was that when he started down the slippery slope to the gutter without principles where he now existed? Or was it when he learned that she was bearing him a son? What did it matter anyway? He was ruthless now, and Shelby was his prisoner.