“Look,” Davenport said. Louder this time.
Kyle’s gray eyes twitched toward the photos and then away.
“How do I know you didn’t plant that piece of leather?” he asked.
“Because there’s a video.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
No need to tell him he was right.
Kyle leaned over Davenport. “Please, sir. You need your pill.”
Aloa decided to press. “If the police find my blood on your truck, you’re in trouble. You know that. Don’t you, Kyle?”
Kyle looked as if he might be sick. He set the pill down on Davenport’s bare chest and took a step back from the bed.
“Admit it, Kyle. You hit her,” Davenport said.
Aloa kept her voice calm. “You wanted to stop me from finding out what actually happened to Corrine.”
Kyle ran two hands through his hair. “No. That’s not right. I didn’t . . .” He glanced pleadingly at Aloa. “OK. I hit you but I didn’t mean it. Really I didn’t. I wanted to see who you were talking to, but it was foggy and that guy came off the sidewalk and you hit the brakes and I tried to stop. Really I did, but I couldn’t.”
A memory rose of hearing the squeal of tires on pavement before she was knocked into the air.
“When I hit you, I freaked out and left. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please.”
He paced a few steps alongside the bed, then came back. “Don’t call the police. I can’t go to jail.”
“It’s prison, not jail, Kyle.” Davenport’s voice was cruel. “You should know that. Jail is where they hold you until your trial. Prison is where they beat you up and rape you, and nobody will do a thing about it.”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Kyle said to Aloa, a low moan escaping his lips.
“First you hit her, then you poisoned her,” Davenport said. “That’ll be a nice long sentence, a lot of time to live behind bars. Like an animal.”
“Wait. What?” Kyle stopped.
What the hell was Davenport doing?
“You don’t remember?” Davenport went on. “Did you forget how you put something in that tea you made for Aloa and then sent her to the headlands hoping she would jump? That’s attempted murder there.”
“What? I didn’t put anything in her tea.” Kyle looked confused. “You were the one who told me to give her the Yan Wang tea. I would never have done it.” He turned to Aloa. “It’s like LSD. It’s for mind expansion. He likes to use it for depression, for when the pain gets bad. I wouldn’t have given that to you but he told me to.”
“I did not,” Davenport said.
“And you were the one who called Uber,” Kyle objected. “You were the one who said where to take her, not me. I thought she was going home.”
“Oh, Kyle. Such a terrible liar. What else have you lied about?” Davenport said.
“Can we talk about your visits to Chinatown, Kyle?” Aloa asked, trying to save the interview. But it was as if Aloa wasn’t there.
“Did you lie about your time with Robineaux too?” Davenport asked. “You said you were too afraid to escape, but maybe you weren’t. Maybe you liked it with him.”
“I . . . I . . . didn’t,” Kyle said. “I was scared.”
“When he did things to you, you wanted more, didn’t you, Kyle? You deserved it, didn’t you? For how bad you were. You were always a burden. A weird little kid who wet the bed and played with himself. Who wants that, Kyle? What mom wouldn’t run away from that?”
Was this how Davenport broke his prisoners? The cruelty was hard to watch.
“Please. Stop,” Kyle said, but Davenport kept talking.
“I took you in. I gave you everything: support, love, money. And what did you do? You turned on me. You took away what I loved.”
“I didn’t. What?” Kyle said.
“You killed Corrine, didn’t you? She fired you and you came back and stabbed her.”
“No. No,” Kyle cried. “I only came back because you needed the melatonin. Remember? You called and asked me to bring it. She was alive when I was here.”
“No, Kyle, I don’t remember asking you to come to the house,” Davenport said.
“But—” Kyle began.
“You can’t prove that, can you, Kyle? Everybody knows you and Corrine didn’t get along. There are people who could testify to that, and then there’s your friend who told Corrine how you poisoned his kid, and that she said she was going to fire you. You snapped. You lost connection with reality. All the time we thought it was Hamlin, but it was you.”
Kyle backed away, shaking his head. “No!”
Things were spinning out of control.
“Kyle, let’s talk about this,” Aloa said.
“Come on, Kyle,” Davenport said. “Mrs. Wagner across the street saw you knock on the door. You had a knife, didn’t you? And you stabbed Corrine and left her to die. You were jealous because I loved her and angry because she cheated on me. You wanted me all for yourself. Didn’t you, Kyle?” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve always been bad, haven’t you, Kyle?”
A tear slid from Kyle’s eye.
“We all saw it. Even Robineaux saw it. He tried to drive the devil from you, but he couldn’t. It’s inside you, Kyle. You can’t help yourself.”
Kyle buried his face in his hands. His shoulders heaved and a tremor ran through him.
“Say you killed her, Kyle,” Davenport said.
Kyle shook his head.
“Say it.”
It was like watching a car crash in slow motion.
“Come on, Kyle,” Davenport said. His voice was meant to cut, to wound. “You know what you did. Get it off your chest. Confess. Be a man.”
Kyle looked up. His chin trembled. “But I didn’t kill her,” he said. “You called me and told me to bring you the melatonin because you were having trouble sleeping. You said to wear dark clothes and you got mad because you said I wore the wrong thing. You said I was stupid.”
“Such a liar, Kyle,” Davenport said.
“Corrine was alive. When I left, she was sitting right there.” Kyle pointed a shaking finger to the chair. “She was dressed up. Like she was going somewhere. She was sitting up really straight with her hands in her lap. She was in high heels and she was wearing her hair up. She had on that watch you gave her for her birthday.”
Kyle’s details had a ring of truth to them.
“You’re all mixed up, aren’t you, Kyle?” Davenport said.
“And you were wearing the remote-control glove. Why were you wearing the glove?” Kyle asked.
“Oh, Kyle.” Davenport’s voice changed to one of softness and understanding. “Remember when you made it for me? Remember how proud I was of you, and you said you would always take care of me and protect me? You were a warrior then, Kyle. Remember? We talked about dignity and sacrifice. Remember the little samurai brother? Remember him, Kyle?”
Kyle didn’t answer.
“His two older brothers were allowed to commit seppuku after they tried to assassinate their lord, and the little brother stepped up afterward and killed himself just like they did? Eight years old, Kyle, and he brought honor to his family. Think of that. Think of his strength and his loyalty. He didn’t bring shame to his house like you’re doing now.”
“But I’ve done everything . . .” Kyle’s voice trailed off.
“Do the right thing now, Kyle. When it matters,” Davenport said.
What was happening?
Kyle walked around the bed to the window. Underwater spotlights turned the pool turquoise. His shoulders slumped. Slowly, Kyle turned.
“I didn’t kill her,” he said.
“Don’t lie, Kyle.”
Perspiration dampened Davenport’s face.
“You asked me to come to the house with the melatonin. You told me to wear dark clothes and you yelled at me. You told me I was stupid and that I couldn’t do anything right.” He swallowed. “When I opened the door the next mor
ning and saw Corrine and started screaming, you shouted at me to come into the room and shut up. You told me to clean you up before I called the police. You didn’t want to lie in your waste.”
Kyle’s voice got stronger and he took a step toward the bed. “I changed you and washed you and got you dressed. I straightened the room. My hands were shaking so bad, but I did it. I put everything away. I did exactly what you said. I even moved the robot. Why was it in the kitchen, Christian?”
“I was practicing and I lost control. You know I’m not good with the glove.”
“You could make the robot do anything,” Kyle said. “I saw you pick a book off the shelf with it. And when I left that night, Corrine was drinking the Yan Wang tea, wasn’t she? I’d forgotten, but I remember now. It was the same smell, the same color as what you told me to give Ms. Snow. And when I left, Corrine told me to take care of you. Why would she say that?”
Aloa stared at Davenport.
“You’re lying, Kyle,” he said. “I can tell. Remember how I can read the body? Your eyes, your posture: they’re screaming deception.”
Slowly, Kyle shook his head. “I can prove it,” he said.
“Listen to yourself. Clawing for a way out,” Davenport said.
Kyle crossed the room, opened another cabinet, and pulled out a laptop.
“What are you doing?” Davenport demanded.
“Remember the camera?” Kyle tilted his head to a small device in the corner of the room. A blue light blinked from it. “I put it there so we could monitor you if Corrine or I were upstairs, but I was so freaked out when I left that night, I went to the app on my phone and watched you. I was afraid you were going to fire me. You were so mad.”
“There’s a video of that evening?” Aloa said.
“There is.” Kyle tapped a few keys and set the laptop on the tray in front of Davenport.
Aloa stepped to the head of the bed. The time and date in one corner of the video confirmed Kyle’s claim.
An image appeared of Corrine seated in the corner of the bedroom with a cup of tea in her lap. She wore the pale-peach dress and her head hung low.
“Shut that thing down,” Davenport demanded from the bed.
In the video, Davenport’s voice was calm. “It’s time,” he said.
Corrine gave a slight nod of her head.
“Drink the tea,” Davenport said from the screen.
Aloa could hear the nervous rattle of china cup against saucer as Corrine lifted the tea to her lips.
“Another sip. A good one this time.”
Corrine drank.
“We had such a beautiful life together, didn’t we, Corrine? Everything was good until the accident, until you did this to me. All because you weren’t paying attention. You drove right through that intersection and put me in this prison to suffer, to suffer every single day.” He paused. “Drink up, Corrine.”
Corrine took another pull from the cup.
“I don’t know how you could live with yourself, but you did. Do you know how I felt watching you swim every day when I can’t even brush my teeth or blow my nose? Do you know what it felt like to have you treat me like a child? To watch you mope around because you were tired?”
“Turn it off,” Davenport said from the bed.
“Watch,” Kyle said.
“And then what did you do, Corrine? How did you pay me back for everything I gave you? This house? Your career? You know you wouldn’t have gotten that job unless I put in a good word for you.”
The video captured Corrine in profile, so Aloa couldn’t see the expression on her face.
“What did you do to repay me, Corrine?” Davenport said on the video.
Corrine stared at the cup in her lap.
“I was weak. I cheated on you,” she said on the tape.
“But more than that,” Davenport said.
Silence.
Corrine looked up. “I fell in love.”
“Yes. And what did that do?” Davenport asked.
“It hurt you.”
“It humiliated me.”
“Yes, that too,” Corrine said softly.
She swayed slightly in her chair.
“You said you would leave him,” Davenport said on the tape.
“But I didn’t,” Corrine said. “I went and begged him to take me back.”
“So you could divorce me.”
“No,” she said.
“I am your husband, Corrine,” he said.
“And I am a low and weak woman,” she said slowly.
“But what are your roots, Corrine?” Davenport asked on the tape.
“Warrior,” she said.
“And that means what?”
“Honor and loyalty.”
“And were you honorable and loyal?”
Corrine’s voice was so low, Aloa instinctively leaned in.
“No,” she said.
“How can I believe you?” Davenport said on the recording.
“That’s enough,” Davenport said from the bed.
Aloa could smell his sweat, his stale breath, the sour odor of illness.
“Watch,” Kyle said.
“You can believe me through a truthful act,” Corrine said on the tape. She set the teacup on the floor.
“And the abdomen is the center of it, yes?” Davenport said on the video. “The mouth may lie, but the abdomen holds the truth. It’s the connection between the body and the energy to act, and it’s the act that shows the truth.”
“Yes,” Corrine said.
“If the truth is in the abdomen, then what do you have to do?”
“I have to open it,” Corrine said. “Then you will know whether I am true in my love for you.”
Omigod.
“Off. Off,” Davenport shouted from his bed. Perspiration ran from his forehead into his eyes. He gave a violent shake of his head.
“Remember you are strong, not weak. Do you have it?” asked Davenport’s voice from the video.
Corrine stood and went over to a cupboard. Her back was to the camera. She reached for something and seemed to hold it to her chest.
“That’s good,” Davenport said on the video.
Corrine swayed where she stood.
“Remember to wash your cup.”
“Yes.”
“You know the way?”
“I do.”
“Remember, you are a warrior,” Davenport said on the video.
Corrine hung her head.
“Say you love me,” Davenport said on the video.
She half turned toward him. “I love you.”
“Now, go.”
For a moment, Corrine hesitated. Then she picked up the teacup from the floor and walked from the room.
Davenport was the monster. Not Kyle.
“Traitor,” Davenport cried from the bed.
Kyle picked up the laptop. His hands shook.
“I didn’t believe it at first, Christian,” Kyle said. “I believed your whole story about hearing Hamlin at the house. I told myself what I saw on the video was just you disciplining Corrine like you always disciplined us.”
He walked over to the cabinet and put the computer away. “Who else could it have been, I thought.” His voice was low. “There was no knife and there was all that blood. I ignored what I saw.”
“You saw nothing,” Davenport said.
“I saw the robot in the kitchen that morning and the remote-control glove on your hand.” He turned.
“I was practicing,” Davenport said.
“No,” Kyle said and came back to Davenport’s bedside. “You convinced her to kill herself, didn’t you? And then you watched her die.”
Davenport turned his head toward Aloa. “Are you going to believe this nutjob?”
“I think he may be telling the truth,” she said.
“And what about the blood on the gripper?” Kyle asked. “That’s how you got rid of the knife, wasn’t it?”
“Liar,” Davenport said.
Kyle went
to the corner of the room and pulled the robotic device out from behind a cluster of equipment.
It was metal, shoulder height, with an iPad, a microphone, and a gripper claw that looked like it could be used to retrieve fallen items or perhaps scratch a nose or lift a blanket. It had been hidden in plain sight behind the hoist, an extra wheelchair, and a half dozen oxygen canisters. Aloa hadn’t noticed it before.
Aloa moved closer. “Blood?”
“I was so shook up at the time, I didn’t even stop to think what it was,” Kyle said. “I cleaned it off and Christian told me to put the thing away.”
“He’s trying to cover up for himself,” Davenport said.
Everything was falling into place. “And it was in the kitchen the morning after Corrine died?” Aloa asked Kyle.
“Near the back door.”
Aloa looked at Davenport. The veins in his neck pulsed.
“He doesn’t look good,” she said to Kyle.
“I’ll give him his pill.”
“I’ll be right back,” Aloa said and went into the kitchen, but not before looking back to where Corrine’s body had been found. There was a clear path all the way to the kitchen door.
She could hear Davenport from the bedroom. “I don’t want my damn pill. Get her out of the house, you idiot!”
Ahead of Aloa was the back door. To her left was a cupboard and to the right was a glass breakfast table with two white metal chairs. She flipped on more lights and opened the cupboard. One shelf was filled with dried goods: rice, pasta, cereal, flour. The other shelf held canned goods and jugs of spring water. Below was a vacuum, a dust pan, and a few cleaning products.
She pulled out the vacuum and looked inside the cupboard. Nothing. She opened the back door to a small cement stoop. Garden lights illuminated the foliage and the granite monolith.
Wouldn’t the crime scene techs have looked here?
Nonetheless, she turned on an outside light, stepped into the yard, and pulled back the ferns that grew against the side of the house. She ran her hands over the dirt. Nothing but damp soil. She frowned and went back into the house.
The homicide detective who’d taught her about contemplating a crime scene had also taught her about search grids. She started to walk the perimeter of the kitchen.
The floor was made of beautiful old hardwood, which contrasted with the modern table. She walked toward a small window, and what she saw made her stop.
The Thin Edge Page 22