by Mary Feliz
Linc laughed. “So he’s not exactly sneaking around. I’d say it was a hormone-addled teenager trying to get some girl’s attention, but the only young ladies on our street are preschool age, and I don’t think there are too many teens who could afford a Range Rover.”
“Exactly what I thought,” I told him. “But I asked Paolo to keep an eye out for it, just in case.” I chewed my lip and thought for a moment. I’d had about enough of people in trouble keeping secrets from one another. Especially when they were secrets that, once shared, might keep everyone a little safer. “He’s been harassing one of the girls from the garden. According to her, he can be dangerous. It sounds like whoever hit you is no choirboy either. The pickup that hit you didn’t stop. You were injured and so was Newton. That’s a hit-and-run. He had to have been lying in wait, watching for a chance to hit you. That’s illegal too. This guy could face a number of serious charges, including vehicular assault and reckless endangerment.”
Linc looked at me as though he didn’t understand what I’d said. “I figured it was just someone who was texting and didn’t realize he’d hit us. Why would you assume it was deliberate?”
“He’d have to have been pretty darned distracted not to see Newton. And with the damage done to the two of you, he must have hit you pretty hard. That’s something any driver had to have heard and felt. Yet he drove off.”
I plowed on. “If someone is trying to hurt you, I think it plays into Sarah’s death. What if whoever murdered Sarah was trying to kill you and hasn’t given up? You need to tell the police about the silver truck. We can call the department or contact Paolo directly. What do you think?” I picked up my phone and held it out to him.
Linc shook his head. “Why would someone want to hurt me?” he said. “All I do is go to work and come home. Eat, sleep, work.”
“Jealousy? Money?”
Linc stood and walked over to a cage filled with five young kittens awaiting adoption. They were splashing water from their bowl and had drenched themselves, their food, and their kitty litter.
Linc sneezed, then walked back and sat down next to me. “It makes no sense, but then, nothing has made much sense lately.”
“I know. It’s terrible. But look at it this way: Detective Awful hasn’t given up on wanting to arrest you. If anything, he’s more determined now than ever before. Telling him that someone ran you off the road surely makes it more likely there’s a murderer out there and less likely that you are that murderer. Have there been any other similar incidents that you can think of? Ones that might have looked like nothing at the time, but in retrospect may have been an attempt on your life or Sarah’s?”
“But why?”
“Could someone want to prevent you from meeting with the Nobel committee? Someone who thinks another team deserves the prize? From Stanford or somewhere else?”
“That’s ridiculous. I mean, I guess there are always crazy people whose thinking defies logic, and we can’t ever completely rule them out, but every year there are people who believe that they or their colleagues are more deserving of a Nobel than whoever actually wins the prize. There will always be people like that, but as far as I know no one has ever been killed.” He stared at the doors again, then stood and walked closer to peer through the portholes before returning to his seat. “No one’s dog has ever been attacked over the Nobel Prize.”
Neither of us said anything for a moment.
Then Linc turned toward me. “Will you call Paolo for me?”
“Of course. Do you mind if I call him right away? He may want to ask you some questions, since I didn’t see the incident.”
“That’s fine. I don’t suppose the police are going to jump all over this anyway. Honestly, Maggie, academia is not known as a hotbed of homicidal mania.”
I left the waiting room and went outside to make the call. The sky had grown dark and the wind had come up. I wondered if we were going to get some overdue rain. Paolo didn’t answer, but I left a detailed message about the accident and the injuries Linc and Newton had sustained. I had finished the call and had my hand on the waiting-room door when I had another dreadful thought: If someone was trying to kill Linc and learned he’d been staying at our house, were we going to be safe if he remained with us? I considered phoning Paolo back, but instead I called Max and told him everything that was happening, including that fact that I’d called the police.
“I’m glad you’re able to be there for Linc,” he told me. “Sounds like he’s in no condition to drive. Will you be able to bring him home?”
“Yes. He seems remarkably calm, scary calm, but I’m afraid he may crumble at any moment.”
“And how are you? You also seem remarkably, scary calm.”
“I’m fine, I guess. Newton’s injuries looked dreadful and they’ve been working on him for a long time. But . . . Max?”
“Spill it, Maggie. What’s worrying you?”
“What if someone really is trying to kill Linc? Will we be in danger too? Will the boys? Did I do the right thing when I invited him to stay with us?”
Max was quiet for a moment. I was just about to ask if he was still on the line when he spoke. “Good question. But I don’t think we’re the best ones to judge. After everything that happened in September, we’re both a little prone to panic. That rainstorm last Sunday had me pacing the living room holding a golf club. Every time a branch fell I jumped.”
“You didn’t tell me that. I like the idea of you defending us from bad guys in your T-shirt and boxers with a golf club.”
“The cats didn’t like it, either,” Max said. “They kept watch on the window seats with their tails twitching.”
I laughed, but I was still nervous and so, I guessed, was Max.
“I’m going to phone Stephen,” he said. “He’ll have a better sense of whether we should worry and whether we should get one of his veteran friends out here to stand guard with another golf club, or if Linc needs more protection than we can provide.”
I let out a breath and muscles I didn’t know I’d tensed relaxed from my neck and shoulders to my toes.
“That’s a great idea. Be sure to ask Stephen how Jason’s doing and whether they need any help.”
Max agreed. I felt better and ready to return to support Linc.
When I went back inside, a technician was speaking to another customer about his elderly cat, whose name was apparently Fred. Fred, it seemed, was going to be just fine following a course of antibiotics.
Another tech came through the doors with a clipboard, consulted it, and stepped toward Linc. “Dr. Sinclair?” he asked.
Linc stood, but the tech motioned for him to sit down. He knelt in front of us with his clipboard.
“Dr. Davidson is finishing up with Newton now. It looks like he has a cracked rib, but no internal bleeding or organ damage. The doctor thoroughly cleaned all the wounds and is stitching them where he can. Once he’s done with all that, he wants to take another set of X-rays to make sure nothing’s changed. On the first set, there was some question whether Newton may have a hairline fracture in his right ulna that would require a cast.”
Linc nodded and grabbed his own right forearm in sympathy. He winced. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I was determined to find a way to convince him to get his left hand examined.
“He’s a lucky boy, Dr. Sinclair. Dr. Davidson would like to keep him here overnight and most of tomorrow to keep an eye on him. If all goes well, we can bandage him up and send him home with you tomorrow afternoon. You’ll need to restrict his activities and keep that abraded area clean. Keep watch on it too. Let us know if it shows any sign of infection.”
“Can we see him?” I asked. The technician shook his head. “Dr. Davidson isn’t finished with him yet, and he’ll be under the anesthesia for a while. After that, we’ll keep him sedated to prevent him from ripping out the stitches or hurting himself further.” The technician went over medication schedules with Linc and my attention wandered. I yanked it back when I heard t
he tech say “police.”
“This was no accident,” the tech said. “And even if it was, the driver left the scene when there were injuries. Dr. Davidson urges you to phone the police. He’d be happy to provide an assessment of Newton’s injuries if it will help.”
I assured him I’d just called.
“Great,” he said. “The doctor will be glad to hear it. Please tell the police to call us if they have any questions. Now, I’m supposed to tell you to go home and tend to your own injuries so you’re ready to look after Newton when he’s ready to leave.” He consulted his clipboard. “Is this the right number to phone you tonight and tomorrow morning with an update?” he asked, showing the paperwork to Linc.
When Linc agreed, the tech assured him he’d receive a call if anything changed between tonight and the following morning, and that Newton could not be in better hands.
I stood and Linc followed. On the way home, my message signal pinged. I asked Linc to read it to me.
“It’s from Max,” he said. “SL says OVPD will patrol. SL will send someone. Name is Rocket. We won’t see him, but he’ll be there.”
I glanced at Linc, who was staring at me and the phone. “Care to explain?” he asked.
“Sorry, that’s pretty cryptic. Max and I were talking, wondering how safe it was for you to be staying with us when there had been several attempts on your life.”
“Do you want me to move to a motel?”
“Of course not,” I said, though the thought had crossed my mind. If Stephen or Max had thought that the boys were at risk, I would have driven Linc to a motel myself. A nice one. That allowed pets.
“Well, then. Who is SL and who or what is Rocket?”
“SL is Stephen Laird. After we talked, Max called Stephen to consult with him about the level of risk and how we could reduce the danger to all of us. He has friends from the Marine Corps. Retired Special Forces guys like him. Rocket’s one of them, I’m guessing.”
“We won’t see him, but he’ll be there? What is he, a ninja?”
I laughed. “If Stephen says this guy is good, he’s good. But not all of his friends like to be social. Some of them have considerable scars, both internal and external.”
Linc nodded and sighed. “I wish we could treat the mind as well as we can the body. Someday, maybe.” He stared out the window for a moment. “Okay, then. Rocket it is. If Stephen vouches for him, that’s good enough for me.”
“The police will be patrolling too,” I reminded him.
“Great. But I’m not going to live in fear. Do you mind being a nursing home for a wolfhound for a while? Or, with all those stairs, maybe it would be easier for Newt to be at Sarah’s.”
He slapped his right hand on the dashboard and I jumped at the sound. “Arghhh! This is so frustrating. That lawyer, Forrest Doucett, was going to check to see when I can get into Sarah’s house or my own. It’s ridiculous that we’ve been kept out of my home for so long.”
He rummaged in his pocket for his phone, pulled it out, and stared at the screen. “No messages.”
“There’s time enough to worry about that after Dr. Davidson updates you on Newt’s condition tomorrow.”
I decided to shift the subject. “Linc, who has access to your house? I know that Tess and I have keys. Sarah did, and so does Boots. But is there a neighbor or anyone else who could get in without breaking down a door or a window? Do you keep a spare key anywhere?”
“Hmm. If there are any other keys out there, I’m not aware of them. But I haven’t changed the locks. They’ve been the same for the last sixty years. Maybe I should rethink that. Oh, wait. As far as access goes . . .” Linc chuckled for a moment. “There’s a kid over at the garden. I don’t know what her background is, but she’s real sharp and motivated. At Boots’s request, I’ve been tutoring her in chemistry and physics. I get the sense that whatever schooling she’s had in the past was hit-and-miss. Either she moved a lot—most of the foster kids do—or she was homeschooled by someone who didn’t have much of a math and science background. She’s quick, though, and fun to teach.”
“And she has a key?”
“Santana? No. Actually, she climbs up that huge live oak on the side of the house. The one with the limb that extends over the porch roof. From there, she drops down to the roof and opens the window to my office. She comes and goes like the character in a kid’s book. I’m glad I’m not her foster parent. You’d never be able to keep her out if she wanted in, or in if she wanted out.”
“I’ve met Santana. She’s a character. How much have you taught her? Could she have been doing an experiment that backfired and caused Sarah’s death?” Once again, I cursed the fact that we didn’t have access to the forensic report on the house’s electrical system.
“I don’t think so. She’s careless sometimes, but she’s never done anything deadly.”
I was thinking that if Santana could get in, anyone could get in, but I didn’t say anything to Linc.
We were stopped at the light just before I needed to turn off Foothill Expressway when Linc asked if we could visit an ATM. He also wanted to get some kitten food for Jelly. I took the next left, parked in the Rancho Shopping Plaza, and we agreed to meet at the car in twenty minutes. I picked up more milk and orange juice along with a rotisserie chicken, premade salad, and precut fresh vegetables to stir-fry for dinner. It wasn’t the best meal we’d ever eat, but it would be quick.
Back in the car, I was wary of seeming like I was interrogating Linc, but the questions I’d asked were distracting him from his worry about Newton, so I pressed on.
“You’ve told me a little about Santana,” I said. “But what about the other kids at the gardens. Do you know them? Are they all volunteers?”
“The older kids are all volunteers, and I think they come to the gardens on Boots’s recommendation. There are some younger kids around, but they’re mostly preschoolers who come to dig in the dirt with their mothers.” He laughed. “I think the gardens could do with a shower for them. They are delightfully grubby when they go home.”
“Grubby is good for kids.”
Linc nodded. “I don’t know all the volunteers, just the ones who’ve stopped by to bring vegetables and flowers. But they seem like nice kids. Sarah was fascinated by what Boots was doing over there. Sarah thought it mirrored what she was doing at the middle school—trying to create a safe place and a safety net to keep kids from falling through the cracks. There could always be some bad apples, I guess—that’s what you’re after, isn’t it?”
I tilted my head from side to side to ease the tense muscles in my neck. “I’m not sure. I was at first. I thought maybe Sarah had seen something illegal happening in the garden from the upstairs windows of your house. I thought someone might have killed her to keep her from saying anything.”
“But now?”
“Everyone I’ve talked to has only good things to say about Boots. The kids I’ve met seem polite enough. I haven’t completely given up my suspicions, but I’m leaning toward being more like Sarah—just plain interested in all the things Boots is trying to accomplish.”
I pulled in front of the house. Linc and I got out with our groceries. He carried his with his right hand, protecting the injured left, but I knew better than to suggest the medical attention he’d rejected earlier. It wasn’t until after dinner that I had a chance to think about the rest of my unanswered questions and how to address them.
I phoned Stephen to find out what, if anything, Jason knew about updates in the case. It turned out Stephen was more interested in updates from me.
“Max called me earlier about Linc, so I’m up to date on that,” he said. “But what else have you learned?”
“Actually, that’s something you can help me with. I did some computer snooping on some of the people I’ve talked to so far, but I don’t know anything about their legal history. I’d ask Paolo, but I think he’s getting nervous about his job security and his workload.”
“He’s got his hand
s full with your Detective Awful.”
“How hard would it be for you or Jason, if that’s better, to run the names through the police department’s databases and see if any of them have an arrest history?”
“Super-easy,” he said. “I can do that for you myself. The armed services have access to law enforcement and FBI records to weed out bad recruits. I can’t tell you who has a record, or what those records might entail, but I can tell you who is squeaky-clean, if that would help.”
“And could you pass along the names of anyone with a record to Paolo?”
“Absolutely.”
Later, after saying good-bye to Stephen and in between hearing about what the kids had been up to and warming up our premade dinner, I was able to compile a list of potential suspects and send it off to Stephen. As the rest of our hectic weekday evening schedule unfolded, I had a blissful few hours of laughter and normal family life before I thought again about the threats to Linc’s life.
Chapter 14
Many of my clients, particularly teens, have trouble remembering to charge their phones. I recommend investing the time and the money in finding a solution that works so that phones are reliably charged.
Multiple chargers in bedrooms, homework stations, and cars may help. Some families establish a policy that dictates stashing all phones in a charging device right inside the front door so that family time isn’t spent staring at phones.
It’s worth experimenting. Your teen is working on establishing lifelong organizational systems.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald,