Guarding His Midnight Witness

by Anna J. Stewart

  “Fit for what?”

  “I’m beginning to think I stuck my foot in my mouth.” Eden looked at her again. “Did things not go well?”

  “They went fine.” Greta shifted in her seat. “This is a strange conversation to have.” She didn’t do girl talk particularly well, not even with Yvette, who had always had far more experience at everything than Greta.

  “Doesn’t help that I’m nosy.” She grinned into her tea. “Fine, huh? Never known fine to put a glow like yours on a person.”

  “Jack said you were many things.” Greta refused to be baited into checking the mirror. “He didn’t mention you were rude.”

  “I’m a learning curve.” If she was offended by Greta’s observation, she didn’t show it. “Coroner’s here. Time to join the gang.”

  “What?” Greta sputtered as Eden pushed open the door. “No, Jack said to wait here for him.”

  Eden planted a hand on her hip and glared at her. “Do not disappoint me by being someone who does as she’s told. You’ve got spunk deep in there somewhere, Greta. And I’m making it my personal mission to excavate it. Beginning right now. Out. You can bring your tea.”

  “But—” Greta didn’t see any way to argue. She climbed out of the SUV and walked around to join Eden. “Why do you care if I’m spunky?”

  “I don’t. I care that you’re happy, seeing as you’ve made me and Cole that way.” Eden cupped gloved hands around her cup. “Look, I know I can be an abrasive bi—er, person. But I’m also a good judge of people, which is usually determined by people’s impulsive actions. What you offered me and Cole, that goes beyond expectations of even my closest friends. So, I’m sorry to say that makes you one of them now. I know.” She shrugged. “You don’t have a lot of friends, and you don’t like people or crowds or—”

  “I like some people.” Greta couldn’t help but look over at Jack.

  “See? That there. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. You’re over the moon about Jack, and that makes my heart flutter.”

  Greta laughed. “You are not one to flutter.”

  “Not typically, no. But I did mean it that you have more friends than you think. Any woman who can put that look of life back in that man’s eye after what he’s been through goes to the top of my list. So, get used to it, kid.” She hip-bumped her and had Greta stumbling. “You’re stuck with me. Us.” She glanced behind her as two pairs of headlamps joined the growing throng of cars. “We’re a package deal.”

  Greta almost balked at the sight of Simone and Vince along with Max and Allie heading toward them. “What are they all doing here?”

  “Consider them a support system. You can figure out the rest along the way.” She leaned forward, narrowed her gaze. “Looks like they’re getting ready to pull the car out of the river. That bridge is looking worse for wear.”

  Now it was Greta’s turn to lean over where she noticed a good section of the bridge’s guardrail had broken away.

  “Let’s see what’s going on with the body.”

  “No.” Greta stayed back when Eden moved forward. The deafening beep of a truck backing up made her wince. “I’d rather just wait for what Jack wants to tell me.”

  “Suit yourself. You can hang out with them, then.”

  “Hey, Greta.” Vince Sutton, Simone’s husband, gave her a quick smile and nod as he trailed after Eden.

  “Hi.” The man made her nervous. Quiet people always did. They were always thinking, watching, observing. And heaven only knew what he thought about her.

  “Did Eden ambush you already?” Simone asked when she, Allie and Max joined her. “Never mind. I recognize that expression. This is a shame.” She sighed. “This part of the park is so lovely.”

  “You all didn’t have to come out here for me,” Greta said.

  “Don’t worry.” Simone flashed her a grin. “We didn’t. She told us what you did, by the way. Eden. About the apartment.”

  “That was really generous of you,” Allie added.

  “What an understatement,” Simone said.

  Greta shifted on her feet. If she’d known offering Eden an apartment was going to earn her a place in the pantheon of friendship she might have thought better of it.

  “Don’t overwhelm her, Simone,” Allie said. “Greta, you doing okay?”

  Was she? Overwhelmed seemed at apt description. “Jack didn’t want to leave me alone at my place” was all she could manage. She did have to admit, getting some fresh air, no matter how cold, seemed to be clearing her head.

  “If you’d rather go home, Max and I can take you.”

  “No.” Being alone would give her too much time to think, and right now, she didn’t want to do that. Because once she started thinking, she was going to have to decide what to do about Jack. She’d much rather find out whose body they found. “No, thank you. I should be fine here.”

  “If you change your mind, just say the word. I’m going to go.” Max gave Allie’s shoulder a quick squeeze and jerked a thumb in Jack and Cole’s direction before he moved off.

  “Morbid curiosity,” Allie grumbled. “He’s really got a taste for this investigator thing since Vince asked him to run those background checks on Fremont. It’s like the training wheels are off.”

  “Doyle Fremont?” Greta turned on her. “Why is Vince, or rather Max, doing background checks on him? I thought the police were doing that.”

  “Ah.” Allie cringed. “Shoot. Now I wish Max hadn’t told me. Jack asked Vince to handle it to keep this off the official radar for now. Just in case...”

  “Just in case what?” Greta asked. An odd sensation dropped into the pit of her stomach. “Simone? Do you know anything about this?”

  “No,” Simone said slowly. “I don’t, but it sounds as if I should. Allie married Max the chatterbox. I married the strong, silent type.”

  Greta’s mind raced. Why would Jack want to keep the Fremont case off the official radar unless... “He doesn’t believe me.”

  “What?” Allie gasped. “Oh, Greta, no. I’m sure that’s not what this is about.”

  “I’m sure it is.” She shoved the thermos into Allie’s hands. “Excuse me. I need to speak with Jack.”

  “Oh, but, Greta—”

  “Nuh-uh.” Simone held Allie back when she started to follow Allie. “Let her go.”

  “Jack!” Greta stomped through the muddied brush and soil surrounding the shore where the Sacramento and American Rivers met.

  Jack spun on his heel. “Greta, I told you to wait in the car.”

  Eden snorted.

  “Stifle it.” Jack moved toward Greta, who had no intention of stopping. She was tired of everyone telling her what to do, of always waiting for answers.

  “Is it him?” She tried to duck around Jack, but he caught her arms, held her in place.

  “Greta, you don’t want to see this.”

  Why? Because she had enough monsters in her head? “It’s my case as much as yours. I saw him get killed. I’m the one who started this whole thing, remember?” She poked a finger into his chest. “Or does that not matter since it isn’t an official case?”

  He started, frowned. “Who told you that?” He shot a look at Eden who held up her hands and shook her head.

  “You asked a private investigator to do background work on Fremont. Meaning you haven’t done it. Meaning it isn’t a real case, is it?”

  “Oh, man,” Vince muttered under his breath.

  “Okay.” Jack seemed to sag for a moment. “That’s not entirely true.”

  Not entirely true. The words echoed in Greta’s ears. “But some of it is. You didn’t file it as a case, did you? You’ve been humoring me this whole time. Placating the unreliable witness. Is this what it took to convince you?”

  Anger sparked in Jack’s eyes. “Do not put words in my mouth. We kept it off offi
cial records because we needed evidence before we could proceed. Do you know what would happen to me, to the department, to anyone involved, if this case went sideways? We needed proof.”

  “And my word wasn’t enough.”

  “Without a body?” he sighed. “No, it wasn’t.”

  She could see it on his face that he wasn’t happy with his explanation. She stepped close enough so only he could hear. “Do you believe me now? There’s a body. Does it match the description? Is it him?”

  “Jack!” Cole called. “We’re rolling him over.”

  “Wait here,” Jack ordered.

  “No.” To stop from slipping and sliding in the mud, Greta grabbed hold of his jacket and tried to keep up. “I want to see this for myself. I need to know.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  The whirring of machinery as a car was dragged onto the bank nearly burst her eardrums. The glare of work lights cast the entire area in an odd array of shadows, and it was then that she realized what Simone meant. Not how you want to think of an area known, she supposed, for family picnics and summer outings. She felt every second tick by as the recovery crew removed the body from the passenger seat. Silence hung heavy in the air, pushing down on her.

  “Didn’t expect such a large crowd.” A middle-aged woman with dark spectacles peered up from where she crouched over the waterlogged body. “You’re new,” she said to Greta.

  “Greta, this is Dr. Mona Hendrix, city coroner,” Jack said. “We need her to identify the body, Mona. For a case,” he added.

  “I need to see his face.” Greta’s stomach lurched. The body seemed distorted and had an odd gurgling sound to it as Mona turned him over. The clothes he wore seemed too big, but what did she know about what happened to bodies after death?

  Eden murmured, coming to stand next to Greta. Without meaning to, Greta grabbed hold of Eden’s hand and squeezed. “You think it’s Calhoun?”

  “It looks like him,” Greta whispered, recognizing the odd-shaped birthmark. But his face and skin were so distorted.

  “I’ll check for an ID in a second.” Mona used her gloved hands to move the curtain of dark hair away from the face. An odd bubble formed under the skin of his forehead. “That’s odd.” She pressed her gloved finger to the raised skin. The bubble moved. She pulled out a scalpel, pierced the skin. Water gushed out and down his sagging face.

  Greta gagged, covered her mouth. “That’s not normal, is it?” Even as she watched, more bubbles appeared on his face.

  “Detectives!” One of the firefighters called over. The group turned as one. The fireman was standing over the open trunk as water spilled free. “We’ve got another body.”

  “Look at you.” Eden squeezed Greta’s hand. “First no bodies, now two. You’re getting better at this.” Greta glared at Eden. “Gallows humor. Annoying, but a pressure release for me.” Rather than responding, Greta found herself squeezing Eden’s hand again.

  “You coming?” Jack asked with a touch of challenge in his voice.

  “We’ll wait here,” Eden answered for her. “I want to know what those bubbles are.” She crouched down as Jack, Cole, Vince and Max headed over to the car.

  “This is fascinating,” Mona muttered, reminding Greta of a certain Vulcan first officer. “Usually I’d wait until I had him on my table, but these pockets just keep... Hang on.” Mud squelched as she sank onto her knees. She slid the point of the scalpel under his ear, angled it down. Greta heard a soft pop and release of air. “It isn’t even Halloween.”

  “Greta?” Jack called. Greta had bent down beside Eden, who had put on a plastic medical glove and was slowly pulling apart the lapels of the tailored black suit jacket. The glimmer of a gold pen caught Greta’s attention. It looked just like the one she’d... “Greta!”

  “What?” Greta tucked her hair behind her ear and looked over. She saw enough emotion on Jack’s face to leave Eden and Mona behind. “There’s something strange...” She broke off, barely noticing Jack slip an arm around her waist. A body had been wedged into the trunk of a BMW so tightly, the legs had clearly been broken. The face and body was bloated but fit her memory of the man she’d seen better than the one on the shore.

  Cole shined his light on the side of the man’s face. “Looks like the birthmark you described. Is it him, Greta?”

  “Yes.” Even without seeing him upright, she knew without a doubt, this was the man she’d seen in Doyle Fremont’s office and the gallery. She didn’t have time to embrace the relief. “But if this is Paul Calhoun, who’s that?”

  “Let’s see if Mona’s found out.” Jack steered her away. Vince and Max stayed behind with the car while Cole, Jack and Greta returned just as Mona began using her sharp scalpel to trace around the man’s face. “What in the—”

  “I can’t decide if it’s grotesque or cool,” Eden commented.

  “I know which side I land on.” Greta swallowed hard.

  “Cole, hand me an evidence bag, please.” Mona leaned over to finish tracing. The bubbles under the skin disappeared as more water dribbled free. She slipped the edge of the scalpel beneath a small cut she’d made and pried the skin up. Seconds later, she deposited a latex mask in the clear bag Cole held open.

  “And now for bachelor number two.” Eden glanced over her shoulder. “Greta?”

  Eden’s voice echoed as if from a distance. A distance Greta wasn’t sure she’d ever return from. It wasn’t possible. It didn’t make any sense. She knew that face. That kind, understanding patient face that had helped guide her through most of her life. The face of a man she’d relied on every day for the past twenty years. Her body went cold. She only knew she was trembling because Jack’s arm tightened and drew her in. She watched, dazed, as Mona reached over and gently removed the wallet from his inside pocket. But Greta didn’t need to hear. She already knew.

  Greta told them, “His name is Lyndon Thornwald.” She pressed her fingers to her lips to stem the tears as Mona nodded and flipped the wallet open to confirm. “He’s my uncle.”

  Chapter 13

  “Let’s ask Allie and Max to drive you home.”

  Was it possible to both loathe and desire the patient sympathy she heard in Jack’s voice? Greta drew up her knees and wrapped her arms so tight they went numb. “I’m not leaving until I have some answers.” As if answers were going to bring her any peace.

  So much had happened in only a few hours. The announcement of Eden and Cole’s baby, making love with Jack, being catapulted into literally one of her worst nightmares. She was almost afraid to touch a toe to the ground for fear of falling through the earth. “Unless I have to go?”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He reached across the table and held out his hand. She stared at it for a long moment, blanking the noise from the station. Everything inside her screamed at her to take it, to hold on and never let go. She turned her head, rested her cheek on her knees and willed time to speed up.

  She’d lost track of the hours she’d spent in the Major Crimes break room, but given the morning shadows had moved past the dusty blinds, she figured it had been a while.

  “Do you want to talk to Allie? Maybe she can—”

  “I don’t need a psychologist. Have you talked to Lyndon’s office back in New York?” Jack’s lack of immediate response started her stomach lurching again. She forced herself to look into the eyes of the man she’d been in bed with hours before. “He’s dead, Jack. I don’t think there’s much else that can surprise me at this point.”

  But apparently there was. She could see that much on his face. “We need to ask you some questions. It can be just you and me, but I’ll need to record it. Or I can bring in Cole and my LT so they can corroborate.”

  “Probably best to do both.” Her eyes hurt from not letting the tears fall. What good would they do? “Do you want to talk in here?”

 
“It’s more comfortable than the LT’s office, believe me.” He looked over her head, gestured for them to come in, then moved around to sit beside her. Her heartbeat matched the footsteps. When the door closed, she unfolded herself and straightened up.

  “Ms. Renault, I’m Lt. Santos. No, please don’t get up.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and placed a paper cup of tea in front of her. “Jack mentioned you don’t like our tea here, so I grabbed this from a cart. I hope it’s okay.”

  Kindness. Greta blinked away a new rush of tears. There was always such kindness after death. She sipped and felt her lips curve. Orange. One of her favorites. “It’s perfect, thank you.” For some reason she expected Jack’s boss to be huge in stature, but she thought him a rather ordinary-looking man, with dark eyes and hair and a purpose in his walk and gestures that spoke of authority. “Jack said you have some questions about Lyndon.”

  “About Mr. Thornwald, yes,” the LT said and sat on the edge of a nearby table.

  “Greta,” Cole said across from her, “were you aware Lyndon Thornwald was fired from his firm more than three years ago?”

  “What?” Her mind started to buzz in that way it did when there was too much information to process. “Fired? No, that’s not possible. He’s been there for almost thirty years. He was a partner.”

  “We spoke with the senior partner a while ago,” Cole said. “They discovered he’d been stealing money from clients. Rewriting wills and trusts to make himself the beneficiary. People with no other living relatives or connections. It only came out when he made the mistake of trying to do the same to a woman who had a legitimate heir that came forward after the fact. He admitted to gambling debts, to owing people who had threatened to kill him. He said he got in over his head and that he’d pay every penny back. He did, and the law firm paid damages. It was all kept very quiet, not surprising given the status of the firm. He was disbarred soon after.”

  Disbarred? “I didn’t know.” Greta couldn’t breathe. How could she not know? Was she that out of touch? That sheltered? That detached? “It sounds stupid, I suppose. He’s never let on... He’s handled everything for me for years.”