by CJ Lyons
“Didn’t exactly go to plan, then,” Luka said.
“No. Her family got wind of the Ponzi scheme and went after Spencer, so he had to fake his death. The plan was for Beth to wait until things cooled down and they’d reunite, but then Tassi found Spencer and began to blackmail him, forcing him to run another Ponzi—this time with the money going to her—or she’d tell the Zapatas where he was.”
“Explains Tassi’s reluctance to cooperate with us—she was as much behind the Ponzi operation as Spencer was.” He thought for a second. “Why did he write the confession exonerating Tassi?”
“They were going to fake his death again, but that would leave Tassi behind to face the consequences, even if he did actually plan to run off with Beth. Maybe he was trying to protect Tassi? Maybe he still cared for her at least that much?” Leah shrugged. “Guess he must have loved her.”
“Just not enough to play it straight with her. Conman to the end. Both of them.”
“In a way, Beth was the only innocent victim—well, her and her baby. Don’t they deserve a second chance?”
“With Dean dead, there’s a chance Beth’s family has no clue she’s here.” He nodded as he thought it through. “It could work. She tells the FBI what she knows—”
“And she knows everything,” Leah put in. “But she wants full immunity in addition to witness protection.”
“Yeah, yeah. It could work. It could actually work.” He met her gaze with a smile. “Leah, if you hadn’t gotten her to talk—”
“All I did was my job. But you’d better do yours and make sure that FBI friend is true to her word.”
“No problem.” Then he sobered. “I still need to prep the case against Harper’s mother and brother.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Hard to say. You know Harper, she keeps her personal life private.”
“Fat chance of that once the press gets hold of this.”
“Yeah. But I’ll hand it to her—last thing she told me before she left to check on her father was that she knows who killed Lily Nolan and she’s determined to get them to confess.”
“Solved her first big case. You must be proud.”
“I wish it wasn’t in the middle of all this other mess. She deserves a chance to shine.”
“What about her father?”
“I don’t think the DA is going to bring any charges—the most might be obstruction of justice, but I’m not sure he had any clue about what his wife and son really did.” He shrugged. “Or maybe he did and decided it was more important to protect his family.”
“He did try his best to protect Beth, like he promised Spencer he would.”
“Doctors said we can interview him tomorrow. But he said he’ll only talk if Harper’s there.”
Leah grimaced. “Could be the worst conversation of her life—”
“Don’t worry,” Luka told her. “I’ll be there with her, to protect her as best I can.”
Forty-Eight
The next morning, Harper met Luka at the station and drove him to Good Sam where the doctors had kept the Reverend overnight to monitor his concussion. She’d talked Luka into interviewing him at the hospital rather than the station in the hopes that he could avoid being seen by the media and creating more bad press for the church. It seemed the least she could do after disappointing him in every other way possible, including arresting her own mother and brother. What did he always say, life is a choice? Well, she guessed the whole world now knew what her choice was: her job over her family.
Jacob and Jonah were both at the Reverend’s bedside when they entered. Jacob jerked up from his chair, taking a step toward Harper as if planning to block her from seeing their father. “Haven’t you caused this family enough pain?”
But Jonah interceded. “Let them do their job,” he said, ushering Jacob out. Harper was stricken at the thought that Jonah might never forgive her, but as he crossed the threshold, he looked back and gave her a fleeting grimace of understanding. Close enough. She hauled in a breath. Now for the hard part.
The Reverend was sitting up in bed, already fully dressed in his usual clerical garb. Staples bristled through his hair—hair that for the first time Harper realized was actually more gray than blond. When had that happened?
“I did it,” he told them before she or Luka could say anything. “I confess, take full responsibility. I’ll take any deal you want if you let my wife and son go.”
Luka tapped his way to the chair beside the Reverend and dropped into it heavily, setting his crutches to one side. “I think we’re past that, sir,” he said, adopting a respectful tone. “Do you really think one more lie is going to make things right? Lies and secrets began all this, maybe it’s time to trust in the truth?”
For some reason both men stared at Harper. Finally, the Reverend sighed, somehow becoming smaller as the exhalation escaped him.
“You’ve got a smart boss here, Naomi. Make sure you learn everything you can from him.” He fussed with the bed controls, getting to a more comfortable position. Then he frowned, turning to Luka. “She’s not in trouble, is she? It’s not her fault—she did the right thing. It was me, a stubborn old man, blind to my own weakness, assuming my family was above man’s law. You can’t blame her.”
“She’s not in trouble,” Luka assured him. He nodded to Harper, who pulled out her phone and set it on the table above the bed.
“Fine then,” the Reverend said. “Let’s get started. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Did you know Spencer was going to fake his death?” Luka asked after providing the formal interview language to start things.
“Yes. He knew the Zapatas were closing in and enlisted my help to ensure both Tassi and Beth’s safety. I guess I failed them both. I knew nothing about the Ponzi scheme. Spence told me that the fund he ran back in Denver had a down quarter, that he hadn’t even known one of the investors represented the cartel, until they came and demanded their money and that he’d been on the run ever since.”
“When did you know your wife and son were involved in Spencer’s death?”
“I had no idea. I saw my wife at Spencer’s office. Then she drove off and picked up John at the far end of the parking lot. I assumed John was the one who pushed the dumpster at you in the alley. After that, I couldn’t say anything, I had to protect him—assaulting an officer is a serious charge.”
Harper leaned forward, itching to press him for more details—he’d been on the phone with Spencer; how could he not have heard anything?—but Luka caught her eye, reminding her that she was only here as a courtesy.
“Did you ask them why they were there?” Luka continued.
“John said that he’d learned of the Ponzi scheme and missing money, and since the church had been the recipient of some of the charity foundation’s funds, he wanted to see if there were any records that might reflect poorly on Holy Redeemer. But everything was already erased—Spencer had taken care of that before he came to see me Saturday night. I had no idea John had invested the church’s money.”
His chin dropped to his chest and his glasses slid down his nose. Harper couldn’t believe the change one night had wrought in him—gone was the haughty authority figure she’d known her entire life. In his place, all that was left was an old man, made vulnerable by shame and guilt.
“I guess I was a fool not to suspect anything. I honestly thought Spencer was trying to protect his family—both of them.” The Reverend looked up again, this time not at Luka but at Harper. “That’s all I was doing as well. Please, can I speak with my daughter? Alone? Then I’ll write out a complete statement, tell you everything I know.”
Luka glanced at her, asking her permission. She felt a bead of sweat slip down along her spine, and it had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with facing her father’s wrath. But she swallowed her misgivings and nodded.
“I’ll be right outside,” Luka said.
The Reverend beckoned Harper to his side. He placed both
his hands over hers, his lips moving in silent prayer. “I only need to say one thing to you,” he said when he looked up. “All your life I’ve tried to teach you right from wrong. And despite my being blind to what was right, you still made the correct choice. You make me proud. I want you to know that. Whatever happens, you make me proud.”
Harper’s words vanished, the way they always had when she was a little girl, waiting for the Reverend’s judgment. So instead, she gave her father a hug.
“Go now, do your job. It suits you,” he told her as he released her. She smiled, nodded, and obeyed him. But as she left him behind, her step felt lighter, her shoulders broader, her spine straighter.
Luka and Harper still had one final stop: Macy’s room. This time Luka gave Harper the lead. She squared her shoulders, tapped her bag where she’d printed out everything in preparation, then went in, Luka following behind her.
Macy was pale, her cheeks hollowed out, hair matted with sweat, but the doctors had cleared her for the interview. When she saw Harper, a wistful smile actually crossed her face, as if Harper was the only friend she had left, but even Macy knew that was a fantasy. Harper wasn’t here as a friend.
Still, Macy slid to one side and patted the bed for Harper to sit as Harper took her statement. The biggest difference this time was that, unlike the Reverend, Macy was under arrest, although she waived her Miranda rights without hesitation. Harper took that as a good sign as they began their dance, circling the unspoken, painful truth.
“Tell me about Lily,” Harper started. “You two were close?”
“Neither of us had family, you know. Not really. Guess we were each other’s family. She used to say I was the sister she never had. Used to say…” Her voice drifted off.
Harper had planned to lay out her case, but instead took another tack. “Losing family, someone you’re that close to—it’s difficult. I’m still trying to reach Lily’s family, let them know she’s gone. Can you tell me anything about them?”
Macy sniffed. “Her mom kicked Lily out after she got pregnant.”
“Lily has a child?”
“Her stepdad’s. She was only fifteen, but her mom didn’t believe her, kicked her out instead.”
“Where’s the baby now?”
“Lily’s aunt. On her dad’s side. Hagerstown, I think. Lily said she tried to make it work—go back to school, take care of the baby, but it was all too much and she started using, then working the streets for money, so she left. Said she’d rather die than let her baby girl see her mom let her down like that, so she came up here for a fresh start.” Macy swiped tears from her cheeks. “You gonna go tell her aunt she’s gone? Don’t bother with her mom, she’s still with the bastard. But Lily’s aunt and her baby girl, they need to know.”
“What’s the aunt’s name? Got any contact info?”
“Lilian. Lily was named after her. That’s all I know. But it will be in Lily’s phone.”
Harper nodded, appreciating that Macy was inching toward the truth that Harper already knew. She waited a beat, then asked, “Lily’s little girl—”
“Grace. Gracie is her name. She turned two last month. Lily showed me a picture.” Macy closed her eyes. For a moment Harper thought she’d drifted back to sleep but then more tears seeped out from under her eyelashes. “Two. That’s too young to remember anything, right?” She opened her eyes and stared at Harper, desperate for a lie. “I mean, she’ll never know what her mom was like, what happened—”
“She might not remember, but she’ll still know. That kind of pain, it stays with you, shapes your whole life.” Harper thought of her own mother—not Rachel, her biological mother. Maybe it was time to get answers to the questions that had haunted her all her life?
“Yeah, you’re right,” Macy said, pulling Harper’s attention back to the interview. “I went into foster care after my folks OD’d when I was only a baby, just crawling, but sometimes when I close my eyes, it’s like they’re here with me.” A sob escaped her, but she cleared her throat and swiped at her cheeks. “But look at me. I mean, she’ll be all right, Gracie will. She’ll be fine.” She turned a pleading look on Harper. “Right?”
“It’ll be hard.” Harper glanced at Luka, who gave her an encouraging nod. Time to apply a little pressure. “Harder still if she never knows the truth about how Lily died.”
Macy pulled the sheet tighter around her, her fingers twisting the fabric into tight knots. Harper continued, “Macy, you know we inventoried your belongings. We found the cash, the drugs—enough meth and fentanyl to charge you with intent to distribute. And we have Lily’s necklace. The one you gave Darius after you bailed him out. We’ll find her prints and DNA along with yours on it. And we found two phones. Yours and Lily’s.” She rested a hand over Macy’s trembling ones. “Can you tell me what happened, Macy? Why’d you kill Lily?”
Silence for a long moment. Had she pressed too hard, too fast? Harper wondered. Was Macy about to invoke her Miranda rights? Had she blown her last chance at getting a confession?
But then Macy nodded, her head bobbing as she sobbed. “I called, told her I wanted to get clean, that I was ready for rehab. We’d gone once before—she stuck with it, got her life back, had a job, was getting her GED, had her aunt and Gracie. Her life was so good. But I quit, started using again and my life was—”
She cleared her throat and started again. “Lily, she was like my sister. My only family. When I called and asked her for money for rehab, she grabbed all the cash she could, came right up to take me. But it was Saturday, I told her we needed one last chance at fun—no drugs, just good food, some dancing, you know, fun—and that she could take me Sunday morning. And it was fun, so much fun…”
More tears, these silent. Harper slid the tissue box closer, but Macy ignored it, instead wiping her face on the shoulder of her gown. “What happened after the dancing, Macy?”
Macy’s expression was one of pure anguish. “Lily didn’t know it, but I scored some meth at the club, smoked it when she thought I was in the bathroom. Then we left and we were crossing through the alley, the one beside the Towers, the one where—you know. That’s when Darius called, said he needed bail money, that I was the only one who could help him, that he loved me and if I loved him, I’d get him the money.”
She went silent. Harper again marveled at the way girls like Macy were manipulated, love and family twisted into a macabre fantasy by men like Darius. “Then what happened?”
“I told Lily I didn’t want to go to rehab after all, I needed the money for Darius instead, and she said no. I tried to grab her purse, but she pulled away and I… I, oh God, I hit her, so hard that her lip split and her nose spurted blood. And she was so shocked she fell down and just looked at me, like she didn’t even know who I was. That look, it was awful—”
Macy broke off, buried her face in her hands. “She was my only family,” she wailed. “And now she’s gone.”
Harper gave her a moment. No wonder Macy had used Lily’s money to buy enough drugs to keep her so high she might forget. But no high lasted forever. “Macy. What happened next?”
Her face still hidden, she continued in a voice so low Harper had to lean forward to hear it, “I couldn’t take it, I had to stop her from looking at me like that, and there was this chunk of wood and it was in my hand and…” She choked back a sob. “And I hit her. Hard. I grabbed her necklace, and she didn’t even fight, just lay there blinking at me, whispering my name. I had to shut her up, shut out the sound of her saying my name like she loved me, like she cared, like she was surprised. I hit her again, to stop her from saying my name. Over and over and over. I couldn’t stop. She had everything and I had nothing and I was so angry at her for being strong enough to get off the streets and escape, but she left me, she left me behind, I was all alone and I couldn’t stand it anymore and I wanted to die and I wanted her dead and, and, I did it. I killed her. And now I have no one.”
Later that afternoon, Harper hesitated, then knocked on Lu
ka’s open door to get his attention. He glanced up from the small mountains of paperwork that formed a barricade on his desk. She never understood where all the paperwork came from—their case management system was computerized.
Luka followed her glance and grimaced. “Ahearn. He’s decided we’re not busy enough and wants us to review these cold cases.”
Now it was her turn to frown. Cold cases? Sounded like work that the rookie in the unit would be assigned. “I found Lily’s family.”
“Good work. Where?”
“Her aunt lives in Hagerstown. She has custody of Lily’s baby.”
“Did you call Hagerstown PD to make the death notification?” Usually, the locals made out-of-town death notifications—or at least sent someone to be with the family while they called Cambria City for details.
Harper shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling like the rookie detective she was.
“You want to go yourself,” Luka said, immediately understanding her silence.
“I know it’s not protocol, but I can be back by—”
“I should go with you.”
His offer was a kindness she hadn’t expected. And a relief. She’d done death knocks before as a patrol officer, but this felt different. She knew things about Lily that no one else did, maybe not even her own family. How much to tell them? What to hold back? No one taught this in training.
Luka’s gaze drifted back to the stacks of dusty files. “But it’d mean I’d need to miss Ahearn’s meeting.”
Her shoulders slumped. Then, despite his words, Luka stood and grabbed his suit jacket, then his crutches.
“But—what about the meeting?”