Secret Alibi

by Lori L. Harris

  He’d taken the first sip of coffee when he heard the SUV’s engine turn over out on the street. Shepherd gave no indication that he even heard it.

  Faith Bair walked in at that moment. “I’ve searched both bedrooms and the bathroom. There’s no sign of the suspect.”

  Shepherd rounded on Jack. “What are you trying to pull here, Blade?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I never said she was here.”

  “You never said she wasn’t, either.”

  “And if I had, you wouldn’t have believed me. I just figured it would be easier to let you look around.”

  “And now that I’ve had a look, I’m ready for a nice long talk. Down at the station.”

  “Are you arresting me?”

  “We can do it that way if you prefer.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Have a seat, Jack. I’ll be right with you.”

  As Shepherd left, pulling the door closed behind him, Jack grabbed a chair.

  It had been a while since he’d sat on the wrong side of an interrogation table. There had been times when he’d been working undercover that vice would haul him in and screw with him to keep his cover intact.

  Jack glanced at his watch in frustration. What he had failed to recognize immediately was that the phone bills, the computer and his cell phone weren’t the only things on his kitchen table this morning. The final two names from the original seventy-eight had also been there, along with their phone numbers and addresses.

  One may have been a Fontana, California, address, but the other had been an Orlando address belonging to Reid Nicholson, a criminal attorney who, up until two years ago, Benito Binelli had kept on retainer. Now serving two life sentences in a federal prison for money laundering and the murder of a federal agent, Benito no longer had need of Nicholson’s services. Undoubtedly, the attorney had found some other lowlife to support him.

  Given Lexie’s desperate determination to find her daughter, it only made sense that once she had a name, she wouldn’t hesitate to make use of it. But just how foolish was she? Would she do something as stupid as approach the Nicholsons?

  Jack stood and paced. He needed to get to a phone and warn Lexie, but he needed privacy to accomplish it. As he walked by the door, he tried it but found it locked from the outside. Shepherd was screwing with him. Because he could.

  The cop stepped back into the room.

  “Would you mind if I made a quick phone call?” Jack asked, and tried to appear more calm than he was feeling. “I was supposed to meet my brother for breakfast this morning.”

  Shepherd passed Jack his cell phone. Jack flipped it open and dialed Alec’s number. Alec answered almost immediately. “Morning. Did you get anywhere last night?”

  “Yeah. I did.” Now came the tricky part. “I won’t be able to make it to the café this morning. Frank Shepherd asked me to stop by the station. It looks as if I might be here for a little while.”

  “Tell Frank it’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

  “Maybe another time.”

  “Since we weren’t planning to have breakfast, I assume this call has a purpose. Did you need me to do something?”

  “Maybe you could give Reid Nickel’s son a quick call and let him know that I won’t be able to make it into Orlando this morning.”

  There was a slight pause, as if Alec was trying to place the name. “Are we talking about Reid Nicholson, Benito’s man?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Am I to assume that the reason you’re using Frank’s cell is because Lexie has yours?”

  “Thanks, Alec.” Ending the call, Jack handed the phone back to Shepherd. “Now what is it you want to know?” he asked as they both took seats at the table.

  Shepherd folded his hands in his lap and cocked his head to one side. “I want to know where she is.”

  “And what makes you think I know?”

  “The women’s shoes are under your kitchen table.”

  “Okay. She was staying with me, but she left.”

  “And you have no idea where she went?”

  Jack nodded. “That’s right.”

  “You don’t look too worried about the bail money you put up.”

  “Just because she’s no longer sleeping under my roof doesn’t mean she intends to run. Things just got a little uncomfortable.”

  “Because of the baby?”

  “Now you really have lost me.”

  Shepherd leaned forward, resting his hands on the table between them. “We found partially burned packaging from one of those over-the-counter pregnancy tests. I thought perhaps the reason you were helping her was because she was pregnant with your kid.”

  Jack settled back as if he wasn’t in a hurry, propping an ankle atop the opposite knee. “Any good detective,” he said, the inference being that Shepherd wasn’t, “knows that taking a test is indicative of absolutely nothing unless you have a result. Maybe she was cleaning out her medicine cabinet.”

  “And decided to build a fire with it?”

  If Jack hadn’t been worried about Lexie, he might have been able to enjoy playing with Shepherd. “Maybe she was out of kindling.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  At that moment, Fitz pulled open the door. “Amanda Wilkes just walked in.”

  THE SUV’S HEATER BLASTED onto Lexie’s bare feet. Shoe stores didn’t open at six-thirty in the morning. She could either go barefoot or drop by her place, but she figured Riverhouse would be the next location Shepherd showed up. He might even have someone watching the house already.

  She used a fast-food drive-through to grab some orange juice and a pastry, enough to hold her until later. Instead of getting back onto the interstate, she pulled into one of the parking spots. Leaving Jack’s computer on the passenger seat, she turned it on. She had no idea how his wireless connection worked, but was hoping that there might be some type of Internet access. After several minutes, she realized there wasn’t, and turned it off.

  She’d have to stop at a service station when she got closer to Orlando. Shoes might be optional, but a map of Orlando wasn’t. She picked up Jack’s cell phone. She knew he’d call her as soon as he broke free.

  What if he hadn’t by the time she reached the Nicholson residence? Should she just cruise by, see what she could learn without actually knocking on the front door?

  She pulled back onto the highway. While she admitted to a strong urge to confront the Nicholsons, she realized doing so would be very risky, and would probably result in the cops being called. Something Lexie couldn’t afford.

  She eased her foot off the accelerator. She wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t want the cops called. Was there some way she could use that to her advantage?

  Though she tried to keep it in check, excitement built inside her. In a few hours, she could be holding her baby in her arms for the first time.

  “This is departmental business,” Shepherd said as Fitz motioned for Jack to join them in the interview room where Amanda waited.

  “She wants him there.”

  “I don’t care what she wants—”

  Fitz got in Shepherd’s face. “The kid is scared witless. If she wants Jack in there, I can’t think of a good reason why he shouldn’t be.”

  Fitz motioned Jack out the door ahead of him. Shepherd looked as if he considered pulling rank, but then nodded with a grimace.

  When all three men stepped into the interview room, the young girl already seated at the long table looked up. Fitz had characterized her as scared, but Jack’s first impression was that she looked as if she’d reached the end of her rope and was just about to let go.

  Her hair was uncombed, her jeans and jacket wrinkled as if she’d been sleeping in them. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her, but even as she met their gazes, she was peeling back the dried cuticle on her left thumb.

  “You’re the one who’s been helping her, aren’t you?”

  He nodded as he took the only remaining s
eat.

  Shepherd placed a tape recorder on the Formica surface in front of her. As Fitz went through the usual rundown for the taped interview, detailing the time and those present in the room, Amanda continued to fiddle with the injured cuticle.

  “Okay, Amanda,” Fitz said. “What can you tell me about Dan Dawson’s murder?”

  It wasn’t the line of questioning that Jack had been expecting to be pursued.

  “I was following Dr. Whittemore because I had gone to see him earlier that day about my baby.”

  “What about the baby?”

  “I was having these really bad nightmares.” She stared down at her hands again. “I kept dreaming that my baby was dead, the dream always the same. I was strapped to this table in a room full of medical machines. My baby was only a few feet away on this rolling cart. When she wouldn’t move at all, I’d reach out and touch her. It was then that I’d know she was dead.”

  “Do you remember anything about the birth?” Fitz asked in a kind tone.

  “Not really. Dr. Whittemore had given me something.” She shifted in her chair, attempting to sit straighter. “When I went to see him, I thought if I could see my baby, the nightmares would stop.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “That he would talk to the people who had her.” She looked over at Jack. “I figured they’d say no. Just made sense that they wouldn’t care about what I was going through. They had what they wanted.” She caught her chapped lower lip between her teeth.

  “Go on,” Fitz said.

  Her eyes remained on Jack. “I figured if I followed him, he might lead me to my baby.”

  “And did you follow him?” Shepherd asked quietly. “Did he lead you to the baby?”

  “No. He went to Dr. Dawson’s house that night. I figured that maybe Dr. Dawson was also involved with selling babies. They sat there and talked for a while. Dr. Whittemore had a bottle of wine with him.” She glanced away. “There must have been something in the wine because Dr. Dawson suddenly seemed to pass out at his desk.”

  “Where were you when this was happening?”

  “Outside. In the bushes.”

  “But you could witness what was going on in the room.”

  “Not really. I could only see if I got real close to the window, so I mostly listened.”

  “Was the window open?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did the men talk about?” Shepherd asked, the look on his face suggesting that he was no longer skeptical of her story.

  “About illegal abortions. Dr. Dawson thought someone must be doing them out in Pierson.”

  “Did he say why he thought that?”

  “Because of the number of women who came in, but didn’t return after one or two visits. He thought their receptionist might be somehow involved.” Pausing, she looked away as if what she planned to say next might be difficult for her. “Dr. Dawson said the girl they found buried out in the woods a month or two ago had been in the office. Had seen Dr. Whittemore.”

  “What did Whittemore say?”

  “That he obviously had no idea that she’d been his patient.” Amanda pulled closed the front of her jacket, sort of hunching into it. “I knew he was lying. That she was probably just like me. When he approached her about giving up the baby, she saw it as a way out. And when he offered the apartment out there for her to stay in…”

  “Did you live out there?” Jack asked.

  “I did for the last five weeks. My mom had died. I didn’t want to stay at her house anymore.”

  “Where did you give birth?” Jack asked.

  “There’s this room attached to the apartment that’s set up like a hospital. I was supposed to deliver there, but the power was still off from when the hurricane came through a couple of days earlier. He brought me into town. To the office.”

  “The room off the kitchen, Amanda. Was there a generator there when you were using the apartment?”

  “No.”

  So the generator had been added, possibly after Amanda gave birth. Perhaps because Whittemore realized that without it he might have to transport another girl into town. He’d been lucky the first time. He might not be the next.

  “Let’s get back to the night of the murder,” Shepherd said. “Did you see Whittemore shoot his partner?”

  “No. It was the woman who did it.”

  All three men sat forward, but it was Jack who asked, “Lexie Dawson?”

  “No. Not her.”

  “Then who?” Jack asked.

  “I didn’t see the woman. At least not that night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “By the time she showed up I was afraid to even look inside the room.”

  “How did she arrive?”

  “She must have come in through the back door like Dr. Whittemore.”

  “So you didn’t see a car?”

  She shook her head.

  “The statement you made earlier. Does it mean that you saw this woman at a later date?”

  She nodded. “I’m really good with voices. The morning after the…after Dr. Dawson died, I went to a support group that meets over at the hospital. I needed to talk to someone. I thought maybe they’d be willing to listen.”

  From her facial expression, Jack assumed they hadn’t.

  “That was the first time I saw Mrs. Dawson. She was the only one who was nice to me.” She rubbed her cuticle. “After the meeting was over Mrs. Dawson tried to talk to me, but I just wanted to leave. And then this woman grabbed Mrs. Dawson. She’d been the mannequin sitting across from me. I thought the reason she kept looking at me was because, like the rest of the women, she didn’t think I belonged there.” She pressed her lips together briefly. “When I realized who she was, I realized she must be following me. I got out of there really quick after that.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a name?”

  “No. You only introduce yourself if you get up and speak.”

  “Why did you call her a mannequin?” Fitz asked.

  “Because she was dressed like some big-city model.”

  “So you can describe her?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Fitz stood. “I’ll call over to the hospital and see if they keep a list of who attends those meetings.”

  “Let’s get back to the night of the murder,” Shepherd said again. “You’re sure the woman was the one who pulled the trigger?”

  She nodded. “As soon as the gun went off, Dr. Whittemore started freaking out and yelling at her about how Dr. Dawson didn’t know anything about the switch, that she’d had nothing to worry about. They were still screaming when the other man came in.”

  Jack and Shepherd looked at each other.

  “What man?” Shepherd asked.

  “The woman’s husband. He ordered Dr. Whittemore to get the woman out of there. That he’d take care of everything.”

  “And did he?” Jack asked.

  “There was a second gunshot five or ten minutes after the woman and Dr. Whittemore left.”

  Jack sat back in his chair. Dawson had probably been still alive when his partner had left him there. The second round would have been meant to kill him and at the same time possibly destroy any sign of the previous one. It wasn’t just any man who could walk in on that type of situation and know what to do in order to create the illusion of a suicide.

  Shepherd leaned back in his chair. “Why didn’t you come to us sooner?”

  Amanda looked as if she would like to cry, but she didn’t. “I was afraid to. Dr. Whittemore must have told her who I was. I thought maybe if I just pretended that I had changed my mind about seeing the baby, everything would be okay. I even went to see Dr. Whittemore at the office. Not after hours as I had before, but when there would be other people around.” She tightened her arms across her chest.

  She looked up at Jack. “I wouldn’t have let Mrs. Dawson go to prison. I want you to know that.”

  “I believe you,” he said, simply, and then leaned fo
rward. “Think back to the night of the murder. To when the second man arrived. Did you ever hear a name after that?”

  “I think I may have heard the name Reid.”

  Swearing, Jack nearly knocked Fitz over as he tried to get out the door. “Reid Nicholson,” he yelled back as he raced down the hall.

  “Lexie may already be there.”

  BY THE TIME LEXIE PARKED several doors down from 1393 Mandalay Way, she was wearing flip-flops, the only thing the convenience store carried.

  The neighborhood was one of those with elephant-size houses, packed tightly on lots that left only enough room for a driveway on one side and a ten-foot-wide swath of grass on the other. The only trees were queen palms and a few over-trimmed ligustrums.

  It was the kind of neighborhood where the only people out walking at this time of morning were the domestic help who didn’t live in.’

  She glanced down at the dead cell phone. She’d stopped at a pay phone three or four miles back to try Jack’s home number. She hadn’t left a message, afraid the police might get it. She had next attempted to call Alec Blade, but his number was unlisted.

  Which meant, if Lexie wanted answers, it was up to her to get them.

  At 7:55 a.m., a woman collected a newspaper off the front walk. Another fifteen minutes went by, and then the garage door went up. The same woman backed a silver SUV halfway down the driveway, so that it was even with the front door. She popped the back open, left it that way while she went back inside the house.

  Seconds later she reappeared, so quickly that it suggested the two large suitcases she dragged outside and slung into the back of the vehicle had been waiting just inside the door. She was moving faster now. The next thing that came out was a portable crib. She stowed that with the suitcases.

  Lexie was getting a very uneasy feeling. The woman was about to run. Lexie glanced down at the damn phone. What should she do? Should she try to stop her? Should she follow her? But what if she lost her? Lexie wasn’t an expert at tailing people. And if the woman managed to give her the slip, what then? What if she was never able to find her again?