by Karen Rose
“The drunk driver whose insurance was so eager to settle with you,” Jenna murmured and Steven shrugged callously.
“Why have scandal then? Melissa was dead and his wife, who was vacationing at Hilton Head, need never know. God knew I didn’t want my kids to know.”
Jenna’s eyes widened. “So you told them she just died.” “On her way home from the mall,” he said bitterly.
“Oh, Steven,” she whispered. “All this time you’ve worried every woman would be like her.”
“When I met you, I knew you weren’t, but I was... afraid.”
“But when you saw me with Neil last night, you believed the worst.”
He leaned his head back against the sofa and studied the ceiling. “I did. And I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
He looked at her then, truly looked at her. “None of this makes any difference, does it?”
“It makes every bit of difference.” She looked away. “And none.”
“Will you come home with me?” he asked.
She swallowed. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because I know better than to love a man who can’t trust me. You’ll never trust me. You say you will, then the next time I’m friends with a man you’ll do it all again and we’ll be in the same place we are now.” She felt tears on her own cheeks. “I’ll resent you and then where will we be?”
He stood up and looked out the window. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Just like you did,” she returned, feeling angry and hurt. “Then tell me you’re ready to say good-bye.” And he grabbed her and kissed her until the room spun and she clung to him. Lifting his head, he whispered harshly, “Tell me you don’t want me.”
She shook her head and pushed him away. “I won’t lie to you. I want you. But I’m smart enough to know I can’t have everything I want. What I want is a man who trusts me and who I can depend on. I had that once. I’ll hold out for it again.”
He held her shoulders tight. “What about Nicky, Jenna?” he demanded, facing her, anger visibly vibrating through him. “Can you walk away from him?”
Jenna flinched as if he’d struck her. “That’s not fair.”
His face spasmed in pain. “I don’t give a damn about fair. I don’t give a damn about me, but you’re hurting my son all over again.”
She drew a breath and tried to be the logical one. “I’m sorry, Steven. I should have listened to you and not allowed Nicky to become so attached. But it still can’t change anything. Continuing a relationship with Nicky knowing we’re finished would be even more cruel long-term.”
He looked at her for a long minute, his eyes so miserable and sad that she almost changed her mind. Almost. “I wanted to marry you,” he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear him. “I was going to ask you in bed yesterday morning, but I wanted to have this case settled, so I waited. I guess my timing on a marriage proposal was the only thing I did right. I had a selfish wife once who didn’t care about my children. I sure as hell don’t need to go through it again.”
Slamming the front door behind him, he was gone. Allison put a box of tissues in her hand and Jenna snatched up a handful, mopped her face, then gave up and buried her face on Allison’s shoulder. And cried her fool heart out.
“Thatcher, wait.”
Steven stopped at the base of the Llewellyns’ driveway thinking he was so close to the edge that just one of Davies’s smug I-told-you-sos would push him over. “If you say I-told-you-so I swear . . .” He let the threat trail off, knowing he didn’t have the emotional energy to follow through.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry for my part in this,” Davies said quietly. “I honestly didn’t go to the school to see her, but when I did, I didn’t want to walk away.”
Despair and rage battled, but in the end Steven was just too tired to give way to either. “This is supposed to make me feel better how, Davies?”
“It’s not supposed to make you feel better,” Davies snapped. “Any desire I had to make you feel better disappeared when I saw the bruises on her face this morning.” He drew a deep breath. “But you mean something to her so I also didn’t want to make it any worse,” he said, his voice calm again. “I wanted you to know what happened. She said that she loved you,” he finished quietly.
The quiet words cut deeper than any I-told-you-so ever could. She now wore bruises inside and out as testament to his lack of trust. He cleared his throat. “Thanks for doing what I should have done. For making sure those bastards didn’t hurt her worse than they did.”
“I went to the school to see if I could get a glimpse of your Rudy Lutz with his friends,” Davies said. “I know the roster says he was in class, but my gut tells me something’s wrong.”
Steven sighed, so damn weary. “What do you want, Neil?” “I want to take one more look around the Templeton place.”
“I can’t let you have Kent or anyone else from Forensics,” Steven said, just wishing the man would go away so he could let go of the awful weight pressing against his chest.
“I understand. I’ll call you if I find anything.”
Then finally he was gone and Steven climbed in his car. Shut the door. And drove to work.
Friday, October 14, 11:30 A.M.
“You’ve got company,” Allison said and with a groan Jenna pulled herself out of bed and down to the living room where Casey sat on Allison’s sofa with her right arm and left leg in plaster casts. Ned stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.
“Casey.” Jenna hugged her lightly, for both their sakes. “When did you get out?”
“This morning.” She frowned. “What happened to your face?”
“Long story. So how did you get up the driveway in that cast?”
Casey glowed. “Ned carried me. I wanted you to be the first to know.” She held out her left hand and Jenna swallowed hard at the sight of the diamond on Casey’s ring finger. She’d be damned if she let her own petty problems spoil Casey’s moment.
So she smiled up at Ned, then at Casey. “I’m so happy for you both.”
Then burst into noisy tears.
Casey didn’t say anything for a moment, just reached out and patted her hand. Then said to Ned, “See if Allison has anything stronger than iced tea. And if she says no, ask Seth where he hides his stash.”
Jenna sniffled. “I can’t have alcohol. I’m taking pain medication.”
“It’s not for you,” Casey said. “It’s to calm me down so I don’t go murder Steven Thatcher.”
Friday, October 14, 3:30 P.M.
Neil stood in the middle of Kelly’s bedroom, frustrated as hell. He’d spent hours covering every inch and found nothing new. There had to be something, he thought, walking to the window, looking at the neat circle of cut glass, visualizing how the killer would have come in. From the state of her blankets, Kelly would have struggled hard, but her attacker was much bigger and stronger. He would have put a mask over her face, made her breathe the ketamine powder that would have knocked her out in five to ten seconds. But in those seconds, she would have fought for her life.
She was young and had been a gymnast prior to her cheerleading. Her ribbons and trophies were on the wall in the Templetons’ living room. She’d been very good and to be that good, she had to have a great deal of physical strength and agility. But she was small, like her mother.
“Mrs. Templeton,” he called and the worry-worn mother hurried in. “I need your help.”
Warily, Mrs. Templeton regarded him. “What?”
“I want to reevaluate how your daughter would have struggled against her attacker. You’re her same size. Would you reenact this with me?”
Mrs. Templeton’s jaw squared. “Where should I stand?” Neil smiled at her. “Right here, next to me.” Gently he turned her around so her back was to him and put his hand over her mouth. “Now fight me. Fight hard.” He winced when her elbow caught him unprepared and she abruptly stilled. “No, ma’am, fight hard
er.” So she twisted in his arms, clawing at the front of his jacket until one of his buttons came off and flew across the room. He let her go and she turned around, her cheeks red and her breath coming in hard pants.
“Well?”
Neil opened his mouth, then closed it again as a furry shadow crept to the corner where his button had fallen. He put his finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet and together they watched the Templeton family cat pick the button up between his teeth.
Quietly they followed until the cat crawled under a chair in their unused spare bedroom. Neil picked up the chair, and the cat hissed, then ran. Leaving behind a pile of shiny buttons.
Mrs. Templeton’s eyes were huge. “Do you think ...?” “I’m praying, ma’am,” Neil said and meant it. “Very, very hard.”
Friday, October 14, 3:30 P.M.
“You have company,” Seth said and Jenna groaned. Casey was gone and Jenna wanted to sleep.
“Go away, Dad. I don’t want any company.”
“You’ll want this guy,” Seth said and opened the door to her room, letting Jim bound in, tail wagging, tongue lolling, looking healthy and happy. Good as new. “Wendy said Jean-Luc had to stay for another few days until his sutures were healed more, but that Jim could come home.”
Jenna took one look at Seth’s happy face and Jim’s wagging tail and burst into tears.
Friday, October 14, 3:30 P.M.
“Steven,” Kent said and Steven lifted his eyes from his paperwork to Kent’s excited face.
“What is it?” he demanded, rising to his feet. “What do you have?”
“New information,” Kent said, the young man’s tension almost palpable. Certainly catching. Kent laid two sheets holding DNA prints side by side on top of the clutter of Steven’s desk. One was a bit faded and bore a bright yellow sticker declaring it confidential property of the State of Washington. The other was new.
“Liz’s favor came in,” Steven said and Kent nodded. “This is William Parker’s DNA from the sealed record in Seattle,” Kent said, his voice crackling. “This is the DNA from the hair we found in the Clary clearing.”
Steven leaned forward and squinted. “And?”
“They’re not the same,” Kent said triumphantly.
Steven looked at him in confusion. “So? We already knew Rudy was in class that day. So he’s either not William Parker or wasn’t at the clearing or both.”
“He could still be Parker,” Kent said. “The Clary clearing DNA is not the same as Parker’s, but it’s dead close. Close enough so that the two came from blood relatives. And not a father/son because the sample from the Clary clearing came from mitochondrial DNA which only carries the maternal genetic print. William Parker wasn’t in the Clary clearing, but a blood relative with the same mother was.”
“That leaves the brother,” Steven hissed. “The brother everyone said was too slow to notice.”
Liz hurried in just then. “I came as soon as I got your call, Kent. What’s happened?”
“It was the younger Lutz boy.” Steven grimaced, slamming his fist against his desk. “The one everybody said was too slow to be involved. Dammit, Jenna even defended him. Poor boy, knocked around by his thug father.”
“And he well might have been,” Liz said, still breathless from running. She quickly looked at the DNA prints, Kent’s neatly typed conclusion, and nodded her understanding. “But we won’t let that stop us. You’ll be wanting a search warrant on the Lutz place?”
“With a big red bow,” Steven said from behind gritted teeth.
“I’m on it,” Liz said. “Great work, Kent. Steven, call Neil. He’ll want to know about this.”
Friday, October 14, 3:45 P.M.
Neil spread the buttons out on the sheet of aluminum foil Mrs. Templeton had stretched across her kitchen table. One by one he separated each button from the pile with his gloved finger. then breathed a prayer of thanks both for Mr. Whiskers’ consistent habit of button pilfering and for the sudden return of his memory. He picked up a pewter button and held it up to the light, watching the way the shadows bounced off every turn of the design.
“You recognize it?” Mrs. Templeton asked hopefully and he jerked his attention back to her.
“Yes, ma’am.” He dropped the button back into the pile. “Do you have a Ziploc bag—new and unused?” he asked, then wrapped the buttons in the aluminum foil and dropped the foil in the bag. “Close the bedroom door and don’t go near the area under the chair,” he instructed. “Forensics will vacuum to make sure the cat didn’t take anything else from your daughter’s bedroom.”
Neil rushed to his car, his precious Ziploc bag of evidence clutched in one hand. And prayed like he never had before.
THIRTY-TWO
Friday, October 14, 4:30 P.M.
CHARLIE STUCK HER HEAD IN JENNA’S ROOM. “Aunt
Jenna—”
Jenna sat up in bed snarling. “I know. I have company. Send him home, whoever it is.”
“I don’t know, Aunt Jenna, I think you’ll want to see him.” Jenna dragged herself out of bed, muttering all the way. And stopped short at the sight of Brad Thatcher standing uneasily in Allison’s living room. He took a look at her face and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Marshall.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she lied and sat on the sofa. “Sit, Brad. What’s on your mind?”
He sat, blinking at her brusque tone. He licked his lips, opened his mouth. Closed it.
Jenna sighed. “Brad, do you have something to say or not?”
“It’s about my dad,” Brad said and stared down at his feet. “He was wrong last night, but you need to understand why.”
Jenna frowned. “How do you know what happened last night?”
“Everybody knows, Dr. Marshall.” He ventured a tiny grin. “None of the guys want to come near you anymore. They’re all afraid they’ll be singin’ soprano.”
Jenna huffed a single chuckle. “So what brings you way out here, Brad?”
Brad reached into his pocket and pulled out a ratty folded sheet, curled at the edges. “This.”
She opened it and went still as the written words on the page jumped out at her.... tired of chicken nuggets, soccer games, and diaper changes. The boys are yours and you’re welcome to them . . . She carefully put the note on the lamp table, her hands trembling. “You knew?”
Brad’s brown eyes widened. “You knew?”
“Your father told me today. How did you know?”
Brad looked away. “I found the note.”
Jenna’s heart clenched at the thought of a boy reading those terrible, hateful words from his own mother. “When?” But she knew before he answered.
“Last month.”
“Oh, Brad.” She’d wanted to know how a boy could change overnight. Now she knew.
“So, if you knew about my mother, why didn’t you come home?”
Jenna sighed again. “Oh, Brad. It’s not that simple.”
He glanced at her sharply before standing up to stare out the window, his hands in his pockets. And even though physically Brad resembled his mother, in that moment he looked so much like Steven that she wanted to start crying all over again. “Do you love him, Dr. Marshall?”
She wouldn’t, couldn’t lie. “Yes.”
“Then it’s simple.”
“No, Brad, it’s not. He doesn’t trust me.”
Brad made a frustrated noise. “Do you know how many people know about that note? Four. And I’m not even supposed to know. Father Mike knows because Dad told him early on. Then for four years he told no one. Until you.” He turned from the window with a frown. “He trusted you with something he didn’t even trust with his own family. That’s how much he trusts you.”
Brad’s words echoed in her mind. That’s how much he trusts you. But she shook her head, remembering last night. The pain of the boys’ fists had been nothing compared to the knowledge that Steven had abandoned her. Because of something she hadn’t even done
. “It’s not enough.”
Brad’s eyes flashed. “Last night he told Helen he wanted to marry you. She told him you’d come back. She’s already planning her trip to the Serengeti.” He stared at her with such authority, she wanted to back away. From a seventeen-year-old. “And what about Nicky?” he demanded.
She closed her eyes. And said nothing. What could she say?
“He already thinks of you as his mother,” Brad said harshly. “Last night he was awake. Crying. Worrying about you.”
Jenna felt the tears come, and damned each one. Her eyes felt like they’d been pounded with a meat tenderizer. “Your father was right. It was wrong for me to let Nicky get too attached to me so fast. He was afraid if it didn’t work out...” She let the thought trail away.
“So that’s it?” Brad demanded. “You walk away without a word? At least she had the balls to leave a note.” He pointed to the ragged page on the table. “I thought more of you, Dr. Marshall.”
Jenna looked away. Brad was right. She was wrong about Nicky. But she was right about Steven, not to trust him. But how wrong she’d been to love him.
She drew an unsteady breath and handed him the note. “Then I guess we were both wrong.”
Friday, October 14, 4:30 P.M.
Neil’s cell phone started ringing as he rounded the corner, headed for Steven’s office. Nancy pointed him to the conference room. “Davies,” he said into the phone and skidded to a stop in the conference room where Thatcher held a phone in his hand. Thatcher rolled his eyes and hung up.
“It was me,” he said. “Good timing.”
Neil shook his head. “Uh-uh. Great timing. Look what I found.”
Thatcher looked at the bag in his hand and raised a sarcastic brow. “Aluminum foil?”
His mood was too good to let Thatcher spoil it. “No, better.” He slid on a pair of gloves and pulled the foil from the bag. “Buttons.”
Thatcher looked positively grim. “Buttons.”