Proof (Caroline Auden Book 2)

by C. E. Tobisman

  “So what you’re saying is, you chickened out,” Caroline said, her mind still reeling with Federica’s assertion of innocence in the death of her grandmother, if not the theft of the watch.

  Federica nodded. “I didn’t tell Simon. I didn’t tell anyone anything. I just hoped this whole thing would all go away—you know, that no one would notice. But then you came to The Pastures and I realized everyone was going to know. Simon was going to find out about the watch and you were going to find out about the will and the fake name and—”

  “Tell me how it works. The caregiver program. I need to know,” Caroline said calmly. She couldn’t let herself be roiled by the swirl of emotions that buffeted the red-haired caregiver. She had to remain on the outside, coldly dissecting the truth of Federica’s story.

  Federica nodded to herself. “When you come to Oasis off the street, they figure out what they can do for you. But that’s not all they do. They also figure out what you can do for them. I didn’t really have any skills. So they put me in the caregiver program. They give you all this literature about how great they are. Then they send you off to tell old people about it. It’s really not that hard.”

  “I suppose not,” Caroline agreed, just to keep her talking.

  “I turned out to be good at connecting with people. My heart chakra is really open. Also, I remember someone saying it’s easy to sell something you believe in, and I believed in Oasis. They saved my life. They got me clean. When I went to them, I was a smack addict living on the street. They got me treatment.”

  “They helped you,” Caroline noted. Whatever evil Oasis had committed, it had also done a little good, apparently. At least in the life of the nervous woman sitting across from her.

  “Yeah. They did. So I was good at getting people excited about Oasis and many of my patients ended up making gifts to it. I guess Vizzi noticed, because he asked me to join a special program. He said I’d make more money. That sounded good to me because I was trying to get my own apartment and I had to get a security deposit together and—”

  “How does this special program work?” Caroline interrupted, trying to keep Federica focused.

  “At first, it just seemed like they wanted to train us to become better caregivers. We got extra training on how to connect with residents—you know, how to tend to them emotionally, as well as how to take them to the commode and whatnot. We also had to take some medical training. It was a lot of work and it took a bunch of time, but the good part is, you make more money, plus you get to pay off your program fee to Oasis really quickly.”

  Caroline recalled the program fee that Lani had balked at owing. The debt that no one seemed to be able to repay—and the negative consequences of trying to avoid it. The setup had sounded like sharecropping to Caroline. A racket rigged to keep the poor man poor.

  “I was really happy to be picked,” Federica continued, “but then there were some strange things about the special program. Like, we had to work under a fake name.”

  “Patricia Amos,” said Caroline.

  Federica nodded. “Oasis handles payroll so there’s no problem with the nursing homes—the facilities pay Oasis, and then Oasis pays us.”

  “Weren’t you concerned?” Caroline asked.

  “Sure I was. But what choice did I have? And anyway, everything was fine for a while. The money was good. Things were going well.” Federica looked down at her hands that still lay cradled in her lap. “But then they told me what I was expected to do.”

  “You were supposed to kill.”

  Federica nodded and looked down.

  At the admission, Caroline’s hands tingled. In this beleaguered caregiver, she’d found what she needed: proof. Testimony by a firsthand witness to Oasis’s scheme would become the centerpiece of a prosecution that would end Oasis.

  “Your grandma was going to be my first,” Federica continued, “but when it came time to do it, I just couldn’t.” She let out a long puff of air. “Everyone in the special program’s supposed to be producing results. But I . . . I just couldn’t.”

  “How many people are in this special program?” Caroline asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe a couple dozen? I’ve never seen a list, but I’ve been to those trainings and I’ve talked to some of the others. I don’t know anyone’s names. Not their real names, anyway.”

  Caroline considered the ramifications of a couple dozen people out trying to induce nursing home residents into leaving money to Oasis. A couple dozen people pushing those residents off cliffs.

  “Where does Oasis get these fake identities?” Caroline asked. Fabricating identities that would pass muster at a nursing home was no easy feat. It took years to perform the sort of theft necessary not just to create a fake identity but to populate it with enough history to get a job that required a background check.

  Federica shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you one thing—I’m not the only person who has ever used the name Patricia Amos. I overheard someone mentioning another one. Another Patricia Amos.”

  The hairs at the back of Caroline’s neck rose at Federica’s words. An image of the brown-haired, glasses-wearing woman who worked as a nurse in Burbank formed in her mind’s eye. And a theory began to form in Caroline’s mind. She made a mental note to pursue it later.

  “The reason I’m so good at connecting with old people is that I really like them,” Federica continued. “They’ve lived long lives. They have stories. They have heartbreak and they have love. All of that. Your grandmother had the loveliest stories before she got too confused to tell them anymore. I’d sit there for hours just listening to her sometimes.”

  Federica’s words froze Caroline’s interrogation. All of her efforts to remain dispassionate dissolved as tears welled in her eyes. She’d come to the restaurant planning to have a war. Instead, she was having a wake.

  “There’s no way I could’ve killed Kate,” Federica said. “Honestly, I’d rather die than kill anyone. That’s why I ran.”

  Caroline found honesty in Federica’s eyes. Against all expectations, she found herself believing Federica wasn’t a murderer. Doomed once by her own addictive biochemistry and again by the manipulative charity that had preyed on her, Federica had gone down a bad path. But she was trying to right the listing ship of her life. The Sanskrit mantra around her wrist made sense, Caroline realized. The lotus grew from brackish water. The heart of the lotus was within. Federica was trying. In her own nervous, halting way, she was striving to be good.

  Caroline knew she should have been mad about Federica’s role in remaking the will, but the fact that Grandma Kate had died of natural causes eclipsed any anger Caroline might’ve felt.

  Federica looked down at her hands again. “I think giving the watch to Simon too early and chickening out and messing up the timing wouldn’t have mattered so much to Oasis except that Simon’s trying to get that big project going. You know, the one on Bunker Hill?”

  Caroline nodded. She recalled reading about it.

  “Simon’s got all these approvals and meetings and hearings with public officials and stuff going on,” Federica continued. “He couldn’t have anything bad happen. Vizzi made that really clear to all of us.”

  The guilt Federica wore, even for messing up a criminal’s plans, only reinforced Caroline’s belief that her story had been true. Federica had balked when it came time to kill.

  “You’re not a screwup because you couldn’t go through with it,” Caroline said, stating the obvious.

  Raising her eyes again to meet Caroline’s, Federica exhaled and nodded to herself.

  “I know I’ve messed up a lot in my life, but I’m figuring things out now that maybe I should’ve figured out before. I . . . I had some problems.” Exhaling again, Federica looked at Caroline squarely. “Ever since we talked that day in your grandmother’s room at The Pastures, I’ve been carrying a weight on me. The karma—I needed to resolve it. Now that weight isn’t so heavy. You can feel that, too, right?”
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br />   Caroline wasn’t sure she felt any lighter, but she’d gained new insight.

  “I’m ready to go talk to the police,” Federica said, sitting up straighter in the booth. “I’m ready to not be running anymore.”

  “I’m ready for that, too,” Caroline agreed, her mouth pulling into a grim smile.

  CHAPTER 27

  “I have your witness,” Caroline told Albert over the burner phone.

  In the backseat of the Eldorado, Federica curled up with a duffel bag. It hadn’t taken long for her to gather her things from the yurt. The ride up into the backcountry had been a different matter, however. The Eldorado’s suspension had not enjoyed the bumpy dirt road. Now they were on the freeway, heading back to Los Angeles.

  “You’ve got to get her into protection,” Caroline continued to Albert.

  “I’m in court today, so I can’t do much, but I’ll contact my section chief right away to get the ball rolling. I know she’ll want to bring the witness in immediately.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Caroline said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  Federica lay across the backseat, wearing earbuds. At first blush, the ex-caregiver looked like a thirty-something chilling out on a long road trip. But in the short time Caroline had known Federica, she’d realized she was highly anxious. Lying across the seats wasn’t about relaxation. It was about not being visible through the windows of the car.

  “I’ll call you once we’ve gotten things set up,” said Albert. “I promise it’ll be soon.”

  “Thanks,” Caroline said before hanging up.

  Although she felt Lani’s eyes on her, Caroline didn’t look over at her. She had no words of comfort to offer. Lani’s presence had calmed Federica when they’d climbed into the Eldorado waiting in the alley outside the Mexican restaurant. The two ex-Oasis residents had rejoiced at their reunion and found strength in each other’s company. But Federica had quickly sunk back down to her baseline—fear. The caregiver’s dread was infectious. In Lani’s wide-eyed apprehension, visible in Caroline’s peripheral vision, Caroline now felt it, too.

  She checked her rearview mirror again to confirm that the constellation of vehicles behind her hadn’t changed since the last time she’d looked. There were a couple of motorcycles in the mix, but they’d maintained constant speeds. No one had tried to approach.

  She wanted to believe she’d managed to make the trip to and from Desert Hot Springs without being noticed. But it seemed unlikely. The hit man had tracked her and those she loved, even on the streets. While she enjoyed the fantasy that she’d escaped his scrutiny, she couldn’t treat it as anything other than a fantasy. She had to stay vigilant.

  “What’s going to happen?” Federica’s voice came from the backseat. She’d pulled the earbuds out and sat up, keeping her shoulders below the level of the windows.

  “We’re going to a hotel where some friends are waiting. They’re nice. You’ll like them. We’ll wait for this federal prosecutor I know to set things up—then we’ll bring you to wherever he says.”

  Panic flashed across Federica’s face. Her green eyes widened.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Caroline said. “This prosecutor is a good guy. He’ll make sure nothing bad happens.”

  She hoped she was right.

  The first minutes at the Royal Residence Hotel had been tense. Caroline had entered the hotel room first, followed by Lani and then Federica. Hitch’s eyes had skipped past the two people he already knew, landing on the one he didn’t know—except by reputation.

  “She didn’t do it,” Caroline had said, stepping between her uncle and the terrified ex-caregiver. Speaking quickly but persuasively, she’d told Hitch what she’d learned from Federica. As he’d listened to the reasons why Caroline believed Federica had not murdered Grandma Kate, Hitch had gradually unclenched his hands. His jaw had relaxed.

  But Federica had not relaxed. She still blinked in cascading flutters. She twisted the strands of her hair with her finger in a manner that would no doubt create dreadlocks if allowed to continue unchecked.

  “I’m going to die. I’m a nobody and if I get killed, no one’s going to care,” she said.

  “I’d care,” Lani piped in from the rollaway bed, where she sat.

  “You are the key witness,” Caroline said, fixing Federica with her gaze. “You’re incredibly important. You’re the one who heard what Vizzi said. Your testimony will end this. Everyone is going to do everything they can to protect you.”

  Federica stopped twirling her hair around her finger.

  Her apprehensive green eyes held Caroline’s, unblinking.

  “But if that’s true, you’re important, too, right? I mean, you saw that hit man guy and you did those hacks and stuff and you talked to Vizzi and you found me. You’re going to have to testify, too.”

  Exhaling, Caroline looked away. She preferred not to think about the fact that the best-case scenario involved her testifying at a criminal trial. When she’d gone to law school, she’d planned to be on the other side of the cross-examination.

  To avoid answering, she turned back to her laptop.

  She’d logged into her private e-mail via a VPN server and found dozens of e-mails since she’d last checked. Some were from clients, wondering why she hadn’t responded to their calls. Some were from concerned friends. Some were spam. There was only one that needed to be answered immediately. Caroline’s father had written:

  I’m so glad to hear everything’s okay re: that car crash. Please let me know whether there’s anything I can do with the other stuff you’ve got going on. BTW, Lily feels horrible about what she said. She wants to talk to you when you get a free moment.

  Though they were just words on a screen, they touched Caroline. Her father knew she hadn’t resolved the Oasis mess yet—he’d have seen it in the newspaper if she had. Yet here he was, offering to help. That Lily was feeling bad was nice, too, though Caroline had no desire to talk to her stepmother quite yet.

  Will call when I can.

  She hit “Send.”

  If she survived the next twenty-four hours, she’d think about reconciling with her stepmother. Until then, she needed to remain focused on Simon Reed.

  Beside her hand, the burner phone rang on the desk.

  She met Federica’s eyes.

  It was time to go.

  Caroline chewed at her cuticle. The no-name gas station on the corner of Third and Butler gave her a bad feeling. Maybe it was the suspicious attendant who kept looking out the tiny window of the station at her. Maybe it was the dilapidated surroundings. The pockmarked concrete ground, covered in dirt and dust. Or maybe it was the fact that she was alone.

  She’d left Jake and Lani at the residence hotel with the laptop. And she’d left Hitch with Federica in the Eldorado parked a block away. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now she found herself wishing she’d kept Jake with her, at least.

  After another few minutes, an early-model Volkswagen came driving down Palmetto Street. When it reached the service station, it turned, bumping onto the uneven pavement. Silver beneath a layer of grime, the vehicle bespoke a salary somewhere south of what a lawyer could earn at a large firm. It came to a stop fifteen yards away from Caroline.

  Albert climbed out of the driver side door. He wore a suit.

  When Caroline had last seen him, they’d been seated back to back on park benches at Pershing Square. Now, she studied his stature. He wasn’t tall, but he held himself with a self-possession that gave him a presence that exceeded his physical mass.

  “How’s it going?” he asked as he approached.

  “Super awesome.” Caroline smiled to release some tension.

  “Sorry I’m late. I came straight from court as fast as I could. Don’t worry—my section supervisor’s got everything set up for us. As I expected, she wants to get the witness into protective custody as soon as possible. Speaking of the witness . . . where is she?”

  Albert looked around.

>   “Nearby,” Caroline said. “She’s with my uncle.”

  “Trust but verify, eh?” Albert’s voice held amusement but also disappointment.

  Caroline knew she had trust issues, but the present situation seemed like a completely reasonable time for them.

  A black-and-white police car pulled into the far end of the service station.

  Flinching at the squad car’s arrival, Caroline looked back at Albert.

  “The plan is for local PD to escort the witness to our offices,” said Albert as an officer approached.

  The newcomer wore the dark-blue uniform made famous on decades of television shows about Los Angeles police departments. The sharp crease down the side of his pants and the shiny badge told Caroline he was probably a rookie.

  “I’m Officer Charles Grady,” he said, extending a hand.

  Taking it, Caroline resisted the urge to ask where he’d be taking Federica. She knew he wouldn’t tell her. That was the whole point of protective custody.

  “You should come along with us, too,” Albert said, turning his attention back to Caroline. “Once we move on the suspect, things are going to happen very quickly. It’s going to be a full-on shit storm.”

  “Is that a technical term?”

  “Absolutely,” Albert confirmed, matching her smile.

  Caroline considered the offer of protection. After a week on the run, it was tempting.

  “How long will the witness be in the program?” Caroline asked, taking her lead from Albert. Apparently they were using euphemisms to avoid letting the local police know too much about the investigation. Probably a good precaution, Caroline decided.

  “Hard to know. Unless the suspect is a flight risk, we take our time putting things together and convening a grand jury,” said Albert, “and I don’t think this suspect’s a flight risk.”

  Caroline nodded her agreement. Simon Reed wouldn’t run. His latest project was the capstone of his career. And to make that project happen, he had to show up at meetings with redevelopment officials. Hearings with the city council. Press junkets. He’d only run if he thought he had no chance of stamping out the small fire Caroline represented to him. That he’d stamped out so many other conflagrations meant he probably felt confident about his ultimate success with her. He was a well-connected man with many ways of destroying his opposition.