“Mr. Carmichael said you needed to start a defense fund?” Britt asked.
“Well, first he said I should just say my prayers and hope for the best but I told him that I wanted to actually do something for my dad. So, that’s when he said I should save my money for the defense fund and he would do the rest.”
Britt nodded, feeling a kind of grudging admiration for Kevin Carmichael. He had not just tried to placate Zoe, and brushed off her pleas as childish. He had actually tried to answer her. And also, protect his own interests.
“Plus, I figured my troop could write letters to our representatives in Congress and stuff. Or maybe to the judge.”
Britt thought about Norman Dietz, who didn’t even want his child to play with Zoe, and she had little doubt about how such a proposal would go over with the Girl Scout leaders. But despite the rebuff she had suffered today, despite all she had suffered, Zoe seemed to have no doubts about the potential success of her plan. In a way, Britt felt envious of her. Zoe was so sure in her belief. So certain that her prayers would be answered. Britt could not remember ever feeling that way
“What do you think about my plan?” Zoe asked.
“That sounds great,” said Britt.
Zoe settled in beside her, needles clicking. Britt opened the book. She tried to block the thought of Dean Webster, and that encounter between them, out of her mind. She tried not to think about a fire that might have been set to please her, by a guy whose ambition outweighed his common sense. Most of all, she tried not to think about Alec Lynch, who obviously had not tried to kill her. And how bitterly she had accused him.
Tonight, after Zoe went upstairs, she would call Kevin Carmichael and tell him. She wondered if she had brought this about with her quest for vengeance. Was it as much her fault as Dean’s? Had she given him the idea that she would reward him for implicating Alec, whether it was true or not? She never thought of herself as that kind of person. Still, she had inspired Dean Webster to commit a crime on her behalf. I’ll get Dean to admit to it, she thought. I’ll make it right.
Britt took a deep breath. “All right,” she said. “Where were we?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dean turned out of Medford Road on two wheels and careened down the darkened, icy streets of Coleville in the direction of the log house that he rented in the woods. That bitch, he thought, as he drove along, ignoring his speedometer. She had as much as asked him to do it. Offered to bring him into the network if he only helped her to get what she wanted. And now. Now she was all indignant, pretending not to know anything about it. And of course she wouldn’t help him. That was what happened when women got power. They held onto it and weren’t about to share the wealth. Especially not with a man. Especially not with a man who was young and a stud. They were threatened by a guy like him. He reminded them of everything they were missing in life. The only fucking they wanted to do was to fuck their way to the top.
On the other hand, there were young women, who wanted him the minute they set eyes on him. There was no challenge to it. No thrill, no…mystery. He’d had so many of them, but it always left him feeling empty and sad. The fact was, and he had only lately been able to admit it to himself, that the only satisfying encounter he’d ever had was with a man. And not just any man. Most men did nothing for him. He didn’t even notice them. But Peter was different. Peter messed with his mind.
I have to get to Boston, Dean thought. And, when he got there, he knew he had to be somebody. He had to arrive in glory, so that Peter Darien would be proud of him. Proud to introduce him to all his snooty, art-crowd friends. And I was almost there, Dean thought. It seemed like it was so close.
Dean rounded another curve with a screech and felt the tires start to lose purchase along the icy road. Oh shit, he thought, trying to remember how to pull out and keep from spinning. Somehow, miraculously, he managed to regain some traction and continue on his way. Every time he thought about the evening he wanted to kick himself for having blurted it out about the fire. What if Britt told the cops? What if they believed her? Not only would he never make the networks, he’d lose his gig at this rinky-dink station as well. And be disgraced in Peter’s eyes. Everything he’d worked for would go down the drain.
He’d been dreaming of being somebody important since he was a kid, pushed around by a bullying father who mocked everything he tried to do. Now, he had a toehold on the good life, and nobody was gonna take it away from him, he vowed. If the cops asked about that fire, he didn’t know anything about it. It wasn’t like it was some big deal. He set it outside the cottage, in plain view of everybody who was in the main house. There was no chance Britt was going to be hurt in that fire. He had stayed nearby, calling Jeff to meet him there in the newsvan. Telling him he heard about it on the scanner. He’d taken every precaution, and it turned out exactly the way he planned. Alec Lynch, who’d been throwing threats around, had been blamed. And so what? He was guilty of worse than that. He had killed his own wife.
Still, Dean cursed himself for having mentioned it to Miss Network Television. She was gonna play the ethical journalist and turn him in. Don’t worry, he thought. All it’s gonna be is her word against mine. That’s all it’s gonna he, he told himself. And you’re the celebrity around here. She’s nobody around here. But he felt sick at his stomach, and it was hard to breathe when he thought about the questions and the accusations. Calm down, he told himself. Get over it. She can’t hurt you. And just when he’d talked himself into feeling a little safer, and a tiny bit better, he heard the whine of the sirens, and, looking in his rearview mirror, saw the lights coming up on his rear end. Shit, he thought. She did it. She called them. They were coming after him. That bitch, he thought, stepping on the gas. That fucking bitch. He pressed down on the gas, wanting to shake them, wanting to get away. The car hit an icy patch and began to hydroplane on the lonely, tree-lined road. He could feel the wheel under his sweaty palms losing its authority as the car seemed to achieve a will of its own. Things started to spin around him and he glanced at the speedometer as the car went into its slow twirl on the patchy ice. Too fast, he thought. And then he saw the tree.
Britt went to bed early, but slept badly, plagued by guilty anxieties, and the wail of sirens on the night wind. She tried not to toss and turn too much, for fear of waking Zoe. But Zoe seemed to sleep peacefully, her own conscience utterly clear. The next morning, as Britt was in the kitchen putting breakfast on the table, there was a knocking at the front door.
“Zoe, get that will you?” she cried.
She heard Zoe run to open the door and then the murmur of voices. In a moment, Zoe appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Guess what?” she cried.
Britt turned and looked at her. Kevin Carmichael, the shoulders of his black cashmere topcoat dusted with snow, stood behind Zoe. In his right hand he held up a long, brown cylinder tied with a blue ribbon. “For you,” he said, holding it out to her. Britt peered at it for a moment, and then recognized what it was.
“Vicki had her baby?” she asked, accepting the cigar from Kevin’s outstretched hand.
“How’d you know?” Zoe said, disappointed that her newsflash had been scooped.
“Its a cigar,” said Britt. “People give them out when babies are born. A boy, I take it.”
Kevin nodded. “Kent Thompson Carmichael,” he said proudly. “Born at five o’clock last night.”
“Oh Kevin, that’s great,” said Britt. “I’m really happy for you. Everybody doing okay?”
“Yeah, everybody’s fine. After all that worrying, Vicki actually went into labor yesterday afternoon so she delivered him the normal way. And he’s fine. He’s great!”
“How’s Vicki?” asked Zoe.
“Vicki’s doing fine,” said Kevin. “It’s a strange condition she had. Once the baby’s born, the blood pressure returns to normal, right away. It’s the oddest thing. Anyway, she’s done her part, and I’ve got the papers.” He patted the breast pocket of his coat. “It’s all legal now.
Signed, sealed and delivered. We brought our baby home this morning.”
“Caroline must be thrilled,” said Britt.
“She is. And she’s utterly exhausted. I made her promise me she would get some rest today. When she gets tired she gets really stressed out.”
“And what’s happening with Vicki now?” Britt asked.
“Taking the money and splitting,” Kevin said wryly.
“I’ve got to wrap up my scarf so I can give it to her,” said Zoe, running from the room.
Kevin turned to Britt. “I got your message, but it was late when I got home last night. What’s up?”
Britt grimaced. “I thought about calling the cops, but I figured I would talk to you first. It’s about Dean Webster. You know, the TV reporter?”
“Oh yeah, I heard,” he said.
Britt looked at him in surprise. “You heard?”
“About the accident,” he said.
Britt shook her head. “What… ?”
“You didn’t know?” Kevin suddenly looked wary.
“Know what?” Britt asked, clammy with dread.
“There was a terrible accident last night, Britt. Dean Webster drove his car into a tree. They had to airlift him to the trauma center at Mid-State Medical.”
“Oh my God,” Britt cried.
“Oh yeah,” said Kevin. “It’s touch and go. He’s critical.”
Chapter Thirty
Britt’s mouth fell open. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Yeah. Late last night. Didn’t you hear the sirens?” Britt was about to say no, and then she remembered. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
“He was speeding out on the state highway. The cops were after him because they’d gotten a tip that he was drunk. Anyway, he lost control of the car and slammed into a tree.”
“Oh my God,” Britt said again. She saw spots in front of her eyes, and felt as if she was going to faint. She gripped the countertop.
Kevin shook his head. “Haven’t you had your TV on? It’s been all over the news.”
Britt shook her head. “I didn’t want Zoe to have to hear anything about Alec… I don’t believe it. He was here last night.”
It was Kevin’s turn to be surprised. “Dean was?”
Britt nodded, reliving Dean’s visit in her mind’s eye. “He was drunk. I tried to take the keys but he wouldn’t let me. So, I called the police.”
“Oh,” said Kevin, understanding. “Well, you were only trying to help. You did what you could.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Britt, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. Her legs were weak beneath her.
“Does this have anything to do with what you wanted to talk to me about? You said in your message that you wanted to discuss something about Alec’s case?” Kevin asked.
“Kevin, he admitted to me…Well, not in so many words, but… Dean as good as admitted to me…He set the fire at the Bayberry cottage.”
‘What?” said Kevin. “Why? Why would he do that?”
Britt shook her head.
Kevin walked over to the sink and ran a glass of water. He handed it to Britt. “Here, drink this. You look like you need it.”
Britt sipped the water, holding the glass with an unsteady hand. “I’m afraid,” she said. “I’m afraid he was trying to do what he thought I wanted.”
“By burning down the place where you were staying?”
“By implicating Alec,” she said. “He knew I thought that Alec was guilty of setting fire to the house. Killing Greta. He was hoping I would be grateful. That I would be his entree to the network news. I had no idea, really…”
“Wow,” said Kevin.
“I know. I feel so guilty. Believe me, I never suggested any such thing. He got this into his head, and I had no idea…”
Kevin sat down opposite Britt, frowning. “Well, but, in a way, this is very good. For my client. I mean…”
“I don’t know if he’s going to admit it, Kevin. Even if he pulls through this.”
Kevin chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “Is there anyone else he might have told? Anyone else who might know?”
“I have no idea,” said Britt. “I don’t know anything about him. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Kevin looked at his watch. “That’s all right. Let me see…They helicoptered him last night to the trauma unit at the Mid-State Medical Center,” said Kevin. “Maybe I’ll drive down there. To the trauma unit. Maybe I can talk to him. Is that all right with you?”
“Sure,” she said. “I guess so. I feel so guilty. I feel like I caused his accident.”
“Nonsense,” said Kevin briskly. “Now you listen. I’m going to get this straightened out. You just sit tight.”
Britt, still somewhat numb from the news, walked him to the front door. “Thanks Kevin,” she said. “It’s awfully good of you to go down there, today of all days. And thanks for coming to tell us. About the baby.”
“Happy to do it,” he said. “Enjoy your cigar,” he said with a wink.
Britt watched him as he walked jauntily toward his car. Once he was behind the wheel he honked the horn briefly. Both Britt and Zoe, who was descending the stairs toting a gift bag, waved at him. As the car disappeared into the whirling snow, Britt shook her head. She thought about Dean, who had seemed so cocky and at the same time so…clumsy. He had been willing to sacrifice her safety, her life even, to try to advance his career. And all the while she had trusted his information, believed he was trying to help her.
“Can I call my dad?” Zoe said.
Britt frowned, and looked at her niece. “No, Zoe, you’re not allowed to call him at the jail.”
“After school can I go see him?” Zoe asked.
“I think so. I’ll have to check on the visiting hours,” Britt said absently. “They have a very strict policy.” Now, what do I do when I see Alec? Britt thought. Do I have to apologize for blaming him? Apologize, when he is still charged with killing Greta? Part of her wanted to avoid seeing him altogether. Maybe she could wait outside while Zoe went in to visit by herself.
The phone rang and Zoe cried, “I’ll get it.”
Zoe murmured into the phone, hung up and then turned to Britt. Her eyes looked tragic. “It was Vicki, calling from the hospital. She wanted to say good-bye. She’s leaving today.”
“Leaving the hospital?” Britt asked.
“Leaving the hospital and leaving town,” Zoe cried.
“Wow, that was quick. How’s she feeling?” Britt asked.
“She sounded kind of down.”
I’ll bet, Britt thought. She’s just given birth, and given away her baby. “I guess that’s to be expected,” Britt said. “Well, I know you two are friends. I know you’re going to miss her.”
“I didn’t even give her my present yet,” said Zoe. “I wanted to bring her my present.”
“I’m sure she’s anxious to put this whole experience behind her,” said Britt.
“She told me to mail it to her.” Zoe, obviously still concerned about her present, looked mournfully at the address she had scribbled down on a piece of paper. “I won’t even get to see her open it. Why does she have to leave so soon?”
“Well, it’s a difficult time,” said Britt. What she didn’t say to Zoe was that now that they had the baby, the Carmichaels were no longer concerned about Vicki. It had to be an empty feeling, Britt thought, in more ways than one. “Tell you what. If you want, I’ll stop up at the hospital and give her the scarf after I take you to school.”
“I don’t see why she couldn’t wait for me,” said Zoe.
“She probably just wants to get back to normal. To her old life. She was always saying that, you know.” Britt stared outside at the falling snow. “So, do you want me to bring her the scarf?”
“I guess so. I wish I didn’t have to go to school,” said Zoe.
Britt understood that as much as Zoe wanted to give Vicki the scarf she had made, she also wanted to avoid going to school. And Britt was tempted to let her. It had to
be difficult, facing all those kids. But running away from it was no solution. Zoe had to face her classmates, sooner or later. “You need to get back to school, Zoe,” Britt murmured. “You’d better go get ready.”
Zoe clutched the bag all the way to the school and stared anxiously out the window. When Britt pulled up in front of the school, Zoe turned to her with fear in her eyes. “Can’t I come to the hospital with you, Aunt Britt? It won’t matter if I miss one more day.”
Britt felt sick at heart at the sight of Zoe’s misery. She sighed, wavering in her resolve. Why not let her skip it today? she thought. What difference did it make if Zoe missed one more day of school? Suddenly there was a thud on the passenger-side window, and a face appeared there. A mittened hand wiped the snowflakes off the glass. Zoe started, and turned to look.
“Kayley!” Zoe cried, and quickly opened the door, abandoning the gift bag and clambering out of the car, delighted to be with her friend again. The two girls walked up the snow-covered path to the front door with their heads together, and Britt watched them go, her own heart considerably lightened by their rapprochement.
There was a powdery inch of new snow on the ground by the time Britt arrived at the hospital. She parked in the visitors’ area which had already been cleared by snowplows. Obviously, Britt thought, this was a town that was always ready for a snowfall.
She picked up the gift bag containing the brightly colored scarf and walked into the wind, toward the hospital. She opened the front door and approached the information desk.
The white-haired woman at the desk smiled. “Who are you looking for?” she asked.
Britt hesitated, realizing that she didn’t know Vicki’s last name. She’d heard it, but had forgotten it. “Oh,” she said, “this is embarrassing. I’m delivering a gift. Um, she just had a baby last night. Her first name is Victoria.”
The woman consulted her computer. “Let me see. I’m checking maternity…Manfred, Victoria?”
Suspicious Origin Page 22