by Jana DeLeon
“Not unless it was an open marriage. I still have a thing for strawberries as well.”
“Cheater.”
“At least it’s not with a salad.”
Jackson laughed. “So what do you have planned for the day?”
“Invoices, probably. Unless I hear from Jenny that she’s changed her mind.”
“You think she will?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. If she’s really determined to move on then maybe not, but I got the impression from Marisa that this might be a temporary feeling.”
“Makes sense. It’s hard to just wake up one day and completely change your way of thinking, especially about something so important and when you’ve been doing it a certain way for so many years.”
“True. What about you? Are you still on the Reynolds’s case? Or did the chief put you and Grayson on traffic duty?”
“Don’t say that too loudly. It might give him ideas. And yeah, as far as I know, Grayson and I are still on Reynolds, but I have a note from the emergency room doctor suggesting I take a day off.”
“Are you?”
“Doubt it. But it’s nice to have a fallback in case my total lack of sleep catches up with me. Besides, I’m sure we’ll be dealing with more fallout from the LeBlanc case as well. We probably won’t get much of a chance to dig into Reynolds’s murder today.”
“Were you getting anywhere?”
“Not really. Other than verifying that Reynolds and Caitlyn were definitely involved, we’re no closer to answers than we were before.”
“He had something to do with her disappearance,” she said. “I’d bet money on it.”
Jackson nodded. “Or he knew who did it. Either way, he was culpable enough that someone killed him for it. I think—”
Jackson’s cell phone interrupted them, and he grabbed it from the counter, frowning as he checked the display. “It’s Grayson. They probably shorted us a couple of ass-chewings yesterday and want to make sure we don’t miss out.”
He answered the phone.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Grayson said. “Garrett Trahan was murdered.”
“What?” Jackson clenched the phone. “When?”
“Last night in his parking garage. A tenant found him this morning on his way to work. Since I entered his name into our case log yesterday, the chief called me personally to give me the good news.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. What the hell is going on, Lamotte? I know we missed something but what?”
“I don’t know but we need to figure it out. The bodies are piling up.”
“And so is the chief’s blood pressure. Are you at home?”
“No. I’m at Shaye’s.”
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. We need to get down to the crime scene before the chief blows a gasket.”
Jackson disconnected the call and shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Shaye asked.
“Someone killed Garrett Trahan last night.”
“What?”
“In his parking garage is all I know. Grayson is on his way to pick me up. We interviewed him yesterday over the Reynolds case, and the chief is fit to be tied that another body turned up on our watch.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Neither do I, but I’m going to figure it out. Sorry, but I have to run.”
“We didn’t launder your work clothes.”
“I’ll get Grayson to stop by my apartment so I can change. I’ll just go have a quick shave before I leave here to save the time.” He jumped off the stool and headed for the bathroom.
“I’ll wrap your Danish and coffee to go.”
“Thanks.” He hurried to the bathroom and grabbed a spare razor to give his face a quick pass. To quote Shakespeare, “something is rotten in the state of Denmark.” They’d missed something. All three of them—him, Grayson, and Shaye—and that was saying a lot as very little got past any of them.
Even though he knew it would piss her off if he admitted it, Jackson couldn’t help but be a little happy that Jenny had pulled Shaye off the case. He knew a cleanup when he saw it. And whatever was going on, he didn’t want Shaye in the middle of it.
23
MARISA RUSHED into the emergency room, completely frantic. “Rick Sampson?” she practically yelled at the nurse at the desk.
The nurse nodded and waved her through the doors. “Dr. Potter wants to speak to you. I’ll take you back to him.”
“My husband?” Marisa asked, choking on the last word as she hurried through the doors.
“He’s critical, but I’ll let the doctor explain,” the nurse said as they hurried down the hall. She tapped twice on a door and poked her head inside. “Dr. Potter—Mrs. Sampson is here.”
The nurse opened the door and motioned Marisa inside. An older man with silver hair rose from a desk and extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Potter. Please have a seat.”
“Can I see my husband?”
“In a minute, but I wanted to prepare you. Your husband sustained serious injuries in the accident. Several broken ribs and a broken femur and both his wrists. He also has swelling on his brain. His leg needs surgery to be set properly, but unfortunately, his heart is too erratic to risk surgery right now. And the swelling is a concern as well.”
“But he’ll recover, right?”
“I’m sorry, but I simply don’t know. His condition is critical and barely stable. I’m afraid all we can do right now is wait and see how his body reacts.”
Marisa’s hand flew over her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Are you all right?” Dr. Potter asked. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No.” Marisa rose from the chair. “I’d just like to see my husband.”
Dr. Potter nodded, and Marisa could see in his expression how serious the situation was. He didn’t think Rick was going to make it. He refused to take away all hope because there was always a chance, but Marisa could tell by the look he gave her that it must be slim.
Dr. Potter guided her down the hall and into a room. Rick was in a bed in the middle of the room, tubes running from his body, most of which was wrapped with bandages. His face was swollen almost beyond recognition, both eyes completely shut and already showing signs of bruising. Small cuts covered his skin.
“The windshield shattered on impact,” Dr. Potter said. “The engine broke loose and shoved the dashboard into the driver’s area. He was already in cardiac arrest when air transport picked him up. The paramedics worked on him all the way to the hospital.”
Marisa crept up to the bed and reached over with her hand to touch one of the few unmarred spots on his arm. He was so still. If not for the machine forcing his chest to rise and fall, she would have thought he was already gone.
“I don’t want to leave,” she said.
She expected an argument. It was the emergency room and Rick was critical, but Dr. Potter simply gave her a sympathetic nod.
“I’ll have the nurse bring you a chair,” he said. “Is there anything else I can answer for you?”
“No. Thank you.”
“If you need something, call the nurse. I’ll be on duty for another six hours. I’ll instruct the nurse to provide you with a sedative if you feel you need it.”
Marisa nodded but didn’t respond. She didn’t need a sedative. She was already numb.
She stood there, touching her husband’s arm and trying to imagine her life without him. She’d thought about it before, but not in this light. Not with Rick dead. Never that. No matter her issues with her husband, she still cared about him, maybe even still loved him. And there was no argument at all about what a great father he was. Maya adored him.
She choked back a cry. What was she going to tell their daughter? What if he didn’t make it?
“Mrs. Sampson?” The nurse who’d helped her earlier entered the room, pulling a chair. “This isn’t the most comfortable, but we don’t usually have people staying in rooms on this end of the hosp
ital. I’ve called maintenance to see if they can get you a recliner from the other wing.”
“Thank you. This is fine.”
“If there’s anything I can do, just press that button. I’ll be making rounds in about ten minutes. I’ll bring you a glass of water then.”
Marisa barely heard the woman speaking, she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts. Why was this happening? Ever since she’d taken Jenny to New Orleans to hire Shaye Archer, it seemed as if the dominoes had begun to fall. But she had no idea why. So many odd and horrible things, but none of them appeared to connect to each other aside from the thin thread of Caitlyn’s disappearance.
This, of course, had nothing to do with Caitlyn. It was simply a horrible accident with even worse timing, but Marisa couldn’t help but feel that everything was piling up in one giant, dreadful mess. She frowned. Maybe this was all related. Rick was normally an excellent driver. Maybe her continued support of Jenny’s emotional outbursts had exhausted Rick to the point that he’d made a mistake, or worse, fallen asleep. He had stayed home sick yesterday, and that was unusual. Maybe he’d needed to stay home and rest another day.
She placed her arms on the bed and lowered her head into them, letting out a deep breath. There was no point in second-guessing everything now. She needed to focus all her energy on what to do moving forward. Her parents could keep Maya so she could stay at the hospital, and once Rick was released, he’d need in-home care. There was no way she could take off from work for weeks without the owner replacing her, so it might be necessary to quit altogether. Without either of them producing income, it made things difficult, but with the small inheritance she’d gotten from her grandmother and maybe a little help from her parents, it wasn’t impossible. She could probably cover four months or so of living expenses. The medical costs would be a whole other ball game. Rick had insurance, but she knew they’d still be on the hook for a lot of the costs, especially if he needed medical home care.
Don’t panic.
She rose back up and drew in a breath, then slowly let it out. Worst case, they could move in with her parents and let the bank take the SUV. The car was paid for but also totaled. With the insurance money they got for it, she could buy a cheap sedan. Enough to get her back and forth to work until things improved. It wasn’t what anyone planned for their life, but with her parents’ help, she could make it work.
Unless he dies.
She shook her head. No. That was a place she wouldn’t go. Not unless she had no other choice. It was going to be hard enough to explain to Maya why Daddy wasn’t going to read a story to her tonight at bedtime. She couldn’t conceive of explaining to her daughter the alternative. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Her head pounded, making her eyes hurt. As soon as the nurse came around with that water, she’d take a couple aspirin. In the meantime, she’d just sit quietly with her eyes closed and maybe the feeling of nausea would pass.
A couple minutes went by, and she heard footsteps entering the room. She looked up, expecting to see the nurse, and was surprised to see a police officer standing right inside the doorway.
“Mrs. Sampson?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I speak to you for a minute in the hallway?”
Completely confused, she pushed herself up from the chair and headed out of the room. The officer who’d called her had said it was a single-car accident and that no other person had been injured except Rick. She knew a fence and tractor had been damaged, but surely the owner wasn’t so crass as to send the cops to hound her for insurance information right now.
“Mrs. Sampson,” the officer said, “I need to ask you a few questions about your husband.”
“Okay,” she said, still confused.
“Did he have any enemies that you’re aware of?”
“What? No. I…why would you even ask that?”
“He’s an attorney, correct? Sometimes people don’t take kindly to the service they provide, especially when they’re the losing party in a lawsuit.”
“My husband didn’t work with criminals. He mostly dealt with property line disputes and estate planning. I’ve never heard him mention a problem with a client. Again, why are you asking this? Rick wasn’t drunk. He would never drink and drive. And I’m sure he had things on his mind—we all do—but that doesn’t mean this accident was due to anything but a horrible mistake.”
The officer frowned. “I’m afraid it wasn’t an accident.”
Marisa felt the blood rush from her face. “What?”
“The brake line on your husband’s car was cut. That’s why he couldn’t stop.”
“Cut? You can’t be…you’re sure?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but two mechanics and the owner of the shop where we had it towed all agreed. The line wasn’t worn in any way. Just sliced clean through.”
Marisa shook her head. It wasn’t possible. Someone had made a mistake.
“Maybe it happened during the accident,” she said. “Maybe something from the tractor cut it?”
“There was brake oil in your driveway. He probably didn’t notice when he left. You mentioned he might be distracted?”
“He was running late,” Marisa said, her voice barely a whisper. She couldn’t believe what the officer was saying. It couldn’t be true, could it? But why would he be here asking her questions if he wasn’t sure?
The officer gave her a sympathetic nod. “I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, especially given your husband’s condition. But if you think of something, please give me a call. This is my cell phone. Call anytime.” He handed her a card. “I’m going to talk to the sheriff about putting an officer on your husband’s room. At least until we sort this out.”
She took the card but couldn’t even form any words. A police guard on Rick’s room? What in the world? Nothing he’d said made any sense. She watched as he walked into the waiting room, then the crux of everything he’d just said hit her and she choked back a cry.
Her car.
Rick had taken her car because she was parked behind him. He hadn’t been the intended target. She had.
She rushed back into Rick’s room as a wave of dizziness passed over her. She barely managed to grab the arms of the chair and sit before she collapsed. The room tilted and began to spin, and she lowered her head to her knees and closed her eyes, trying to stop the whirling room.
It couldn’t be. Why would anyone want to kill her?
Caitlyn.
She raised back up and sucked in a breath. Everything that had happened had only one common component. Caitlyn Taylor. But why her? Because she’d provided Jenny with the money to launch an investigation? But Jenny had called it off. Last night, she reminded herself. So whoever was behind this might not have known the investigation had ceased. Maybe he’d figured with Marisa out of the picture, the money to pay for Shaye would go away. The worst part was he would have been right.
Then a second thought charged through her mind like a lightning bolt, and she barely choked back a scream before beginning to sob. What if Maya had been in the car with her? Was someone really so evil that they would risk killing her child? But even before her mind formulated the question, she already knew the answer. Whatever was going on, he’d managed to hide it for six years. Something about the new investigation had him spooked, and he was making sure that no one would be left to talk about things again.
She leaned on the hospital bed, her arms resting on the edge, and closed her eyes again. Her heart beat so loudly in her temples that it sounded like a drum inside her head. What did she do now? Was she still in danger? Or would he stop when he found out the accident had police attention? If he knew Shaye had been dismissed from the case would it be enough to stop him? Or would he figure that as long as she was alive, there was a risk of the same thing happening all over again?
Her head hurt so much she thought she was going to be sick. She desperately needed the aspirin. The waiting room had a ladies room. If she couldn’t locate the
nurse, she’d grab the aspirin and get some water from the sink. With the rate her stomach was churning, it was probably a good idea to head for the bathroom anyway.
She started to rise, but Rick stirred. His eyes flew open and he tried to bolt up, then let out an agonizing cry when his battered body stopped him. She jumped up and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t move,” she said. “You were in a car accident, and you’re hurt really bad.”
He looked momentarily confused, then his eyes flickered with recognition. “Couldn’t stop,” he whispered.
Marisa’s eyes filled with tears and she began to cry. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“No. Too fast.”
He thought the accident was because he’d been going too fast. “The brake line on the car was cut. Someone was trying to hurt me.”
Rick’s eyes widened, and she could see the fear in his expression. “How bad?”
Her breath caught in her throat. He was asking how bad his injuries were. What was she supposed to tell him?
“Let me call the doctor,” she said and reached for the button.
“No!” He grabbed her wrist with more strength than she would have thought possible given that his own wrist was broken. “Listen to me.”
“Okay.” The look on his face was so scary, almost deranged.
“The bartender hid her body.”
24
MARISA GRIPPED the rail on the hospital bed, unable to breathe. Rick’s words had come out chopped, and she could tell he was straining to speak at all. But he wasn’t making sense. Maybe it was the injury or the drugs.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“He wanted to tell…feeling guilty. Couldn’t…I couldn’t let him ruin everything. Had to protect you and Maya. Sorry…I’m so sorry.”
Horror rushed through Marisa, and she clutched the side of the bed to remain upright. “What are you talking about? What did you do? Did you kill the bartender? Oh my God, Rick!”
“So…very…sorry.”
Rick’s hand dropped from her wrist, and his head slumped to the side. The heart monitor flatlined and an alarm went off. Medical staff rushed inside the room, and Marisa felt one of them pull her away from the bed and lead her into the hall. She stood there, listening as the doctor gave orders to the staff, trying to save her husband. The seconds ticked by like hours, and all Marisa could focus on was the straight line on the monitor.