“Why don’t you walk me through it, Ms. Taylor? Tell me what happened,” he said smoothly, giving the outward indication that he already knew all about it.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Taylor paused and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “I’m not even sure if I caused it. I heard about it the next day.”
“Start from the beginning, Ms. Taylor,” Donny said. “What accident and where?”
“On State Road 20.”
“And when did this accident occur?”
“Last Friday night.”
Donny turned toward the mirrored glass and made a circling motion in the air with his index finger. Officer Meeks apparently recognized the gesture, leaped to his feet, and swiftly exited the observation room.
“Last Friday night?” Donny echoed.
“Yes,” Taylor confirmed.
“And what makes you think you caused the accident?”
“It happened about the same time I passed a car a few miles before County Road.”
“And what time was that?” Donny asked.
“About six thirty,” Taylor said.
“And which direction were you traveling?”
“East . . . back toward Franklin.”
“From?”
“My brother’s house.”
“So you took I-17 to your brother’s house and I-301 back?”
“Yes,”
“Okay, so tell me what happened on State Road 20,” Donny said.
Taylor paused and took a breath. “There was one car ahead of me. They were going thirty miles an hour in the fifty-five. I know it’s a no-passing zone, but I was in a hurry.”
“So you passed anyway?”
“Yes. As I did a truck came over the hill in the opposite direction.”
“Then what happened?” Donny asked.
“The truck flashed its high beams, and I got back into my lane. I did it kind of fast,” Taylor said, and then added, “But I didn’t hit anybody.”
“You didn’t hit the truck or the car you passed?”
“No. I checked the next day after I heard there was an accident. No dents or —”
A quick knock on the interrogation room door cut Taylor off midsentence.
Officer Caleb Meeks entered the room, handed Donny a couple sheets of paper, and exited as quickly as he had entered. Seconds later the rookie officer rejoined Penelope and Gabriel in the observation room.
Donny scanned the papers. “So, I’ll ask again, Ms. Taylor. . . . What makes you think you caused the accident?”
“I think I may have cut that car off. Because, I remember looking in my rearview mirror. After I passed the—” Taylor took a ragged breath. “I never saw the car come over the hill.”
“Why didn’t you stop?”
“I-I was in a rush . . .”
“Well you may very well be at fault, Ms. Taylor,” Donny said, reading from one of the sheets of paper. “According to this accident report filed by the Florida Highway Patrol, the driver of a silver Honda Accord said a light colored SUV passed her on the left and then swerved back into the eastbound lane. The driver of the Honda Accord was temporarily blinded by the high beams of a blue Chevy Tahoe traveling westbound and coming over the grade. The driver of the Honda Accord drifted into the westbound lane, sideswiping the oncoming Chevy Tahoe.”
“It also says here, the driver of the Honda Accord remembered the SUV having a driver’s side taillight out.”
Taylor clutched her hands together in her lap and stared at the floor, slowly shaking her head. “I’ve been meaning to get that fixed. I just haven’t had enough time . . .”
“The bad taillight isn’t really the issue here. A five-year-old girl was seriously injured in that accident, Ms. Taylor. Luckily her injuries were not life threatening.”
“I know,” Taylor said, wringing her hands. “I called Grace Memorial Hospital Saturday when I heard about the accident. I feel awful about not stopping.”
Penelope watched Taylor intently. The woman seemed genuinely remorseful, but any feelings of pity Penelope might have had were tempered by the fact that the SUV in the surveillance video also had the driver’s taillight out.
Taylor was at the hospital at the time of the shooting.
“At this time Ms. Taylor, I’d like to advise you of your rights . . .”
“Why? Am I under arrest?”
“You did just admit to fleeing the scene of an accident.”
Taylor nodded and slumped in her chair.
As Donny read Taylor her Miranda rights in the interrogation room, a faint digital rendition of The Beatles song, Help! sounded in the observation room.
Penelope glanced over her shoulder at Officer Meeks.
“It’s not mine,” Meeks said, raising his hands in mock surrender.
“Sorry, it’s mine,” Gabriel said, pulling the offending cell phone out of his pants pocket. He glanced at the caller ID and said, “I have to take this.”
Penelope nodded.
“It’s pretty cool that an old guy knows about novelty ringtones,” Meeks said to Penelope after Gabriel left the room.
“It’s not a novelty,” she told him. “It’s a song.”
Meeks gave her a blank stare.
“By The Beatles.”
Meeks shook his head, and Penelope spared a moment to mourn the new generation’s lack of musical taste before turning her attention back to the spectacle unfolding in the interrogation room.
After Taylor acknowledged that she understood her rights and did not wish to have a lawyer present, she asked, “What happens now?”
“Well, Ms. Taylor, we can start with you being honest.”
“I told you everything, Detective.”
“No, you haven’t, Ms. Taylor. You claimed to be in Jacksonville Friday night, yet you just admitted to causing an accident near Franklin that same night.”
Taylor looked like she was on the verge of tears. Her makeup was smudged, and her hair was coming out of its tight up-do. “But isn’t that why I’m here? Because of the accident? Isn’t that why you wanted to look at my truck?”
“No, Ms. Taylor . . . it isn’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ms. Taylor, what were you doing at Grace Memorial Hospital last Friday, about one o’clock?”
CHAPTER 77
Donny’s straightforward approach was a surprise. Penelope had expected him to dance around the subject for a while, but he was cutting to the chase.
“I told you. I wasn’t at Grace Memorial Hospital last Friday,” Taylor said.
“You don’t go and chat with the nurses from time to time?”
“I do. Sometimes. I know a few of the nurses.”
“But you’re saying you weren’t at Grace Memorial Hospital on Friday, March twenty-second? For a doctor’s appointment perhaps? Or to catch up on who’s dating whom? Or to discuss the latest offerings in comfortable white shoes?”
Penelope couldn’t see Donny’s face, but she knew that he was pulling his confused-cop routine. He used it when he had solid evidence against someone, and they were lying to his face.
“No, I told you. I had the day off and drove to Jacksonville.”
“To visit your brother . . .”
“That’s right.”
“And what did you do while you were visiting your brother?”
“What did I do?”
“It’s a simple question, Ms. Taylor. What did you do while you were visiting your brother?”
“Nothing, I just visited. I told you.”
“I think you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“What were you really doing that day, Ms. Taylor?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I was—”
“Visiting your brother,” Donny finished. “Yeah, I got that. But you’ve already lied about spending Friday night at your brother’s . . . Why should I believe you now?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“That’s not what the evidence is telling me.”
“What evidence? What are you talking about? I already told you about the accident, and there isn’t any evidence because I didn’t hit anyone.”
Donny turned toward the mirrored glass and motioned to Officer Meeks again.
“This oughta be good,” Meeks said as he left the observation room.
A minute later he emerged in the interrogation room carrying a large laptop. Taylor became agitated when she saw the computer, and her powerful shoulders tensed as she gripped the sides of her chair.
Gabriel came back into the room and usurped Meeks’ seat behind Penelope.
Penelope turned and asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” he said in a dismissive tone. “It’s just a patient who’s been calling me all day. Marital troubles.”
“Do you need to leave? It’s okay, I think Donny’s about to get a confession.”
“You think so?” Gabriel mumbled.
Penelope looked at him strangely. Taylor’s been lying this whole time. Why couldn’t Gabriel see that? Was she missing something?
“Play the video,” Donny said in the interrogation room, nodding at Officer Meeks.
The rookie officer angled the laptop screen toward Taylor and pressed play on the video player. For some reason, Donny was showing Taylor the footage of the robbery from inside the pharmacy. Why would he show her that footage first? Why not start with the incriminating lobby and parking lot footage?
Taylor watched the video silently, her lips pursed. She hardly moved. Only the rise and fall of her breathing kept her from looking like a statue.
Penelope braced herself as the video showed Denise Wilson shooting Jacob.
That same moment, Taylor twitched in her chair. Her head lowered and her eyes darkened. She appeared to be growing more agitated and seemed particularly upset about the attack on Jacob.
“Why are you showing me this?” she said. “They’re hurting Jacob. I don’t want to see this.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Officer Meeks must have played you the wrong video. Get it together, won’t you, Meeks?” Donny continued his confused-cop routine to gauge Taylor’s reaction to the footage of the actual crime.
Smart move. Taylor was visibly shaken.
Donny nodded to Meeks, who clicked a couple of buttons with the mouse, and the four camera angles appeared on the screen.
Taylor squinted at the video. Her demeanor relaxed when she saw the grainy footage. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” she asked with a shaky laugh.
Penelope repressed the urge to giggle as she watched the nurse squinting at the computer screen, looking as if she were trying to read the last line of an eye chart.
Donny pointed at the relevant square on the screen. Despite the poor quality of the video, it was obvious that the woman standing in the reception area at Grace Memorial Hospital that day was Genevieve Taylor. Meeks clicked another button and isolated the video feed that showed Taylor’s distinctive silhouette. Another click and the screen split. The parking lot footage appeared on the opposite side of the screen. Now the computer was showing Taylor in the lobby on one side, and her truck following the suspects on the other side.
Donny leaned in close, just like Taylor, and he pointed at the screen. “Isn’t that you, Ms. Taylor?”
“Certainly not,” she replied.
“It sure does look like you.”
“You can’t see that woman’s face. It could be anyone.”
“But not you?” asked Donny. “Okay. But that is your silver Toyota 4Runner . . . is it not? With the same burnt out taillight.”
Taylor opened her mouth as if to speak but then closed it firmly.
What could she possibly say? There she was in grainy, black and white, at the time of the robbery. And that was her truck with the burnt-out taillight driving by just afterward. There was no denying it. Why wasn’t Donny pushing it?
Donny pulled up the footage of the robbery from inside the pharmacy, paused the video, and pointed to the computer screen. “How do you know Kevin Scott and Denise Wilson?”
“I don’t know them.”
“They were patients at the Franklin Clinic.”
“A lot of people are patients at the Franklin Clinic,” Taylor said, trying to maintain an even, natural voice.
“What about from Grace Memorial Hospital?”
“I don’t work at Grace Memorial Hospital.”
“I’m aware of that, Ms. Taylor. But we already established that you do go to Grace Memorial Hospital on occasion . . . to talk about shoes.”
“Yes. But I’m not there on a regular basis.”
“But you were there that day.”
Taylor sat silent, her jaw clenched.
“Here’s what I think, Ms. Taylor . . . I think you, Mr. Scott, and Ms. Wilson were all partners. You would have been valuable. You had the inside knowledge.”
Gabriel wheeled his chair next to Penelope’s. “Detective Greene thinks Taylor was a partner in the robbery?”
Penelope leaned forward in her chair. She was shocked. “He never discussed this theory with me.”
Was Donny keeping her out of the loop on purpose, or was he playing a hunch?
“That’s not true!” Taylor said, denying her involvement.
“You were their lookout, weren’t you? It was your job to keep an eye on the lobby while they robbed the pharmacy.”
“No!” said Taylor, losing her battle to remain calm. “I’ve never seen those two before.”
“What happened? Did they cut you out of your share?”
Taylor gripped the ends of the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “I said—”
“What was your cut anyway?” Donny interrupted. “How much did they pay you?”
Penelope watched as Taylor’s whole body began to shake.
Donny leaned forward in his chair, his voice becoming casually conspiratorial. “Was it your usual fee? What they paid you for the other robberies?”
“I wasn’t involved in this or any other robberies . . .” Taylor said between clenched teeth.
“Was shooting Dr. Gordon part of the plan?” Donny asked, probably hoping to get a reaction.
Penelope’s stomach clenched at the thought.
“No!” Taylor shouted across the table and with a quick push of her leg, she flung her chair backward, crashing it into the cinderblock wall. She stood upright and slammed her balled fists against the metal table. “That’s not how it happened!”
Gabriel wheeled back from the two-way mirror and Penelope was on her feet in a ready stance at the same instant—fully prepared to charge into the interrogation room, if needed. Her hand instinctively went to her waist for her gun that wasn’t there.
Officer Meeks moved to restrain Taylor, but Donny waved him off as he stood to meet Taylor’s glare. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me how it did happen, Ms. Taylor?” Donny said calmly. “The truth this time . . .”
CHAPTER 78
Helpless without her weapon, Penelope stood and watched Genevieve Taylor pace the interrogation room, while Donny gave the impression of being cool and calm as he sat on the edge of the table. How could Penelope have misjudged Taylor all these years? Jacob even longer. This was a truly frightening woman—not only had she lied about being at Grace Memorial Hospital that day, now she looked like she was preparing to take on the entire Gainesville police force.
Detective Donny Greene continued to press the nurse on her involvement. “Tell me what happened, Ms. Taylor. We know you were at Grace Memorial Hospital. You were involved in the robbery. It’s right there on video. Did you kill Kevin Scott?”
Taylor continued pacing, mumbling to herself. “He said this would prove my love . . . I had to prove my love . . .” She seemed to be in her own world.
“He? He who?” Penelope asked aloud.
“Ms. Taylor! Did you kill Kevin Scott?”
“It wasn’t like that . . .”
Gabriel rose from his chair, clenching his phone in his fist, and Penelope shot him a quizzical look.
“It’s the office,” he mumbled, walking toward the door.
“You’re leaving now?”
“It’s an emergency. Stop by my office when you wrap up here. That’s where I’ll be,” he said and abruptly left the room.
Penelope was torn between following Gabriel to make sure he was okay and watching the rest of the interrogation. She made a mental note to stop by his office later that evening and then she turned her attention back to Taylor. Who was telling her to prove her love and to whom?
“Ask her who ‘he’ is . . .” Penelope said to the empty observation room. “Ask her who she did this for.”
It took all of her willpower not to rush into the interrogation room shouting, “Who is he? Who do you love?”
“Ms. Taylor! Answer the question!” Donny barked. “What was your involvement in the robbery?”
“None. I had none. It wasn’t like that . . .”
Donny changed tactics. He sighed audibly, and said, “Tell me what it was like then.” He walked around the table, righted the chair that Taylor had thrown, and then he took a seat on the other side. Speaking in a calm, conversational voice, he said, “Have a seat, Ms. Taylor. You know, I’m trying to help you here. I can only do that if you talk to me. Tell me the truth.”
Taylor gave Donny a confused look, stared at the chair for a moment, and then sat, clutching the sides of the metal chair with both hands.
“Maybe it wasn’t your fault. Maybe you’re protecting someone. Am I right?”
Taylor didn’t say a word.
“I think I’m right,” Donny continued. “Was Dr. Gordon involved? Is that who you’re protecting, Ms. Taylor?”
“No. Jacob is a good man. He isn’t involved in this.”
“The suspects were both patients at the Franklin Clinic. That means he knew them.”
“A lot of people are patients at the clinic. We treat them and they go. We don’t know them.”
“Yeah, but they are there and you talk to them. Alone in a little room . . . nice and private. Any kind of conversation could happen. Any kind of plans could be made. Ms. Wilson had an appointment last Monday.”
Another Chance (A Penelope Chance Mystery Book 2) Page 22