by Adrianne Lee
The woman laughed gleefully. Control. That was where the power was. Men knew it. Learned it before kindergarten, she suspected. Well, she’d learned it now. “Oh, yeah. I am a force to be reckoned with.”
The woman glanced up from the paper and across to the brass-framed photograph of David. She jammed her hand through her hair as a sigh rushed from that tiny part of her that felt sorry for him. He was so obviously distressed about Eden. The woman laughed again. Bitterly this time. Mostly David deserved every agonizing minute that he suffered; it was just payment for his involvement with that Jezebel.
He’d even found her a high-clout lawyer—some guy from Arizona whom the press likened to a young Gerry Spenoe with his fringed buckskin jacket and black shirts. Seemed he was as clever as Mr. Spence, too.
A tiny worry threatened to push past her confidence. She shoved it away. Clever or not, that lawyer wasn’t going to get the case thrown out at the evidentiary hearing tomorrow. The evidence was too strong.
The woman reached into the vase of white roses behind David’s photograph, drew one out and inhaled its delicate fragrance. Not only had the police found the murder weapon in Eden’s possession, but—as luck would have it—her fingerprints were also on the gun.
“Dammit Kollecki, I don’t care if you did find the murder weapon in Eden’s van!” David’s throat constricted at the anger and frustration boiling inside him. “The damned thing belongs to Valerie! Eden and she have lived in the same house for seven years. She could have touched that gun any time during those years. You have no way of telling how old fingerprints are.”
“Calm down, Dr. Coulter” Kollecki looked up from his position behind his desk, his dark eyes narrowed like those of a coiled snake. “Or this meeting is over.”
“How am I supposed to calm down when someone keeps leaving these on my doorstep?” With his chest heaving as it did after a five-mile jog, David slapped another Ziploc bag—with yet another rose inside—down onto Kollecki’s desk. Just looking at it filled his gut with icy fear. His first instinct had been to grind it to a pulp, but then he’d realized the significance of it. “This was on my doorstep this morning.”
Kollecki’s tense demeanor relaxed a modicum. He contemplated the rose, then eyed David with suspicion. “What’s that make—two now?”
“Yes!” Was Kollecki finally getting it?
“So what? No one died this time.”
Impotent rage cracked like a whip inside David. “You’re not a stupid man.” He struggled to control his temper, but his voice rose an octave. “Why do you refuse to see the significance of this? The killer thinks she’s eliminated Eden as effectively as if she’d murdered her.”
The expression on Kollecki’s face reminded David of one he’d often given to overwrought patients. It jarred him to his toes. If he didn’t calm down, Kollecki would listen to nothing he had to say. But he hadn’t had a calm bone in his body since the day Eden had been arrested.
Kollecki angled back in his chair, evidently taking David’s momentary silence as an attempt at composure.
“Contrary to some of the crap you see on TV or read in books, Doctor, we don’t arrest people without due cause.” Kollecki planted his elbows on his desk and began ticking off points with his fingers. “First there was the divorce, which legally—thanks to the prenuptial agreement she signed—would leave Mrs. Prescott without much more than the few dollars she had coming into the marriage.”
“Eden doesn’t care about money.”
“Maybe not for herself. But Prescott was dropping her sister and her from his medical-insurance policy, and we both know that meant her sister would not be able to pay for the kidney transplant she so desperately needs.”
David swallowed over the lump in his throat.
“Second, Valerie Prescott reported her gun missing three weeks before the murders. Someone in that house had to have taken it. Third—”
“You didn’t even read the report she filed about the gun, did you?”
Kollecki puffed out his cheeks.
David thumped his desk. “If you had, you’d know the gun was stolen from her car. With the news full of car-jackings, Valerie started carrying it in her Mercedes’ glove box. She bragged to everyone about it, including my office staff. Anyone could have taken it.”
Kollecki didn’t even blink. “Third, Mrs. Prescott cannot account for her whereabouts at the crucial time. Motive, means and opportunity. She did it.”
“No. She didn’t,” David said in a voice as tight as his hands at his sides. Heat climbed his neck. “I can account for her whereabouts at the crucial time.”
Kollecki sighed impatiently. “I’m listening.”
“She was with me until after nine o‘clock: ’
“Nine o’clock, huh?” The detective steepled his fingertips. “That’s interesting. You live on Mercer Island, right?”
David nodded.
“And Smalley and Prescott were killed at her house—which is what? Max, some twenty, twenty-five minutes away?” Kollecki smirked. “More than enough time to drive from your place to the murder scene.”
David dropped into the chair across from Kollecki. He was getting nowhere. He had always known it was physically possible for Eden to have committed the crime, had even struggled with doubts over her guilt, but dammit, she couldn’t have left the roses. Especially the second one—she was in jail. And the roses had to mean something.
But shouting would never convince Kollecki of what David knew deep down inside: no matter what the evidence was, no matter how strong Eden’s motives were, she could not kill another human being. He took several deep breaths, reaching into that part of himself where he’d stowed his ability to reason in a calm and forthright manner. At length he said, “Kollecki, how can I convince you that Eden isn’t the kind of person who commits murder?”
Kollecki’s eyes held pity. “Do you realize, Doctor, you said the exact same thing about Rose Hatcher?”
Almost word for word, David recalled, feeling sick to his stomach. Was he wrong about Eden as he had been about Rose Hatcher? He considered Detective Tagg’s suggestion about a copycat killer. Was there one? Or was Rose Hatcher actually innocent? Would an innocent woman confess to murder? He gripped the arms of the chair with whitened knuckles.
“It was a nice try, Doc.”
David glanced sharply at Kollecki. “What?”
“You know...the roses. Trying to raise reasonable doubt for your girlfriend.”
David shook his head. “No, I—”
“It wouldn’t have worked. She did it.”
No. The word died in his throat. Why waste the breath? Kollecki’s mind was set as hard as concrete. Hell, he pities me. Well, I don’t need his damned pity. He bit down his angel. Maybe he could make use of Kollecki’s pity. “Can you arrange for me to see Eden?”
The detective pressed his lips together, considering. David heard his own breath, noisy in the heavy silence. “It wasn’t that tough a question, Kollecki.”
“Why don’t you cut your losses?”
David’s temper rose another notch. “Today.”
“Maybe after the 3.5 hearing.”
David guessed a 3.5 hearing was the evidentiary hearing that was set for the following day at the King County Courthouse in downtown Seattle. He intended to be present while lawyers for both sides argued the evidence in this case. Worry nagged him. Would the judge decide there was enough hard evidence to go to trial?
“That’s tomorrow. Why make me wait another day?”
“The hearing was rescheduled for this morning.”
“What?” David started up from the chair. “When?”
“You’ll never make it, Doc. It started two hours ago. Probably over.” Kollecki gestured to someone who was apparently standing outside his office peering in through the windowed door, waiting to enter. “In fact, it must be.”
David shifted around as Detective Tagg entered the office, leaving the door agape. He was dressed in a suit and tie and w
ore a dejected look on his narrow features. Had Tagg been to the hearing in Seattle?
Kollecki frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“You aren’t going to like it. The judge threw out our case against the Prescott woman”
David’s heart leapt into his throat. Did that mean what it sounded like it meant?
“No!” Kollecki was on his feet. “Not because—”
“Yep.”
“Damned rookie!” Kollecki slammed his fist on the desk. His face was as red as his hair. He glared at David. “Looks like you’ll be able to see your girlfriend at home this afternoon.”
David was too stunned to do anything but stare back. Kollecki stormed out of the room. David staggered to his feet, afraid to hope he was hearing right. “Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on? Is Eden free?”
“Yes.” Tagg sighed. “The judge ruled her Fourth Amendment rights were violated in the procurement of the gun.”
Free. Eden was free. He was afraid to believe it. “But you had a search warrant—how were her rights violated?”
Tagg loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. “We found the gun under the driver’s seat of her van, but because the van was locked, we had no right to enter it without permission from her—unless the warrant so stated, which it didn’t.”
Kollecki returned, his face still an unhealthy crimson. “In other words, since the gun is the primary evidence linking Mrs. Prescott to the crime, and since it was procured in an illegal manner, it cannot be used as evidence against her.”
“Accordingly all charges were dropped.” Tagg’s bushy gray eyebrows twitched as he noticed the rose for the first time. He glanced questioningly at his partner, then back at David. But neither satisfied his unspoken curiosity.
David felt as if the weight of the world had been wrenched from him. Joy ran through his veins, sang in his ears. He all but shouted, “I told you she was innocent.”
Kollecki’s eyes narrowed into thin black slits. “Don’t misunderstand, Doctor. Mrs. Prescott hasn’t been found innocent. There’s no statute of limitations on murder. When we discover new evidence, she can and will be arrested and charged again.”
“There’s no evidence to find, Kollecki. Why don’t you follow up on the roses?”
“Roses? Plural?” Tagg stepped to the desk and grasped the Ziploc bag. The rose inside was not crushed as the other had been. He gazed at David.
“Yes,” David confirmed. “A second one. I found it this morning. While Mrs. Prescott was in custody.”
“What’s it mean?” Tagg asked his partner.
Kollecki scowled at David. “Nothing.”
David growled in frustration. Kollecki had convinced himself Eden was guilty, and that was that. He would stick to this case like a hound after a rabbit, never believing he was on the wrong scent. “You’re making a grave mistake, Kollecki.”
David started toward the door, hesitated and glanced at the more reasonable Tagg. “You’ve got an open mind. Try and talk some sense into your partner... before another innocent woman is murdered.”
With that, he left.
At long last, she was free. But his admonition to the detectives haunted him. Eden was the innocent woman he was worried about. With the police determined to see her as the killer instead of a possible next victim, she was in dire jeopardy. Somehow he had to discover who was leaving the roses.
But first he had to warn Eden.
EDEN LOWERED her weary body into the bubble-fifled bathtub. She breathed in the sweet-scented steam rising from the water, relishing the privacy of her own bathroom, a privacy she thought she’d never know again.
She had arrived home to news cars and trucks—bearing logos from local and national newspaper, radio and television stations—camped in front of the house. The second she stepped from her attorney’s car, reporters besieged her. The lawyer hustled her through the maze, spouting something about his client being innocent and the judge having the good sense to uphold justice.
Justice? Eden almost laughed. But the situation wasn’t funny. The stress of this ordeal showed in Beth’s drawn face and her weakened condition. How much more could she take? Ariel had confided that her condition was worsening, that Beth was running out of veins for the dialysis. If a donor wasn’t found soon...
No. She would not think negatively. She was free. She ought to be celebrating. That did pull a laugh from her. Celebrating indeed. She’d run straight in here and heaved up the small amount of food she’d managed to get down this morning. Oddly her stomach was still upset, an awful queasiness akin to the nauseous sensation she felt whenever she attempted boating.
In some distant recess of the house, she could hear the telephone ringing. The answering machine would pick it up. She didn’t care who it was—maybe “Hard Copy” or “Inside Edition” again. As if she’d talk to any of those people. She reached for the bath sponge, lathered it with perfumed soap and, starting with her feet, scrubbed with all her might.
The media had already tried and convicted her, smug in their predictions of the verdict. They hadn’t gotten the outcome they’d wanted. Neither had she. Pulling in a deep breath, she sank completely beneath the water’s surface. The silence was as blessed as if she’d stepped into a world free of chaos, as if she were sheathed in a warm cocoon.
But as she emerged and took in a gulp of air, reality wrapped her in its chilly cloak. She was innocent, but the judge hadn’t verified that innocence. He’d condemned her to being thought of forever as a murderer.
She turned on the faucet, dipped her head under the clear water, rinsed the soap from her hair, then shut off the faucet and scraped the dripping hair back from her eyes. What was she going to do? How could she go on in this community, this state, being scorned, gossiped about, stared at, thought guilty of the heinous crime of double murder?
She rested her head against the bath pillow and stared at the burgundy-and-gray mosaic design on the tile above the faucets. Who had murdered Peter and Shannon? Who had planted the gun in her van? Cold fear landed like a chunk of ice in her unsettled stomach. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard to keep the nausea at bay.
She’d had six long weeks to think about who was the real killer. Time and again, these deliberations brought Valerie to mind. The gun was hers. Planting it in the van would have been easy for Val. But why would she kill Peter, the brother she loved to distraction?
Eden blew out a wobbly breath. Just how mentally stable was Val? Why had David counseled her? Had it had something to do with Peter? Eden considered. Val’s love for her brother had been a bit overboard. And unrequited. By falling in love with Shannon, Peter had once again rejected Val. Had that been enough to send her over the brink of sanity?
Eden set the sponge aside. That such a thought could even occur to her meant that Beth and she had to leave this house. But where could they go? Out of this town. This state. She sat straighter in the tub, feeling suddenly as trapped as if she were once again behind bars. The transplant. Beth had to be near the hospital in case a kidney became available.
Until then, she was trapped.
But the first moment after surgery that Beth was well enough to travel, they would disappear, even change their names.
What about David?
The thought hit her like a blow to the chest, an ache so strong it felt as if a hole the size of a fist had pierced her heart. She whispered, “Oh, David. I do love you.”
And right now she needed him so.
The soft sound of the bedroom door opening and closing reached through the open bathroom door, startling Eden out of her reverie. She jumped. Water sloshed the edges of the tub. Goose bumps lifted on her warm skin. She’d given Valerie, Ariel and Beth strict instructions not to disturb her. No matter what.
Had one of them ignored her orders? Or had some enterprising reporter breached their security? Then again, maybe it was the killer. Once more her suspicion of Valerie loomed. Fear climbed into her throat. Her gaze riveted on the
half-open bathroom door, she reached for a towel and started to stand.
“Eden, it’s me. David.”
Relief flooded through her, bringing the first pleasant quickening of her heart in weeks. She’d never been so glad to hear someone’s voice. She stepped onto the bath mat and wrapped the huge towel around herself, calling out, “Give me a couple of minutes.”
Quickly she dried and dressed in a silk pantsuit, then began combing her hair. It needed cutting. She blanched at the thought of calling Cheré for an appointment. With a sinking heart, Eden realized there was probably not a salon in town she could patronize without being recognized.
Anger flared inside her, burning away all the self-pity she’d been feeling. Dammit. She was innocent. There had to be some way of proving it. But every possible course of action that occurred to her as she smoothed on lipstick seemed dangerous and foolhardy.
If there were only herself to consider, she might try to draw her nemesis out into the open. But she couldn’t put Beth at risk. Or David. The only thing that made any sense was to reiterate David’s and her decision not to see one another anymore.
With a heavy heart, she left the bathroom. David, in white Dockers and a royal blue polo shirt, was a breath of fresh air in this room that reflected Peter’s brooding personality and stilted tastes. He stood beside the dark pine dresser gazing at the framed photograph displayed there—a gathering of the Montgomery clan when she was still a child. It was all that remained of her family besides Beth and herself.
“Hello, David.” Despite her mind-set, she wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him and lose herself in the security of his embrace. Instead, she strode to the chaise longue and laid her hands on its arched back.
He lurched around, a jerky, nervous movement. He looked as tired as she felt. Then he smiled, and a joyful light filled his eyes. “It’s so wonderful to see you here instead...”
The sentence trailed off, and she knew he’d been about to add instead of in jail. She shifted from one foot to the other. “I was going to call you. To thank you... for the lawyer.”