“I want you to be honest with me.” Britt opened in her usual direct way. “Is the governor pressuring you to resign?”
Dex almost gave a sigh of relief. An easy question. One he could answer point blank. He turned to face her. “No. The governor isn’t pressuring me.”
“Then why—”
“I think the press conference made it clear.”
“Clear? The press conference was a fiasco.”
Dex folded his arms across his chest. If he had any hope of fighting Smythe’s manipulations, he needed answers. And if anyone would be straight with him, Britt would be. “Tell me the truth, Britt. Was it Jennifer Scott in my bed?”
“Yes.”
“Am I a suspect in her murder?”
“Officially? I suppose so.”
The tension in his shoulders deteriorated into crippling pain.
Britt held up a hand. “Relax, Dex. No one in the office thinks you murdered anyone. I doubt even the police really think you’re responsible.”
“I was looking for her. Before she showed up dead.”
“I know.”
“And another woman I was looking for, Connie Rasula, showed up dead up in Minocqua.”
She nodded her blond head. “You found her body.”
“So you’ve been briefed.”
“Of course I have. But that doesn’t mean I think you’re a murderer, Dex. The investigation is a formality. No one wants to look like they’re playing favorites. Not after Fitz took advantage of the situation the way he did.”
A cold feeling settled in Dex’s gut. Alyson. “I can’t wait to see what the press will do when they catch wind of the fact that Fitz’s daughter was with me when we found both bodies.”
Britt nodded. “I’ve heard that. And I imagine soon the media will, too. They’re going to have a field day, you know.”
Dex balled his hands into fists by his sides. Reporters would be all over Alyson, digging into her past, dredging up her father’s crimes. Their whole relationship would take on the appearance of some kind of sordid affair. And Patrick—
Damn Smythe. He’d found a whole new avenue for revenge, all right. A whole new avenue for making Alyson’s and his life hell.
“Don’t worry,” Britt said, her smile stiff with false cheer. “When all the evidence comes back from the labs, you’ll be cleared.”
“On page seven. Too bad I’ll be accused on page one.”
“True. But the fact is, you’ll be cleared. And this will all fade away.”
He wished he could be that certain. Smythe had done a masterful job of manipulating the situation so far. He was beginning to think the rapist-turned-murderer could mold any situation into whatever he wanted. “Let’s hope the evidence comes back soon. And that it tells the real story.”
Britt’s eyebrows lowered and she skewered him with her ice-blue gaze. “Do you care to clear up a few questions I have?”
The questions couldn’t be any tougher than the ones he’d already faced. Could they? “Shoot.”
“Andrew Clarke Smythe is guilty as sin, and you of all people know it. There has to be an explanation for this DNA test coming back a match. But the explanation is not that you railroaded him on a false charge. So what was all that hoopla about at the press conference?”
Dex gave a sigh, but the cause had nothing to do with relief. He should have known Britt wouldn’t buy the line he’d fed to the press. He should count himself lucky that half the A.D.A.s in the office weren’t lined up behind her, demanding the truth. “Let’s just say I have my reasons for resigning.”
“Reasons you aren’t going to share with me.”
“No.”
Britt lifted her chin, seemingly satisfied for now. But if Dex knew her, she wouldn’t let the subject drop that easily. She was probably just figuring out another strategy for rooting out the truth.
She leaned a slim hip on the edge of a chair. “The governor has asked me if I’d accept the appointment, Dex. He wants me to be the next interim D.A.”
Dex nodded. Resigning his office and who would fill his seat was the furthest thing from his mind now. He supposed learning one was a murder suspect tended to reshuffle priorities. “Congratulations. You’ll do a great job.”
“I don’t want the appointment, Dex. You’ve made a wonderful D.A. since Fitz died. You’ve turned the office around. You should be behind this desk.”
He shook his head. “We both know my political career is over. Even if I’m cleared of all wrongdoing tomorrow, I’ll never be able to win an election. People tend to remember scandal. It’s sexier than the truth.”
Britt’s lips straightened into a grim line. “You’re probably right. At least tell me why you resigned today. The real reason.”
Dex sighed one last time. It was no use. Britt was nearly as stubborn as Alyson. “I’m going through a tough time right now.”
She nodded as if to encourage him. “Because of Smythe’s release?”
“Yes. But that’s all I can tell you. Anything more and I’m afraid I’ll draw you into a mess you don’t want to be any part of.”
“Another scandal?”
He nodded. “A dangerous one.”
“Does it have anything to do with why Al Mylinski was shot?”
“Yes.”
Anger darkened Britt’s eyes. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Al was trying to help. That’s why he was shot. I’m not about to put you in that position.”
“I’m not a novice when it comes to handling dangerous situations, you know.”
Dex remembered. Britt had survived several attempts on her life tied to a case in the past. But that didn’t mean he was going to put her in harm’s way now. Not unless there was good reason. “If I need your help, I’ll let you know.”
The chirp of a cell phone cut through the room, staving off Britt’s inevitable protest. Dex looked around the room. Alyson’s purse perched on his desk blotter, her cell phone peeking out the top.
His gut clenched. Was Smythe making sure the press conference had gone off without a hitch? Or was he calling to taunt Dex about the fire in his house—and Jennifer Scott’s murder?
Bracing himself, he reached for the phone, punched the button and held it to his ear. “Yes?”
“Uh, I’m looking for Alyson Fitzroy.” A woman’s voice came over the line.
Dex glanced at the door. He wanted to talk to Alyson, too. He needed to. “This is Dex Harrington. If you’d like to leave a message for Alyson, I’ll be sure she gets it.”
“Oh, Mr. Harrington. She told me I could also give the results directly to you.”
“Results? What results?”
“I’m calling from the State Crime Lab. Alyson asked me to do some additional testing on a blood sample. She said to look for any substance that might be mingled with the blood.”
Dex’s pulse picked up its pace. He didn’t know Alyson had asked for additional tests. But he wasn’t surprised she was covering all possible avenues. “Did you find anything?”
“Yes. Something unusual, to say the least.”
Dex clutched the phone harder, his grip making the plastic creak. “What?”
“There seem to be traces of a tomato substance mixed with the blood.”
“Tomato substance?”
“Yes. It’s consistent with ketchup.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alyson wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the bathroom vanity for support. She hated that she’d had to duck out of the press conference before it was over, but she hadn’t had a choice.
The questions from the media whirled through her mind. She cringed at the thought of the stories that would no doubt appear on the six o’clock news and in the Wisconsin State Journal tomorrow morning. Suggestions that Dex’s resignation was linked to the mysterious fire. Suspicions that his search for Jennifer Scott led to her murder. Parallels with her father’s crimes and corruption.
And if they found out Alyson had be
en with Dex the whole time…
So exchanging looks with Dex, she’d slipped out a side door and into the bathroom to wait until the reporters had left. The voices beyond the rest room door had thinned and faded since. Now her problem was to get to Dex’s office without being seen. She needed to talk to him, to touch him, to make sure he was all right. And to make sure she was all right, too.
Her body still throbbed with the feel of his solid arms holding her last night after they’d escaped the fire. Her lips still tingled with his kiss. And though they hadn’t exchanged a word about the passion and tenderness that had flared between them, she couldn’t help but hope it had given them both the strength to get through what they had to do today.
Strength they both sorely needed.
She shivered and tried to push the image of Patrick from her mind. Dex said Smythe wouldn’t hurt their baby. But after his brutal slaying of Connie Rasula, the shooting of Al Mylinski, and now Jennifer Scott’s murder and the fire, she wasn’t convinced he would draw the line anywhere.
Andrew Clarke Smythe had made it clear he was dead set on destroying Dex. But it wasn’t until now that Alyson really felt he might succeed.
She focused on the quiet outside the rest room door. Now was her chance. She opened the door and peeked out. No reporters lingered in the halls or the conference room beyond. Slipping out of the rest room, she started in the direction of Dex’s office. And stopped dead at the end of the hall. There at the reception desk stood Maggie Daugherty digging through her desk and piling items into a cardboard box.
Alyson gritted her teeth and walked straight for the woman. Getting back to Dex’s office would have to wait. If Maggie knew anything about Smythe’s location, his plans, and, most of all, where he was hiding Patrick, Alyson wanted to know. If she had to, she’d strangle it out of the woman. “Maggie?”
“I’m awfully busy right now. Can it wait?” Maggie’s gaze shifted over the reception area as if she was looking for a way out.
Alyson wasn’t about to give her one. “If you want to talk here, that’s fine by me.”
Maggie’s eyes widened. She glanced at the secretaries and paralegals bustling around the office and shook her head. “This way.”
She led Alyson into a vacant office and closed the door. “What do you—”
“I want my baby.”
“Your baby?”
“Your brother kidnapped my baby. I want him back. And you are going to tell me where Patrick is. Got it?”
Maggie laughed. “If you expect me to believe he’s become a kidnapper of babies, you’re deluded.”
Alyson eyed the woman. She seemed confident. As if she was telling the truth. She couldn’t be. “Dex Harrington is my baby’s father. Smythe took Patrick for revenge.”
The smile disappeared from Maggie’s face.
“Just in case you didn’t know, your brother has also killed at least two women. And he tried to kill a police detective.”
Maggie shook her head. Her bobbed hair whipped against her cheeks. “You’re crazy. Andy wouldn’t do those things.” Her voice rang with conviction. Either the woman should be starring in Hollywood or she really didn’t believe Smythe capable of killing.
Alyson narrowed her eyes. “Like he wouldn’t rape women?”
She raised her chin in defiance, but she didn’t meet Alyson’s gaze. “He wasn’t guilty of that. The governor pardoned him.”
“And how do you think that came about?”
“Your test showed the DNA matched the sample from that recent rape attempt and the rapes Andy was convicted for. And Andy was in prison at the time of the recent rape. Dex put away the wrong man.”
What Alyson wouldn’t give to put her hands around the woman’s neck and shake her. Maggie was protecting her brother, that was certain. And Alyson had to break down the woman’s defenses. She had to get her to tell where Patrick was. Because Smythe had definitely escalated the stakes in the game he was playing. And she and Dex were out of leads. “Would the wrong man grab me by the throat, threaten me and shove my head into the edge of a table?”
“I never gave you permission to snoop in my house. You surprised Andy. He never would have hurt you otherwise.”
“Like he never would have hurt the other women? The women he raped?”
Maggie’s gaze shifted away from Alyson once again.
Alyson took a step toward her. “You can’t even look me in the eye. You obviously know he raped those women.”
Maggie’s shoulders slumped. She held up a hand. “He’s had a hard life. His mother beat him, did you know that? It’s only natural he would have a hard time with women. But that’s in the past. He’s learned his lesson, and he isn’t going to do that anymore. He promised me.”
“And you believed him?”
“He promised me on the life of the woman who raised him. He wouldn’t do that and not mean it. Besides, he was pardoned for those rapes. He can’t be tried for that ever again. That’s over.”
“It’s not over, Maggie. Not as long as he’s out there free. One of the women he murdered since he’s been out was Connie Rasula. Did he tell you that?”
Her body jolted with recognition at the name.
“He raped her, then strangled her. Dex and I found her body at her family’s vacation home in Minocqua.”
Maggie shook her head. “It wasn’t Andy.”
“And he shot Detective Al Mylinski while Al was asleep in his bed.”
“Andy couldn’t.”
“He could. And he did. And that’s not all. Last night he set fire to Dex’s house. Dex and I were almost killed. And the firefighters found a woman’s body in the master bedroom. It was Jennifer Scott, Maggie. Do you know her?”
Maggie gnawed the inside of her cheek. Apparently brother dear didn’t share the details of his day with his sister.
An ache of worry wrapped around Alyson’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. If Maggie was the only person Smythe confided in, she would know something of her brother’s actions. Wouldn’t she? He wouldn’t have kept her in the dark totally. “And your brother kidnapped my son. Dex’s and my son. I have to find him, Maggie. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt my baby next.”
The last of the color drained from Maggie’s face. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Call the Minocqua police department. Call the hospital and check on Al Mylinski. Watch the news tonight. I’m not lying.”
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”
“Tell me what you know. Please. Before he hurts my baby. Before it’s too late. Where’s my son?”
“I don’t know.”
“He just got out of prison. He would have needed help. He can’t be taking care of a baby all by himself.” Alyson’s pulse pounded in her ears. Unless he wasn’t taking care of the baby. Unless Patrick was already dead.
Pain seized Alyson, nearly doubling her over. Patrick couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. Alyson would feel it, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t she know?
She grasped Maggie’s arm. She’d shake the truth out of the woman if need be.
A knock sounded on the door. The sound had barely registered in Alyson’s mind before the door was pushed open and Dex stepped inside.
“There you are.” He looked from Alyson to Maggie, his gaze resting on Alyson’s grip on Maggie’s arm. “What’s going on?”
Alyson pulled a breath of air into her lungs. Thank God, Dex was here. He would help her get to the bottom of this. He would help her force Maggie to tell the truth.
Maggie pulled her arm from Alyson’s grasp. Her mouth flattened into a controlled line and her dark eyes hardened with resolve. “Nothing but a bunch of lies. Lies I’m not buying into.”
Dex swung the door wide and allowed Britt Alcott into the room. He was so serious. So intense. And behind him, Britt’s elegant face was sharp, as well.
Fear seized Alyson like a strong hand. Her knees felt weak. “What happened?”
Dex pulled his
gaze from Maggie and looked into Alyson’s eyes. “I got a call from the crime lab. It was about some tests you asked them to perform.”
Alyson allowed herself to breathe, scooping oxygen into her hungry lungs. She’d feared the worst, that something had happened, that the police had found Patrick, that he was—
She cut off the thought. She couldn’t let herself think that way. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to function.
She pulled herself up and took a deep breath. “Did they find anything in the blood?”
He nodded. “Ketchup.”
“Ketchup?” she repeated. A cold realization stole over her. “Of course. Ketchup. As in little foil packets ideal for transporting small amounts of blood. As in John Cohen.”
Dex’s gaze bore into her. “Exactly.”
Although she and Dex had tossed around the suspicion that John was involved, she’d never wanted to believe it. She didn’t want to believe it now. “John helped Smythe smuggle blood from the prison.”
Maggie took a step toward the door. “If you don’t need me anymore, I’m going to finish packing up my things. Please pass my resignation along to the next district attorney.”
“Not so fast,” Dex said.
Behind him, Britt barred the door. A head taller than Maggie, Britt looked down her straight nose. Regal and blond, she looked more like Scandinavian royalty than the hardworking assistant district attorney she was. “I’m the next D.A. And I need a word with you, Maggie. As soon as Dex and Alyson are done here.”
Maggie looked from Britt to Dex to Alyson. “If you have evidence John Cohen helped Andy, why do you need me? Why don’t you grill John about the things you say Andy has been doing?”
Alyson watched the fear race over Maggie’s face, pieces falling into place in her mind. She could still picture John Cohen at the brew pub, grabbing ketchup packets from his briefcase, ripping them open and squeezing them onto his burger and fries when the waitress had forgotten to bring the condiment to his table. “John didn’t help Smythe. He didn’t mean to, at any rate.” She glanced at Dex, looking for his reaction.
Claiming His Family Page 12