Lying With Strangers

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “I think he may be starting to have cold feet about this commitment thing.”

  “About marriage, you mean?”

  “Whenever I bring the subject up lately, he closes down. And then he usually finds some reason to be irritated with me.”

  Len had been married twice before, so Diana could understand his reluctance to make a mistake a third time. It was also the reason she’d cautioned Allison to go more slowly. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with a man who’d had two failed marriages, but it did make Diana wonder what part he’d played in the breakups. Having spoken her mind to Allison about this so many times in the past, however, Diana wasn’t sure what she could add now. Still, she tried. “Things have moved pretty quickly between you two. Maybe he’s reacting to that.”

  “I know you think I’ve rushed into this. I do listen to you. But I’m so tired of being alone. I want to be married again.”

  “Len’s good for you,” Diana told her. “And it’s clear he does care about you, even if he’s been snippy of late. But marriage is a big deal. I think he’s probably feeling a little nervous.”

  “He’s changed,” Allison said wistfully. The she sighed and brushed the air with her hand. “Enough about me and Len. What are the police going to do about Roy and the Saxton murder. Since they can’t arrest Roy or have a trial, they just drop it?”

  Diana took a bite of éclair. It was creamy and sweet, but she had trouble swallowing it. All those popular fad diets that never worked—maybe despair was the answer to losing weight.

  “Joel Richards, the reporter from Littleton, thinks the police will probably close the case. He says they’ll be happy to put it behind them, and he seems to know the players fairly well.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Joel seems less willing to see it wrapped up, though. He’s young and eager for a big story. Plus, his father knew Brian and Miranda. I think that connection resonates with him.”

  “You mean he’s not sure Brian killed the girl?”

  Diana’s conversation with Joel earlier that day hadn’t provided the kind of answers she was hoping for, but it had given her a different perspective on Brian and the events leading up to Miranda Saxton’s murder.

  “There’s no solid evidence that ties Brian to the murder, just lots of circumstantial stuff. I guess if Roy were alive and the case went to trial, it would be up to a jury to decide. A good defense attorney might shake things up.”

  “Len told me the only reason Brian didn’t stand trial before was that there wasn’t a body. The cops were sure he was involved. I guess now—” Allison stopped abruptly and put her hand on Diana’s. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to rub it in. We can stop talking about this if you want.”

  “No, talking is good for me. Besides, Joel said pretty much the same thing. Brian was the last person known to have been with her. A vacationing couple saw them on the beach around midnight. They were having a rather heated argument about something. Brian didn’t return home until after six the next morning. And now there’s a charm of Brian’s that was discovered with her remains.”

  “The theory was that she rejected his advances,” Allison said, “and Brian got angry. That’s what Len remembers.”

  “Something like that, although Joel seems to think Miranda was as interested in Brian as he was in her. Of course, Joel wasn’t there that summer.” It felt odd to be talking about Brian, a young man from twenty years ago, rather than Roy, her husband. But it was also less personal.

  “There was a big beach bonfire the night Miranda disappeared,” Diana continued. “Mostly college kids who’d been working at the resorts that summer, but Brian was there, too. And Miranda, who was vacationing with her parents at some private retreat. Joel’s cousin was there and told him a scuffle broke out around midnight. Some jerk was taunting Brian because of the silver charm. It had been his mother’s. Some of the other guys joined in. Brian took a couple of swings, bloodied a few noses and the like.”

  “They thought he was a sissy or something?”

  “Joel didn’t know the details, but you know how kids can be. When they decide to pick on someone, the reason doesn’t really matter.”

  “Still, none of it sounds like Roy.”

  “He was younger then,” Diana reminded her. “And in some ways, it does sound like Roy. He had a pretty quick temper when it came to bullies.”

  When Jeremy was five a couple of the bigger boys on his T-ball team had started heckling him whenever he missed the ball. Roy came down on them so hard Diana had had to physically step between Roy and the boys. And he’d been equally hard on Jeremy the time Jeremy called one of his classmates “a big fat poop.”

  “Did Roy talk much about his mother?” Allison asked.

  “He told me both his parents were dead, which is actually true. His father—Brian’s father—was the sheriff in town. He committed suicide after Brian was arrested.”

  “God, how terrible. Talk about being weighted by guilt. Len told me Brian was a bit of a hothead—actually, he insinuated it was worse than that—but still, can you imagine how you would feel in that situation?”

  “It must have been terrible for him,” Diana agreed. Instinctively, she found herself defending Roy.

  “That reminds me,” she said. “The reporter wants to talk to Len. Do you think he’d be willing?”

  “I don’t see why not, now that it’s out in the open. He no longer has an excuse for being a wimp and not speaking out.” Allison was obviously more than a bit irked by what she saw as Len’s duplicity.

  The phone rang and Diana checked caller ID, thinking it might be Chloe. It wasn’t. “It’s Alec Thurston, the DA,” she told Allison. “Mind if I take this?”

  “No, go right ahead. I’ll clean up.”

  Diana moved into the family room, receiver in hand. “Hello, Alec.”

  “How are you doing, Diana?”

  “Fine.” She knew he wasn’t calling to inquire about her well-being, and she found herself on edge, waiting expectantly.

  “I’m sorry to always be the bearer of bad news.” Thurston hesitated a moment. “It’s about Jamal Harris, the kid who claimed he had an in with Roy.”

  “Right, I remember.”

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. He now claims Roy hired him to kill someone.”

  “What? That’s absurd.”

  “That was my initial reaction, also. I figured he was desperate to come up with some story that would give him bargaining leverage. He said he was going to meet Roy the Sunday Roy was shot, in the city. That would explain why Roy was there and why he didn’t tell you he was going.”

  Why was Thurston giving this creep any credence at all? “Jamal Harris could have read about the shooting,” she said hotly. “It was all over the news. He put two and two together and came up with a good story, and Roy isn’t around to refute it.”

  “Don’t forget the calls I told you about,” Thurston said. “One from Harris’s phone to Roy’s cell. And then later that same afternoon, he called Roy’s office.”

  The phone message: Where are you man? You’d better not be messing with me. She felt weak in the knees.

  “It’s going to come out,” Thurston said, “whether Harris’s claim eventually proves to be true or not. His attorney is going to go the publicity route if we don’t agree to cut a deal.”

  “But it makes no sense,” Diana insisted. “Who did Roy supposedly want killed?”

  “Harris didn’t know. They were going to cover that on Sunday.”

  With a sinking sense of dread, Diana thought of the money missing from their savings accounts. Was this what Roy had done with their hard-earned savings? Hired a hit man? “How much did Roy pay him?”

  “Nothing yet. Harris claims the bargained rate was five grand up front, ten more when the job was done. That might account for the five thousand Roy had on him when he was killed.”

  Fifteen thousand to hire a killer. Only a fraction of what Roy had withdrawn.


  But maybe this wasn’t the first time Roy had hired someone to commit murder.

  Diana couldn’t believe what she was thinking. It wasn’t possible. But nothing she’d learned about Roy in the last few weeks was possible.

  “Was Roy supposed to meet Jamal Harris at the convenience store?”

  “According to Harris, Roy was supposed to get the address of the meeting place from the store clerk, who was a friend of Harris’s. Harris didn’t want Roy to know the location of the meet ahead of time because he was worried Roy would set him up for some sort of sting. He didn’t want anyone but Roy showing up. There’s a good chance Harris is blowing smoke, but I wanted to warn you before you heard it on the news.”

  “On the news?”

  “I’m sorry, Diana. Like I said, Harris’s attorney feels the publicity will give him leverage.”

  These horrible accusations were going to be made public. It wasn’t fair. Diana gripped the back of a chair to steady herself. “The guy who shot Roy and the clerk, Trace Rodriquez, was he in on it?”

  “Harris says no, and there’s nothing we’ve come up with on Rodriquez that would tie him to it. He was a lowlife, but not big-time. I think he happened to hold up the store where Harris’s friend worked.” Thurston paused. “It’s ironic, because if Harris had told Roy straight out that he’d meet him at Dewey Park, Roy would never have gone to the store and been shot.”

  “Dewey Park?”

  “It’s a scrappy piece of city-owned property across from Harris’s sister’s place.”

  “Near Bayo Vista?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Oh, my God,” Diana said. “My God.” She held onto the back of the chair to steady herself.

  “I know it sounds bad,” Thurston said, “but as I told you, it’s going to be a hard story to prove. Impossible, frankly. And it flies in the face of what people knew about Roy. There’s bound to be some publicity, but—”

  “No,” Diana mumbled. “No, you don’t understand. I think Harris’s story might be true.”

  “Look it’s—”

  “I found a slip of paper in Roy’s car when I picked it up from impound, a handwritten address on Bayo Vista. Eleven hundred something. Across from Dewey Park.” The apartment building where Diana had met Brenda Harris, the woman who’d complained about a brother in trouble with the law. Her brother was Jamal Harris.

  Thurston said, “Well, that does put things in a different light. Let me get back to you, okay?”

  Thurston didn’t wait for a response. The line went dead.

  “What is it?” Allison asked, having heard Diana’s anguished cry from in the kitchen.

  Diana couldn’t speak. As devastated as she was by what Thurston had told her, she was more devastated by what she’d told him.

  Hadn’t she just confirmed everyone’s worst suspicions about Roy? What kind of wife didn’t try to protect her husband, no matter what?

  She needed to be alone. She needed space to think.

  “God, Allison. It just gets worse and worse. I want to dig a hole and crawl in.”

  Chapter 36

  Chloe was scared. More scared than she’d ever been in her whole life, and she’d been plenty scared before. She wasn’t frightened in the heart-pounding, rapid-breathing way people were when they heard a strange noise late at night. Hers was the wrenching terror of finding herself cornered and knowing there was no way out.

  She didn’t want to steal from Diana, not even a few dollars, although she knew Diana would never notice. And she absolutely couldn’t let anything happen to Jeremy.

  There was a third option, though—tell the truth and suffer the consequences. That idea was plenty scary in itself. And if Chloe went to prison, what would happen to her baby? She couldn’t be sure that telling the truth would stop Weasel-face and his friends from going after Jeremy, but it was the only solution she could come up with.

  But every time she thought about confessing to Diana, Chloe broke into a nervous sweat and her voice deserted her.

  Today probably wasn’t the best day, anyway. Diana had been acting weird ever since Chloe returned home with Jeremy half an hour ago. Allison had been here and they both seemed on edge. Diana had explained that she wasn’t feeling well, but Chloe could see that there was more to it than that. And she didn’t think it had anything to do with the two wine glasses she saw sitting next to the sink, either.

  “Jeremy is coming home with me,” Allison announced, with a meaningful glance in Diana’s direction. She turned to Jeremy, “We’ll have a grand time. I’ve got a new DVD I think you’ll like.”

  Jeremy looked quickly in Chloe’s direction, and then at his mother. “Do I have to?”

  Diana nodded. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Just for tonight.”

  “Why? I want to stay here.”

  “I’m happy to watch him,” Chloe offered. Wasn’t that what her job was all about?

  “No,” Diana said sharply. “I need quiet.”

  It sounded like a reprimand, and while Chloe was sure it was directed at her, she felt bad for Jeremy. He liked Allison but he must have been picking up on some of the same strange vibes Chloe was. Diana, who was normally a good mother, was not herself. “We’ll be very—”

  “Don’t argue,” Diana snapped. “I need time to myself. I want to be alone.”

  Jeremy sidled up next to Chloe and she put an arm around his shoulder. She could feel his little body quivering.

  Diana looked suddenly appalled by her short outburst. She reached out for Jeremy and hugged him. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

  “Are you leaving me?” he cried. “Are you going away?”

  “No, I’m not leaving you. I’d never do that. I’ve got a headache is all. And maybe a touch of the flu or something. I’m not going anywhere and nothing bad is going to happen to me. I just need to rest.”

  Diana turned to Chloe. “Why don’t you do something fun tonight. Take a twenty from the drawer under the phone and go to a movie with some friends or something.”

  Diana ought to have realized that Chloe didn’t have any friends, but Chloe got the message. She wasn’t welcome. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

  “Come on,” Allison said, taking Jeremy by the hand. “We’ll make sundaes for dessert. With real whipped cream.”

  After Allison and Jeremy had gone, Diana went upstairs to take a bath. Chloe washed the wine glasses and the few dishes on the counter, being very quiet so as not to disturb Diana, even though there was no way she could have been heard over the hum of the bath fan.

  To her shame, Chloe found herself looking around the house with an eye as to what she could steal, assuming she was going to steal anything, which she wasn’t. It wouldn’t be hard, really. Diana was very trusting. Like telling Chloe to take twenty dollars from the stash of bills in the kitchen. Diana didn’t even lock up her jewelry.

  Chloe forced herself to think about Thanksgiving, only a couple of weeks away.

  Last Thanksgiving she’d still been living in the group home. There’d been only four girls for dinner. The other five had been invited elsewhere. Rose made a big deal out of the holiday and made them watch a movie about an abused and half-starved stray dog who collapsed at the back door of a poor, also half-starving family, on Thanksgiving Day. The family took the dog in and fed it even though they were short of food themselves. A few nights later, the dog saved the little boy from a house fire and after that life was good. Maureen and Ashley complained that it was a silly kids’ movie and Naomi slept through most of it. But Chloe thought the movie was good and she liked the happy ending, although she never did understand why everyone looked well-fed and well-dressed just because the dog saved the boy’s life.

  They’d had turkey slices and mashed potatoes for dinner that night, a big step up from what they usually had. And one of the ladies from the auxiliary brought them homemade pumpkin pie. It was the best Thanksgiving Chloe could remember.

  This year would be diff
erent. Trace was dead and Chloe would probably be in jail.

  It was the week after Thanksgiving last year that Chloe had met Trace. They hadn’t even made it to their one-year anniversary.

  Somewhere Chloe’s life had taken a bad turn. Several bad turns, in fact. Some people might say Trace was one of those turns for the worse, but Chloe knew he’d been one of the few bright spots in her life, too. He made her feel special and cared for. Maybe not all the time, but he’d chosen Chloe, picked her out of all the girls he could have had. And he hadn’t dumped her when he learned about the baby.

  “Poor baby,” Chloe whispered, her hand reflexively resting on her belly. A dead father and a mother in jail. What kind of life was that for a kid?

  Even without the jail part, how could Chloe possibly raise a child? Diana had asked about her plans for the future, and Chloe had been too embarrassed to admit she didn’t have any. Planning wasn’t something she’d done much of, ever. Mostly it was a struggle just to get from one day to the next. How had she ever thought she’d be a good mother?

  “Oh, Hannah,” she told her baby. “You deserve a good home. A mom and a dad who can give you so much more than I can.”

  As she finished straightening the kitchen, Chloe opened the drawer where Diana kept the envelope of money and counted it. Three hundred dollars. She wondered if Diana even knew exactly how much was there.

  Chloe removed the twenty that Diana had offered, and then, because even that felt wrong, quickly replaced it. She shut the drawer, grabbed an apple from the fridge, and left the house.

  *****

  Joel had spent the afternoon talking to Roy Walker’s coworkers—to the extent any of them would talk to him. They all seemed to have heard that Roy might have been using an assumed identity and was a suspect in a long ago murder, though none would comment directly. Joel couldn’t tell whether that was the nature of attorneys or if word had come down from above that they were to remain closed-mouthed. No one he talked to had come forth with anything other than “great guy, hard worker, we’re saddened by his death.” And nothing Joel managed to dig up on his background had indicated so much as a speeding ticket. No affairs, no hints of scandal, not even nasty comments from the defense attorneys he’d beaten in court.