His eyes widened and he looked back down at the papers, finally seeing where I was pointing.
“Whoever wrote that first letter knew the exact name of the disease that Allen had. Neither of us thought anything of it when we first heard it because we assumed Allen had written it. Of course he'd know what he had.”
“But Allen didn't write that letter,” Jasper said slowly.
“I know.” My mind was spinning. “We know that now.”
“But whoever did...” Jasper's voice trailed off. “Fuck.”
“We need to find out who else had access to these tests,” I said. “Or who they could've told–”
“I know who did it.” His voice was quiet, but it stopped my sentence cold.
I looked up at him. His skin was pale, a stricken expression on his face. “Who?”
“Georgia.”
I stared at him. Was he serious?
“That's her handwriting.” He tapped the note my finger was resting on. “Look at what it says, Shae. 'Creutzfeldt-Jakob. No cure. Fast.'”
The words echoed in my head. They'd sounded familiar before, but I still couldn't figure out why.
“That's what the letter said,” Jasper said quietly. “Those exact words. I'd thought before that the style of the letter sounded familiar, and now I know why. It was Georgia. She wrote that letter, but I don't know why.”
I shook my head. “She's in love with you.” His head jerked up and I chuckled at the expression on his face. “Or she's at least infatuated with you.”
“Shit,” he muttered. Color flooded his face. “I went out with her...or, well, we hooked up.”
“What?” I had to have heard him wrong. There was no way he'd just said that he'd slept with Georgia Overstreet.
“When I first started working with my dad, I asked her out.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She was cute and liked me. That was pretty much all I needed at the time.” He gave me a rueful look. “It was hell trying to get you out of my head.”
Dammit. “Did she know that's why you went out with her?”
He paused for a moment and then shrugged. “I didn't think so, but now I think she might have.”
I let out a breath. “So what do we do now?”
He looked down at me. “I have an idea.”
“This is where Georgia lives?” I looked at the house and rubbed my hands together. I'd worn my coat, but I hadn't realized it'd be cold enough for gloves this early in the morning.
“It's the address on her application,” Jasper said.
By the time the two of us had decided exactly how we would handle the situation, Georgia had already left for the night. Since there were some other things that we had to work out, we decided to wait until the next morning to confront her.
Now it was early Saturday morning and the two of us were standing in front of a little cottage-type house painted the ugliest shade of green I'd ever seen. The front lawn was neatly trimmed and dotted with garden gnomes. There must've been at least fifty, and each one had that creepy smile that those sorts of decorations always seemed to have.
“Are you sure you're okay doing this?” Jasper asked as he reached over and took my hand.
“I just want to get to the bottom of all of this so we can get on with our lives.” I returned the comforting squeeze of his fingers.
“All right.” He released my hand and started up the narrow walkway that led to the front steps.
I fell in step behind him and resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. We'd both agreed that if Georgia really had done this, and she had a thing for Jasper, it would be better if she didn't see us being physically affectionate with each other. It would be bad enough that we were there together. Jasper had wanted to go in alone, but I'd been adamant that I go with him. I hadn't told him my suspicion that Georgia had cut her hand on purpose to get his attention, but it was starting to feel a lot less like petty jealousy on my part, and more like pieces were falling into place.
He rang the doorbell, and less than a minute later, the door opened. Georgia was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a flimsy camisole top that looked like it had seen better days. Her short hair stood up in weird clumps all over her head. As soon as she saw Jasper, her face flushed red and I almost felt bad for her. If we were wrong about her, then I would feel bad. At the moment, though, I was thinking more about everything she'd put us through and sympathy wasn't exactly high on my priority list.
“Jasper! I mean, Dr. Whitehall...” Her hand went to her hair. “What a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting company so early in the morning.” Her eyes darted over to me and her mouth flattened. “Mrs. Lockwood.”
“Miss Overstreet.” I nodded at her, but didn't smile.
“I have a couple things I'd like to talk to you about.” Jasper drew her attention back to him with a charming smile. “May we come in?”
Her eyes darted to me and I knew she was torn. She wanted Jasper to come inside, but she didn't want me, and there wasn't any way to give him permission and exclude me without looking bad.
“Of course.” She stepped aside and motioned for us to come in. “Please excuse the mess. I didn't have a chance to tidy up.”
As I followed Jasper inside, I had to admit that I had no idea what mess she was talking about. The place was spotless. Judging by the smell of bleach lingering in the air, she'd made sure it was germ-free as well. That, at least, was a pleasant surprise. I'd been expecting her to live in piles of filth, with thirty cats and the permeating smell of urine and feces. The lack of these things wasn't proof that she wasn't crazy or obsessed, but I did feel bad that I'd come up with such a stereotypical image.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked as we sat down on the couch. She didn't specifically address Jasper, but her body language made it quite clear that he was the one she was talking to.
“No, thank you,” he said politely. He gestured towards the chair next to where he was sitting.
She sat down, crossing her legs as she leaned towards Jasper. “You said you needed to talk to me about something?”
I tried not to hold my breath. This was where things would get tricky. If Jasper came out and accused her, there was a good chance she'd clam up and not say anything. We'd carefully worked out the wording, but all of it depended on how desperate she was to believe whatever Jasper told her.
“I'm in a bit of trouble,” he began. “The police think that Shae and I killed Allen because we were having and affair and wanted his money.”
“But that's not true!” Georgia exclaimed. “You'd never do anything like that.”
“Thank you. I'm glad you see that,” he continued. “But earlier this week, they arrested Shae and searched the house.”
The look she gave me clearly said that she had no problem with this particular part of the story.
“They found some things that implicate me in Allen's death. A letter that Shae had gotten from Allen after he died. It says that I'd helped him lie to the insurance company so he could get a big insurance policy. Then they got onto Allen's laptop, and there was an email from me to him that made it sound like I encouraged him to get the policy. The same policy that helped me get the clinic up and running. And then they found medical records that show Allen was perfectly healthy.” Jasper made a frustrated sound. “I told them that none of those were real, but no one believes me.” He gestured towards me. “Not even her.”
“I believe you,” she said. She reached out and put her hand on Jasper's knee. “You were always such a good friend to Mr. Lockwood. I'm sure the police will realize that you never would have hurt him.”
“That's the thing.” Jasper didn't push her hand away. “The letter named the disease that Allen had, and the healthy medical records either prove that I lied to the insurance company or that I lied to Allen. Either way, I'm screwed. The email just makes it that much worse.”
“What do you need me to do?” Georgia asked. “I can tell the cops that Mr. Lockwood had Creutzfeldt-
Jakob and that I heard you tell him that.”
“But that just proves I lied to the insurance company.”
“Not if you have Mr. Lockwood's real results,” she countered. “I know where they are. I'll tell the police that the ones they have are old, or that I accidentally misfiled the new ones.”
“Thank you, Georgia.” Jasper smiled at her. “But the letter and the email both say that I knew Allen was sick and that I'd encouraged him to get the million dollar insurance policy. The real records will only support the cops' claims that I wanted Allen's money.”
“Just tell them you didn't write the email or the letter.”
I could see her body tensing with anxiety. This was what we'd wanted. To get her to admit what she'd done and why she'd done it.
“I told them that, but they have all this evidence that I did it. The fact that the letter names the disease when only a couple of people knew about it. The email was from my email address.” He turned so that his back was to me. “They're going to arrest me, and I'm going to go to jail for something I didn't do.”
“No you won't.” She was clearly focused all on him. “I'll tell them that I did it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I can't let you lie for me. It wouldn't be right.”
“But it's not a lie,” she said earnestly, her fingers clutching his knee now. “I wrote and sent that letter. I paid Allyson Neely fifty dollars to post-date it and say that it had gotten lost in the mail.”
“Why would you do that?” Jasper asked. “It got me in a lot of trouble.”
She sighed and dropped her face in her hands. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “That wasn't what I meant to happen. I'd heard you and Mr. Lockwood talking about him being sick and what you did to help him. When he died, I didn't want you to get in trouble, so I hid his real records.”
“But you wrote a letter to Shae telling her what I did.”
Georgia's cheeks flushed red. “I wanted her to get mad at you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She doesn't deserve you.”
My nails bit into my palms, but I forced myself to stay still and quiet. She'd all but forgotten I was there. We needed her to keep talking.
“And I knew if I put in the letter what you'd done, she'd be upset, but she wouldn't go to the cops because she'd lose the insurance money if it came out that Mr. Lockwood had committed suicide.”
“The cops aren't going to believe that you wrote that letter,” Jasper said, pressing for more information. “They'll say you're just trying to protect me because I'm your boss.”
“I can show them the original. It's still on my computer,” she said. “I can't get arrested for writing a letter.”
“They still have my email.”
She shook her head. “I wrote it.”
“How?” Jasper's voice was gentle rather than accusatory.
“You use the same password for your work email as you do for your personal one.” She looked pleased with herself. “I just accessed your personal account, sent the email and then deleted it from your sent messages.”
“But it was sent before Allen died.”
She smiled. “No, it wasn't. When you didn't leave her, I knew I had to make you see that she didn't trust you. I called my nephew in Montana. He knows a lot about computers, and he told me how to make the date on the email different.”
We had her. Everything that the police had to 'prove' that Jasper and I had conspired to kill Allen, she'd confessed to. The only thing the cops could arrest Jasper for was what had happened with the insurance company, but we'd worry about that later. Jasper had said he was willing to take his punishment for what he'd actually done. It was more important that neither of us were being charged with murder.
“Now I see how it all went wrong,” Georgia said. “But I can fix it.” She stood suddenly and smiled brightly at both me and Jasper. “I'm going to go get us some tea.”
She left before either of us could refuse.
“Let's go,” I said quietly. “We have everything we need.”
“We don't want to make her suspicious,” Jasper said, his voice low. “We'll drink the tea and then tell her we need to go.”
I nodded in agreement, trying to still the butterflies in my stomach. For some reason, my gut had decided that now was the time to be nervous. I didn't get it. We'd gotten a confession, and now all we had to do was drink some tea and get out of here.
A few minutes passed and Georgia came back in with a tea tray. She set it on the table and handed me the cup that already had tea in it.
“Here.”
My stomach twisted and churned, threatening rebellion if I tried to put anything in it.
“That's okay,” I said politely. “My stomach's a bit upset. Thank you anyway. We really do need to get going.”
Georgia's smile tightened and she reached behind her, pulling out a small, but very real, gun. “Drink the tea, Mrs. Lockwood. Or things are going to get very unpleasant.”
Chapter 22
When Jasper and I had decided to confront Georgia about forging the letter and email, I thought it might be possible for her to get upset and perhaps start screaming and yelling. Maybe she'd throw something or try to slap one of us. Scratch us with the claw-like fake fingernails she was sporting.
Nowhere in any of that had I thought she'd use a gun to force me into drinking a cup of tea. And I seriously doubted she was the kind of crazy who wanted me to drink the tea because we were all going to be such good friends.
“What's in it?” I asked, silently congratulating myself for not freaking out. On the outside at least.
Georgia's smile was decidedly unpleasant. “Try it and find out.”
“Georgia.” Jasper made his voice as soothing as possible, but I could feel the tension radiating off of him. “You don't need to do this.”
“Oh, I think I do,” she said. “It doesn't matter what I do, she's always there. Between us. So she has to go away. It's the only way we can be together.”
“If you hurt her, Georgia, I'll never be with you,” he warned.
“Yes, you will.” She looked back at me. “Now drink. Or I'll shoot him.” She slid her gun over to point at Jasper.
I didn't think she'd do it, but I wasn't willing to take that chance. Not with him.
“Don't do it, Shae.” Jasper didn't take his eyes off of the gun. “She won't shoot me.”
“I will,” she countered. “I'll shoot you in the leg, and then I'll shoot her. And don't even think about throwing it out. I'll shoot you for that too.”
“It'll be okay,” I said quietly. “I love you, Jas.”
I raised the cup, but before it reached my mouth, Jasper grabbed it. I started to reach for it, but he was already tipping it back, draining every last drop.
Georgia screamed, but I barely registered it. I only cared about one thing. I grabbed Jasper's shoulders.
“What were you thinking?!”
“I love you too. Always.”
He gave me a smile that turned into a grimace. Georgia was still screaming as his eyes rolled back and he slumped against the couch. For one terrifying moment, I was too panicked to do anything. Then I heard Georgia yell his name, and it snapped me back to reality.
I dug into my pocket and dialed 911. I gave the operator the address as I stood and grabbed Georgia's arm. I shook her hard, but she didn't stop screaming. My hand came across her face with a crack hard enough to hurt my palm.
“What did you give him?” I asked. “Georgia! What was in that cup?”
She stared at me with wide, wild eyes, and I knew, at that moment, that Jasper was going to die.
The cops had needed to sedate Georgia before they could drag her away from Jasper, and it was a good thing they had because I'd seriously been considering grabbing her gun and shooting her with it, if only to make her shut up. She was screaming and babbling about how she'd never meant to hurt him, and how much she loved him. The only thing that had kept me from getting myself arrested for homicide had been the pu
lse I'd still been able to feel under my fingers.
Detectives Reed and Rheingard had heard the call go out and had arrived just as Jasper was being loaded into the ambulance. When they'd told me that I had to answer questions before I'd be allowed to go with him, I'd flipped them both off as I'd followed Jasper into the ambulance. Probably not the most mature move on my part, but I'd had enough.
They'd been pissed when they'd arrived at the hospital, but I hadn't cared. I'd ignored their questions as I'd paced in front of the doors to the room where they'd taken Jasper. Then the doctor came out with news.
Georgia was fucking crazy, but she was completely inept when it came to poison.
They'd pumped Jasper's stomach, and wanted to keep him overnight for observation, but he was going to be okay. No lasting damage.
My legs gave out and, surprisingly, Detective Rheingard caught me, leading me over to a chair.
“All right, Mrs. Lockwood,” Detective Rheingard crouched down in front of me. “What the hell happened?”
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small recorder. “It's all there.” I looked up at the doctor. “Can I see him?”
“Mrs. Lockwood...” Detective Reed started to protest.
“Are you and Mr. Whitehall willing to come down to the station on Monday and give us a formal statement to go along with what we have here?” Detective Rheingard cut off his partner.
“We'll be there,” I promised.
Rheingard's expression softened. “Then go.”
The doctor led me into the room where Jasper was laying. He was still unconscious, but that didn't matter. He was alive, and he was going to be okay. That's all I cared about. Everything else was superfluous.
He didn't wake up until he'd already been moved into a private room and it was just the two of us. Only when I saw his eyes open and meet mine did the hand squeezing my heart start to ease.
“What happened?”
His voice was hoarse, and I reached over for the water the nurse had left for him. I held it up and he sipped at it, making a face as he swallowed.
“Short version,” I said. “You got your stomach pumped because you're an idiot.”
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