by Kara Lennox
“Oh. Wait.” Liz looked troubled. “Damn it!”
“What?” Hudson was pretty sure he wouldn’t like what came next.
“Dark SUV. My father’s Escalade. It was probably his car. The killer put my father in the trunk of his own car and drove him to Lake Conroe. Still—isn’t this something positive? Why would Hudson go out of his way to make himself look guilty? Why wouldn’t he just leave my father there?”
Joe nodded. “Good point. But we have to think hard before we go to the sheriff with this. The woman’s description of the suspect looks superficially like Hudson. If a good prosecutor got hold of the woman, he could twist her words.”
“The description could fit lots of people,” Hudson said, “including Carlos De Lugo, Jazz’s pimp. He makes a pretty good suspect. If Mandalay was involved in prostitution, and he knew Jazz, stands to reason he knew Carlos, too. His rap sheet includes some pretty nasty stuff.”
Joe flipped through his notebook. “Yeah. Armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, impersonating a police officer, pandering—”
“Impersonating a police officer?” Hudson repeated.
“Yeah. Is that important?” Joe asked.
Hudson shrugged and took a gulp of coffee, scalding his mouth. He wasn’t going to bring up the subject of Holly Mandalay around Liz unless he had to. Their truce was too fragile.
“At least we know something more about what happened that night,” Liz said. “If my father was killed there, his DNA will be there, right? The police will have to concede that he was killed nowhere near where Hudson lives.”
Joe nodded. “Very good point.”
Cora, the chef, entered then with the promised frittata. It smelled like heaven. A plate of crisp bacon followed, as well as a bowl of fruit salad.
Despite the unappetizing nature of their conversation, they all served themselves hearty portions. If this was going to be Hudson’s last decent meal for a while, he’d lucked out.
After a few bites of the frittata, Joe looked up. “Shouldn’t Daniel be here?”
“Yes, he should,” Liz said. “Normally Cora times things perfectly so that her boss’s food doesn’t get cold before he gets to the table.”
As if on cue, Daniel appeared. He looked abnormally disheveled, as if he’d just thrown on his clothes. In fact...he hadn’t shaved.
“Daniel.” Hudson came out of his chair. “Something’s wrong.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” He settled into a chair and poured himself some coffee. “I’ve been on the phone with a contact I have at the Montgomery County crime lab. They’ve been processing the items found in Franklin Mandalay’s car.”
“The Cadillac Escalade,” Hudson said, just to be clear, though he knew that was the car Daniel referred to.
Daniel nodded. “Hudson, you’re sure you’ve never been in that vehicle?”
“Absolutely not.”
Daniel paused, as if not quite sure how to continue. “Your DNA was found in the car.”
“What? No way.” Hudson’s head spun. This could not be happening. “Where was it found?”
“Tissues.”
“You mean, like, Kleenex? I hardly ever even use tissues, unless I’m sick. Which...I was, couple of weeks back. The day I arrested Mandalay. I was at the Quikki Market buying cold medicine.”
“So, someone could just dig through your trash,” Liz said, obviously seeing what he already knew—that the evidence had been planted.
Hudson puzzled it out for a few moments. “I barely left the house while I was sick. So someone would have had to get into my garbage can.”
“What about at work?” Daniel asked.
Hudson thought back. “I was at work when I first started sneezing... Hell. That was before I even arrested Mandalay. Two weeks before the murder. Someone would have had to do an awful lot of planning in advance to frame me for a murder that hadn’t been committed.”
“There was DNA found on one other item,” Daniel said. “A baseball cap.”
Even more puzzling. “What kind of baseball cap?”
“University of Houston.”
“That’s... It was in my desk at work.”
Daniel nodded. “Still think it couldn’t be Carla?”
“The witness saw a man moving the...” He didn’t finish, still trying to shield Liz from grisly reminders of her father’s death. “Not a woman. Jazz also mentioned a man. And Mrs. Vilches.”
“More than one person could be involved,” Daniel pointed out.
“A ton of people come in and out of the bull pen. No one would think twice if someone opened a desk drawer looking for a stapler or Post-it note or whatever.” Please, don’t let it be Carla. But the bullet was from her gun....
“This will all matter when it comes to building a defense,” Daniel said.
The frittata sat heavy in Hudson’s stomach. “So I should expect to be arrested?”
“No way around it. I’ve already called Raleigh, told her to be on alert. Of course I don’t have to tell you not to answer any questions without a lawyer—”
“I’m not going to answer any questions, period.” Even innocent people sounded guilty during an interrogation.
“I’m sorry, dude,” Joe said. “I feel like I failed you.”
“You did everything you possibly could. And, hell, I hope you’re not done yet.”
“No way. I’ll keep digging. I’ll talk to Carlos. Maybe someone you work with has money problems? A foreclosure imminent? You said your partner was a single mom—oftentimes they’re up against the wall.”
“I don’t know. I can’t think.” The walls were closing in on him. He stood up. “I need to clear my head. I’m gonna walk outside for a few minutes, get some fresh air.” Which was ludicrous; they were already outside. But he had to say something.
He didn’t dare look at Liz. If he did, she would know what he was up to.
“Don’t be gone too long,” Daniel said, sounding like an overprotective dad, but the implication was clear. When the sheriff’s deputies arrived, he should make himself available.
Hudson hated to betray the trust Daniel had put in him. But he had no choice.
When he’d been walking yesterday, looking for Liz, he’d noticed a twisting live-oak tree growing near the perimeter fence. That was when he’d first toyed with the idea of fleeing.
He hadn’t been ready to do it then. But just in case...shielded from view of the house by the group of trees, Hudson had surreptitiously snipped a wire on one of the motion detectors set at intervals around the fence. If he was lucky, the malfunction hadn’t yet been noticed by Daniel’s security people; or if they had noticed, they’d attributed the problem to animals chewing on the wire, or a simple short, and it had been put on a list of repairs to be done.
He didn’t check whether the wire had been fixed. He was due at least a little luck, wasn’t he? He slithered up the trunk of the tree. With one last look over his shoulder, he made the leap to the ground on the other side.
* * *
LIZ DIDN’T KNOW what to do with herself. She wandered from room to room in Daniel’s house, unable to enjoy the carefully decorated spaces, the priceless artwork on the walls. Daniel’s golden retriever, Tucker, followed her around, pausing whenever she did to look up at her with his soulful eyes, as if he wondered what was wrong and wanted to help.
Every time she thought about Hudson being arrested, she wanted to cry. She felt even more frightened when she took it a step further, when she thought about being arrested herself. From the beginning, she’d seen that hers and Hudson’s fates were tied together. They’d been together that night, and everybody knew it now despite their attempt at subterfuge. If the cops arrested Hudson, could her own arrest be far behind?
Maybe they wanted to continue watching her. See if she might try to cover her tracks while attention was focused on Hudson.
How would she be able to help him if she was behind bars herself?
Joe and Daniel were downstairs in
Daniel’s bat cave, where he had all the powerful computers and programs that would run simulations and recognize patterns. But while they didn’t exclude her, she didn’t feel welcome. She wasn’t much help to them, other than when they wanted to get a more touchy-feely evaluation. And they had a psychologist on retainer for that kind of thing, as well as a former FBI profiler only a phone call away.
She wished Hudson would come back inside. She sympathized with his desire to see the sky and the trees, breathe fresh air, for as long as he could. But didn’t he want to see her, too?
The look he’d given her when he left the breakfast table had confused her. His expression had been a mixture of fondness, sadness, regret...and guilt. Guilt because he felt he was dragging her down with him?
She was in Daniel’s library, perusing the shelves of leather-bound volumes, when the doorbell chimed. Her whole body tightened. It could be anybody—a repairman, a friend or neighbor or someone Daniel had called in to consult. He had the most amazing network of professionals who could do anything. But she knew it wasn’t any of those people.
Elizabeth peeked out the door of the library to see Elena rushing past, looking troubled. She watched as Elena headed down the staircase to the basement.
Moving to the windows, Elizabeth peeked through the blinds. Two Montgomery County cruisers sat in the driveway, doors left open, lights flashing.
Her trepidation turned to anger. There was no need for this show of force. All they had to do was ask Hudson to turn himself in and he would have.
Wouldn’t he?
With a sudden surge of bravado, Elizabeth exited the library and made her way to the foyer. Detectives Sanchez and Knightly stood just inside the door, two beefy uniformed deputies right behind them. All of them looked ill at ease and out of place in the opulent, marble-floored room with its gurgling fountain, statues and stained glass casting rainbows all around them.
She strode in, intent on saying her piece before Daniel or Joe arrived and cautioned her not to.
“He didn’t do it. You guys are making a terrible mistake.”
Knightly smiled like a predator. “Ms. Vale. I thought you might be here, too. We’ll see who made a terrible mistake.”
“The murder occurred in Houston. We were miles away in Conroe.”
“Oh? And how do you know that? Exactly?”
“There was a witness who saw someone moving the body.”
Knightly appeared skeptical at best. “Really?” He whipped out his notebook.
Had she just said something that sounded suspiciously like a confession?
“Who is this witness? How did you find him?”
Elizabeth wasn’t about to reveal anything about the witness. To do so might cause her to end up like Munch. “We found the witness because we’re doing the investigation you should be doing.”
Daniel and Joe swept into the room like a hurricane.
“Elizabeth,” Joe said, “you shouldn’t say anything more without an attorney.”
“But they need to know—we have to make them understand that Hudson could not possibly—” She forced herself to shut up in the face of Daniel’s quelling look.
“Elizabeth, don’t worry. We will of course turn over anything we’ve learned to the police when they ask us to. How about it, Sergeant...Sanchez, isn’t it? And Sergeant Knightly? Bring my investigator into your interrogation room and question him. Mr. Kinkaid is a former Secret Service agent with the highest security clearance and an impeccable reputation.”
Joe nodded. “I would be happy to tell you everything I’ve learned—provided the entire interview is on the record.”
Interesting, Elizabeth thought. With everything on the record, there was no way the police could sweep exculpatory evidence under the table, pretend it didn’t exist.
“I assure you, our investigation has been very thorough.” Knightly matched Daniel’s ultrapolite tone. “We’ll take you up on your offer, Mr. Logan, Mr. Kinkaid. But right now, I’d like for you to produce Mr. Vale. I have a warrant for his arrest and a search warrant that allows me access to your property and any buildings on it to locate him.”
“Unfortunately, Hudson went for a walk. He’s not my prisoner here, and he didn’t say exactly where he was going or when he would be back. I’ve got people out looking for him now. I assure you, it’s not my intention to hinder your investigation or conceal Hudson’s whereabouts from you.”
Sanchez looked directly at Elizabeth. “How about you? You must know where your lover is.”
Lover. Talk about a loaded word. Should she deny it? But Sanchez knew the truth of it. She was looking at Elizabeth not as a cop, but woman to woman. Could Carla see it in Elizabeth’s face? Were her feelings that obvious?
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Elizabeth finally said. “The last time I saw him was at breakfast, about two hours ago.” She looked her directly in the eye, daring Sanchez to challenge her.
Sanchez said nothing. She looked supremely uncomfortable. Because she knew Hudson hadn’t done it? Because she had firsthand knowledge of the crime? Or was she simply upset because her former partner was in this much hot water?
Knightly looked at his watch. “You’ve got five minutes to produce him. Then we look ourselves.”
Joe took Elizabeth’s arm and gently guided her away from the cops. “Come on, Elizabeth. Maybe we can find him.”
She waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. “I’m sorry, Joe. I hope I didn’t damage our case. I’m just so frustrated. Those detectives are so smug, and they’re not going to listen to anything that doesn’t build the case against their pet suspect.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. Listen, do you know where Hudson is?”
Elizabeth’s stomach sank. “I honestly don’t.”
“Did he say he might run? Did he give you that impression?”
She thought back to their conversation last night. “He said cops don’t fare well in prison, but that was the only indication he gave me that he might not go willingly. In fact, when I suggested we run—”
“You did what?”
“It was just a fleeting impulse. Anyway, he nixed the idea. You don’t think he would run, do you? Really?”
Joe pressed his lips together. “I don’t know. If I were in his shoes, if I felt like I’d been framed and I couldn’t prove my innocence...” Joe shook his head. “I just don’t know. If he doesn’t cooperate, it won’t help his case.”
“I guess I can’t blame him.”
“If he’s still on the estate, where do you think he might go?”
“The hummingbird garden,” she said. “It’s a special place. It’s where we first... Well, it’s special.”
But when they went there to check it out, it was empty and quiet, an ordinary place holding none of the magic she remembered from previous visits.
They searched for an hour—the cops, Daniel’s security people, Elizabeth, Joe and Daniel himself. There was no sign of Hudson.
He’d vanished.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Daniel said, seeming genuinely flummoxed—enough so that Elizabeth concluded Hudson hadn’t clued anyone in on his plan to bolt for freedom. “He’s not answering his phone.”
“I guess he’s looking for more charges to be filed,” Knightly said smugly, though there was a tone of frustration in his voice, too. “He was told to keep himself available, and he’s deliberately flouting that request.”
Daniel shrugged. “If he didn’t know an arrest was imminent, I don’t know how you can accuse him of that. I’m sure he just needed some time to himself. Have you tried his house?”
“Thanks for the advice,” Knightly said with a note of sarcasm. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him. And if I discover you’re hiding him, you’ll be slapped with an obstruction-of-justice charge so fast—”
“I’m not hiding him.” The animosity in Daniel’s voice was enough to shut Knightly up. He motioned for the other cops to follow, and they left. Daniel, Joe, Elena
and Elizabeth watched out the windows until both cars cleared the gates, then Daniel let out a long, pent-up breath.
“You don’t know where he is?” Daniel asked Elizabeth one more time.
She shook her head. “I would tell you if I did.” What she didn’t say was that she hoped, if he was fleeing the law, that he got away with it. Maybe he would make it to South America, like they’d talked about, and stay there until Elizabeth and Daniel’s team could prove his innocence. Because prison wasn’t a safe place for him to await the slow wheels of justice.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HUDSON SPOTTED HIS mom standing at the sink, washing dishes. There was no sign of any police presence. Knightly and Sanchez would look for him here eventually, but they hadn’t arrived yet. Still, Hudson didn’t know how much time he had.
After leaving Daniel’s estate, he’d run at least four miles, keeping to back roads, trying to look like an ordinary guy out for a jog. When he’d got far enough away from the estate—well away from the ritzy River Oaks neighborhood—he’d found his way to a busier road and hitchhiked most of the way to his parents’ house in Rosenberg.
He’d come around from the back side, in case someone was watching the front, though he doubted Sanchez and Knightly would have had time to set up surveillance quite yet. He moved through a hedgerow, keeping low to the ground, using shrubs and trees as cover, until he reached the safety of the screened-in porch.
It would be better if his mother never knew he was there. That way, there would be no need for her to lie to the cops when they asked if she’d seen him.
Hudson duckwalked across the porch, well below window level. The door to the inside was open, letting in the cool, autumn day. His mom liked her fresh air.
His parents kept their keys on a rack near the garage door, which was off the kitchen. There was no way he could get past her without her seeing or hearing him; he’d learned that as a teenager trying to sneak into or out of the house. But he had an idea.
He made his way to the front door, which also was open with just the screen door closed. He silently opened the screen door and rang the doorbell, then sprinted across the living room to the dining room, where he crouched behind the dining-room table.