"They never do," Babcock agreed.
"I don't think my heart was really in this from the beginning," Josie admitted, without having any good reason why she should unburden herself to this cop except that he had thought kindly of Susan O'Connel and of her. "I don't like politics and rich people. I don't really like my client, but I'm going make sure she's okay."
"As it should be. Integrity is important."
Josie laughed. "Is that what you call it?"
"Yes. Otherwise you wouldn't be worried about what happens when we find her. You would have been on to the next thing like any other attorney."
"I just want to walk her in. That would make a difference with the judge." Josie shrugged off Babcock's credit.
"Maybe she'll get to you before we get to her," Babcock suggested.
"Maybe," Josie echoed without conviction.
"It would be best for everyone if you let me know when she does."
Josie nodded, knowing he was right.
She checked her watch. It was late in the day. She had a meeting with Susan O'Connel to sign some papers. It was a simple matter that Josie should have left to the mail. Now that the promise had been made to meet, she would honor it. Still, there was a lot that could be done between now and seven o'clock, when Susan got off work, so Josie took her leave. It wasn't until she was in her car that Josie dialed Archer. He answered on the first ring.
"I need you."
CHAPTER 38
"Jo. Hey."
Josie didn't break stride when Archer hailed her but she slowed down to let him catch up as he crossed the tree-lined street.
"Where's the tank?" Josie pushed up her sunglasses, looking for the Hummer.
"A block over." He took the last steps quickly, touched her arm. "The cops were trolling again. I didn't want to draw attention to myself."
"When are you going to get rid of that thing?" She made small talk as they fell into step.
"They're going to have to bury me in that fine vehicle, babe." Archer's laugh was like a rumble. He loved his taxi-yellow Hummer. It was a great car if you were lost in the Sonora Desert, but it was a downright pain in the butt in a beach city and a handicap for a PI on the job. He changed the subject before she could say anything more. "Want to know what I did while I was waiting for you?"
"Tell me you found Grace and I'm all ears." Josie opened the hand-carved gate that led to Grace McCreary's complex.
"Wish I could, Jo, but you'll like this too." Archer closed the gate. The place was dead quiet but he lowered his voice. "I talked to a guy in the building across the street. He says he saw Grace take off in a dark blue car about nine-thirty last night. SUV. Thinks it was a Nissan but he isn't positive. A man was driving."
"And what was your witness doing out last night?"
"Walking the dog. He didn't get a license plate number. The car had privacy glass so no way to get an ID. He was back in time for the ten o'clock news so he didn't see if Grace came back."
"Do you think it was Matthew? Did he come to get her?" Josie speculated.
Archer shook his head.
"He was at his campaign headquarters until after ten."
"He wasn't answering my calls," Josie pointed out.
"Nobody recognized my voice. It was easier for me. Before I went to your place I checked it out. I saw McCreary get into a black Escalade. You could mistake if for a Nissan, but it would be hard. I followed him back to Bel Air to Helen Crane's place. He was nowhere near here."
"What in the heck do we have on our hands then? A nymphomaniac?" Josie asked. "If there's a guy whose close enough to Grace to help her bolt and she was Michelle's lover at the same time then there's something really kinky and bad going down here that Matthew honestly didn't know about."
"There's no boyfriend," Archer answered. "Babcock would have found him by now. Maybe she called a car and driver."
"Grace likes things personal. She wouldn't call a car and driver."
That pronouncement made, Josie walked ahead of Archer as they went down the winding path. It was beyond twilight and the garden lights tucked into the ferns and embedded with the Impatiens were glowing.
"Did you get the key from Matthew?" Archer asked, as Josie reached Grace McCreary's doorstep.
"No. I want to keep him out of the loop."
"Smart, but it's going to make things a little difficult." Archer put his shoulder to the wall and checked out the door. "These places are wired. I don't want to jimmy the locks and have the cops back here anytime soon."
"No problem." Josie dug in her pocket and held up her prize. "I still have the one Grace gave me when I picked up her clothes for court. I forgot to give it back."
"Convenient." Archer smiled, pleased with this turn of fortune.
He knocked once. Twice. The third time Josie took over. She put the key in the lock. The dead bolt wasn't on and the door swung open. They froze hoping to catch a glimpse of Grace moving fast as she hid, or to pick up the sound of Grace cowering in a dark corner, but the place was a tomb. Archer went in and turned on a light. Josie walked past him.
"You didn't really think she'd be here, did you?" Archer asked as he closed the door.
"I thought she might be sitting here in the dark twirling that ring of hers, slowly cracking up while the rest of us get sanctioned." Josie shivered. "It feels so sad in here. Lonely."
Josie looked around. The table, the couch, the pictures on the wall were all as they had been, so she took off for the kitchen. It was set up for a make-believe life: four knives, four forks, four spoons, four plates, four cups, four bowls. Josie found two pots and two pans. Everything was brand-new. There were no coupons or notices or magnets on the refrigerator. She shut the cabinets, stepped back and shook her head. Josie rested her rear against the counter. She crossed her arms and watched Archer.
He had followed as far as the dining room, stopping to check out the artwork, the upholstery on the high-backed chairs, the gleaming dining room table. Archer had taken a painting off the wall and was running a hand over the back.
"What's on your mind?" she asked.
"Just wondering how bad you're feeling for McCreary." He hung the painting back on the wall and gave her his full attention.
"I would have wished him more happiness. I thought he deserved it." Josie walked up to Archer. She touched his arm. She took his hand. "I feel bad for all three of them, Archer. And I feel lucky to be where I am. I'm lucky to be with you, okay?"
"Okay, Jo," he said and kissed her.
They wandered back to the living room. He checked out the phone and the answering machine. Punched a few buttons. Opened a drawer in the small table.
"No messages. No notes on the pad next to the phone, none in the drawer." He hit star six-nine on the telephone and held the receiver to his ear. "Last number called is a machine. Man's voice. No personal message."
"Got anyone who can run it down with the phone company?"
"Sure."
Archer replaced the receiver. He picked up the framed pictures. He fiddled with the backings. Josie looked down the hall and saw Grace's big bed through the partially opened door. It was still made. Absentmindedly she picked up the book on sisters and opened it to the flyleaf.
"Did you see this? At least we know how Michelle felt about Grace." Josie traced the inscription. I couldn't love you more—M. Archer looked over her shoulder.
"Except Michelle didn't give that to Grace." He reached around Josie and pointed to the inscription. "Look at the copyright date. Look here." Archer pointed to the little numbers in the front of the book. "First printing. Grace was a teenager when it was published. I'd bet that's Matthew's handwriting. All this book proves is that Matthew knew how to pull Grace's chain once upon a time."
"Maybe he cared about her, Archer." Josie's defense was quick and hopeful.
"You're right, Jo. Benefit of the doubt." Gently, Archer took her shoulders and pulled her close. History counted for so
mething. He put his lips to her hair and he felt her shake her head.
"I feel like I should re-examine the time I spent with him. Maybe he was always a politician. Maybe he just told me what I wanted to hear."
"Naw, Jo. I bet those years were good. It's just now he has more to protect. And people change. They do what's easy."
"They should have told me the truth and I could have protected both of them," she insisted.
"Denial's a powerful thing," Archer reminded her. "You think I don't remember how disappointed you were when I told you how I felt about Lexi's boy? How I didn't want to be responsible for my wife's son after she died? That truth was harsh and I know you saw something in me you didn't like. I saw something in me I didn't like. You think I'm not sorry for telling the truth?"
"It was hard to listen to but it was the right thing to do." Josie assured him.
"Maybe, but most people can't tell the whole truth. They tell a little white lie and it snowballs into a huge, dirty thing that picks up all sorts of crap. They don't know how to stop."
Archer never finished his thought. He cocked his head, the scar over his eyebrow shining smooth and pale against his suntanned skin as it caught the low light. Beneath Josie's fingertips his muscles tightened. On alert, she listened, too. There was something new in the air. A sound? A presence? They had been wrong. They weren't alone.
Susan O'Connel was humming as she put the salami through the slicer. Her day was almost done. Mary had come in to take over the night shift. Josie was due at seven. There was still time for a bite to eat. Too bad there wasn't any money for Chinese. She would have loved Chinese.
Instead, Susan sliced a little more salami and cheese for herself, wrapped it in butcher paper. She put a pickle aside for herself and just a smidgen of tuna fish for the kitten. She offered a silent thanks to Mr. Dombrowski, who had given all his employees permission to have a sandwich on him. She paid for a soda and, when she packed up to go home there was a definite spring in Susan O'Connel's step.
Kevin O'Connel was working late and glad for the hours to make up for his bond. He'd been out of jail a day and things had gone from bad to worse. Larry Morgan, his attorney, was refusing to represent him on the assault charges even though Kevin told him nothing had happened. Just a misunderstanding. It wasn't like he hit Josie Bates. It wasn't like he hurt her or anything. Police brutality, false arrest, that's what it was. Still the lawyer stood fast. He was done with Kevin O'Connel.
Kevin lifted a coil of rope and tossed it aside like it was a roll of twine. He sweated and grunted and instead of working out the kink of resentment he just managed to whip it into a maze of rage.
"Hey, O'Connel, my man!"
Kevin looked up from his labors and wiped the sweat off his upper lip as he looked around to see who wanted to talk to him. It had better be a friend 'cause an enemy would have a hell of a fight on his hands tonight.
"Up here!" came the call and Kevin raised his eyes. Up and up to the second-story loft. "Hold on, I'll be right down."
Kevin didn't bother to wait. He needed to keep moving. He was just about to take a wrench to a valve when he was joined by the man who used to be his best buddy before Pete. Kevin gave him a glance.
"What do you want, Josh?"
CHAPTER 39
Josie gave Archer room. His hand went to the holster at the small of his back. Holding the Kimber pistol high he paused long enough to warn Josie off then headed for the half-open bedroom door. He went cautiously, putting his shoulders and head tight against the wall. His legs were spread, feet planted firmly on the white carpet. He cursed himself for not having kicked open every door, checked every crevice of this place the minute they walked in. From this vantage point he could see the whole room. Clothes were strewn on the floor just outside the closet and in front of the dresser. There was an overnight bag on the bench at the foot of the bed and Archer had no doubt that Grace McCreary was in there somewhere.
Just as he adjusted his grip Josie started inching down the hall. A look stopped her. She put her purse down to be ready in case Archer's first line of defense didn't hold. They held their gaze a second longer before Archer went in low, cutting the room into quadrants, rotating as he got a quick read before he disappeared from sight. A split second later Josie heard:
"What are you doing here?"
That was her cue. She went in and stood with Archer. They both looked at Tim Douglas cowering in the corner of the closet, half hidden by Grace's gowns.
"Get out of there," Josie ordered wearily as Archer holstered his gun.
Diffidently Tim pushed at the dresses and tossed aside the jacket he had pulled over his feet to try to hide himself. Shamefaced, he crawled on all fours, stood when he was clear of Grace's clothes and slinked past them. Sitting on the upholstered bench, Tim dragged the overnight bag into his lap and cradled it like a baby.
"Oh, shit," he moaned in little bursts of disgust at his own incompetence.
"No kidding," Josie drawled.
"Do you drive a dark blue SUV?" Archer sat down next to him. Tim nodded and scooted away. Josie settled herself on the other side to make sure they had his full attention.
"Is Grace all right?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered.
"Okay, then, listen up here, Tim," Archer directed. "We need to know where she is right now. If you don't tell us, we're going to tell Babcock that you kidnapped her. Then you'll have a bunch of trouble."
"Oh, God. I didn't do that. I swear." Horrified, Tim looked from Archer to Josie and back again.
"When I found out what happened in court, I knew Grace didn't stand a chance. Not with Matthew and Helen on her case like that. Somebody had to help her."
"Did you ever think of coming to me?" Josie asked. "I could have helped."
"Grace didn't know where you stood," Tim said. "Maybe you were in on it with Matthew. Look, I just wanted to give her some time to figure out how she was going to get out of this."
"So you don't think she killed Michelle?" Archer asked.
"No, I don't."
"You think Matthew made it up? His testimony, I mean." Josie hit him up from her side.
Tim shook his head, "I think Helen might have pushed some buttons, backed him into a corner the way she did when she brought Grace back. If you want my honest opinion, Matthew McCreary would say just about anything to get Grace out of his life."
"Doesn't sound like you're quite the fan of the candidate I thought you were." Josie stood up and pulled a chair close. Tim Douglas wasn't going to run and she wanted to look at him full on.
"I never was," Tim admitted, "but I could spot a good bet. If McCreary won, I would be golden. Man, campaign manager to the first Republican senator from California in forever? I could write my own ticket." Tim perked up for a minute but then the reality sobered him. "I love politics but this thing with Grace wasn't part of the bargain. Matthew ignored her. Helen watched her. Michelle used her up. It was like watching a puppy get kicked, then come back for more."
"Except this puppy had teeth," Archer muttered.
"I don't know. I can't imagine what Matthew said was true. Grace and Michelle lovers? Grace a murderer? If you could have seen her last night. Well, she was pretty scared." Tim stood up and plucked some clothes off the floor. Absentmindedly he started putting them in the bag. "You know, I've got a brother who borrows money every month. He promises he'll pay it back and then gambles it away. Am I a masochist because I keep giving it to him or is he a con artist or are both of us just optimistic idiots?"
"What are you talking about?" Josie asked, impatient for him to tell them where they could find Grace.
"Think about it. Is Grace a glutton for punishment? Is Matthew a self-centered son of a bitch or a guy who had understandable issues with his sister? Was Michelle Matthew's doormat or was she crazy selfish or just lonely? Is everybody just on this earth to be used by the next one higher up on the food chain?"
"Got me."
Archer shrugged and Tim was satisfied. He hadn't expected any revelations.
"Yeah, well, even if Grace didn't do what Matthew said, you can't help her. She's going down because that's the way it works when you've got money and connections on one side of the scale. Grace has money, but she doesn't have any friends," Tim said. "Pretty much the whole justice thing is just a myth and I think that sucks, so I helped Grace out."
"And when Matthew finds out what you did, you're toast," Josie reminded him.
Tim shrugged. That was old news.
"If he can cut the coattail his sister is riding on he wouldn't think twice about doing it to me." All packed, Tim hefted the bag. Josie made a move but Archer stopped her with a look. Tim stood still and mused. "You know, the minute I met Grace I thought she was just doomed but she kept on trying. I think that's why I wanted to help her."
With a sigh he tightened his grip on the overnight bag and started to walk. Josie touched him as he passed.
"Did you smash that picture?" Josie cut her eyes to the broken frame around Matthew's portrait.
"Nope. Grace must have done it," Tim said sadly. "Funny, huh? People will take a lot from someone they love. Then when they can't take it anymore they do something like that instead of punching out the bastard. Doesn't exactly solve anything, does it?"
"No," Josie agreed, looking over her shoulder at the ruined photo, then at the wall where Michelle's portrait still hung. Her eyes rested on the wedding photo of Matthew and his beautiful bride. Now Michelle was dead, Matthew was trying to keep his campaign afloat and Grace was—well—a problem. Pity Helen Crane hadn't just left Grace McCreary wherever she found her.
"Well?"
Startled, Josie looked at an impatient Tim Douglas.
"What?"
"Are you coming or not?"
Slowly a smile spread across Josie's face until she was grinning. Archer stood up and held a hand out to her. They followed Tim and took his car because Grace would recognize it. No one talked about what they would do when they got to where Grace was hiding and no one suggested they call Detective Babcock or Matthew McCreary and invite them along.
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