“I have to see you. Tonight.”
“I’m with Steve.”
“Not there. I can’t see you there.”
Having heard his name, Steve was watching him, and Rick got up, went into the bathroom and turned on the fan.
He and Steve had a long-standing joke about bathroom smells. Steve wouldn’t follow him there.
“Are you in trouble?”
“No.”
“You’re safe?”
“Perfectly.”
“Did Sheriff Johnson find something?”
“No.”
“What’s this about, then?”
“I’ll tell you when I see you.” She sounded angry. Not scared.
“Dinner’s in half an hour,” he said quietly. “I can leave then.”
Her impatient sigh got his adrenaline pumping. Something was up. Hopefully just delayed reaction to the break-in at her office.
“Fine. Come to my place.”
“Your office?”
“No. My house.” She gave him the address. He knew the street.
No way in hell was he going there. He refused to be alone with her in her home. Too intimate.
Too tempting. Especially to a man who was going to be leaving the next day, perhaps for good.
And then he remembered her guests. They wouldn’t be alone.
“I’d like to know what this is about.”
“Then you’ll have to come here to find out.”
“Why there?”
“You’ll see when you get here.”
Was she setting him up? “Are you alone?”
“Yes. I’m in my car. Driving.”
“Is someone putting you up to this?”
“Of course not.” His question seemed to disgust her.
“Look, Mr. Thomas…” He thought he detected an emphasis on his last name. “If you don’t want to meet with me, that’s your choice. But please understand that if you do not, you will receive my final bill in the morning. Along with another visit from Sheriff Johnson who’ll be carrying another arrest warrant.”
Shit. “I’ll be there.”
On the road
Sunday, October 24, 2010
“Do we have to tell my mom about this trip?” Maggie had packed her bag the second I’d told her about our impromptu business trip to Michigan. She hadn’t argued or asked questions. Hadn’t used school as an excuse to stay in Chandler without me. Didn’t seem to mind leaving her Mac….
I’d been sitting in the car feeling good about all of that.
“Why wouldn’t you want to tell her?” I asked, glancing over at the girl. With her hair up in a ponytail and no makeup and the sweats she’d put on for the seven-hour drive, Maggie looked about twelve.
Not the experienced woman of fourteen that she was.
I cared about Maggie. I really, really wanted to make this work. To be her family. I was confident I could help her.
Until it came to the hold David Abrams—Mac—had on her. Clinically I understood. She was in a trauma-induced state of denial. Lying to herself. She believed that her Mac and David Abrams were two different men. Professionally I knew how to handle the other man’s manipulation and abuse where his victim was concerned.
As a parent, loving a girl who’d given a precious gift to a man who’d deceived her, whose heart had been broken, I felt like a fraud.
“You know how she gets,” Maggie said, staring out her side window. “Afraid that I’m going to think I’m better than her. This trip… She might not like it….”
“Because she couldn’t afford to take you on vacations?”
“Yeah.”
“And what else?” I knew there was something. I could hear it in her tone.
“Your job. You’re someone important. Educated. People listen to you. They pay you to help them. I think it makes her feel…stupid.”
“There’s a difference between uneducated and stupid,” I said. “Your mother isn’t stupid. At all.”
“I know that. But she doesn’t.”
“It’s your choice, sweetie,” I finally said. “I don’t believe it’s a good idea to lie to anyone, let alone your mother. But if you’d rather not tell her we’ve been out of town, I’m not going to force you to do so.”
I didn’t see Lori Winston personally. I just transported Maggie to and from her biweekly visits.
Maggie nodded. “Thanks, Kelly. And…” The girl paused. I waited. “And thank you for bringing me.”
I was still smiling when the phone rang. It was our hostess.
“You aren’t going to believe what’s happened,” Erin said as soon as I picked up. “The timing of your visit is no coincidence. How far out are you?”
“Three hours.”
“Damn. I figured it was something like that, but I was hoping you were closer. I just… So much has happened today and my head’s reeling and I guess I should have something to eat. You know. I’m so furious. I should probably be scared, but I’m not. I’m angry. Really angry.”
I recognized a rant when I heard one. And because the exercise was healthy, I didn’t interrupt, no matter how badly I wanted to know what was going on. I gave Erin time to vent.
And then, when my friend’s voice slowed, I asked, “What’s this about?”
I almost drove off the road when she told me about the break-in at her office. But the sheriff had things under control. He didn’t think Erin was in any personal danger. He figured it was professional.
I wasn’t so sure.
“What if they didn’t find what they were looking for at your office?” I asked. “Wouldn’t your home be the next place to look?”
“I thought that, too. Sheriff Johnson thinks Rick Thomas’s file was the target. One of his deputies sat with me while I cleaned up the papers strewn all over my office this afternoon. Rick’s file was definitely the only current case file missing. The sheriff has a deputy watching my place, but I’m not worried.”
She didn’t sound worried. She sounded…annoyed.
“He lied to me, Kel. He’s a fraud. I’m confronting him tonight, but I still want you to speak with him in the morning, because I want your opinion on record. Then I’m taking myself off his case. The man has serious enemies.”
Her agitation was contagious.
“Anyway, I made reservations for you to stay at a nice B and B down the road from me, until I get this cleared up. Just in case. I’ll text you the address and phone number. Agnes is expecting you. Caylee’s staying there tonight, too. And hopefully tomorrow you all can move over to my place.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being there alone.”
“I’m not the least bit scared of him,” Erin said.
In my professional opinion, based on her tone and on what she hadn’t said, she wasn’t being completely honest with herself. I believed she was somewhat afraid of her client. I also understood that she was doing what she had to. Taking control of a situation that had been controlling her.
“You’re sure you’ve got someone watching the place at all times?”
“Positive. I have a deputy on the premises. I can see him now. A few yards down the hill. And I have a two-way radio, too.”
“A two-way radio?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re helping them, aren’t you?”
“I’m not wired or anything. I haven’t told them Rick lied to me. I’m still his attorney. I can’t tell them what I know. They’re watching me because of the break-in.”
“If anyone wants to get you, you’re providing a target, inviting him in—but with surveillance.”
Maggie was staring at me. I didn’t mind that she was getting a hint of my job.
“Sheriff Johnson and Ron Fitzgerald said it’s the only way, although neither of them are happy about the idea. Still, they don’t want me out and about with the perpetrator on the loose—whether it’s…Rick or someone connected to him. They’d rather have him come after me on their terms.”
I didn’t like it. But
the plan made sense.
“What did Rick Thomas lie to you about?”
“I’d rather wait until you’ve talked to him tomorrow. I want your opinion to be as unbiased as possible.”
“Fair enough.” We arranged to be back in touch to make meeting plans early in the morning. She was going to arrange a space for Rick Thomas and me to meet.
“Be careful,” I said, wishing I could do more.
“Of course.”
With my foot resting a little heavier on the pedal I crossed my fingers for my friend and concentrated on Maggie.
If the deputy hiding in the trees thought Rick didn’t see him, he was a fool. But then, he already knew Bruce Halloway was less than stellar on the job. Rick considered walking out there and giving the guy a few tips on surveillance, but figured the effort would be a waste of time.
Time he didn’t have.
If he was still free, he was leaving town in the morning. At least long enough to seek out a couple of Tom’s contacts in the hellholes where they lived.
And his attorney was angry with him.
He got to the top of the drive, parking by the side door of her impressive, glass-walled home.
Lake Michigan’s waves beat against the shore below and Rick remembered Erin telling him how the sound of the waves gave her peace. And kept her company.
“What’s up?” he asked her as she met him at the side door.
“I have to speak with you.”
“Obviously. You threatened me with a call to the sheriff if I didn’t agree to meet. It would appear that you called him, anyway. Is Halloway out there to bring me in when we’re through?”
“No, of course not.”
“To protect you from me, then?”
“No.” She stepped back, still wearing the jeans and sweater she’d had on that morning. But she was barefoot. “Come in.”
Her toenails were bright red.
Rick came inside just far enough to let her close the door behind him. He was in a laundry room. An impressively clean and organized laundry room. The washer and dryer were computerized, relatively new. A white metal matching cart on wheels rested between them, bearing detergents and bleach and dryer sheets. A hand-painted garden mural adorned the yellow walls.
And to his right a single blouse hung on a garment rack. A cream-colored silk blouse. Probably hand-washed. Hanging there to dry.
His sudden urge to touch the damned thing had Rick needing to leave.
“Sheriff Johnson wants to make certain that I’m not the target of this morning’s break-in,” she said. “At least, not personally. He doesn’t want me coming and going on my own, and I refuse to become a prisoner. The compromise was that I will stay here tonight in the hope of luring anyone who…needs something from me to come and get me. The sheriff’s assigning deputies to watch the house. If I’m going to be at risk, he wants me at risk on his terms.”
“I’d do the same.”
“You would.” Her glance was piercing. Not in a kind way.
“Yes,” he said, not liking this at all. It wasn’t often that Rick was on the vulnerable side of a conversation. He made it a rule whenever he could not to enter into any dialogue that mattered unless he knew more about the situation than his opponent.
“Tell me, Rick. How does a construction worker speak with such authority on matters pertaining to crime? You did the same thing this morning when I called about the break-in at the office. You barked out orders like you were used to taking control of crime scenes. And yesterday, too, when we were talking about Charles Cook being involved with something classified.”
“Most men view themselves as the guy in charge. Comes with the testosterone.”
She nodded, but her shoulders remained taut, her expression rigid. She turned and left the room.
Rick hadn’t intended to go any farther into her home. He didn’t need to see the lush-looking cream-colored sectional, would rather not be able to picture her there, alone with her waves at night.
He didn’t need the scent of lavender in his nostrils, or to see the magnificent view of the water.
“Have a seat.”
“I’ll stand.”
“Uh-uh.” Shaking her head, Erin sat on one end of the sectional, leaving the rest of the monstrosity, which was big enough to be a bed, to him. “This is my show, Mr. Thomas. You do as I ask, or I make good on my threat.”
“To call the sheriff.”
“That’s right.”
“And have me arrested.”
“Yes.”
“And to take yourself off my case.”
“Right again.”
“How do I know you aren’t going to do all of that, anyway?”
“You don’t. But at least you have a chance to stop me.”
He chose the autumn leave upholstered wing chair across from her. It was old. Didn’t match the rest of the room.
It meant something to her.
A radio crackled, and Rick tensed but didn’t move. If he was going down, he was going to do it his way. Protecting Steve.
“Ms. Morgan?”
“Yes, Bruce?”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“That Rick Thomas in there with you?”
“Yes. He’s my client. Since we can’t meet at my office, I asked him to come here.”
“Okay, ma’am. Just checking.”
“Thank you, Bruce.”
Rick shook his head. “What if you’d been in trouble?” he couldn’t help asking, butting in where he didn’t belong.
“Then I either wouldn’t have answered, or I would’ve said, ‘Of course’ when he asked if I was okay and he’d know I wasn’t.”
Okay, so they had a plan. An elementary one, but it could work.
“We have light signals, too,” she said. “And if the front curtains close he knows to call for help and get in here.”
Using so many precautions your victim needed a play-book wasn’t wise. Too much for them to remember, or confuse, during times of stress. Too much potential for mistakes. Or she could just be giving him fake signals to string him along.
“I take it he doesn’t know about whatever it is you think you have on me. Since you’re still my attorney. For the moment.”
“That’s right.”
Okay. Good. Now they were getting somewhere. First and foremost, she was being loyal to him.
For the moment.
Energy coursed through Rick, making it difficult to stay in his seat. He had too much to do. People to confront. Information to get. One way or another.
“Have you told anyone else about whatever it is you’re going to lay on me?”
“Not yet.” As though she was planning to.
“What are you waiting for?”
“You’re currently my client. That gives you privilege.”
“Only in terms of what I’ve told you. And you can take yourself off my case at any time.” He’d lose his inside informant with the local police, but right now, the murder charge was the least of his worries.
More important to him was whether or not he could trust her. Her choice to come to him first, before she went to the sheriff, was big. He had to know if it was big enough.
He’d introduced her to Steve. Which meant that Steve would be more likely to speak to her again if she showed up asking questions when Rick wasn’t there.
He’d done what he thought best on Saturday when he’d called her. But he’d been sloppy. For a second time. The first had been in using Steve’s money to get his own ass out of jail. And sloppiness could mean death.
His own or someone else’s.
She was staring at him. Watching him. Assessing him?
He stared right back.
“Thank you for coming over, Rick…or should I say Tom?”
26
Rick could play dumb. Pretend not to recognize the name she’d just uttered. But he didn’t have time for games. His cover was blown. He had to know how. Where. And at the moment, she was the
source of that information.
Rick grabbed the gun holstered inside his shirt, holding it so she—but only she—could see it.
“Who are you working for?”
The two-way radio was off. He’d seen her turn it off when she disconnected from Halloway. But her house could be bugged.
“Until you just drew your gun, I worked for you.” She hadn’t flinched. Her voice was steady. But she hadn’t taken her eyes off his military-issue, small and very lethal automatic.
“I don’t have time for games, Erin. If you know who I am, you know that I’ll get what I want. Now tell me who hired you.”
“You did.” Her voice broke. She was rattled. But didn’t even hesitate as she answered. She could be telling him the truth.
“I hired you to defend me against an unwarranted murder charge.”
“And as part of that defense, I had to find out everything I could about you. In order to be prepared for whatever the prosecution might use against you.”
She expected him to believe that a small-town attorney with limited investigative resources had managed to break through a chain of government protocols and expose an alias that no longer existed?
More likely, whoever was after him had contacted her today. After the break-in. Or maybe they’d contacted the sheriff. She could be wired. This could all be a setup.
She was in far more danger than he’d guessed. Than she knew. He had to get her out of there.
His thoughts lining up in clear and concise order, Rick planned their escape. He had to lure Halloway to the house where he had the best chance of taking him down without a fight. He and Erin would have ten minutes or so before the officer regained consciousness to make their getaway.
He’d seen her purse in the laundry room when he’d first come in. She could grab it on the way out. Anything else they’d pick up on the road.
“I took a sample of your DNA, Rick.”
Her words, which seemed to come from out of nowhere, interrupted his mental field plan.
“That night at George’s Place,” she added as he switched gears enough to follow her conversation. “When you went to the restroom, I took your empty beer cup—”
“Take off your sweater.”
“What?”
Moving the gun only enough to remind her he had it trained on her, he said, “You have a blouse on underneath.”
The Third Secret Page 21