Allison Brennan - See No Evil

by Неизвестный

  “Control?”

  “Yeah. If he didn’t like something we said or did, he was going to file a report with the court and have us institutionalized. He did it before, you know.”

  “To whom?”

  “I don’t know, we just knew.”

  “Did you kill Judge Montgomery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “He hurt one of our friends.”

  “Who?”

  “Emily. She goes to my school. She was on Wishlist with us.”

  “How did you know it was Emily?”

  “Wishlist is supposed to be all secret and stuff, but Skip was a brainiac when it came to computers and stuff. Anytime someone new posted, he’d hack around and discover who it was.”

  “Do you have a list of everyone on Wishlist?”

  Faye frowned. It was obvious she wasn’t expecting the question.

  “I don’t.”

  “Did Skip have the list?”

  “He might have.”

  “And you and Emily went to the same school?”

  Faye nodded, more comfortable with this line of questioning.

  “We had Western Civ together last year. She was nice to me. Not everyone is nice to me because I’m ugly.”

  “But you’re not ugly, Faye,” Dillon said.

  Faye looked down at her hands, still worrying the fabric at the end of the sweater. “It’s okay. I know I am. Emily was beautiful but she was so sad, too. We talked some. Found out we both saw Dr. Bowen. She told me about the vandalism, though I already knew about that. It’d be on the news and, well, everyone at school knew. So when she started posting on Wishlist, I was pretty sure it was her and Skip confirmed it. So then we just listened to what she had to say.” Faye looked up. For the first time, Dillon saw complete clarity in her eyes. “No one listens to kids. Parents and teachers are too busy to be bothered. And Dr. Bowen didn’t really care what we said, just cared if he could fix us for some magazine article or something. Some of us aren’t even broken.”

  She looked back down. “But some of us are. And sometimes you can’t fix what’s broken, and you can break things that are just fine the way they are.”

  Dillon asked in a low, compassionate voice, “Why were you seeing Dr. Bowen?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that right now.” She stared at Dillon, eyes narrowing. “You’re a shrink, too, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m a psychiatrist.”

  Anger flashed across her face, the first real emotion aside from compassion for Emily. “You’re all control freaks. Everyone has to fit in some compartment or category. Circles in fucking circles and squares in fucking squares. Why can’t you just leave us alone? Why can’t you just shut up?” Faye was working herself up, had risen from her chair during her tirade. The switch from complete calm to anger had been startling.

  “Faye,” Will said. “I need you to sit down.”

  “I want him gone. Out of here.”

  Dillon stood. “If you want to talk later, Faye, you can ask for me.”

  She spat in his face.

  Dillon walked into the observation room, shaken. Julia handed him a tissue from her purse and he wiped off Faye’s spit. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. Faye’s not.”

  Dillon had always believed that troubled people could be helped. With the right combination of therapy—and drugs, if necessary—he thought most people could overcome whatever psychosis or chemical imbalance they had and go on to lead relatively normal lives.

  He stared at Faye through the observation window, realizing that he didn’t know enough right now to help her. But he wanted to. Something inside her was crying out for help.

  He feared it was too late.

  Will continued with his questions after Faye calmed down. Dillon, Connor, and Julia watched through the one-way mirror.

  “Did you also kill Paul Judson?”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The teacher from—”

  She nodded, cutting Will off. “Oh, yeah, right. The principal. Shot him through the eyes. Skip did that. I was supposed to. Robbie and Skip didn’t think a girl could do what we’d planned. But I don’t like guns. That’s why I used a knife on Skip.”

  Will asked Faye, “Why did you kill Jason Ridge?”

  Faye shook her head, her face blank. “I don’t know him. I didn’t kill him. He doesn’t go to my school.”

  “And you don’t know Shannon Chase? Michelle O’Dell?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know a girl named Cami? She was at Bowen’s party Saturday night.”

  A brief flicker, then nothing. It might have been Dillon’s imagination.

  “No.”

  “What about Judge Vernon Small?”

  Faye shook her head. She counted on her fingers. “Skip, Robbie, and I killed that principal because he cost that nice kid his basketball scholarship, then the judge because he hurt Emily, then Dr. Bowen because we didn’t like him. Then I killed Robbie and Skip. They were getting stupid.”

  It sounded logical the way Faye put it, but something was off in her statement. Dillon couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was bothering him.

  “Why did you turn yourself in? You killed the only two people who knew what really happened. You might have gotten away with it.”

  Faye sighed. And for the first time, Dillon believed she spoke the whole truth.

  “I’m tired. I just can’t do it anymore.”

  Observing in the back of the room, Dillon turned to Chief Causey and Stanton.

  “This kid needs to be on a 24/7 suicide watch. At the hospital secure ward. Complete medical exam. Faye Kessler can’t be alone, even to urinate.”

  The phone rang in the observation room and Causey answered it. Everyone watched his face harden. He hung up. “Faye didn’t lie about Robert Haxton. The quarry manager checked the area on our request. He found the kid crushed to death in his truck.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  HE HADN’T GONE to Cami’s apartment before, but now he was desperate.

  “Where’s Faye?” he demanded when she opened the door.

  “You haven’t been watching the news, have you?” Letting him in, Cami waved her arm toward the flat, wide-screen television on the wall above the fireplace.

  A newscaster somberly gave his report. “The San Diego Police Department has made an arrest in the murder of Judge Victor Montgomery. There are no details at this time, but Chief Causey will be providing a statement at four-thirty this afternoon. Sources say the killer surrendered to authorities early this afternoon at the downtown precinct. Wait—” The attractive newscaster was looking at something off-screen. “We have just learned that the alleged killer is female, possibly a minor.

  “To repeat this breaking news, an arrest has been made in the homicide of Superior Court Judge Victor Montgomery. We’ll be broadcasting Chief Causey’s press conference live at four-thirty. Stay tuned to the station that brings it to you first, Channel Seven.”

  Cami hit the remote. “You see? It’s over. We’re safe and Faye will be happy in her padded room.”

  “Safe? You think we’re safe?”

  “Faye would never turn me in,” Cami said with complete confidence.

  He didn’t think Faye would either. Cami had such tight control on Faye that the girl didn’t even know it.

  Had Faye heard what the bitch said this morning? Is that why she’d confessed? To protect him?

  The thought of Faye being locked up disturbed him. She’d never survive imprisonment. She hated shrinks and doctors and anyone who poked at her.

  He thought of her scars. They’d run test after test. Blood tests, psychological tests, medical tests. She’d sacrificed herself for him. Not for Cami, for him.

  “To save you, she needs to confess.”

  Faye must have heard. He didn’t need to hear the report to know she put all the blame on herself, Skip, and Robbie. Skip and Robbie couldn’t contradict her. They were dead.r />
  But he wasn’t stupid. The police would verify everything she said. Julia Chandler had already spoken to Tom Chase, had been trying to talk to Michelle O’Dell. Could they put all of it together?

  He could disappear tonight and no one would be the wiser until he was far beyond the reach of the U.S. government.

  Faye wouldn’t break. She would never give him up. She’d kill herself first. It was his fault. Cami’s fault. They’d used her, used Faye’s weaknesses and passions and fears to get her to carry out their plan for vengeance. Justice.

  And in the end, justice no longer meant anything to him. Sure Garrett Bowen was dead, but the one person he loved was behind bars.

  He had to find a way to get her out. If he had to spend every last dime, break every law, whatever it took, he was going to protect Faye.

  “I know everything.” Cami stared at him, eyes hot and narrow.

  He should have seen her rage when he first came to the door, but he’d been too worried about Faye to fully take in how close to the edge Cami was.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You slept with her. You wouldn’t fuck me, but Faye? You were all over that ugly bitch.”

  “Don’t say that. Faye worships you. She did everything you told her to.”

  “Of course she did,” Cami snapped. “She wanted to be me. She wanted my body, my face, and I thought she wanted my life. I see you preferred fucking the ugly duckling over the swan.” She threw a pile of papers at his face. No, not papers. They were photographs of him and Faye in bed. Of her cutting him. In their rawness they were ugly, distorted, fuzzy. The crude images hardly conveyed the exquisite high, the perfect beauty he’d experienced in Faye’s arms, under her knife.

  “Why are you jealous? I never cared that you were screwing Skip. And who else? Probably every man who crossed your path. I heard about you throwing yourself at that guy at Bowen’s party. You think you’re the only one with spies?”

  “Well, my spies are dead, and so are yours.”

  “Don’t you lay a hand on her.”

  “I won’t have to. One night locked up and Faye will take care of it herself.”

  Cami paced, furious he’d chosen Faye over her. How could he? How could he even touch that bisexual cunt?”

  She made the call.

  “It’s me,” she said. “He’s going to cause trouble.”

  “Didn’t you see the press conference? That little psychotic bitch confessed to everything, implicated Skip and Robbie and no one else. We’re fine. Everything is done. Justice has finally been served.”

  “You need to do something about him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Cami.”

  “Don’t call me that anymore! I hate that name.”

  “If anyone has become dangerous, it’s you.”

  “Don’t start. You were going to shoot Bowen in his office, in front of witnesses. You’d be in prison if it weren’t for—”

  “You owed me, Cami. You still owe me.”

  “I’m free. And if anything happens to me, you’ll be sorry.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “You bet I am. I learned from the best, didn’t I, Mother?”

  “I’m not your mother.”

  “If you harm a hair on my head, everything will come out. Everything. I want him taken care of. He’s been fucking Faye.”

  A long pause. “Are you certain?”

  “Very certain.” Cami stared at the photos in front of her. Took one and began to tear it into tiny pieces.

  “I’ll do it in my own time in my own way. We need to let things die down a bit.”

  “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  Cami slammed down the phone.

  No one would make a fool of her.

  She picked up another photo and slowly shredded it, making the pieces so small no one could see the paper had once been a picture of something.

  Dillon admitted Faye Kessler to UCSD’s downtown psychiatric ward while Connor drove Julia home. She’d insisted she was fine to drive herself, but didn’t argue because she was exhausted.

  Connor turned off his truck’s engine in front of her house. “Come here.” He unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her across the bench seat and onto his side.

  He held her tight against him. She released a pent-up breath, the tension beginning to work itself from her muscles.

  She kissed him on the cheek. Then found his lips. A gentle kiss, a hint of passion. “Will you stay the night?” she asked, her heart beating fast. Last night he’d been worried about her safety; tonight he had no reason to stay.

  No reason except for her.

  He held her face, kissed her. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  They were walking toward the house when headlights rounded the curve leading to Julia’s home. Connor frowned and stepped in front of Julia as a dark Mercedes squealed into the driveway, braking only inches from Connor’s truck. “What the hell?”

  “Crystal,” Julia said.

  Crystal Montgomery jumped from her fancy car and strode purposefully over to where Julia and Connor stood at the bottom of the porch stairs.

  “Where’s my daughter?” she demanded.

  “She’s safe,” Julia said.

  “She was released from the hospital and no one told me. She was transported out of state and no one told me until after the fact.”

  “I have temporary guardianship until Victor’s murder is solved. You know that.” Julia was not going to allow Crystal to intimidate her.

  Crystal tried to push past Connor, but he stood firm.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “You’re not wanted here,” Connor said.

  “It’s okay,” Julia said, but didn’t invite her inside. “Let her talk.” When Crystal didn’t say anything, Julia put a hand on her hip and raised her eyebrow. “Well? Did you come here for any reason other than to yell at me?”

  Crystal was surprised. Julia had always been gracious, almost formal, relying on etiquette and manners when she didn’t like someone. But Julia had already resolved to bring Emily into her home, no matter what she had to do. Even take on Crystal Montgomery.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Crystal said.

  “You do?”

  “You’re trying to get Emily’s money. Victor was right about you. You just wanted control of the purse strings, not what was best for Emily.”

  Julia should have been angry, but instead she laughed at Crystal’s ridiculous accusation. “Victor came to me twice trying to gain control of Em’s trust. I said no. I will not be bullied. Emily will have her money to do what she sees fit with on her eighteenth birthday. And you’re just furious that your free ride is almost up.”

  “How dare you? I don’t need Emily’s money.”

  “Don’t you? You’ve been receiving a sizable allowance from Emily’s trust that will end in thirteen months. Then you’ll need to live on your inheritance. And considering the lifestyle you’ve grown accustomed to, I don’t think it’ll last.”

  Julia stepped in front of Connor. “Did you know that Victor raped Emily? That he molested her?” Julia took another step toward Crystal. “He hurt her under your roof and you forced her to take his name. You never cared about her, never cared about anyone but yourself and Matt’s money. It’s over. Don’t bother to return to the Chandler Foundation. I’m buying you out.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I control the board, Crystal. I’m a Chandler. I can do whatever I want. I’ll make it worth your while. You walk away quietly, without fanfare, without dragging Emily through the mud, and I’ll match the inheritance Matt left you. Cash.”

  She saw the greed in Crystal’s eyes warring with embarrassment and anger.

  The greed won.

  “I’ll have my attorneys contact you.”

  “I want custody of Emily.”

  “No.”

  It was an automatic answer, without passion or pain.

  “I’ll continue y
our child support allowance until she’s eighteen.”

  “Until she’s twenty-one,” Crystal countered.

  “Nineteen. And you know it won’t hold up in court if you push me. Do you want to spend your money fighting me for custody?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Crystal snapped. “You’re a bitch, Julia.”

  “So are you.”

  Crystal reddened, turned around, and left.

  “Good riddance,” Julia said.

  “Are you okay?” Connor asked, taking her hand.

  “For the first time since Matt died, I know I’ve done exactly the right thing for Emily. And me.” She turned to him, kissed him. “I’m better than okay.”

  Holding her hand, Connor led her into the house. He kissed her again and again, her face, her neck, her shoulders. She pushed the door closed, reset the alarm, and dropped her purse and briefcase in the entry, wrapping her arms around him.

  Connor’s breath was hot on her neck, sending bolts of lightning down her spine, bringing a moan to her lips.

  “Julia,” he whispered in her ear, her name sounding so sexy coming out of his mouth. He walked her backward until she found her back up against the wall, Connor’s body pressed full against hers, his erection hard against her stomach.

  She rubbed against him, wanton and sexy, wanting him now. Without giving herself time to think, to change her mind, she unzipped his jeans. He gasped, buried his face in her hair when she touched him.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” He kissed her ear, her neck, her lips. Hard and driving, his lips pinned her against the wall, his tongue dueling with hers. His hands fisted around her skirt, pulled it up around her waist, his fingers grazing over her upper thighs.

  She pushed his jeans down past his hips, stuffed her hands down his boxers, and squeezed his firm butt, her nails digging into his flesh, pushing him into her, trying to bring them even closer together.

  “Now,” she gasped, her voice sounding low and odd to her ears. “Right now.”

  Connor wanted to take Julia to her bed and make love to her properly, but more than that, he wanted to be inside her. Now. Her seductive order was all the permission he needed.