Price of Innocence

by Patricia McLinn

  He huffed out an exaggeratedly patient sigh. “What kind of weird message?”

  “This guy says the woman who was supposed to be dead, but isn’t…?”

  “Yeah, what about her?”

  “Says she will be dead for real. And real soon.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Landis called and told Belichek what Nancy Quinn said. “No big surprise.”

  “No,” he agreed. “What’s bugging you, Landis?”

  “This podcaster. I don’t know if he’s gotten under my skin or there’s something there. And I have no one to check on him. Or to listen to all his podcasts. Not sure I could justify the time if I did.”

  “You think there’s something there?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe grasping at straws. Those leaks bug me.”

  Belichek moved to the bottom of the stairs, but still with an angle to see Maggie, Schmidt, and Jamie — who’d had long calls with her family, Imogen Wooton, and other friends on a secure line — doling out dinner from the takeout Schmidt picked up.

  “Leave it to me,” he told Landis.

  “You’re not busy enough with the damnedest vacation I ever heard of?”

  “Leave it to me,” he repeated.

  Landis clicked off.

  “Schmidt.”

  He came into the stairwell with his mouth full.

  “Interested in doing something on the case? Unofficially.”

  Schmidt’s eyes lit up at the question and didn’t dim at the statement. “Yes, sir.”

  “See what you can find out about that podcaster, Oz Zeedyk. Death, Murder, Violence podcast. General background. Any possible connections to this case. As fast as possible.”

  “The guy with the leaks?”

  “Yeah. What’s available publicly only, because you can’t use department resources or time. And this is not an official assignment.”

  * * * *

  Schmidt left immediately, eager to start.

  J.D. Carson arrived before they finished dinner.

  Maggie glowed, even as she demanded to know what he was doing in Fairlington.

  “Heard when the news broke about Jamie being alive, thought you could use more eyes on the situation.”

  “Won’t turn it down.”

  After cookies for dessert, Jamie released a satisfied breath. “Everyone knowing I’m alive is such a relieve. And now that I’m an official person again, I can ask, what avenues are the police investigating?”

  Maggie snorted. “You were more likely to find out when you were semi-officially dead. They’re not going to tell you. And it’s sure not a relief to Belichek or the rest of us that the whole world knows you’re alive.”

  “You all can tell me what ground you’ve covered, though,” Carson pointed out.

  In catching up Carson, Jamie objected to Belichek’s characterization of Hendrickson York’s reaction at the Sunshine Foundation.

  “He can sound a little… Hoity-toity.” She wrinkled her nose with a faint, indulgent smile at the appropriateness of the word for Hendrickson’s old-fashioned and finicky ways. “But he could have continued a lucrative career in public relations — there’s always need for public relations professionals in the Washington area — and instead he’s been the foundation’s longest and most steadfast employee, earning a pittance.”

  “Living off the proceeds of the fortune he’d already made,” Maggie muttered.

  Before Jamie could respond, Belichek revisited one open question. “Did you tell Hendrickson you were leaving Saturday?”

  “You heard what he said—”

  “I want to hear what you say.”

  “No, I didn’t tell him. When we ended our call, I didn’t know myself when I was leaving.”

  “That’s too bad. For Hendrickson.”

  “Oh. Because if he’d known I was leaving Saturday, he’d have had no reason — in your mind — to come to my house Sunday and shoot the person there, thinking it was me.”

  “Right. Unless he knew the person who was at your house and had a motive to kill that person. Did York support your creating the foundation?”

  “Absolutely. He’s worked with me with on it from the start. The donors love him. He’s quite charismatic.”

  “He sure doesn’t want to give that up.”

  She ceded that point. “No. But you did not need to be so rough on him — on any of them.”

  “I wasn’t rough. Has there ever been more to the relationship than professional?”

  “Of course. He’s a dear friend. Practically a member of the family.”

  “Not my family,” Maggie muttered.

  Jamie ignored that. “The foundation wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for him.”

  Maggie said emphatically, “The hell it wouldn’t. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Belichek stepped in. “Romantic relationship. Does he have romantic feelings—?”

  Momentarily blank, Jamie then interrupted by repeating, “Romantic?” and jolting erect. “Oh, my God. Ally said that. Hendrickson and Vivian. Remember, Maggie? The summer before— Before. Hendrickson York came from his cabin, took us all out for dinner, and Ally said she was sure he liked Vivian. Like a boyfriend, she said. Remember?”

  “No, I don’t remember. She could have said it, but I didn’t listen. Ally tried to pair off squirrels, toys, and total strangers for heaven’s sake. I never saw anything romantic between Aunt Vivian and him. Not on her side.”

  “But you did see something on his part?”

  “I suppose he loved Vivian in his way, but I heard him propose to her at the beginning of that summer, Jamie. And I heard her tell him no. Gently, but leaving no doubt. She wasn’t interested in him or his money, which was how he tried to sell himself. He was rich and Aunt Viv could live a life of comfort and ease as his wife.

  “The damned shame is she was interested only in Glenn.”

  “Poor Hendrickson.” Jamie turned to Belichek. “That’s what you were asking — if Hendrickson had unrequited romantic feelings for Vivian? I knew he loved her — but as a friend. It’s so sad he watched her fall for someone else, and then that person turned out… After all that, to show his love the only way he could all these years with the foundation. It’s—”

  “Before you’re in tears,” Maggie said, “you should know you haven’t sold Belichek, me, or J.D. on Hendrickson’s life-long devotion to Viv.”

  Jamie looked at him. She clearly read that he agreed with Maggie. “But… Don’t you see—?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Because I wasn’t asking you about how he felt about Vivian. Was asking about York’s romantic feelings for you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Belichek watched it sink in. Her mouth formed a No, but no sound came out.

  “Huh.” The idea intrigued Maggie. “Interesting, Bel.”

  “Credit Landis. He spotted Hendrickson York sounding like a jealous guy. Especially when he talked about your romantic interests, including Arbendroth.”

  That focused Jamie’s denial. “You can’t seriously think Hendrickson—”

  Without moving, Belichek’s words cracked across her protest. “Yes. We think. Seriously think. Everything. And you do, too, starting right now. You aren’t dismissing anything, you aren’t cutting off possibilities. Somebody shot a woman dead in your house. A woman they most likely thought was you. Nothing is impossible. Including you being a suspect.”

  “Belichek, that’s—”

  “Quiet, Maggie.” He didn’t look away from Jamie. “No investigator would miss that angle. As suspect or intended victim, you are the best lead. No amount of optimism changes that.”

  She didn’t look away, either. She had a reaction, but she reined it in, breathing hard at first, then steady and slow.

  “I understand.” Back to upbeat, possibly even humoring him. “But I can’t believe—”

  “Believe, don’t believe. It doesn’t matter. Just answer the questions.”

  But she wasn’t relenting.
/>   “I know these people. They couldn’t—”

  “You know who you want them to be.” Maggie’s interruption didn’t break his connection with Jamie.

  Even if he was tempted to agree with it, he saw it threatened his inroads against Jamie’s armor.

  “There’s at least one of these people you don’t know,” he said.

  The trouble with making inroads against her armor was it dimmed her shine. He hated that. But he needed it.

  She tried to rally. “If Bethany Usher was the target—”

  “Not as likely as you. If that was what happened, it meant you didn’t know her as well as you believed.” He gave that last word a little extra to drive it home. “Everybody knows you’re alive. Including whoever shot Bethany Usher. We don’t have time for you to believe. We don’t have time.”

  Two beats. Four. Six.

  She streamed a breath out. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Hendrickson York.”

  “He never gave me any reason to think his feelings were remotely romantic. Ever.”

  He nodded recognition of her response, considering how best to check it. “Okay.”

  “Good.” She nodded, her good humor partially restored.

  “He didn’t mean he accepted your rose-colored glasses view, Jamie, for God’s sake. He was acknowledging you had spoken words in response to his question.” Maggie plunked her cup down. “When are you going to start to see reality?”

  * * * *

  “Where? Where’s the guy saying she’s going to be dead?” Oz demanded of the assistant as he scrolled.

  “Uh, down toward the beginning.”

  “Where? It’s not here.”

  “Not all the way. Look about an hour ago.”

  “Jesus, an hour ago? Why didn’t you flag it earlier?”

  “When you got back from, uh, the news conference, you said not to interrupt you.”

  “If you had a brain, you’d know the difference between regular crap and something important. And you wouldn’t be wasting my time, leaving me scrolling around because you’re an—”

  Had it.

  At least A-whatever-her-name-was got the gist of the message right.

  Jamison Chancellor was the one who was supposed to die. She will. It has to happen. Soon.

  The signature was “September.”

  Oz typed short and fast, hoping the poster was still watching the comments.

  Contact me.

  That part was easy.

  He thought.

  If this person wasn’t a flake, he’d be wary of how he got in contact. Email could be tracked with enough time. If the person was smart, they’d be using a burner phone. But if Oz put his phone number in the comments, every one of the podcast fans would use it. He couldn’t afford that. Not with sponsors contacting him.

  He gave the assistant’s phone number.

  “Hey,” she protested when his reply went live on the screen.

  She didn’t like it? He’d dump her ass.

  But not until this commenter contacted her phone and Oz had a line to him.

  * * * *

  The cousins were getting on each other’s nerves. Or the strain was and they let it out on each other.

  Belichek offered a distraction. “Jamie, I want you to look at a short video clip.”

  He keyed up the video Landis had sent on his monitor.

  She watched intently. “That’s my house. But what…?”

  When it was over, she looked a question at him.

  “Did you recognize the person?”

  “It’s only a blur between the rain and whatever they’re wearing puffing out in the wind.”

  “Watch it again. Don’t try for details. Look at it overall.” He hit play again. “Just watch.”

  She shook her head. “I get what you’re trying for — the walk, the way of moving. To see if it’s familiar. But with the wind and rain, the person’s mostly staggering. I can’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Something else. Do you know anyone named Oz?”

  “The Wizard of?”

  From the couch, Maggie snapped, “Knock it off, Jamie. This is your life—”

  “I know it is.”

  “Let up, Maggie,” Carson said quietly.

  “I won’t. She wraps her refusal to see reality around her like some magical cloak a child would believe in. But it’s dangerous. There’s a price to be paid for not seeing reality. A price she pays and others pay.”

  Jamie paled.

  She’s thinking of her aunt’s death.

  Maggie wasn’t. But Jamie was.

  Belichek stepped in before either cousin could continue, asking again, “Do you know anyone named Oz?”

  “No.” After another beat, Jamie asked, “Who is Oz?”

  “A podcaster. The DMV podcast — Death, Murder, Violence. His full name is Oliver Zeedyk.”

  She shook her head. “Never heard of the podcast or him.”

  “With Maggie and J.D. here, I’m going into the office to help Landis, but I want you to listen to Zeedyk’s recent podcasts. See if anything strikes you. He’s the guy who’s aired the leaks.”

  “She’ll listen,” Maggie said. “And I’ll listen with her, so if she tries to slide past something, I’ll spot it.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. You always think I take the easy way out.” Jamie started slowly, but each word came faster. “That only you are strong. And you are strong. You saved me. Saved me. I know that and I can never thank you enough—”

  “Don’t thank me—”

  “I will. I do. I know you were there right after Aunt Vivian… And how awful, how devastating that was—” She swallowed. “—for you.”

  “If I’d been half an hour earlier. If I’d—”

  “No. No.” Jamie’s great eyes were trained on her cousin.

  Belichek glanced at Jamie, but said to Maggie, “You’d’ve been killed, too.”

  “I was the one he wanted because I testified—”

  “He would have killed you both.”

  “I…” Without moving, Maggie seemed to shrink away from them, as if pulled back to that horror. Then she shook her head and her eyes found J.D. After a breath, she turned to Belichek. “Your grandfather was the one who shot Glenn, I remember that. Remember him. Arriving on my bike to see him go in — he went in first, with one deputy behind him. Others held me back. Wouldn’t let me go in. I remember the sound of the gunshot.”

  The fine muscles around Maggie’s eyes flinched, as if hearing it again.

  “Glenn came at my grandfather when he realized he was trapped.”

  She nodded slowly. “I’ve always been grateful the sheriff — your grandfather — killed him. That there wasn’t a trial. Another trial.”

  “It wasn’t enough for Grandpa. He went to his grave feeling he should have done more, better, sooner.”

  Jamie sucked in a gasping breath that had them all turning to her.

  “It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Maggie’s. It was mine. None of it would have happened if it hadn’t been for me.”

  “Jamie, that’s not true. You were a kid. You had nothing to do with that asshole—”

  “But I did.”

  Maggie’s face went dark. “You said he never—”

  “He didn’t— He didn’t molest me. Not really. I know now he was grooming me and—”

  “Then you know it wasn’t your fault. You were a kid and he was a master manipulator.”

  “It was my fault. I never told Aunt Vivian or you or Ally — or anyone. I knew I should. I knew it. But it was … heady to have someone pay so much attention to me. At home, Mom and Dad were busy. At Aunt Vivian’s, you and Ally could always do so much more than I could. It felt like you two and Vivian were equals, friends, and I was the little kid trailing along. And I missed Daddy — my biological father.

  “And then there came Glenn, a grownup, saying I was special, saying I was beautiful … and other things I didn’t
understand. I never told, because I wanted that attention. Even though I knew I should tell Aunt Vivian. Even though it made me feel … bad.

  “After he tried to grab me… That’s why I cried all the time when they talked to me about being a witness, because I would have had to admit I knew and I hadn’t told. Your grandfather… I think he knew. I always thought he knew. My parents wanted to have me talk to a counselor to see if I could. Aunt Vivian said absolutely not to my testifying.

  “I could have told them everything. I told you to forgive yourself, Maggie. I told you that last spring, when it was all my fault. I was the only one who knew and I kept the secret. I let him get off. I let him murder Aunt Vivian. It’s my fault she’s dead. I let him—”

  Maggie almost stumbled coming out of her chair, but held steady when she jerked Jamie up by the shoulders. “You did not. You did not. Do you hear me, Jamison Eleanor? You did not. Neither did I. Neither did Bel’s grandfather. The only one responsible for Aunt Vivian being dead is Glenn. May he rot in hell.”

  She wrapped her arms around her cousin in a fierce hug.

  * * * *

  The two cousins sat together, looking stunned and drained by the emotions. All the years of emotions.

  “We’ll all listen to those podcasts,” Carson said quietly. “Tomorrow. Right now, Maggie, let’s you and I go upstairs for a while.”

  “You think separating Jamie and me will—”

  “Give you both a chance to take a breath? Yeah. C’mon.”

  To Belichek’s surprise, she went.

  “Okay if I take a shower upstairs?” Carson asked from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Sure.”

  “We take a shower,” Maggie amended.

  “Leave the walls standing,” Belichek ordered.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Jenkins had that look, like a dog who’d been sent to fetch a stick and brought back a chunk of gold.

  “Tell me,” Landis ordered. “We could use something good.”

  “Heard back from the North Carolina sheriff’s department. They checked out the cabin. Said there are signs of it being occupied recently, though it was cleaned up well. A couple neighbors had seen signs of life there, too.”