Broken Build (21 page)

The doorbell rang.

* * *

Dave looked out the window. Two police cars sat just outside his driveway. Jen sobbed at the kitchen table.

He opened the door. Detective Mathews and two uniformed officers stepped in after flashing their badges. Owen was nowhere in sight. Another officer was examining the front bumper of his Camry. A flush of shockwaves blanketed his face and chest. Dave leaned against the doorframe, and his stomach curdled.

Behind him, the officers read Jen her rights. They handcuffed her and helped her hobble to the backseat of the police car. Jen’s hair hung over her face, and she did not turn to look at Dave. The squad car drove away.

Detective Mathews stepped to Dave’s side. “Whose white Camry is that?”

“Mine.”

“We’d like to take it in to analyze the hair samples we found stuck in the license plate holder. Do you know how they got there?”

“No, sir.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

Dave looked at his feet. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

“Your girlfriend’s going to cost you a lot of trouble.” He took a notepad out of his pocket and clicked his pen.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

The detective stared at him. “Did she have access to your car keys? How long has she been living here?”

Dave rubbed his stubble. “I won’t answer any questions without my attorney.”

Detective Mathews turned and surveyed the wrecked van and SUV. “What the hell happened here? Demolition derby? I’ll be back with a search warrant.”

He told an officer to guard the car. Then he turned to Dave, one eyebrow raised in question. “You’re not coming down for her booking?”

“Like I said, she’s not my girlfriend.” Dave entered his house and shut the door. The house suddenly felt empty. He walked into the guest room and picked up the bear, the Christmas gift he bought for Abby that she never received. Its fur still held Jen’s sparkly scent.

His cell phone rang. He put the bear down and picked up the call. It was Owen.

“Why weren’t you here?” Dave said. “They’ve arrested her already.”

“What do you mean? I was going to come and have her turn herself in.”

“She said she didn’t do it.” Dave rubbed his chin. “But they think she used my car as the murder weapon.”

“Your car?”

“Yes, my Camry.”

“Well, is it?” Owen’s voice cut through the line.

“I have to call my attorney. Talk to you later.”

“Sure.” Owen hung up.

Dave called Phil and informed him of the events. Next he called Claire. He hoped her cruise hadn’t been rerouted to Iceland like Melissa said. He needed to raise money for Jen’s bail. He couldn’t imagine her spending the weekend in jail. How scared and alone she’d be among the hardened criminals.

“Darling, what’s up?” Claire crooned through the static.

“I missed you. How’s the cruise?” Dave pictured her patting down her hair and licking her teeth.

“I’ve been spa’ed and massaged and body wrapped until my skin’s fit to peel off. How’ve you been?”

His throat tightened. “I could be better. Might need you for an alibi. Remember the night we went to Il Forno and that young couple who sat across from us?”

“How could I forget? Such foul language from such a pretty girl. What happened?”

Dave palmed his head in frustration. “The police think my car was involved in the hit and run.”

“I told you to report it stolen. Why didn’t you?” Her tone was accusing.

“When will you be back? I need to talk in person. Please?”

“Oh, darling, I’m back already.” Her voice softened. “It was only a five day cruise. I’m jetlagged, but I do have some information.”

“You do? Tell me.”

She yawned. “A little back rub does wonders for my loquacity. Be at your place in thirty minutes?”

“Ah… yes. Slow down before turning into the driveway. There are a few obstacles behind the oleander hedge.”

“Sure, darling. Nice and slow, just the way I like it. Ta, ta!”

* * *

The officers helped Jen out of the car and into the station. She hung her head. Reporters and bystanders whipped out their cell phones and snapped pictures. Her mug shot would be all over the internet. Forever. They brought her into the booking station, fingerprinted her with a digital scanner, and took saliva swabs from her mouth.

Then they handed her a placard and put her in front of the camera. Everything was blurry, and her eyes refused to stay open. The photographer yelled at her for blinking and took several shots, each flash explosion assaulting her already sore eyes.

She didn’t have any personal items. They hadn’t even allowed her to change from the sweatpants and oversized shirt she had slept in.

“Anyone you wish to call? Your lawyer?” the officer who booked her asked.

A female officer looked her over. “Send her to medical. Was she resisting arrest?”

One of the attending officers said, “No, she was already beaten up when we got there. Let her lawyer deal with it.”

Jen took the offered phone and she punched in Owen’s number. He picked up on the first ring.

“I’m on my way,” he said. “Need anything?”

“Yeah, my glasses and the Bible they gave me at church.”

“Where are they?”

She almost rubbed her eye but settled for her nose. “Dave’s house. And Owen?”

“Yes?” He sounded tired.

“I didn’t do it.”

“It’ll be okay, but do not answer any questions until I get there. Do not talk to anyone. No one, not your cell mate, not the friendly female officer who’s going to ask you about your wounds and act like your best friend. And definitely do not talk to Dave. He may be your codefendant. They’re taking his car for evidence.”

A buzz drilled down her spine. Dave’s car? So he was involved after all. Would he try to pin it on her? A sodden grey blanket weighed down her shoulders. He had never lied to her nor made her think he cared about her. She was the pathetic one—to love a man who could never love her back.

“Jen.” Owen’s voice punctured her thoughts of impending doom. “It’s the day before Thanksgiving. I’m trying for a speedy arraignment. Don’t want you to spend the long holiday weekend in jail. Do you have any relatives who can post bail? For a murder charge, it’s likely to be quite high.”

Jen pinched the bridge of her nose. “No one. My father deserted me, and he doesn’t have any money.”

“How about a coworker or a mentor? A friend from college?”

“Well… I don’t know if she’d help. She was just fired from Shopahol on Monday.”

“Who?”

“Greta Debeers,” Jen said. “She was my mentor at State, and she hired me.”

“She might be your only hope. It’s worth a try.”

Chapter 21

Dave flopped on the bed in the guest room. Jen’s presence permeated the entire room. Her scent, the way the sheets were ruffled, the long hairs on the pillow. Her voice murmured through his head,
Dave, whatever happens, I love you.

The Bible that Pastor Thomason gave her sat on the nightstand. He idly flipped through it. Hard to believe Sunday had only been a few days ago. What was going on? Why did he miss her so much? And did she know more about the kidnapping than she let on?

The doorbell rang. Detective Mathews presented a warrant for the Camry. Dave handed over the keys and watched the tow truck driver pull it onto the truck bed. Claire’s Mercedes crept around the corner and idled at the entrance.

She stepped out after the tow truck drove away and examined the front end of his SUV. “What is this? A junkyard?”

Her eyes softened, and she touched his cheek tenderly. “Oh, my, and you’ve been fighting?”

Dave kissed her on the cheek, careful to leave her flawless makeup undisturbed.

She pressed a number on her cell. “I’ll get all these cars fixed. Let’s see, front end damage, back end damage and busted ground-effects on the sports car.”

She gave the address and disconnected.

“Thanks,” Dave said. “I’m in a world of trouble.”

“I can see.” She swept his hair back. “That cut over your brow looks nasty. Why didn’t you report the car stolen?”

He scratched his chin. “I’ve a friend who borrows my car sometimes. I didn’t want to get him involved.”

“I don’t think it was a ‘he’ who stole the car. Fix me a smoothie, pomegranate and acai berry, and I’ll tell you what I’ve uncovered.”

Dave opened the front door. “Not sure I have all the ingredients. It’s been hectic.”

“Seltzer water will do, with a spritz of lime.” She patted her immaculately sprayed hair and checked her lipstick in her compact mirror.

Dave returned with the water, a slice of lime and a straw. “So who was it?”

She took a sip, staining the straw with her coral-colored lipstick. “My neighbor Mrs. Bunney was walking her dog, when the dog got loose. She chased it down the street and saw a young woman look up and down the street before opening the door of your car. She knew it was yours because she’s quite a gossip at church. But—”

“Wait! A young woman, what did she look like?”

“Young and attractive, with long brown hair, lots of it. Sorry, Mrs. Bunney couldn’t be more descriptive. Anyway, I’ve already contacted Phil, and he’ll take her statement. I hope you won’t have to resort to using me for an alibi. It’s not like anything happened between us.”

“Sure, we only shared a bottle of Brunello, and I gave you a massage.” Dave nuzzled the back of her neck and caressed her shoulders. “I know you enjoyed it.”

“That’s a detail I hoped you’d forgotten.” She picked up his hand and rolled her thumb lightly over his palm. “I could use a reminder, if you know what I mean.”

“What would I do without you?” He feathered his fingers down the side of her neck. Claire was a woman who required the lightest, most delicate touch and lots of patience.

She unbuttoned his shirt and scratched a line down the front of his chest with her manicured nail extension. “Maybe this time...”

Dave’s attention wandered, but how could he say ‘no’ to three million dollars? He kissed her neck and fumbled with her blouse. Her sultry, musky scent spelled sophistication and money, quite different from Jen’s open, sunshiny fragrance.

Claire smoothed his hair. “You’re distracted.”

He lifted his head. “I’m sorry. I need a favor from you. What do you know about posting bail?”

“Wait, who are you bailing out?” Her sharp blue eyes pierced him.

“The build engineer. They arrested her, but we need her for final software packaging. The backup engineer doesn’t know how to do it.”

“Can’t you ask her to walk him through it? Surely, they allow visitors.” Claire smoothed her blouse.

“I’m not sure she can explain it clearly without a laptop.”

“What did I tell you about the hit-by-a-bus theory?” Claire’s voice tightened.

“Sorry. I hope the judge will hear her today. I can’t let her spend the weekend in jail.”

She pulled on her tailored jacket. “Very well. I’ll make a few calls.”

He kissed her hair, and she pulled out a mirror to make sure he hadn’t misplaced a single highlighted strand, then pulled her car keys out of her purse.

Dave hopped in the passenger seat of the Benz, and Claire tore down the winding road. He bit his fingernails. Could they get Jen bailed out in time? What if the judge went home early. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving.

Jennifer Cruz wouldn’t even hurt a spider. She always scooped the little critters gently and put them outside. She was kind, a bit shy. No way could she run down a man in cold blood. There had to be an explanation.

“You know, I’m worried about you.” Claire stepped on the gas to pass a moving van.

Jocelyn’s best friend was quiet, with her nose in a book, whereas Jocelyn had been the center of attention with her quick wit and dry humor. Loyal Jennifer. She always stood up for Jocelyn.

“Dave, are you even paying attention? Have you spoken to your lawyer? Could you be arrested?”

“Huh? Oh. I need bail money. Do you think you could—”

She gripped his thigh and squeezed. “Anything for you, dear heart.”

Dear heart? His skipped a beat and wrapped around Jen. She had loved Abby and Jocelyn. Could she really love him?

* * *

Jen ignored the drunk woman who picked her nose and the hooker with the tattered wig. She washed her hands at the sink. A video camera was trained over the entire holding cell right over the small toilet. No privacy in jail.

The guard opened the heavy door with the reinforced window. “Your lawyer is here with a visitor.”

Greta stepped into the cell and enfolded Jen into her matronly arms. “You poor thing. You poor, poor thing. How did you get in so much trouble?”

Owen cleared his throat. “No comments, remember?”

“Oh, sorry,” Greta said. “The prosecutor agreed for a preliminary hearing in half an hour. You’re lucky because the judge is leaving early this afternoon.”

Jen tried to hold her tears back, but the little bit of motherly love doled out by Greta dissolved her to the equivalent of a soggy wad of toilet paper. Owen handed Jen her crutches for the journey to the courtroom.

They put her in an enclosed room with several other people behind bulletproof glass. A single microphone was provided for the prisoner to converse with the judge. Greta and Owen sat at the table when it was her turn to speak to the judge.

He read the long list of charges in a dry and monotone voice and asked Jen if she understood. She answered that she did and pled ‘not guilty.’

Bail was set at one hundred thousand. Greta stepped forward and guaranteed she would watch over Jen. She was not considered a flight risk due to her lack of a passport and travel history.

After picking up a bag of clothes she left at the office, she rode in Greta’s car to her high-rise condo overlooking downtown San José near San Pedro square.

Jen took a long hot shower and put ointment on her healing cuts. She stared in the full-length mirror. What a mess. Her ankle still throbbed, and she had a huge bruise on her left hip where Snakehead had thrown her onto the coffee table leg. She touched her tender face and fingered her beauty mark. Dave knew and hated her, and she deserved it.