Cast into Doubt (29 page)

‘Harris, there must be some misunderstanding,’ she said.

‘No. No misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘I admit you did catch me off guard this morning. The mention of those cruise tickets really threw me. I was so anxious to get off the phone I wasn’t thinking straight. And then, when I collected myself, I decided to check the number. All toll-free numbers can be traced, you know. I traced yours back to Markson’s. Now come with me,’ he said, ‘and don’t say another word.’

Shelby’s heart sank; to think she had been so easily found out. Her cleverness was not cleverness at all. She thought about screaming, but the garage remained deserted. The building had no attendant at the booth, just an automated arm. Holding the gun against her, Harris pulled Shelby around the lowered arm and over to his car which was parked in a visitor’s space.

She expected him to open the passenger door, but she had misjudged his intent. He pushed a button on his keys and the trunk lid popped up.

Shelby reared back and cried out. ‘Oh no,’ she said, struggling to get away from him. He pushed her down roughly and she cracked her head on the lid. Shelby reached up automatically to press on the throbbing spot where she had struck her head. Something warm and sticky seeped over her hands. She felt him grab the waistband of her sweatpants and tug.

Dazed, she had the sickening, confusing thought that he was going to rape her. ‘Stop it,’ she cried. She held on to the waistband of her pants and with her bloody hands.

Harris reached inside his jacket and pulled something out. Suddenly, in the fold of still-exposed skin above her hip, Shelby felt a pinprick, and then everything went black.

Vivian Kendricks carefully raised the footrest on her son’s chair and Rob lowered his slippered feet gingerly on to it, wincing as they touched down.

‘How’s that?’ Vivian said.

‘Good. Much better,’ said Rob.

Jeremy started to clamber up on to his father’s chair.

‘No, Jeremy, don’t do that,’ said Vivian. ‘Your Dad’s hurting too much.’

Jeremy’s expression was crestfallen.

‘Oh, it’s OK,’ said Rob. ‘Come on, slugger. You can sit with me. Just not the lap. Not yet.’

Jeremy cautiously wriggled into the seat beside Rob. Rob did his best not to let the pain in his ribs show on his face. He draped his arm around his son’s shoulders. ‘There we go,’ she said. ‘Now we’re comfortable.’

Vivian smiled in spite of herself. ‘All right you two. But no jumping around.’

‘We’re just gonna watch a movie,’ said Rob. ‘Right?’ Jeremy’s eyes were wide. ‘Right. How about
Pirates of the Caribbean
?’

‘How did I know you were going to pick that one?’ Rob said.

‘I’ll get it,’ the child crowed. He crawled down from the chair and began to sort through the DVDs in a rack beside the set.

‘So, I understand that Jeremy’s teacher in preschool is Darcie Fallon,’ said Vivian.

Rob nodded, watching fondly as his son expertly navigated his video collection. ‘She’s a great teacher. She really loves the kids.’

‘She always had a crush on you,’ said Vivian.

‘Mother,’ Rob cautioned her, nodding at Jeremy who was too busy with his DVDs to be listening to their conversation.

‘I’m just saying,’ said Vivian. ‘You were the only one who didn’t know it.’

‘That’s not true,’ said Rob. ‘Is it?’

Vivian rolled her eyes and smiled. ‘All right. I’m going to set the table for lunch in the kitchen. When Dad gets back from church, we’ll eat.’ She started for the kitchen, and called back, as she reached the door, ‘I made egg salad.’

Jeremy grimaced in distaste, but Rob said, ‘Your grandmother makes the best egg salad in the world. Wait till you try it. You’re gonna love it.’

Jeremy shrugged, noncommittal. He was forcing open a DVD case and pulling out the disc. He inserted it into the DVD player, and pressed the play button on the remote, as Rob put his head back and let the relief of being home with his son and his parents wash over him. For a moment he pondered what his mother had said about Darcie. Was she right? To him, Darcie was always that little kid, hanging around the edges of what the bigger kids were doing. He had just never thought of her any other way. Although she had turned into a pretty young woman.

Rob felt his eyes drifting shut. As often happened, when he closed his eyes, he relived his accident. The fear he felt, as that jalopy-load of delinquents chased him on the expressway, ramming the side of his truck with their car while he tried to maintain control of the wheel, coursed through him again. Other drivers had whizzed by, not knowing or not caring what was happening to Rob as his truck began hydroplaning and heading for a tumble down the embankment along the highway.

Rob took a deep breath and forced himself to think about something else. He found himself picturing Darcie again, in a new light, and the thought of her gentle face was strangely soothing. Jeremy was getting ready to climb back up on to Rob’s chair. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

‘Hey buddy, can you answer that?’ Rob asked. ‘I can’t get up that fast.’

‘Sure,’ said Jeremy eagerly. He turned and raced toward the front door. Vivian, hearing the bell, came out of the kitchen wiping her hands as Jeremy led a pair of men into the living room.

‘Cops,’ Jeremy whispered to his father.

The two officers tried not to grin. ‘I’m Detective Ortega,’ said the dark-haired man. This is my partner, Detective McMillen.’

Rob nodded to them both. ‘Is this about my accident?’ he asked.

The two men frowned at one another.

‘OK,’ said Rob. ‘So this is not about my accident.’

‘What happened to you?’ said Detective Ortega.

‘I got into an argument with a couple of kids who were drugged up,’ said Rob. ‘They followed me and ran me off the road. Your guys collared them. I thought that’s why you were here.’

‘No. We didn’t know anything about that. We’re here in regards to a man who was found murdered a few days ago.’

‘Murdered!’ Vivian exclaimed.

‘You gentlemen probably should sit down,’ said Rob. ‘Jeremy, why don’t you run up to your room and play for a little bit. We’ll watch the movie when the policemen leave.’

‘I want to hear this,’ said Jeremy, wide-eyed.

‘Go on, young man,’ said Vivian, ushering him up the stairs. ‘Scoot.’

Detective Ortega waited until Jeremy had disappeared up the stairs and then he continued. ‘Actually, I believe we’ve met before. We stopped by here one night when you were getting back from a trip. We were looking for information about a guy who had gotten a ticket on your street. An escaped convict named Norman Cook.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Rob. ‘I do remember that.’

‘A few days ago, we found his body, floating in the Schuylkill. Somebody had put two bullets in his head and dumped him.’

Rob shook his head. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Well, it turns out this Norman Cook was parked on your block because he was looking for your wife.’

‘My wife?’ Rob exclaimed.

‘Yes. Is she home? We’d like to speak to her.’

‘No. Actually. She . . . died.’

‘She did? When?’ asked Ortega.

‘On that trip you mentioned. We were on a cruise. She fell overboard.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said McMillen. ‘I heard something about that.’

Detective Ortega looked in his notebook, frowning. ‘And she never mentioned to you that this Norman Cook was here? I mean, I’m guessing, just from the fact that he got a parking ticket on your block, that he found her.’

Rob shook his head. ‘She never mentioned it to me. Why would an ex-con be looking for my wife?’

‘We were hoping you could tell us that.’

Rob shook his head. ‘I don’t know anything about it. What makes you think he was looking for her?’

‘Well, it seems he went to the main branch of the library and asked the librarian to help him with the computer. He hadn’t had any internet access in prison. He asked her to Google somebody for him. The librarian remembered him because it was unusual – a man his age not knowing how to use a search engine. After they found his body in the river, she saw his mug shot on the news and contacted us. Your name is Kendricks, right?’

‘Yes, but . . . I just . . . I can’t understand why Chloe wouldn’t have said something to me. I mean, if she met with this man . . . If he came to the house . . .’

‘Who’s Chloe?’ said Detective Ortega.

‘My wife,’ said Rob.

Ortega frowned at what was written in his notebook. ‘Your wife isn’t Lianna Kendricks?’

‘That’s my ex-wife,’ said Rob.

‘This guy was looking for Lianna Kendricks. It says she lived at this address.’

‘Well, she did, when we were married. She’s remarried now. She lives in Gladwyne.’

Detective Ortega shook his head. ‘I guess our boy came calling and found the wrong lady,’ he said.

‘I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t have mentioned it to me,’ said Rob.

Detective Ortega looked at Rob. ‘I don’t know. But judging from this parking ticket, I’d say they had themselves a visit.’

THIRTY-TWO

‘
H
ow long this time?’ Talia asked. She had just returned from the market and was putting groceries away in the kitchen.

Glen broke off a piece of the coffee cake which Olga, one of Estelle’s caretakers, had left on the counter. He stuffed it in his mouth and rolled his eyes.

‘That is fantastic,’ he said, pointing at the maimed cake.

‘Glen, I asked you a question,’ said Talia.

‘What?’ Glen asked impatiently.

‘How long are you staying this time?’

‘A little longer this time,’ said Glen. ‘I had to get out of the place I was living and it might take me a while to find something.’

‘You’re going to have to do your own shopping,’ said Talia. ‘I just got back from the store and I don’t have enough for you.’

‘Oh, we’ll make do,’ said Glen, breaking off another piece of the cake.

‘I mean it, Glen. This time I mean it.’

Glen came around the counter and tickled his older sister, who squirmed away from him. ‘Quit it,’ she said, irritably.

‘I’ll even cook for you,’ he said. ‘I’ll make my specialties. We’ll call Shelby.’

‘She won’t come. She’s mad at me.’

‘Why?’ Glen asked.

‘I wouldn’t do something she wanted.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, it’s not worth talking about,’ said Talia wearily.

‘No, really, I’m interested.’

‘She keeps trying to find somebody to blame for her daughter falling off that boat. First it was me. Now, she’s on to someone else.’

‘What has all that got to do with you?’ Glen asked.

‘Nothing,’ said Talia exclaimed. ‘I don’t want anything to do with it. But she’s got it into her head that it’s some guy . . .’

‘What guy? That’s kind of vague.’

‘I don’t know. But she wanted me to hack into his bank records. As if I would do that. I could lose my position.’

‘Really?’ said Glen, frowning. ‘This sounds serious. Who was it?’

Talia sighed. ‘I don’t know. Somebody Faith knows.’

‘Faith, your assistant?’

‘Yes. Some doctor. Now leave me alone.’

‘I think I’ll call Shelby and invite her over,’ said Glen. ‘I want to hear about this.’

‘Glen, I told you, there’s not even enough food for you.’

‘Maybe I’ll pay her a visit.’

‘Why don’t you go stay at her place? She’s got room,’ Talia said.

‘Oh, come on now,’ said Glen, mischievously. ‘You’d miss me.’

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ said Talia.

‘You don’t remember who it was? Who Shelby was tracking?’

‘No. I wasn’t paying attention. I have to go check on Mother. And stop eating that cake.’

Talia left the kitchen. Glen sat at the counter, thinking. He walked over to the wall phone and picked up the receiver. Thumbtacked to the wall beside it was a list of numbers. Shelby’s home number and her cell were listed. Glen tried them both. There was no answer. Both went directly to voice mail.

‘Shelby,’ he said. ‘It’s Glen. I’m at Estelle’s house. Give me a call. I’m . . . Just give me a call.’

He hung up and sat back down at the counter. He broke off another piece of the cake and chewed it meditatively. Then he went back to the phone and ran his finger down the list of numbers. Talia’s assistant’s number was listed there. He thought about calling her, but then decided it would be too hard to explain who he was, and what he wanted to know.

Better to wait for Shelby to call back. He couldn’t help feeling a little proud of himself. He was the one who suggested that maybe there was some kind of conspiracy around Chloe’s death. Even though she had dismissed him at the time, Shelby had obviously paid attention to what he said. Come around to his way of thinking, so to speak. Not that he was going to rub it in that he’d been right. But what was that old saying – sometimes even paranoid people do have enemies? She was seeing it his way now.

Shelby awoke lying on her back, with a bright light in her face, and no idea where she was. Everything was a blank. She tried to move her arms, and realized that she was immobilized on some sort of table. And then she remembered. Harris Janssen. He had given her a shot that knocked her out. She had no idea how long she had been out. Or where he had taken her. She tried to let out a cry, but there was a handkerchief across her mouth, which was tied behind her head. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her blurry vision, and turned her head to the side. She was looking at a beige wall, on which hung a framed painting of a seashore scene in pastel colors.

Shelby struggled, but could not move. She turned her head to the other side and saw a counter and cabinets. On the countertop were syringes, test tube racks, and a blood-pressure cuff hooked on a metal stand.

‘Oh, you’re awake,’ he said. He came and stood beside the table, looming over her. He was not wearing a lab coat, but simply weekend casual clothes. He met her gaze apologetically.