Point of Betrayal (5 page)

She knew if she didn’t give her an answer she’d just keep asking the question. The truth was the only antidote for silence. “Yes. I wrote her several times and poured out my heart and I got a sentence back.”

“What did it say?”

“Hmm. Let me see if I can remember the wording exactly. She said, ‘I hate you and I never want to see you again. Delete my email address.’” She held up a hand. “My mistake. That was two sentences.”

“Not even a
please
? Wow, she is pissed.”

She picked up the map again to hide the tears. She re-read the email every day, and the words still took her breath away like a sucker punch. Of course, Molly believed
she
was the sucker.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Jane said softly. “Let’s forget about her for now.”

Jane flicked on her iPod and the Carpenters began reminding them that rainy days and Mondays were the worst. She flowed into the singalong, the sight of the ocean an instant comfort.

They easily found the Garritson estate next to the highway, which headed inland near Laguna Beach, allowing developers to make millions on beachfront property along the coastline. The winding driveway burst with the oranges, purples, reds and yellows of jungle foliage flourishing in the mild California weather. As they turned in front of a majestic fountain, she realized the best view was on the other side of the house—the Pacific Ocean.

She was surprised when Sam Garritson greeted them. He shook her hand cordially but gave Jane a welcoming hug as if he’d known her his whole life. He was about thirty with hardly a line around his temples and not a strand of gray amid his chestnut-brown hair. He had a handsome face and sharp eyes, and she guessed in other circumstances his smile would be described as winning, although now he only could muster a slight look of gratefulness for their benefit. The chinos and blue button-down shirt he wore conjured an image of a young Republican in her mind.

“Please come out to the veranda,” he said. They followed him through the impressive house, whose walls were mostly glass. They exited through a set of enormous French doors onto a deck worthy of the title “veranda.” A tray of iced tea and cookies sat on a table surrounded by plush wicker furniture.

“Do you live with your parents?” Jane asked.

“Not usually,” he said, munching on a cookie. “But since this hit the papers they’re trying to protect me. It’s all so unbelievable.”

While he seemed upset, he wasn’t distraught. He was either incredibly levelheaded as the son of a politician, thought Ari, or he was hiding something.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened and what you know?” Ari asked.

He brushed the hair from his forehead and leaned back in the chair. “Apparently Nina was out for her evening run. She always liked to go up to the lookout at Crescent Point. You can see the ocean and the mountainside at the same time. A lot of people get married up there. I’m sure that was part of the attraction for her. The police said someone snuck up from behind and pushed her over the railing. They quickly ruled out accidental death because the railing was too high for her to fall over, but there’s more evidence too.”

Jane sipped her tea daintily. “Why do you say that?”

“One of the scene officers is a friend of mine from high school. He said they found something when they retrieved her body, but he didn’t know what it was.”

Ari nodded. As a former cop, she knew it was typical to withhold key evidence that might be needed later to identify the perpetrator. “And the police have you as the prime suspect?”

“I don’t have an alibi. I was home alone that night working on my father’s speech for his upcoming announcement. The governor is appointing him to a special commission overseeing child abuse law reform. It’s a real coup to be selected.”

“So, is there anything else?” Ari asked.

He stared at the sea and rubbed a hand across his five o’clock shadow. His eyes were glassy, and she realized he probably hadn’t slept well in the last few nights.

“My breakup with Nina wasn’t amicable. We’d been having trouble since summer, and when I finally broke it off a month ago I made the mistake of taking her to the Montage hoping she’d make less of a scene if we were in public.”

Jane snorted. “You don’t understand women, Sam. Hell hath no fury even in a room full of china. I guess she didn’t take it very well?”

“No, she stormed out. I followed her and we fought in the parking lot. It got pretty heated. I finally grabbed my keys from the valet and left her there.”

“That’s not a very strong motive,” Ari said. “Lots of couples fight.”

He looked down, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah, but I said something I shouldn’t have. She was very upset and said she’d publicly denounce my father’s appointment to the governor’s commission.”

“What did you say in return?” Jane prodded.

“I told her if she said anything that could hurt my father’s political career she’d be sorry. Of course, I didn’t mean it, and she didn’t mean what she’d said either. Even though she didn’t agree with my father on the governor’s position, she wouldn’t have done something as rash as a public statement. Nina was too good for that.”

“Someone must have heard you in the parking lot,” Ari said.

Jane nibbled on a cookie, mindful of any crumbs landing on her lap. “Why didn’t Nina agree with your dad? It isn’t like the governor’s advocating
in favor
of child abuse, is it?”

“No, of course not. He just wants the parents, usually mothers, to be held more accountable about their reporting even if they’re also being abused.”

Ari thought about the ramifications of an abused spouse being labeled as a criminal. “I imagine that was the point of their disagreement.”

Sam nodded and swiped at his hair again. “Yes, she thought that would penalize the mother twice.”

“She’s right,” Jane said.

Ari gazed at the sea, unsatisfied by the conversation. “Was there anything else? Did she know something that was embarrassing to your family?”

He shook his head. “My mom’s company is on the level, we’re not being investigated for anything and we pay our taxes. We’re pretty boring actually.”

An older woman wearing a red bandanna like a turban sailed through the French doors. She wore jeans and a man’s crisp blue button-down, the breast pocket of which was missing. While the shirt looked new, her jeans were flecked with paint in every color of the rainbow.

“Hello, I’m Georgie, Sam’s mother.” Sam rose and introduced Ari and Jane. “You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, motioning to her attire. “I’m working on a piece right now, but I wanted to take a moment and meet you. Which one of you is the private investigator?”

“The investigator is actually a friend of ours who’ll be joining us in a few days. We’re here to get a head start,” Ari said assuredly.

“I see,” she said hesitantly and glanced at Sam.

“What do you paint?” Jane asked.

“Mainly glass right now. I decorate wine and martini glasses and sell them at my stores. Well, it was nice to meet you both. I hope you can help us pull Sam out of this terrible mess.”

She glided back through the door and closed it behind her.

“My mother’s a little abrupt,” Sam explained.

“She doesn’t seem very concerned,” Ari observed.

“She’s worried, but she’s hopeful. I have a good attorney and the evidence is pretty flimsy. And then there’s the truth. I didn’t do it.”

Jane looked at Ari. “Well, what do you think?”

She ruffled her hair. “I think the police have their suspicions for a reason and either they found something or, frankly, they know something you’re not telling us.”

He glanced from Jane to Ari. “I’ve got nothing to hide and I want her killer brought to justice.” He choked up and his voice cracked. “I could never hurt her.”

Jane reached over and squeezed his arm. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you break up?”

“Nina was high-strung in a lot of ways, but she was an amazing woman and I loved her.”

Jane threw up her hands. “Then why break up with her, Sam? A lot of women—most women—are difficult. It’s who we are. I don’t understand.”

He offered no explanation so Ari asked, “Was it your family? Did they not approve of her, particularly with your father’s upcoming appointment?”

When he fidgeted in his chair and couldn’t look at her anymore, she knew she was right. He’d sacrificed his girlfriend for his family, and from the look on his face, guilt and remorse were weights strapped to his back.

“Please help me. She didn’t deserve this.”

* * *

They headed to Nina’s apartment, which was located a few blocks from Irvine Bowl Park. As Jane had spent part of her twenties in Laguna, the drive was a trip down memory lane.

She pointed at a small dive bar. “That’s where I nearly got arrested.”

“For what?”

She grinned proudly. “Public indecency. I tore off my top during an invigorating karaoke performance of ‘I Love Rock and Roll.’ Joan Jett would’ve been proud.”

“When did you meet Nina?”

“When I was twenty and she was seventeen. She was my very first true love. I fell hard.”

“But she wasn’t interested?”

She shook her head. “No, she was as far from gay as you could get, but she was nice about it. We were friends after that.”

Ari heard the wistfulness in her voice and imagined the memories were more difficult since everything about Nina was in the past tense. When they passed the Irvine Bowl, Jane laughed and slapped her knee.

“I can’t tell you how many times we got chased out of that place. We’d jump the fence and see free concerts from the trees.”

“You and Nina?”

“Yeah. We were great friends until I moved to Tucson to help my mom. When I think of my early twenties, I think of her. She was a hell-raiser. It’s funny to think she became a social worker at a school, considering how often she ditched, but maybe that’s why. She understood what it meant to be different.”

“Why didn’t she fit?”

“Her father was abusive. She hated going home. He hit her mom all the time.”

“Was he abusive to her?”

Jane grew silent. “I’m not sure, and I’m not sure about sexual abuse either. I always wondered. I’m sure her own experience affected her feelings about abused children.”

“Of course,” Ari agreed, surprised by the revelation. “I wonder if she’d shared that information with Sam.”

They pulled into an apartment complex, a series of rustic wooden cottages, each surrounded by dense foliage that easily grew with the help of the California rains. Nina’s place was easy to find, the only door with yellow crime scene tape across the threshold.

“We won’t break in,” Jane said, pulling out a key that Sam had given to her. “We’ll just slip between the tapes. That’s probably legal, right?”

She decided a lecture on breaking and entering was inappropriate at the moment and chose not to answer as they made their way inside. Dust particles, caught in the sunlight, floated through the air, the remnants of the crime scene techs. She couldn’t imagine what they might find following the police’s search since the rooms had been ransacked and nothing returned to its usual place. More importantly, discarded cables and open credenza drawers suggested Nina’s computer, phone and files had been removed.

Jane looked at her. “Any ideas?”

“Let’s snoop,” she said simply.

They opened cabinet doors, peered into the shower and studied the contents of the medicine cabinet. Nina seemed like a normal single woman without any peccadilloes or glaring secrets. She used white toilet paper, kept an ample supply of cosmetics on her vanity and apparently enjoyed covering her bed in bright throw pillows which were strewn across the floor after the police had searched her bed.

Her kitchen was in order, and the refrigerator contents of vegetables, hummus and various beans revealed Nina’s penchant for healthy foods. A small wooden wine rack sat on the counter holding a single unopened bottle.

Jane grabbed it and read the label. “This is the pinot I recommended to her.” She frowned at the empty rack. “That’s a little odd. Nina loved good wine. Comparing wines was one of the topics that brought us back together on Facebook. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a dozen bottles.”

“Maybe she was due for a trip to the store,” Ari said.

Across from the bed was a tall bookcase. What caught Ari’s attention there was the common theme—Shakespeare. There were individual copies of the most famous plays, several enormous books that contained the complete works, books of selected sonnets and an entire shelf of critiques and essays.

“Did you know she was a fan?”

“Uh-huh. She loved Shakespeare ever since sophomore year when they had to read
Julius Caesar.”

Around the room were several photos of her with her mother, who Jane said was now deceased. On her dresser sat a candid of her with Sam.

“For a woman who’d broken up she seemed to be hanging on,” Ari noted, picking up another photo of him from the nightstand.

“I’m not sure they were really done,” Jane said. She searched through the dresser drawers and the jumbled contents the crime lab hadn’t bothered to refold. She burrowed through the lingerie drawer and murmured, “Maybe they found it.”

“Found what?” Ari asked from the closet.

“Her journal. I know Nina had a journal. She’s kept one since she was twelve after her parents started fighting. The school counselor told her it would help her cope with what was happening.”

“Maybe she stopped.”

She shook her head and rifled through the nightstand. “No, she mentioned it in an email not long ago. No two looked alike. Anytime she went to a bookstore she combed the journal section. I always joked that she had more empty books than completed ones.”

“So where are they?”

She froze. “That’s a good question. They’ve got to be here.”

“Unless they were confiscated by the police.”

“Nope, the police don’t have them,” a voice said.

They whirled to the doorway and faced a middle-aged woman with short, gray hair. Black shorts and a white tank top exposed a tanned runner’s physique.

“You ladies want to tell me what you’re doing here and why I shouldn’t call the boys in blue?”