Rage (44 page)

“I’m
already involved.”

“As a
therapist.”

“So I
just run off and do my therapy thing and keep my nose out of your business?”

That
would simplify things.

“It’s
one of the ugliest cases I’ve ever worked on, Ali. You already spend your days
soaking up other people’s crap. Why would you want more soul pollution?”

“And
you? What about your soul?”

“Such
as it is.”

“I
won’t accept that it doesn’t affect you.”

Unborn
children . . .

I
didn’t answer.

She
said, “You can handle it, but I can’t?”

“I
don’t ask you about patients.”

“That’s
different.”

“Maybe
it really isn’t.”

“Fine,”
she said. “So now there’s a new taboo in our relationship. What binds us
together? Hot sex?”

I
pointed to the toast. “And haute cuisine.”

She
worked at a smile. Got up and took the mug to the sink, where she emptied and
washed. “I’d better be going.”

“Stay.”

“Why?”

I
walked behind her, slipped my arm around her waist. Felt her abdominal muscles
ripple as she tensed up. She removed my hand, turned, and looked up at me.
“I’ve probably put some kind of wedge between us. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow
and feel like a first-class idiot, but right now I’ve still got some righteous
indignation burning in my belly.”

I
said, “The higher stakes are six murders, maybe seven. If you include the girl
who succeeded Beth as Daney’s assistant. She seems to have vanished and she’s
not on the foster rolls.”

She
stepped out of my arms, braced herself against the counter, and stared out the
kitchen window.

“Plus
a toddler,” I went on. “Two teenage boys, three women, a mentally challenged
young man. And so far, no way to prove any of it.”

She
lowered her head into the sink, heaved and dry-retched.

I
tried to hold her as she shuddered.

“Sorry,”
she whimpered, pulling away. Splashing water on her face, she dried it with her
sleeve. Snatched up her purse and keys, left the kitchen.

I
caught up as she opened the front door. “You’re exhausted. Stay. I’ll take the
couch.”

Her
lips were parched and tiny blood spots freckled her cheeks. Petechiae from the
strain of vomiting. “It’s a nice offer. You’re a nice man.”

“I’d
like to be a good man.”

Her
eyes shifted. “I need to be alone.”

I
returned to the kitchen, chewed on the toast I’d made
Allison, and thought about what had just happened.

Tomorrow
I might also wake up feeling rotten. If I slept at all. Right now I was glad to
be alone, reunited with the possibilities that had flooded my head.

It
was eleven-fifteen. I figured Milo wouldn’t be sleeping much either. And if he
had drifted off, too damn bad.

* * *

“What
time is it?” he rasped.

“Cherish
Daney told me she tried to open Rand up, wished she’d been more effective. For
his sake. But what if she had another motive? What if she found out what Drew
had done, wanted Rand to come forward about Drew’s involvement in Kristal’s
murder?”

He
let out a couple of barking coughs, cleared his throat. “Good evening to you,
too. Where’d all this come from?”

“You’ve
been saying all along Cherish had to know something. Maybe she had suspicions
but was able to deny them until she finally came upon something blatant.”

“Like
what?”

“Trophies.
Someone with Drew’s control obsession might very well keep some. He got a kick
out of sneaking around Cherish, a hidden cache would be great fun. But
arrogance leads to carelessness. Maybe he slipped up and left something for her
to find. Or all those trips with ‘assistants’ got her suspicious and she
started to snoop around the house. If she’s anything but a monster herself,
finding hard evidence of Drew’s crimes would horrify her. She’d also be scared
on a selfish level: If the truth ever came out, she was sure to come under
suspicion as an accomplice. One way to deal with all that would be to come forward
with evidence of her own and bail. Having Rand corroborate Drew’s involvement
in Kristal’s murder would be a big step in that direction.”

“Daney
molests and murders for years and she’s Little Miss Clueless until now?”

“Nothing
we’ve learned so far says she did anything worse than exceed the foster limit.
Beth Scoggins said she filled her days cooking, cleaning, and teaching. My bet
is she kept busy so as not to think.”

“Not
to mention seven grand a month.”

“For
Drew it was the money,” I said. “Maybe for her, too. But she drives an old heap
and lives simply. Plus you saw how she worked with Valerie. Patient, despite
Valerie’s resentment.”

“The
dutiful hausfrau,” he said. “Meanwhile Drew’s out doing his sperm
thing . . . I’m still not convinced she’s squeaky clean, but
fine, let’s run with it. She wants Rand to rat out Drew, does therapy with him,
then what?”

“She
fails. The most common errors unqualified therapists make are moving too fast
and talking too much. Toss in Cherish’s anxiety and she’d have come on way too
strong. She needed Rand to ‘see’ that Drew had contracted Troy to kill Kristal.
Whether or not he had.”

“She
tried to plant it in his head?”

“It
started during prison visits. Hinting around, hoping to set off a spark in
Rand’s head. Rand was a submissive personality, impressionable, so perhaps he
actually recalled something— seeing Drew talk to Troy shortly before the
murder, an offhand comment by Troy about Drew. Or he thought he did. Because an
adult mastermind would be welcome news for
him.
Reduce his own
culpability.”

“ ‘I’m
a good person.’ ”

“ ‘I’m
a good person because
Daney
was behind it and
Troy
was his
henchman and
I
was in the wrong place at the right time.’ Cherish
could’ve even presented it to him that way.”

“If
he bought it, why didn’t he open up?”

“Eight
years in jail, being beaten and stabbed and left to fend for himself, had
taught him to be wary. Nevertheless, the idea Cherish planted took root and it
terrified him: He’d be living under the roof of the devil who’d ruined his
life.
That’s
why he was so anxious when he was released to the Daneys.”

“Then
why’d he go there in the first place?”

“He
had no immediate alternatives. No family, no resources, no grasp of what the
world outside prison was like. He also had to be careful not to set off Drew’s
suspicions with a sudden shift in plans. But I’ll bet he intended to get out of
there as soon as possible. As soon as he could get someone to listen.”

“You.”

“Cherish’s
eagerness could have made him even more wary. Lauritz Montez had defended him
by the numbers. He sure wouldn’t view the D.A. or the police as sympathetic.
That left me.”

“Modesty,
modesty,” he said. “So he gives the Daneys a phony story, walks away, somehow
makes it over the hill, calls you from Westwood.”

“I
don’t think he made it over the hill alone. He couldn’t keep his anxiety under
control and Drew
did
catch on that something was wrong. Drew was out of
the house when Rand left. He could’ve been nearby, watching Rand. Or he called
in and Cherish told him Rand had gone to the construction site. That fed Drew’s
suspicions because he knew the site was closed Saturday except for cleanup. He
went after Rand, spotted him, picked him up in the Jeep.”

“And
took him into the city? Why?”

“To
allay Rand’s fears,” I said. “Rand’s shuffling along, disoriented, looking for
a pay phone, or just trying to clear his head. Daney cruises by, all smiles,
says hop in, let’s grab a bite. Caught off guard, Rand would’ve felt forced to
comply, so as not to appear nervous. Daney drove over the hill and disarmed
Rand further with small talk. Dropped him off at the entrance to Westside
Pavilion with some pocket change, told him to have a good time, he’d pick him
up later. No one from the mall remembers Rand, he may never have gone in. This
was a dull, confused kid who’d grown up behind bars. It would have been like
dropping him on Mars.”

“Why
would Daney go to all that trouble? Why not drive him somewhere secluded and
kill him right off?”

“Daney
had his suspicions, but at that point, Daney wasn’t sure killing Rand was
necessary. Another Kristal-related death might set off a whole chain of events
he couldn’t control. Which is exactly what happened. After he dropped Rand off,
he stuck around to watch. Saw Rand walk away from the mall, watched him head
for the phone booth. Rand was agitated when he called me, his body language
would’ve been easy to read. When Rand left the booth, Drew went after his
quarry.”

“Picking
him up again,” he said. “This time it would have to be at gunpoint, Rand
wouldn’t have gone willingly.”

“Drew’s
deviousness can’t be discounted. I can see him using a phony story— Cherish had
suddenly taken ill, they needed to get home fast. Maybe Rand figured that if he
didn’t show up at the pizza place, I’d sound some kind of alarm and someone
would come to his aid.”

If
so, he’d overestimated me.

Milo
said, “Okay, one way or the other, he gets back in the Jeep and Drew drives
somewhere secluded— the dump site says it was probably up into the foothills of
Bel Air. Rand, not knowing the city, doesn’t catch on that Drew’s taken a
detour. Drew finds a spot, pulls over. Then what?”

“Rand
was big and strong, so Drew needed to avoid a physical struggle by keeping it
friendly. He’d prepared by opening the Jeep’s passenger window. Came across
calm, paternal, even spiritual. Rand was probably looking straight ahead,
scared and confused but fighting to maintain calm, when Drew pressed the gun
against his temple and pulled the trigger. Drew had plenty of time to wipe down
the Jeep and look for the bullet. Then he cruised back to Sunset after dark,
drove to the on-ramp, made sure no one was watching, and dumped the body. The
next day, he probably washed the Jeep. But there still might be some kind of
transfer— blood, powder residue, tiny bone fragments.”

“Good
story, Alex. Great story, makes perfect sense. But clever plots don’t earn
warrants.”

“You’ve
already got grounds for a warrant,” I said. “Drew’s statutory rapes. Get the
downtown juvey team interested, toss the house, include the Jeep in the
paperwork.”

“For
that I need DNA to prove what Daney did to Valerie,” he said. “Or one of the
other girls coming forward.”

“You
saw him with Valerie at the clinic.”

“I
saw him waiting and picking her up. It’s suggestive but not probative. Any
progress on Beth Scoggins?”

“No.”

“Just
like that.”

“Just
like that.”

“Allison’s
adamant?”

“Let’s
leave it at ‘just like that,’ ” I said.

Silence.
“Any other suggestions?”

“Isolate
Cherish and talk to her. Don’t mention the murders right off, tell her you know
about Valerie’s abortion and that you suspect Drew was the father. She might be
willing to acknowledge her suspicions about the molestations or even go all the
way and talk about Kristal.”

“If
she’s so intent upon clearing herself, why didn’t she come forward after Rand was
murdered?”

“Like
Rand, she’s living under the same roof with Drew. Maybe she’s worried she
doesn’t have enough evidence to ensure he’d be put away.”

“Makes
sense,” he said. “But we’ve left something out: Cherish and Malley. If he’s her
squeeze, why wouldn’t she tell him? And if she did, why didn’t he cooperate
with me? Something’s still wrong with the picture, Alex. I’m not ready to put
Barnett or Cherish on the good-guy list.”

“We
know
what list Drew’s on and he’s living with eight underage girls. Then there’s
Miranda.”

“I am
not unaware of the exigencies.”

“Didn’t
mean to imply you weren’t.”

“Let
me sleep on this. So to speak. In the morning, I’ll get Binchy to watch the
Daney house really early, which ain’t gonna be a snap, Galton Street being so
quiet. If Cherish leaves first, Sean’ll follow her and hand her off to me. If
Drew leaves, Sean’ll stay on him and I’ll pay Cherish a little visit.”

“Either
way, let me know.”

“You
might very well be there.”

T
he doorbell, followed by spirited knocking, woke me at
seven a.m. My clouded brain knew what was happening: Allison had come by before
work, wanting to make up.

I
stumbled out of bed, padded to the door in my boxers, flung it open with a
welcoming smile.