Taken to the Edge (18 page)

Robyn held up her hands. “Okay, whoa, whoa, time-out. I got a little carried away and I jumped to conclusions. Let’s not make this any worse than it already—”

Trina cut her off with a well-placed elbow to the gut, knocking the breath out of her. “Just shut up, okay? I gotta figure out what to do. Your timing is lousy. Another couple of days and I’d have gotten the hell out of this town. I’m not an idiot, you know. I had a contingency plan. I’ve been socking money away in the Cayman Islands for years, just in case.”

Robyn managed to pull some air into her lungs. “In case someone figured out you’d killed Justin.”

“I didn’t kill him, you moron.”

“What?” Robyn found strength she didn’t know she had. In one quick movement, she straightened, grasped Trina by the shoulders and shoved her into the refrigerator. “Then who killed him? You know who did it, and you better tell me right now or so help me I’ll—”

“Let go of me!” Trina struggled, but Robyn’s fury fueled her muscles. “If you don’t get your hands off me this instant, you will
never
know what happened to your son.”

Robyn instantly let go and backed up. “Oh, God, Trina, if you have an ounce of humanity in you, tell me what happened to Justin.” She sank to her knees, the fight gone out of her. She hadn’t let herself think about it in a long time, but now she did; she pictured her baby in an unmarked grave, somewhere in the woods or the desert where no one would ever find him.

“Stop sniveling,” Trina said. “Get up.”

“I won’t call anyone. I’ll give you plenty of time to get away. Just tell me where I can find—”

“He’s not dead, okay? I may not be a saint, but I wouldn’t kill a little kid.”

On Raleigh’s recommendation, he’d hired William Purdy for Robyn, whether she wanted legal counsel or not. Ford hoped a lawyer would get through to Robyn where Ford had failed. Civilians simply didn’t understand how common it was for innocent people to confess when they were under tremendous stress.

Ford had wanted to do more. He’d wanted to drive to Green Prairie, to be with Robyn, to personally micro manage the fallout from Roy’s explosive lie. But he doubted his presence would be welcome.

So he focused on what he
could
do to help her, from a distance—namely, tearing apart Roy White’s statement and his credibility.

Mitch Delacroix, the tech expert at Project Justice, had been put to work hacking Roy’s home and cell phone records. It wasn’t legal, but if they could find out who he’d been in touch with, they would know who had bribed him.

Ford had briefly considered Roy as a suspect—maybe he’d made up the story about Robyn to cover his own tracks, and he hadn’t been bribed at all. But without an accomplice, he would have had no way to make Justin disappear, because he was back at work a mere five minutes after the child went missing.

Either way, he was working with someone.

Ford was doing what he did best—working potential witnesses. Roy had family, friends and associates, and these were easy for him to find. Whenever he got someone on the phone who knew Roy, he asked if Roy had mentioned coming into some money, or if he’d announced plans to make a large purchase like a new car or a TV.

He quickly found out that Roy was not generally liked or respected, even by his own family, and most of the people Ford talked to were eager to dish.

Roy had told many of them about his trip to Houston, and the fact that his witness statement was going to save a man from execution and maybe catch a murderer. But none could remember anything about money—until Ford located one particular coworker.

“Oh, yeah,” the man said. “He’s been wanting to buy a Harley for, like, five years, and just yesterday he was on the phone talking to a dealer about it. He sounded pretty serious about buying it.”

Ford was encouraged. At a motorcycle dealership, there might be a paper trail to follow—or at least some notes made regarding the phone call. He was about to ask the coworker for more details when something caught his eye. He looked up to see Celeste standing in the doorway with a young woman in tow. He stopped talking midsentence when he recognized the woman.

“I’ll have to call you back,” he told his contact on the phone. Then he hung up and stood. “Heather.”

“She insisted on seeing you right away,” Celeste said. “When she mentioned that it was about the Jasperson case I knew you would want to see her.”

“Of course. Thank you, Celeste.”

Celeste stood expectantly in the doorway as Heather entered the office with tentative steps, looking terrified.

“Can I bring you something to eat or drink?” Celeste asked in an überpolite voice that was a total put-on. She was just nosy, and she was trying to find a way to learn more about their visitor.

“Some soft drinks, please, and maybe a couple of sandwiches,” Ford said. “Close the door behind you.”

“I don’t need anything,” Heather objected.

“It’s okay, I’ll eat what you don’t want. Sit down, please. You don’t have to be afraid. I give you my word I won’t raise my voice or make any more threats. I apologize for the way I treated you before.”

Ford came out from behind his desk and indicated Heather should sit in one of the wingback chairs. He took the other one.

“What can I do for you?” He held his breath, afraid that if he spoke too stridently or moved too quickly, she would bolt. Only one thing could have brought Heather Boone to his office—her conscience.

Heather worried at a button on her shirt. “I talked to Brad. I told him everything. He’s such a good man. I don’t deserve him.” She broke down into tears.

Wordlessly, Ford found a box of tissues in a drawer and handed it to her. He thought ahead to what he would do if she confessed. She wouldn’t be able to leave the building. Celeste would be on her guard. One phone call from Ford and she would lock the front door, then tackle and cuff Heather herself if necessary. She might look harmless—until you crossed her.

While Heather brought herself under control, Ford pulled a small digital recorder from a drawer, set it on the desk between them and hit the record button.

Heather looked at it, but didn’t object. After an other minute or so, she was able to talk again. “The night Justin disappeared, I was with Eldon. I was at his house. He…he went for pizza. We were going to have it delivered but then it was about two minutes after midnight and the restaurant didn’t deliver after midnight—” she paused to gulp in some air “—but I was really hungry and there was nothing in the house so Eldon said he would go pick it up, but then Justin woke up and he was crying and I didn’t know what to do because I was only eighteen and I’d never been around kids before, so Eldon said he would take Justin with him because he always fell asleep in the car.”

Ford didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. On the one hand, Heather’s statement supported Eldon’s story in every detail. If Justin was alive at shortly after midnight, there is no way Eldon had time to kill him and dispose of the body, then show up to pick up the pizza ten minutes later.

But Heather’s statement didn’t in any way exonerate Robyn.

“I know I should have said something then. But I figured if Eldon needed my help, he would have told the police about me. And I was so scared to get involved, scared someone would think I’d done it. I was the girl from the wrong side of the tracks and I’d been in trouble with the law before.

“So I just left. I got out of town. I knew it was over with Eldon, and there was nothing else in Green Prairie for me. I didn’t look back. I never watched the news or read a newspaper because I didn’t want to know. I turned myself into someone else. But the past has a way of coming back.”

“Yes, it does,” Ford agreed. “I know how hard this must have been for you, but would you be willing to make a formal statement to police?”

“Wait, I’m not done. There’s something else.”

Ford went still. “Go ahead.”

“I stood on the front porch as Eldon got in his car and drove away. The gate opened and he pulled out into the street. He turned right onto Sycamore, and just after that I saw another set of headlights come on. A car was parked on the street, just outside the gate. It started up and took off after Eldon’s car. I remember thinking it was odd, because in that neighborhood no one parked in the street.”

“Did you see the other car?” Ford’s heart pounded so loud in his ears, he was afraid he wouldn’t hear Heather’s answer.

“I saw it just for a second as it drove past the gate. It was fancy—European, I think. And red.”

Red, not silver. Ford was so relieved, he almost missed the rest of what Heather was saying.

“Oh, and it made a chugging noise. Like a truck. A…um, one of those different kind of engines—”

“Diesel?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Something clicked in Ford’s memory. “Excuse me, Heather, I have to check something.” The case file was on his desk, and he paged through it frantically. Yes, there it was. At the time of the kidnapping, someone very close to the case drove a red Mercedes sedan. A diesel.

Trina Jasperson.

He grabbed the receiver from the phone on his desk and dialed Robyn’s cell number. He got her voice mail. That in itself wasn’t immediately alarming; if she were still answering questions at the police station, her phone would be turned off.

“Does that mean something?” Heather asked. “The red car?”

He’d forgotten she was there. The recorder was still running, and he clicked it off. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you for having the courage to come here today.”

He practically dragged her to her feet and out the door. They nearly ran over Celeste, who was coming their way with a tray of sandwiches and drinks.

Celeste eyed them both disapprovingly. “Leaving so soon?”

“Celeste, see Mrs. Brinks out. Get her a cab, if she needs one. Heather, I’ll be in touch.”

“O-okay.”

As he headed down the hall to the stairs—the elevator was too slow—he was already dialing Trina’s number on his cell phone.

Trina didn’t answer, either.

Ford had a bad feeling in his gut. Something was wrong, very wrong, and he’d learned to always trust his gut.

Robyn’s head spun as she scrambled to her feet. Jus tin, alive. After all these years, was it possible? Her mind teemed with possibilities, most of them horrifying. Had he been sold into slavery overseas? Such things did happen. If her child was alive, what kind of life had he led? One of constant brutality and fear? Would she be able to find him?

Trina grabbed Robyn’s shoulders and swiveled her around roughly until she faced a double louvered door. It led to a large broom closet. “Go through there.”

Robyn’s legs were so watery that she had a hard time walking. But the promise of learning Justin’s fate was a powerful motivator. She put one foot in front of the other, reached the door and shoved it open.

“Well, go on. Go inside.”

Should she blindly follow Trina’s instructions? Every instinct told her to fight back. But what if Trina made good her threat and never revealed what she’d done to Justin?

Robyn stepped inside the closet. Trina reached past her and grabbed a broom, then quickly closed the doors and shoved the broom through the door handles, effectively locking Robyn inside. There were no windows, no other way out.

Panic rose inside her chest, but Robyn tamped it down. “Tell me now, please. Please.”

“You’ve ruined everything. You know that, don’t you?” Trina said in a huff. “I knew it was only a matter of days or even hours before someone figured it out, but I thought it would be those wig receipts that did me in. That’s why I was in your apartment. You said you’d had a batch of receipts mailed to your house by mistake—from the wig shop I bought from. But I couldn’t find them. Is that how you knew?”

Keep her talking
. Robyn could almost hear Ford’s voice encouraging her. So long as Trina kept talking, Robyn would stay alive, and she might discover the fate of her child.

“I figured it out because of your shampoo,” Robyn said. “I recognized the smell, from when we wrestled on the floor at my apartment.”

“Just now? Oh, that is rich. I’m a hairstylist, convicted by shampoo.” She paused. “But you haven’t told anyone else. Your precious Ford is probably running around, trying to prove your innocence.”

“Trina, about Justin—”

“I’ll get to it.” Robyn could hear Trina moving around the kitchen, going through drawers and cupboards. “I never planned to take Justin. I knew Eldon was having an affair, but I wanted proof. I was going to take pictures, so I’d have plenty of ammunition when I took him to the cleaners in divorce court. So I signed up for the convention in Corpus Christi, and I waited until late that night and I drove back home.”

“But you had an alibi,” Robyn argued. “Your roommate said you were at the bar until late, and then you both went to bed and you were there all night.”

“My roommate was seventy-two years old, half-senile and deaf as a post. Ten o’clock was late to her. She was snoring within five minutes of going to bed. I left and came back and she never knew the difference.”

“Okay. So you drove home to check on Eldon—”

“She was right there. Standing on
my
front porch wearing
my
Dolce Gabbana robe. I parked on the street, watching the house and waiting for a chance to—I don’t know. I don’t know what I planned to do. I had a gun in my purse, maybe I was gonna shoot him or something. I was so angry,
so
angry.”

Robyn longed to tell Trina that she knew exactly how she felt. Exactly. But she didn’t want to antagonize the woman who held her life in her hands.

“It surprised me when he got in the car with Justin and they left. I was curious, so I followed him. He pulled into the pizza place parking lot, and I drove past and turned around. I saw him getting out. I saw that he left Justin in the car, alone, and that’s when the idea came to me.”

Robyn closed her eyes, steeling herself against whatever Trina told her.

“I would take Justin. I would scare the hell out of Eldon and teach him a lesson. I had a couple of wigs in the car, because we had a wig-styling seminar the next day, so I put on the blond one.”

“To implicate me,” Robyn added.

“You? I wasn’t even thinking of you. The other wig was dark, and I wanted something that didn’t look like me, in case of witnesses. But I didn’t see anyone around.”

“You didn’t see Roy White standing near the Dumpster smoking?”

“Don’t get me started on Roy, the greedy bastard. If he was ever there, he was gone by the time I pulled up. I had the code to Eldon’s car. I unlocked it, took the kid—he was drowsy, didn’t complain. I got back in my car and drove away, thinking I was pretty clever. Thinking how frantic Eldon would be.

“I was going to bring him back ten, maybe fifteen minutes later. But when I drove past again, the cops were already there. Flashing red lights everywhere, and I realized I was going to get in trouble. I’d kidnapped a child that wasn’t mine. I got scared. I drove to my mother’s house.

“We planned to just leave him somewhere, you know, some place where he would be found. But then Mama had another idea. She knew of a couple in Mexico, some second cousins of hers, I think. They wanted children and couldn’t have them, and they were trying to adopt but there was so much red tape and expense.”

Robyn’s knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. “You sent my child to Mexico.”

“It was so simple, and I thought it would solve all my problems. No more stepkid taking up all my husband’s time, attention and money. No more ex-wife to deal with—God, I hated you. Such a saintly, devoted mother. Eldon worshipped you.”

Despite the obvious error in Trina’s thinking, Robyn didn’t argue. She swiped at the tears leaking from her eyes. “What happened to my baby?”

“I told you. He went to live with a couple in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. That’s all I know.”

“What’s their name?” Robyn asked. “The couple?”

Trina hesitated. “I don’t know. But why would you want to find him after all these years? You’ll just ruin his life.”

Was Trina crazy? “I want my baby.”

Another long pause. “Valdez,” Trina finally said.

Valdez, in Nuevo Laredo.
There were probably a zillion Valdezes in that city. Robyn would check them out one by one if she had to. When she got away…if she got away…she would find her baby.

“Thank you, Trina.”

The other woman sighed. “Yeah, well, I guess I owe you that much.” She actually sounded regretful. And Robyn almost felt sorry for her. Things hadn’t gone as she’d planned. She’d probably never realized that Eldon would be the most likely suspect. She’d managed to get rid of Heather, and the crisis had drawn her and Eldon closer. But the life as Mrs. Eldon Jasperson, respected member of society, never materialized. Instead she became the wife of a purported child murderer.

“So what now?” Robyn asked. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. I haven’t killed anyone yet, and I don’t plan to start with you. By the time someone finds you here, I’ll be long gone and you won’t ever find me.”

Robyn took a moment to absorb that news, to revel in the fact that she was going to live, and maybe see her baby again, if Trina had told the truth.

If Trina got away…that would be bad, but not the worst thing that could happen. “What about your mother?” Robyn asked, trying to kill time. Sooner or later, Ford would come looking for her. She had to believe that. “Won’t she be in trouble, too? Are you taking her with you?

“She’s dying. Cancer. What’s the worst they can do to her?”

Dying—cancer.
“Your mother is Bella Orizaba.” Eldon must have mentioned his mother-in-law’s name to Robyn at some point.

The doorbell rang.

Ford. It has to be Ford.
“Aren’t you going to get that?”

The chimes sounded twice more, then a strident voice yelled through the door. “Open up, Trina! I know you’re in there.”

The police? Then Robyn realized she knew that voice.

Trina swore viciously. “What’s he doing here?”

“He came to collect,” Robyn concluded. “Better let him in. I don’t think he’s going away.”

The doorbell sounded again, three times, then the banging resumed. “I’m coming in, Trina, one way or another. And you won’t call the police, because how would you explain my being here?”

“Robyn, seriously,” Trina said frantically. It sounded like she was shoving something inside a drawer. “Don’t say anything.” Then she went to answer the door.

“Are you crazy?” Trina shrieked. “Why did you come here?”

“You said you’d pay me as soon as I said my piece to the police. Well, I did you proud. That half a license plate did the trick. The cops were falling all over themselves to thank me—”

“You have to go! What if someone sees your car in my driveway?”

It didn’t sound like Roy White was leaving. In fact, it sounded like he was coming toward the kitchen.

“You want me to go? Pay me what you promised.”

Robyn debated her chances of gaining rescue by calling for help, then kept her mouth shut. She had disliked and mistrusted Roy White from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. He was a user, an opportunist. Robyn would take her chances with Trina, who had at least showed some signs of remorse.

“Half now,” Trina said firmly. “Half when you repeat your story to the cops.”

“How about all of it now, or I break your arm?”

Robyn stifled a gasp. If he hurt Trina, Robyn would be helpless to stop it. If she screamed or tried to stop him, he would likely turn on her.

“Come on, Roy, there’s no need for this.” Trina’s voice was high, panicked. “I have lots of money. I’m going to Mexico. Beautiful beaches, nonstop piña coladas. You could come with me.”

While Trina wheedled, Robyn got down on her hands and knees. She could see Trina’s high-heeled sandals, and Roy’s work boots. He had her backed up against the kitchen counter.

“You’re gonna live down there?” Roy asked curiously.

Robyn saw something else; her cell phone on the floor, where it had fallen, forgotten. It was only a couple of feet away.

“Money goes three times as far down there,” Trina was saying. “I got a beach house all picked out.”

Robyn grabbed an economy-size box of dishwasher detergent and tore it open with her hands, her fear giving her strength. The powder spilled out all over her. She tore the box lengthwise down two corners, then put it on the floor and flattened it with her feet until she had one long piece of cardboard. She felt like she was making a terrific amount of noise, but Trina and Roy were so wrapped up in their own drama, they didn’t seem to notice.

On her hands and knees, Robyn slid the cardboard out under the door. She could just reach the phone. She couldn’t pull it toward her, but she could nudge it sideways.

She pushed it all the way to the left, where it ran into the bottom of a set of cabinets. Now she could rake it toward her.

There, she almost had it. Just a couple more inches—

Her phone rang.

Roy halted midsentence. “What the hell?”

Robyn slid the phone those last two desperate inches, and it was in her hand. She grabbed it—Ford was calling her. She pressed the talk button.

“Ford, thank God, I’m locked in Trina’s broom closet. She did it, Ford. She took Justin—” Robyn realized she was talking to dead air. Her phone had already rolled over to voice mail.

Roy rattled the broom stuck through the handles of the louvered door. “Oh, my God,” Roy said on a laugh, “you’ve got the blonde locked in here.” He pulled the broom loose from the door handles.