Trust Me (41 page)

"I'm not joking," she said.

Her steady gaze finally convinced him she believed her own words, but he still couldn't accept it. "Skye, Lynnette's jealous of you. There's no doubt about that. She hates you because you've been a constant distraction to me. When we were supposed to be putting our marriage back together, I was thinking about you. I'm sure she realizes that, and blames you more than she--"

"She gave pictures of me to Lorenzo, David," Skye interrupted. "I don't know where she met him, but from the sound of it, the pictures were candid shots she took while she was following me. Jeremy said there was one of me in my car and was about to mention others, when she shut him up."

David shoved a hand through his hair as he searched for another explanation. It was a lot to take in after such a rough night. "That can't be right. You must be mistaken about Lorenzo. Maybe she wasn't the one watching you. Maybe she hired someone else to see if we were secretly meeting, and after what happened you naturally thought--"

"No. Jeremy specifically said she gave the pictures to a guy with big holes in his ears."

The bad feeling in the pit of David's stomach was getting worse.

There weren't a lot of guys who had that kind of piercing. "Did you confront her?"

"When I said Bishop's name, the blood rushed out of her face, and she wouldn't look at me anymore. She'd been downright hostile just a second before, ready to fight, but at that point she grabbed Jeremy and ran out of here."

David wanted to continue denying that Lynnette was capable of any such thing. But love triangles created strong emotions, which sometimes led to unconscionable actions. He'd seen it too many times. Was he caught up in the same kind of thing that had caused that woman astronaut to drive across the country to kill her rival? No one had expected that from her, either.

"We tied Bishop to Noah," he said.

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Skye shook her head. "That was a loose connection at best, certainly nothing incriminating."

He couldn't argue. She was right. And Lynnette had known about Oliver Burke getting out of prison. She was also privy to information about the original case, at least all the stuff he could talk about. No one would better understand how that threatening call and a note signed "O.B." would send David scrambling to pin it on Oliver. Lynnette had been setting him up to believe it was Oliver so that when Skye died, he'd automatically take the investigation in that direction. It was smart.

And evil...

"Does she have access to your contact records?" Skye asked.

Of course. He'd lived with Lynnette on and off over the past three years. She could easily have gotten Skye's telephone number and address from his phone. He charged it on the nightstand when he slept. She could've gone through it while he was in the shower, eating, on the home phone. The opportunities would've been endless....

Slumping into a chair, he kneaded his forehead with one hand.

Lynnette's complicity made too much sense to disbelieve it. But he was praying, for Jeremy's sake, that there was another explanation.

He didn't want to go after his ex-wife for attempted murder. But if she'd done what Skye thought she had, he'd have no choice.

When Jane opened her eyes, she was relieved to see that Kate was still sleeping. The run-down motel room smelled of mold and who knew what else--considering the women hanging around when they'd arrived last night, Jane didn't even want to contemplate the origin of those smells--but at least the place provided a roof over their heads while she tried to figure out what to do next. She'd managed to slip out of her in-laws' place with Kate before anyone realized it, but now that she was facing a new day, she was beginning to doubt the perceptions and panic that had led her here.

She'd gone to Safeway and used her credit card to purchase a few necessities, then she'd stopped at the bank and gotten a six-hundred-dollar cash advance, which put her at her limit.

Six hundred dollars wouldn't get her very far. And she was beginning to wonder about the fairness of her actions. Now Oliver would have no money. She wasn't sure he deserved any. She'd been the one to earn it. But he'd earned all their money before, and she'd been perfectly happy to spend it. If, by chance, she was wrong, if he was as innocent as he claimed, she'd just left him without wife, daughter or money, which would make it that much more difficult for him to get back on his feet.

Was she being too hard on him? There were moments it certainly felt 261

that way. Especially when she focused on her own shortcomings. She'd cheated on him, after all. With his own brother. Maybe she was trying to shrug off her own guilt by imagining something much worse in him.

Confused and hurt as she was by what Noah had done, she supposed that was plausible.

She had no proof that Oliver was a murderer. She'd found nothing incriminating when she'd searched the house. Sure, she had his notebook.

But she'd known about it long before she'd decided to run. Oliver had always kept a journal, and he'd always written in the same code he was using for this one. As a very private person, he liked knowing no one would be able to read his words, but that didn't mean he was guilty of what Detective Willis believed. He was very sensitive. Writing things down helped him deal with his emotions. And it wasn't even all that weird that he'd keep a picture of Skye Kellerman. They both hated her, didn't they? They were both furious about her ability to spin the situation to her advantage.

Had she misjudged Oliver? Noah seemed to think so.

Jane had to cover her mouth to stifle a sob at the thought of how Noah had treated her. He should've told her what he intended to do. Instead, he'd made a terrible, hurtful mess of everything.

But she wasn't handling things so well, either. Perhaps he was doing the best he could, just like her. She was acting a little crazy. She'd been in an emotional tailspin ever since she'd learned that Oliver was getting out of prison.

Could she trust her own head? Her own emotions?

Oliver had acted oddly, distant, when they'd made love, but he hadn't been brutal or violent. Not exactly. Of course, she told herself, being with him would feel strange after three years. Maybe she'd bailed out before giving their post-prison marriage a chance. They used to have something special, a good relationship, a strong family, the American Dream. He wanted to rebuild all that. Didn't she?

She studied the water damage that stained one corner of the ceiling.

Or did she prefer this?

"Before Skye, everything was fine," she murmured. After Skye, there'd been nothing but grief. That meant it was Skye and not Oliver, right?

Noah thought so. So did Betty and Maurice. And those were the people she'd always been able to trust. Even now their words echoed in her mind: You're acting crazy.... He's innocent....

The back-and-forth argument was giving her a headache. She wanted to get up and pace, but she didn't move for fear she'd wake Kate and have her daughter's questions to answer in addition to her own. She had no idea 262

what they were going to do, where they should go, whom they could trust.

She had to do something, though. They couldn't stay here forever. It was already close to eleven. Checkout was at noon.

Moving as quietly as possible, she crept out of bed, pulled her address book from her purse and scanned the contents. She must know someone who could put her up for a few days while she figured out what to do. Didn't she?

No, she realized with a depressed slump of her shoulders, not really.

Most of the people listed in that book were friends from before. Jane wasn't even sure why she still had their contact information. To prove she'd once had ties with the rich and influential? Probably, because the only person she felt safe enough to call was someone she'd met last year, someone who didn't have any more resources than she did. Danielle.

But Danielle wouldn't be home. She'd be on her way to work. It was Saturday. Jane was supposed to work today, too. If she didn't go in, she'd lose her job....

"Mommy?"

Jane's breath caught at the hopeful sound of Kate's voice. "Yes?"

"I don't like this place," she said. "Can we go home?"

Jane didn't like it, either. But she was more frightened by the fact that their situation could get a lot worse.

"Let--let me see." Her cell was out of power and she'd left the charger behind, so she lifted the receiver of the motel phone, inhaled deeply and called their house. Maybe Oliver would answer and tell her to come home, that everything would be okay. She wanted to believe that, needed desperately to believe it....

Nervously twisting her fingers in the old-fashioned phone cord, she waited through the first, second and third rings.

The answering machine came on. "This is Jane and Kate. We're not available at the moment..."

She hadn't added Oliver to the message yet. Was that evidence of a subconscious rejection? Was she the one causing their problems by being doubtful and skeptical and unaccepting because she'd rather have Noah?

"Oliver?" she said. "If you're there, pick up. I-I'm sorry. I got confused, I guess. I feel terrible. Please, pick up."

Nothing. Where was he? She didn't think he was riding his bike. More likely, he was sleeping after being out all night, searching for them.

The image of him driving frantically all over town made her want to groan aloud. "Oliver?"

Still no answer. Finally, she hung up and turned to her daughter.

"I'm hungry," Kate said.

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Taking in her child's impish face and long sandy-blond hair the exact color of her father's, Jane forced a smile. "We'll get some breakfast on the way home."

David stood at the door to the house where he'd once lived, staring down at his ex-wife, who looked like hell. Dressed in her old robe, she still hadn't removed the makeup she'd been wearing last night. Her hair was mussed, her mascara smeared. She hadn't appealed to him in a long time, but she'd never been more unappealing than now. He was pretty certain that was because of what he suspected.

After Skye had left his place a few minutes earlier, he'd told himself to go to work and do the research before accusing his ex-wife of attempted murder. There was always the chance he wouldn't find any connection between her and Bishop. Then he'd be able to convince himself it was someone else, someone like Burke.

But the more he thought about the situation and the timing, the more convinced he became that Lynnette had been behind Lorenzo's visit. He didn't know how she'd met Bishop and orchestrated the whole thing--but he knew why. And he felt partially responsible.

"Tell me you didn't do it," he said, pulling her outside and closing the door so Jeremy wouldn't overhear.

She laughed uneasily, but she didn't get angry, as she would've done if she was innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about."

David clenched his jaw. "Yes, you do."

"Listen, I'm tired. We'll have to talk later." She turned to go back inside, but he caught her arm.

"Lynnette, what happened to you?"

"What happened to me?" she asked, her words suddenly venomous.

"You happened to me."

He studied the hard glitter in her eyes, trying to apportion the blame, to assume his share. He'd felt it a moment before. But he wasn't responsible.

Not for this. "I had nothing to do with it," he told her.

"Without her, you would've come back to me," she said. "Without her, you never would've left the second time. We'd still be a family, just like you promised."

"When we were together, you were as unhappy as I was," he said. "It's our fault we couldn't make our marriage work, not Skye's."

"That's not true," she argued. "We would've been fine without her."

"So you followed her around taking pictures? You tried to get rid of her?" Even now, the possibility was too fantastic to believe.

But Lynnette didn't deny it, as he wanted her to. "She should've been 264

dead already," she whispered vehemently. Tears spilled over her lashes, making fresh tracks in her mascara. "If it wasn't for those scissors, Burke would've killed her four years ago."

Speechless, sickened, David couldn't move. This was the mother of his child....

Starting to cry in earnest, she reached out to him. But the thought of touching her made David's skin crawl. She expected him to commiserate with her about the fact that Skye was still alive? "How can you expect me to feel sorry for you?" he asked. "You stalked a woman and then you tried to have her killed!" The woman I love....

Her lips twisted in a snarl. "I didn't do anything. It was you. I had to follow her. I had to see. You were cheating on me the whole time, weren't you?"

"You know that's not true," he said simply.

The door opened and Jeremy poked his head out. "Daddy?" He glanced up at Lynnette. "Why's Mommy crying?"

David thought his heart would break as he looked into his son's worried face. "Because she did something bad, Jeremy. And she knows it'll mean she has to go away for a while."

"No!" Lynnette's eyes flared wide. "You wouldn't! David, it's me. I--I didn't mean to do it. I was...desperate. It was my disease. It makes me crazy sometimes. You know how hard it is to deal with. I can't face what it's doing to do to me!"

David considered the pictures Jeremy had seen on her phone. "It was too well planned to blame on your illness, Lynn. Where'd you meet Bishop?"

"He came into the clinic to have his blood drawn. He-- he's the one who talked me into it. I was just telling him about you and what you were doing to me, and he said he could fix it."

"Don't tell me he's the one you--" he adjusted his words for Jeremy's sake "--visited that night you didn't come home after your class."

She flushed red, telling David that was exactly who she'd been with.

"You probably didn't even have to pay him after that," he said in disgust.

"It started as a joke," she said. "I swear. We just wanted to scare her.

We thought that call was funny."

"Funny," he repeated, the word like acid on his tongue.