Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) (31 page)

Aha.

She knows he did it. She knows about it all but probably found out after it all happened and they were married. Maybe she’s afraid of him because he’s blackmailing her or abusing her too so she had to keep it a secret. Her coming back probably meant she was investigating her sister’s disappearance on her own.

Yes!

That makes complete sense. She knew that her husband was responsible for her sister’s death, so as soon as she came home, she set about trying to prove it. And I’m the person who she knew could help. The moment she handed me that diary and her mom handed over his name in her sad state, he was over.

She escaped her husband by convicting him.

I scribble the entire theory down then pick the phone up to call Drake. It rings before I can dial the number, and I almost drop it as the sound blares out of the speaker.

“Noelle Bond,” I say into the line.

“Ms. Bond. It’s Daniel Russo.”

I guess they let him go on bail. “Hi! How are you?”

“I’m okay. I suppose. I know I shouldn’t ask you this, but I can’t get through to anyone on the case or my lawyer. Do you know if they’ll let me see my daughter? We haven’t spoken since they arrested me, and I’m worried about her.”

I run my tongue over my lips. “Probably not until tomorrow since it’s getting late. I can call and try to arrange something for you if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful. I’m taking my sons for a late dinner to take their minds off things, so if I don’t answer immediately, that’s why.”

“No problem, sir. I’ll leave a message.”

“Thank you so much.” He hangs up right away.

I pull my phone from my ear and stare at it for a moment. Strange. I can’t imagine why none of them would be contactable.

Still, I finish my food in minutes then tuck my notebook into my purse. If nobody is answering the phone, I may as well go down there to relay my theory to Drake before they start questioning Eddie, which I know is happening in the next thirty minutes.

Ah. Unless they already started questioning him. That would explain why nobody is answering the phone—they’ll all be in the viewing room.

I grab a four-pack of cold water bottles out the fridge. The coolers in the station aren’t going to be enough to get them through the night, and their fridge is so small that it holds milk for coffee and that’s about it.

I throw my purse and the water on the passenger’s seat of my car before going back to set my alarm. It beeps, blinking green to show it’s set, and I lock the door before climbing into my Audi and driving away. I use the Bluetooth system to call Trent, knowing he’ll be in the viewing room with his cell in his pocket.

“Hey.” His voice rings out around my car. “What’s up?”

“Have y’all started questioning Eddie Thomson yet?”

“No. Why?”

Huh.
“I just got a call from Daniel Russo. He said he can’t get through to the station to ask about seeing Stacia. He was probably using the wrong number.”

“Judge Barnes bailed him this afternoon after we took her in. I know he asked about it then, but we couldn’t give him an answer because we didn’t know if we were keeping her in custody or just letting her go. Are you driving?”

“I’m using the car to talk to you. Don’t worry. I’m on my way in. I have a theory about Stacia and Eddie’s marriage. I’ll be there in, like, two minutes.”

“Okay. Come right on up. We’re waiting for his lawyer to arrive.”

“Okay.
Ciao
.” I push the button on the GPS screen to hang up and make my way through town to the station.

Obviously word has gotten out about Eddie’s arrest, because the road is all but blocked by media cars. I have to call Trent again because nobody will let me through to get anywhere near the station.

Thankfully, he sends out a group of rookies to control the crowds, complete with Agent Jason Walters flashing his FBI badge to make them move.

I pull up in an empty spot and breathe a sigh of happiness when, for the second time today, Jason gets me inside without me having to speak to any of these media people.

That’s one job I could never deal with having.

He takes me straight up to the viewing room where Sheriff Bates, Drake, Trent, and Brody are all sitting and waiting for Eddie’s Thomson’s lawyer to show up. Eddie Thomson is sitting in the interview room alone, slouched forward on the table, his face buried in his arms.

I immediately launch into my theory about how everything ties in, but then something occurs to me. “Why didn’t you realize Russo wasn’t her last name when you booked her?”

Sheriff Bates shrugs. “Her ID all says Russo and it all checked out. He,” he says, nodding toward the window, “probably doesn’t realize that she’s using her maiden name because she probably didn’t use it until she came home for this.”

“But what do you think? Does it make sense? If he’s guilty and she knows, it checks out that he could be abusing her too, which is why she’s so afraid of him.”

“I think it’s the best theory we’ve got,” Jason says before anyone else can speak. “It’s also better than us going in there blind. At least, now, we have something to throw at him.”

Charlotte appears in the doorway with a couple of knocks. “Mr. Thomson’s lawyer just arrived, sir,” she says to Sheriff Bates. “He’s waiting in your office.”

The older man nods at both Drake and Jason, and they filter out of the room after him, leaving me with my brothers. We all sit in silence, and I realize I left the water in my car. Never mind—I’m not going back out there into the media madness. At least the road is clear, I suppose.

We wait for the interview to start without speaking. Eddie Thomson’s lawyer has a few minutes with him before Drake and Jason walk in and sit on the opposite side of the table. We hear the introductions, and then Drake runs through the average spiel.

“Mr. Thomson, can you tell me who this is?” Drake slides a photo across the table.

Eddie Thomson rubs his hand over his forehead, his fingers barely touching his buzz cut. “My wife’s sister, Daniela.”

“Shouldn’t that be ex-wife?” Brody mutters.

I shrug.

“Did you ever meet her?” Drake asks, clasping his hands in front of him.

“No, sir. I met Stacia after she went missing.” He doesn’t so much as tremble as he says it, and his expression is stoic, his gaze unwavering.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I only know of her through pictures and her story. I met Stacia a year after she disappeared.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and cover my mouth with my hand.

“We’ve been told otherwise,” Jason inputs.

“No offense, Agent Walters, but whoever told you that is lying. I met my wife in Austin on her seventeenth birthday. I was getting ready to start my junior year at college.”

Still, no moving. No shifting gaze, no nervous tics... Nothing to suggest he’s telling anything but the truth.

“He’s telling the truth.” The words escaped me in a whisper, my hand falling from my face. “I’d bet my life on it. He never met her.”

“Are you sure?” Trent asks. “Is it possible he’s an exceptionally good liar?”

“Of course.” I sit back, watching as Drake and Jason continue interviewing him. “But everyone has a tic, Trent. He has nothing. His expression hasn’t changed. He’s not even sweating. He’s telling the truth.”

“Then what the fuck is going on?” Brody asks. “If he didn’t do it, who did?”

I stare through the window for a moment, watching as Eddie Thomson shakes his head to something Drake said.

Then I inhale sharply.

“Speak to her father.”

Mrs. Russo’s words come back to haunt me, her voice echoing through my mind. They’re quickly followed by the reminder of the fear in Stacia’s eyes earlier today, fear that I assumed was directed at her husband, but it wasn’t—it was at her father.

And then his words.

Taking his sons for dinner.

No answer.

“It’s Daniel Russo.” The words tumbled from me. “He did it.”

“I’m getting Drake and Jason,” Brody says, darting out of the room.

The pieces fall into place in my mind, each one locking together. Daniela’s diary entries, the man coming into her room, her parents’ divorce changing course, her sister’s marriage breaking up...

“Help me out,” Drake says instantly, walking into the room. “Daniel Russo? How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”

“He’s telling the truth,” I say, pointing toward the window.

“Okay, so humor us with your theory,” Jason says, folding his arms across his chest.

“Daniela knew that her mom was having an affair, and in her diary, it states she confronted her with a man there, but she doesn’t say if it was her lover or her father. But whoever it was entered her room. That’s when the abuse started. She confronted her mom in front of Daniel and threatened to tell everyone to make it stop, sparking the divorce, but her father didn’t want everyone to know. So he went to her room and blackmailed her... Which is when it started. Then, when she threatened to tell someone he was abusing her, he got violent and hit her, but he hit her too hard. It was in the middle of the divorce, so she could disappear with people putting it down to a teenage girl kicking up a fuss and running away.” I touch my fingers to my lips. “He hid her and buried her, but I don’t think it was just Daniela. I think he abused Stacia too, but she was smart enough to stay quiet. He ruled her with fear, still does. Dori said from the start to ask her husband.” I look at Drake. “Remember? I was horrified that she suspected him.”

He nods. “And Stacia led you to the diary Daniela kept.”

“They would have known about the other. There’s no way they could have kept it a secret between sisters. Stacia is probably suffering from PTSD, which is why she can’t talk about it. Dori never had an affair with Eddie—she told me that he hurt her baby, not that he killed her.”

“And Eddie and Stacia are separated,” Trent notes. “Dori’s in the middle of a mental breakdown—everything is probably blurring into one for her right now.”

“Precisely.” I clap my hands. “Half an hour ago, Daniel Russo called me to ask when he could speak to his daughter because he couldn’t get through here.”

“He didn’t call,” Drake says. “Only asked before he left, after we’d already brought her in.”

“He wanted to threaten her. Make her pin the blame on Eddie although he never met Daniela. All the circumstantial evidence and Dori’s instability right now points to Eddie, not Daniel.” I pull my phone from my purse and dial the Russos’ main phone line.

A man picks up. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Noelle Bond. I’m looking for Daniel Russo. Is he there?”

“Oh, hey, it’s Tony. No, sorry. Dad’s not here. He left five minutes ago to go to the store.”

“Okay, Tony. Thanks.” I hang up and look at them. “Daniel’s skipping town. He left five minutes ago.”

“Let’s go,” Jason demands, already dialing a number on his phone.

Everyone moves, except Drake, who comes to me. He grabs my face and plants a huge kiss on my mouth. “You, woman, are a fucking genius.”

“Well. It’s all logical, really.” I shrug. “Now, go get yourself a murderer.”

A
s it turns out, I really am a genius.

There were a few holes in my theory, but only minor ones we’ve been able to piece together since I vomited it out.

Daniel Russo was picked up six hours later in Dallas by the Dallas PD, who handed him straight over to the FBI. After spending almost the entire night in Austin, putting the story together for Jason’s superiors, they agreed all the evidence pointed to him, but they would need Stacia to testify against him to ensure a full conviction.

The next day, she was interviewed by a therapist instead of a cop. Not much was pulled out of her in regards to details, but it’s what she admitted that makes a difference.

She admitted that her father had abused her for a number of years. She’d been able to protect Daniela from the same fate until the day Daniela confronted her mom over the affair. The diary we thought was Daniela’s was actually Stacia’s. The pink, puffy paint could be peeled off in one without it cracking, we discovered, and that’s exactly what she’d done.

She’d peeled it off the A5 notebook we found at the back of Daniela’s desk, glued it onto her own, and put it in the locker box before she moved to Oklahoma five years ago. It’s how she knew exactly where to find it when I needed it—she’d hidden it there. It also explains why I recognized the book.

But, of course, I didn’t read it, so I didn’t notice that the handwriting was slightly different than Daniela’s, and because nobody else read
Daniela’s
journals except me, neither did they.

Basically, a lot of really shitty, circumstantial crap happened during this case. How we managed to get by without any of these things colliding, I’ll never know. The good thing is that it all came together before it was too late, and all because I decided to make a crazy choice several years ago and take that body language course.

Without it, Daniel Russo would be free, and Eddie Thomson, whose worst crime aside from some drunk-driving issues, is cheating on his wife. While drunk. Unsurprisingly.