Authors: Erica Spindler
Tags: #Contemporary Women, #General, #Romance, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Fiction
Justice for Sara (25 page)
Friday, June 14
1:15
P.M.
Luke propped the baseball bat in the corner of the interview room. The corner directly across from where he would first ask Bitsy, then Ryan, to sit while he questioned them. The bright red bow seemed to grin at him.
He hoped it would taunt one of them. If it had been their handiwork, they would be unable to ignore it.
A neat trick developed by the Behavioral Science Unit of the FBI.
Luke had timed the sequence of events carefully, sending one of his officers to retrieve Cavenaugh first. While she was being interviewed, that same officer would retrieve Benton. When she was leaving, she would see her beloved waiting to come in.
And all manner of fears and anxieties would beset her. And Luke would have them both right where he wanted them. Of the two, Ryan seemed the more likely to have done it, but this game was still anyone’s.
Luke stood and held out a hand as she entered the room. “Ms. Cavenaugh, thank you for coming in.”
“It’s not like I had a choice.”
She shook his hand. He noted hers was clammy. “Have a seat.”
She did. He indicated the recorder. “I’m going to tape this interview.”
She made a sound of disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking?”
“Not at all, Ms. Cavenaugh. This isn’t a joking matter.”
She shifted her gaze. Caught sight of the bat. He saw it in the shock that rippled across her face.
She jerked her gaze back to his, but didn’t mention the bat. She laid her small, expensive-looking clutch in her lap. “I know what this is about.”
“You do?”
“Let’s not play games, Sergeant Tanner. I know you and Kat are romantically involved. So, of course, she’s told you that she spoke to her crazy old neighbor, who supposedly told her both Ryan and I were at the cottage the night Sara was murdered.”
“Is it true?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
So that was the tack they were going to take. Deny now, and let him try to prove it.
Only now, Iris Bell was dead.
It pissed him off.
“Of course, you can only speak for yourself.”
“Pardon?”
“About being there that night.”
“Of course,” she said quickly. “But Ryan and I have talked about this. He told me he wasn’t there.”
Lie number one.
“And you believe him.”
Her fingers tightened on the clutch. “Absolutely I believe him.”
Number two.
“Let’s just focus on you, if you don’t mind?”
“Certainly.”
“What was your relationship with Iris Bell?”
“I had no relationship with her.”
“None?”
“None.”
“You didn’t befriend the old woman so that you could spy on your friend Kat McCall? Because you felt she stole your boyfriend?”
“Did she tell you that? Pathetic. Ryan and I had never even met at that point.”
“But you’d seen him. And considered yourself in love with him.”
“Poor Kat,” she murmured. “She’s either obsessed or delusional.”
Luke kept his thoughts to himself, though not without effort. “How badly would you like Kat to disappear?”
“Excuse me?”
“Leave Liberty. Get out of your and your fiancé’s hair.”
“For all I care, she can hang around forever.”
He smiled. “C’mon, Ms. Cavenaugh. Be honest, she’s thrown your perfect little world into turmoil.”
“Turmoil? I don’t think so.” She laughed lightly. “Yes, she’s been an annoyance. An irritation. So what? Life’s full of them.”
“Have you threatened Katherine McCall? In any way?”
Her gaze skittered briefly toward the bat, then back to him. “No.”
“Didn’t send her anonymous letters? Graffiti her home? Anything like that?”
“No.”
“Didn’t threaten her with a baseball bat?”
Again, her gaze flickered to the bat, then away. “No.”
He gave her a moment to ask about it—the elephant in the middle of the room—but she didn’t. The bat with its pretty bow was the last thing she wanted to talk about.
“Have you heard the news? About Iris Bell?”
She frowned. Apprehension crept into her expression. “No, what about her?”
“She’s dead.”
“Oh my God.”
She looked shaken. He commented on it.
She visibly pulled herself together. “She was a nice lady. It was a shock, that’s all.”
“I thought you didn’t know her?”
“I didn’t say that. I said we didn’t have a relationship.”
“Why do you think someone would want her dead?”
“I don’t know what you mean. Surely she died of natural causes.”
“No, unfortunately not.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Iris Bell was murdered last night.”
Bitsy went white. Luke continued. “It wasn’t a robbery, nothing was taken. And she didn’t have a big life insurance policy. Nothing like that.”
She didn’t comment. The silence stretched between them. Luke leaned slightly forward. “Where were you last night, Ms. Cavenaugh?”
“Home. We both were.”
“I’m only asking about you. All night?”
“Yes.”
“Can anyone confirm your whereabouts?”
“Ryan. Of course. He was with me. All night.”
“Never out of your sight?”
She nervously bit her lip. “That’s right.”
“And your cell phone records will confirm that.”
She didn’t know, he saw it in her eyes. In the twitch that had developed in her left.
Ryan had left the house. It had been him Kat had seen backing out of the garage.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.
“I have no idea what you may be thinking,” she said stiffly. “I’m not a mind reader.”
He tipped his head, studying her. “I’m thinking what an odd coincidence this is. The very same day Iris Bell tells Kat that she saw Ryan Benton at the cottage the night Sara was murdered, she ends up dead.”
She stood. “I think it would be better if I spoke to a lawyer before I said anything further.”
“Of course.” He followed her to her feet. “We’re done for now anyway.”
Her gaze skittered toward the bat. He took his shot. “Pretty bow, isn’t it? Nice ribbon.”
She jerked her gaze back to his. “Pretty ordinary, I’d say. If that’s all, I’ll have my counsel call you.”
Friday, June 14
1:46
P.M.
Luke was fired up. Cavenaugh had responded just as he had expected her to. The icing on the cake had come when he walked her out and they’d run smack into Reni and Benton. It had been a moment perfectly pregnant with tension. With him and Reni standing there, all the couple had been able to do was say hello and exchange meaningful glances.
He loved it when a plan came together.
“Have a seat, Ryan,” Luke said, shutting the door behind them.
“What the hell is that?”
Luke turned. “What?”
Benton pointed to the corner. “The bat. What the hell’s that all about?”
“A couple of the guys. Joking around.”
“Some sick joke, man.”
“That’s cops. Gallows humor, gets us through the day.”
Benton frowned and sat. Luke got the feeling that he didn’t buy the explanation, but hadn’t yet put his finger on the real reason.
“I don’t know what you hope to accomplish here, Tanner, but I promise you, you’re wasting your time.”
“Whatever.” Luke sat. “Just so you know, I’ll be recording this.”
“Just so you and your low-tech tape recorder know, you have about five minutes. I hear one word I don’t like, I’m lawyering up.”
“Understood.” Luke folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “I want to talk about the night of Sara McCall’s murder.”
“Figured as much.”
“I hear you were there that night.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“You admitted it to Kat McCall.”
“Did I?”
“You’re a pretty cool customer, Benton.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“Previously, you admitted to me that ten years ago you and Kat were in a relationship.”
“Screwing around. Yes.”
“And that you wanted her for her money.”
“Until she beat her sister to death. Too freaky for me.”
“What if I told you that your fiancée confirmed what Kat McCall told me. That you were there that night.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Bitsy? I find that hard to believe.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I know Bitsy. And I know the truth.”
“And what is the truth?”
“Kat McCall’s leading you around by your dick. And this is all a big load of crap. Are we done here?”
“Not hardly. I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Luke paused for effect. “Iris Bell is dead. But you already know that, don’t you?”
Benton frowned, the slightest hesitation edging into his voice. “Why would I know that?”
“She was murdered. Suffocated. Only hours after telling Kat she saw you over at the cottage the night Sara died.”
Still no reaction. Luke leaned forward. “Where were you last night, Ryan?”
“Home. In bed.” He narrowed his eyes. “Which you already knew, because Bitsy told you the same thing. You’re just fishing.”
“I think you’re lying. You wanted Iris Bell dead because she was the one person who could place you at the scene of Sara’s murder.”
Luke got a reaction, though not necessarily the one he wanted. Benton stood. “I’ll be calling my lawyer now, Tanner.”
“Sit back down, Benton. I’ll bring the phone to you.”
Friday, June 14
2:05
P.M.
Kat sat on the top porch step and gazed across the street at Iris Bell’s place. The police had left hours ago, the hearse carrying the woman’s remains before that. During that time, Kat had forced herself to pack a suitcase of things to take to Jeremy’s; she’d called the contractor Luke had recommended, and had begun sifting through the destruction in the front room.
But no matter how busy she made herself, she couldn’t stop thinking about her neighbor. She’d gotten the woman killed, by asking questions then running off half-cocked. Impulsive and stupid.
The guilt was tearing her apart.
She dropped her head to her drawn-up knees. It should have been her. Iris Bell hadn’t done anything but be a little nosy.
“Hello, Miss Katherine.”
She lifted her head. The postman. Ronnie. He’d been their postman back when she moved into the cottage with Sara. She was surprised he hadn’t retired by now. “Ronnie, you’re still working this route?”
“Yes, ma’am. Been awhile since I’ve seen you.”
“Ten years.”
He gestured toward the fire damage. “Sorry about your house.”
“Me, too. What have you got for me?”
“A bundle of forwarded mail.”
She stood and met him on the walkway. He handed her the mail.
“You must be back for good.”
“I’d thought so, but—” She smiled. “Thank you, Ronnie. I appreciate this.”
He searched her gaze. “It’s not right. Not at all. Anything I can do for you?”
She forced a smile. “No, but thank you.”
He nodded, turned to go, then stopped and looked back. “For what it’s worth, I never thought you did it. Just wanted you to know that.”
Kat sank back to her porch step, clutching the bundle of mail. Small miracles, she thought. Little glimmers of light in the darkness. Did God send those, she wondered. Or was it just some weird, cosmic coincidence?
She lowered her gaze to the mail. She removed the rubber band that held it together and sifted through. Bills. An invitation to a friend’s birthday party. Correspondence from her insurance provider.
And a legal-size envelope addressed to her by hand, no return address.
Her fan.
Kat stared at it, mouth going dry. She didn’t want to open it. She didn’t know if she could take any more animosity aimed her way.
But she couldn’t not open it, either.
Taking in a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, she loosened the flap, slipped the single sheet of unlined paper out. The message had been written with what appeared to be the same blue pen, in the same clumsy hand.
WHO DO THE POLICE ALWAYS LOOK AT FIRST?
JUSTICE FOR SARA.
Friday, June 14
3:15
P.M.
Luke sat back down with Ryan Benton and his lawyer. With the attorney present, Benton had completely lost the attitude. Suddenly, the man was helpful to the point of conciliatory.
“From what I could tell, Iris Bell was a sweet old lady. I have no idea why someone would want her dead. It’s disgusting to me that someone would do that.”
“I feel like I have a case of whiplash from your change of tune, Benton. What’s up?”
He lifted a shoulder. “When you grow up the way I did, Tanner, your first instinct is to push back.”
That made sense. Luke gave the guy kudos—either for honesty or brilliance. A jury would eat that up.
“Where were you last night?”
“Home. With Bits.”
“All night?”
“Yes. Except for about a half hour.”
This was new.
“And then?”
“Up to the mini-mart for ice cream.”
“At that time of night?”
“My lady has a sweet tooth.”
“What flavor?”
“Chocolate chip.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I was too busy being a hard-ass.”
Luke got a glimpse of why the ladies liked him.
Charming. Mercurial.
“How long were you gone?”
“Half an hour, tops.”
“He has the receipt,” the lawyer offered.
“I do.”
Benton slid it across the table to Luke. He glanced at it. Ice cream. Ten forty p.m.
“In addition,” the attorney continued, “I’ve called the market. They have a security tape, which they have agreed to hand over.”
Luke kept his frustration from showing. This was not going as he’d hoped. “Let’s talk about the night Sara McCall was killed. Were you there?”
“Absolutely not.”
Luke had expected him to change his tune there, as well. Apparently, his magnanimity went only so far. “C’mon,” he coaxed, “Iris Bell placed you at the scene and you admitted as much to Kat McCall.”
“Both according to Kat McCall,” the lawyer interjected. “My client’s jilted lover.”
Luke gazed at the two men. Everything he could throw at Benton now would also be Kat’s word against his. And right now, Benton sounded damn convincing.
Luke wanted to mess with him awhile, just because he could. He suppressed the urge. Benton wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was he. Time was definitely on his side.
“Thank you for coming in,” he said, standing. “I’ll be in touch.”