Deceived (28 page)

She didn’t have a weapon with her. Funny, but now that she was a killer, her preferred instrument was the knife. She wished she had one. What if he tried something?

“You shouldn’t be out here,” the guy shouted.

A swift kick to the classified section might do it. But there was only so much damage you could do with tennis shoes.

The guy was short. Not much taller than she. Looked Latino. His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a black jacket and jeans.

She got ready for the kick. The path was muddy. She’d have to be careful not to slip.

When he was about five yards away, he said, “I work for parks and rec,” he said. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

A city employee. Ha.
Liz said, “I like it out here.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Is the park closed?”

“It’s gonna be. That your car in the lot?”

“Yes.”

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you back.”

Rain pounded their umbrellas.

Liz said, “I’ll come out in a bit.”

“I can’t let you stay.”

“It’s okay — ”

“Come on.” He motioned for her to follow. “Before it gets worse.”

Clearly, he was going to stick around and do his duty. A real civil servant, this guy. A credit to his employer. Something to do on a rainy day. Hassle people who want to use the park.

A thought flashed quickly through her mind. Of him falling. In the same spot Arty did. If she could just manipulate him a little, it wouldn’t be too hard.

12:22 p.m.

“Dad, it’s me,” Rocky said.

He looked at her, but his eyes weren’t focusing. They were in the security office on the second floor of the mall. A modest box of a room with a desk and computer, a white board, a filing cabinet, and a bike that presumably belonged to the guard, a serious-looking man of about thirty.

Mac stood by the door, the security guard sat in a squeaky chair. On the only other chair sat Rocky’s dad.

“Like I said,” this security guard told her, “he looked really disoriented. He wouldn’t let me call the paramedics.”

“No!” her father said.

“I think you better take him to hospital,” the guard said.

“Where’s my sandwich?” her dad said.

“He thinks he’s supposed to be served lunch here,” the guard said.

“Where is it?” her dad said.

“Dad, it’s me, Rocky.”

“Where’s Arty?”

Rocky looked at the security guard, who shrugged. To her dad she said, “Arty can’t be here right now. I am here. Come with me, okay?”

“I want my sandwich.”

“That’s where we’re going,” Rocky said. “We’re going to get a sandwich.”

“We are?”

“Yes. A big, honking sandwich.”

“What kind?”

“You’ll like it,” she said.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. He tried to get out of his chair but couldn’t on his own. Mac came over. He and Rocky each took an arm and helped her dad up.

“Rocky?” her dad said.

“I’m here.”

“Where’s Arty?”

“Maybe we should go find him,” she said. “We’ll go find Arty and then he can take care of you, just like you want him to, okay, Dad? Will that be all right with you, Dad?”

The security guard made a face, like he wasn’t sure now whether to let her take her own father out of the office.

“We have a close, loving relationship,” Rocky told him. “Just like so many other happy families.”

“Eh?” her father said. “I want a sandwich. Who’s that?”

“That’s Mac,” Rocky said. “He was a friend of Arty’s.”

“Where’s Arty?”

She took her dad by the arm, which felt bony, and steered him out of the security office.

“Wait,” the guard said, “I need you to sign something.”

“I’ll take him,” Mac said. “We’ll wait out here.”

She was glad Mac was here. He was a steadying force. She went back into the office, read the waiver and signed it.

Then she and Mac took Dad to the elevator. Her dad was walking with a limp. She could tell, even in his disoriented state, that he was mad about this. He was always self-sufficient. He must really hate having her and Mac helping him.

They struggled with him to the first floor, then out the side doors to the parking lot.

It was still raining hard.

“I don’t suppose you know where your car is, do you, Dad?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. We need to get you to a doctor.”

He pulled his arm away from her. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Dad, we need to take you to the doc — to get a sandwich. Come with me, please.”

“Where’s my car?” He looked around and started out into the rain. Mac caught him and pulled him back.

“Easy there, Mr. Towne,” he said.

“Who are you?” Dad said.

“A friend,” Mac said. “And I like sandwiches, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll make sure you get exactly the kind you want.”

Dad looked at Rocky. He looked like he was trying to piece everything together, but the puzzle was scattered all over the lot. Then he said, “He’s okay. Let’s go.”

12:41 p.m.

The parks-and-rec guy was still standing there in the parking lot, stupidly waiting for her to drive off. Earning his pay.

She would have to come back later, after the rains.

She cursed, slamming her hands on the steering wheel.

It was almost as if someone was trying to stop her. Arty.

Arty
,
do you think you can stop me?

She wondered then if she was losing her mind. Part of her knew she was.

No
,
I won’t let it happen.

Tomorrow. You can come back tomorrow.

Don’t try to stop me
,
Arty. It won’t happen. Stay where you are.

Tomorrow
,
I’ ll get away from you. From all of you.

4:33 p.m.

“Thanks for being here,” Rocky said. It was about time she thanked him. They were in the waiting room outside Emergency.

“Glad I can be.”

“I think I’d go a little bonkers if I didn’t have someone to talk to.” The place was sterile, dull brown. A TV droned the local news. An older Asian man across the room was listening to the news. Or at least staring at the monitor.

“You can talk to me,” Mac said.

“Okay. What’ll we talk about?”

“How about tulips?”

She smiled. “Tulips are good. What about fuchsias?”

“Fuchsias? I don’t know foxglove from fuchsias.”

“Me either,” she said. “I just like saying
fuchsias.”

“It’s good to say
fuchsias
, that’s for — ”

He stopped. Because she was crying now. She put her head in her hands. She was shaking.
Don’t do this.
She couldn’t stop.

She felt Mac’s arm around her shoulder. She fought back against the tears. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” Mac said.

“I just . . . I just want to be able to do something to make it different. I want to be able to pull a string and have my dad want to talk to me again. But I can’t.”

He didn’t say anything and she was glad. Just glad he was next to her now, not trying to talk her out of anything. Just
here.

8:21 p.m.

Elvis on the wall. She hated Elvis on the wall. What was he doing up there on the wall but making time tick-tock to the rain? He was mocking her in the rain, a rain that was not stopping. The rain that was beating on the roof. It sounded like handfuls of uncooked rice, thrown down, over and over and over. She cursed at Elvis, she told him to shut up and then she went to the wall and pulled him down and threw him on the floor. His legs stopped moving. The clock stopped ticking.

Saturday

9:15 a.m.

Now, Liz thought. Now it is dry, and now is the time, and now I can do this.

She threw on jeans and a sweatshirt.

Now is the time
,
and I will get away with it. They are all against me
now
,
but I will survive. I will —

A knock at the door stopped her as she was putting on her shoes.

Another knock. “Mrs. Towne? It’s Detective Moss.”

Moss!

Run. You can run out the back. You can —

— Idiot
,
be cool. Cool. And if you have to kill her
,
you will. You will
do that before you allow yourself to get taken in and —

Knock. “Liz, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Drawing a deep breath, Liz made ready. She could do it in an instant. Her strength was greater than Moss’s.

She opened the door.

“I’m sorry for coming over like this,” Moss said. She was all soft and smiley. Dangerous.

“It’s all right,” Liz said. “What can I do for you?” And then she thought, Why is she working on a Saturday?

Liz came out and closed the door behind her.

“How are you doing?” Moss said.

“I have good days and bad,” Liz said.

“Understandable. Completely. You look tired.”

“What exactly are you here for?”

“Just some information I wanted to give you,” Moss said. “Some things we’ve learned, and I’m hoping maybe you can help us.”

“Me help you?”

“If you can. Would you mind trying for me?”

“I suppose, but I can’t think of how.”

“I just thought you might like to know that we identified the body that was found near where your husband died. His name is Denton Roberts.”

Liz waited. Moss waited. Liz shrugged.

“We think he was in criminal activity. A jet boy, someone who gets away from a crime scene on a very fast motorcycle.”

“He was a criminal?”

“He had a prior record, but he’s been quiet for a few years.”

“What was he doing in the canyon?”

“We thought he was working, so to speak. A week ago there was a jewelry store robbery at a mall in Glendale. About two million dollars’ worth of stones taken at about three in the morning.”

“Wasn’t there security?” Liz asked.

“An alarm tripped, but by the time the security company and cops arrived, the thieves were gone. Outside cameras caught two men on a motorcycle speeding away.”

“Wow.”

“Wow is right.”

“Was this man, this man you identified, one of the robbers?”

“If he was, he didn’t have the take with him. Maybe somebody took it from him.”

“This is all such a bizarre story,” Liz said.

“It gets even more bizarre, Mrs. Towne. There’s another connection to this whole thing that is very troubling.”

“And what is that?”

“The man who helped you, Mr. Gillespie. Ted Gillespie.”

Liz was aware that her hands were fisting. She kept her face perfectly calm as she relaxed them. “Yes, how is he?” Liz said.

“We were wondering when the last time was that you saw him.”

“Well, let’s see. He came by a couple of days ago, I think it was. He came by to see how I was doing.”

“Was it two days? That would be Thursday.”

“Thursday. Yes.”

“Can you tell me what time?”

“Can I ask why you’re asking?”

Moss took a slow breath. “We think something may have happened to him. I tried to reach him and couldn’t. I spoke with his mother, and she hasn’t heard from him.”

“Something happened to Ted?”

“If you help me, maybe we can find out.” Moss looked Liz in the eye.

“I don’t know what else I can say,” Liz said. “He came to my house and just wanted to know how I was doing. He seems like a nice guy.”

“How long did he stay?”

“Let me think.” And she did think. She had to make sure any timeline checked out. “I can’t really remember. A while. We talked.”

“About anything in particular?”

“No. He did bring me a gift. He brought me a clock. A Winnie the Pooh clock. I thought that was very nice.”

“Yes,” Moss said. “Very nice.” But the way she said it made Liz think that she wasn’t interested in the clock in the slightest.

“I don’t know him,” Liz said, “but I got the impression he was, I don’t know, a little lonely.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“I don’t know, he just seemed sad. He’s a very nice guy, though. I think he means well.”

“You just talked?”

“Just talked. About his work a little. He’s into computers.”

“Did he say where he was going after he left?”

Liz shook her head.

“He just drove off?”

Trick question. What if there was a witness in Moss’s back pocket? “No. I drove my car, too. He followed me. I was trying to show him how to get out of the canyon on the valley side.”

“He followed you?”

“Yes.”

“How far?”

“Only till we got to Topanga.”

“Then he went off on his own?”

“That’s right.”

“And where did you go after that?”

“Well, I got on the freeway and drove into Hollywood.”

“Hollywood? What was going on there?”

“Are these questions really necessary?”

Moss said, “It’s just helping me to talk all this through.”

“But you said something happened to Ted. Why does it matter where I was after I saw him?”

“Sometimes going through a whole time period jogs the memory. It’s just the way the mind works.”

Liz paused. “It’s just so stressful, this whole thing. I feel terrible that something may have happened to Ted. He was just trying to be helpful.”

“And in Hollywood, what did you do?” Moss said.

Liz closed her eyes and brought up images of Hollywood. “I wanted to go to the center, at Hollywood and Highland. And shop.”

“What time did you get there?”

“I wasn’t really watching the time. And I really don’t think I can help you anymore. I just don’t know what I can say. I’m very sad he might be in some trouble.”

Moss nodded. “And you’ve been finding some solace in your time of loss?”

“Oh yes,” Liz said, relieved. The conversation was just about over. “The people at Pack Canyon Community Church are just so loving and kind. It’s been a real blessing.”

“Well, that does it, I guess. If you happen to hear from Mr. Gillespie, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

“Of course I will.”

Moss put her hand out. Liz shook it. Moss held a beat longer than Liz would have. Then she left.