Broken Build (29 page)

Her cell phone rang. Dave answered it without speaking.

A man’s voice said, “Hello? Ms. Jones, you there?”

Dave did not say anything, so the man hung up. Seconds later, the same number called again, possibly thinking he had a bad connection. Dave let it go to voicemail. He waited a minute and then retrieved the voice mail.

“Ms. Jones, this is Craig Pearson. I’d like to offer you a job as Director of Engineering. Ms. Debeers highly recommends you. Please call at your convenience.”

Dave gripped the phone so hard his knuckles whitened. He deleted the message and stuffed the phone into his pocket before he could damage it. Damn her. The police were right. She was working for Craig. Sent to destroy his life and steal the code.
You. Are. So. Stupid. Dave. You. Are. So. So. Stupid!

Jen’s suitcase lay on the floor. Furious, he unzipped it and tore through it, tossing her clothes across the room. He pulled out a bloody towel, the one Melissa used on his cut. What the heck? Was she also into voodoo or Santería? He threw himself on the bed and pummeled her pillow. Both attracted and disturbed by her shining, flowery fragrance, he buried his face in it and closed his eyes. A hard object lay under it. Another cell phone.

He turned it on. The log showed six missed calls. He pressed to return the call. Just when he thought it would go to voicemail, a male voice answered.

“I thought I told you not to call.”

“Who are you?” Dave’s grip tightened on the phone.

“Oh, I get it. She couldn’t handle the stress. Fair enough. DNA will be delivered to you tomorrow. And tell her to keep her end of the bargain, or else.” The call ended. The voice sounded just like Craig Pearson.

Dave’s heart jackhammered like it was about to explode. Jen had lied so well.

Chapter 29

Jen woke, rubbing her eyes. The cot next to her was occupied by a scantily dressed hooker who was passed out in a plume of alcohol fumes. She ignored the woman, washed her face and rinsed her mouth. Her stomach growled, but she had no appetite for jailhouse food.

The guard opened the door and gestured to Jen. “Your lawyer is here.”

Owen opened his arms for a hug. “Ballistics came back. You’re out. Let’s get your things and go.”

“You mean I didn’t shoot Mrs. Bowers?”

“The ammunition didn’t match. They used buckshot. Why did you load rifle slugs?” Owen handed her a jacket. “Surprised you held onto the gun.”

Jen rubbed her right shoulder. “I grabbed whatever was there.”

He cupped his hand and whispered in her ear. “Next time, stick to birdshot.”

She almost punched him, but the guard returned with her purse, shoes and a plastic bag with her bloody sweater. Jen pulled on her ankle brace and stuffed her foot in the untied jogging shoe she wore on the way over, then pulled the jacket over her cotton prison shirt.

“Wait at the curb while I get my car.” Owen took the plastic bag and left her on a bench in front of the station. Cars drove by with people coming to visit the inmates. The November chill blew through her thin jacket. Thank God she hadn’t shot Mrs. Bowers. Dave seemed to have cared a lot about her. She recalled him tenderly holding her head and praying over her while waiting for the ambulance. But wasn’t Dave also dating Claire Tyler? Jen cringed, remembering the possessive kiss Mrs. Tyler gave him two nights ago. A sour feeling wedged in Jen’s esophagus. Maybe he wasn’t here to pick her up because he was with another woman.

Owen pulled the car up and helped her in. “I’ll take you to your apartment.”

“Dave hasn’t come by?” Jen buckled her seatbelt.

“Nope. He’s staying away. His lawyer thinks you’re harassing him.”

“What?” Jen glanced at Owen who averted his gaze. He appeared to be considering his next words. “It’s better for you too.”

“You don’t believe that I’d do such a thing, do you?”

“Well, I must admit his life has gotten crazy real fast with you around. Smashed windows, wrecked cars, living room destroyed, data center burned down, and a woman injured on his driveway. If I didn’t know you better, I’d believe it too.”

Panic spurred Jen’s heartbeat. “You’ve been talking to Dave’s lawyer?”

Owen wove around the parking lot past the incoming traffic. “I had to prepare your defense, and I got you out, didn’t I? It’s probably none of my business, but I hope you’re not involved with Mr. Jewell.”

“Why?”

Owen hooked a left turn a little too fast, slamming Jen against the passenger door. “It might complicate our defense. Phil agrees. Neither of you are cleared from Rey’s murder. The police are digging deeper. Why didn’t you tell me you were Mr. Jewell’s nanny?”

“Huh? You were away at college. Why would it matter?”

Owen tightened his lips. “Phil’s requesting the DA to reopen the investigation of the kidnapping.”

“What do you mean?” Jen’s insides lurched. “Does Dave suspect me?”

“Of what? Jen?” He pulled onto the driveway of her apartment complex and shut off the car.

“You know… huh-having s-something to do with the kidnapping.”

“The less you tell me the better. I heard this is a common defense lawyer tactic.” He leaned back and ran his hands over his head. “I-I don’t know how to help you. I should have listened to my dad and followed his footsteps, doing wills, estates, and trusts. I’m not cut for this criminal stuff.”

“But do you like it?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded with a sad half-smile. “Let’s get you settled before we talk strategy. I’ll see you to your door and go by Mr. Jewell’s house to pick up your luggage.”

Jen dragged herself out of the car and hobbled up the stairs. It all sounded so final. Pick up her luggage. How could Dave believe the lies about her? Didn’t he know her better? The pain in her chest drilled deep into her heart. How could she face going back to work and see him there day after day? Assuming she had a job to go back to.

Her ankle was sore by the time she arrived at her door. Owen followed close behind her. The reek of marijuana and stale beer hit her when she opened the door. Empty beer bottles, soggy pizza, and trash littered the apartment. Sherry was sprawled on the couch watching TV. Max bounded to the door, wagging his tail and licked her hands.

Sherry rubbed a bleary eye. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until Sunday.”

“You promised to clean up.”

“I was going to.”

Jen shook her head. “Then start now.”

Sherry yanked Max away from Jen. “I’m moving out. I don’t want to live with a murderer.”

Sherry took a suitcase from the hall closet and walked to her room. She yelled to someone about getting out of the shower. Minutes later, the shower shut off.

Max returned to Jen and sniffed her shoes. She automatically rubbed his head. Great, just great. She shouldn’t have let the low-life into her apartment. Besides trashing the place they could have stolen her valuables, well, not that she had any. But still… She bet they used her shampoo and conditioner.

Children’s voices and footsteps pounded down the outside walkway. Jen turned to the door and Alex ran in followed by a younger girl. Jen’s shoulders shook with a spine scratching chill. It was the girl from the memory stick. The one the kidnappers sent to Dave.

An older woman knocked on the doorframe. “Oh, hi. Is my daughter here?”

“Hey, I know you.” Alex stepped to Jen’s side. “You’re my Big Brother’s girlfriend.”

Jen tried not to stare at the little girl. Her skin was browner than Alex’s. She could be Jocelyn’s daughter.

A brown-haired woman stepped out of the bathroom and narrowed her eyes at Jen. Her nostrils flared as if she detected a particularly obnoxious odor. She had an athletic build and appeared to be around thirty, give or take a few years. The little girl ran into her arms. “Mommy!”

Alex’s grandmother sniffed and surveyed the mess. “I’m late for the doctor’s appointment. And Alex has a play date with his Big Brother this afternoon, so I need to be back when he comes to pick him up.”

“Okay, okay.” The woman picked up a brush and ran it slowly through the little girl’s hair.

Jen eyed the girl and the brush. This could be Abby. If she could get the DNA and prove it, she could make Dave happy again, make up for her misdeeds. And Dave knew these people. How could he not recognize Abby? Jen’s heartbeat accelerated, and she rubbed her palms.

Alex’s mother took her time, gently separating the tangles and braiding the little girl’s hair. The girl prattled about her dolls. Jen’s throat tightened at the tender mother-daughter scene, jealous that Jocelyn had never enjoyed a similar moment.

The woman tied off the braids and dropped the brush on the sofa. “Let’s go to McDonald’s.”

Both children squealed and pulled their mother out of the apartment. On the way out she nodded at Owen. Sherry followed, dragging a large rolling suitcase. She grabbed Max’s collar and led him away without saying goodbye.

The coast was clear. Jen slid to the couch and picked up the brush. “Got it.”

“What are you talking about?” Owen asked.

“DNA.” Jen could barely keep from bouncing on her toes. “I’ve got the DNA to prove that little girl is Dave’s daughter.”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“The kidnappers sent Dave pictures of his daughter. And that little girl looked exactly like the one in the pictures. She looks half-Filipino, doesn’t she? She could be Dave and Jocelyn’s daughter.”

“Wait a minute. Don’t think you’re going to be sleuthing on your own. You should turn this over to the police.”

“I have Dave’s blood on my sweater. All I have to do is take this to a DNA lab and order a paternity test. Will you drive me to a car rental? By the way, do you know who that woman was? She looked like she knew you.”

“Oh, you mean Patty Brown? You met her at the Hoot, remember?”

Jen shook her finger at him. “She’s suspicious. Don’t you see? Her little girl is either Abby or posing as Abby.”

“Jen, you’re nuts.”

“No, I’m not.” She was so close, she could taste it. The little girl was the right age and looked half-Filipino and half-white.

Owen’s cell phone rang. He answered it and handed the phone to Jen. “It’s your sister.”

“Thanks.” Jen put the phone to her ear. “Christy?”

“Hey,” Christy said. “Where are you? Dave drove me to the police station, but they said you checked out already.”

So Dave did try to visit after all. Jen glanced at Owen and swallowed a smile. “I’m at my apartment. Is he still with you?”

“Yes, and I need the key to the storage unit. Can you take me this afternoon?”

Stabs of guilt prickled Jen’s heart. She’d ignored Christy again. “Let me talk to Dave first.”

“Sure.” She heard Christy talk to him. What? He didn’t want to speak to her? A sick feeling tightened her gut.

“Jen?” Christy was back on the line. “He said he’ll have someone bring your things over and give me a ride.”

Tears edged in Jen’s eyes, and she blinked desperately while turning her back on Owen. “I’ll find the key for you. Do you really need it now?”

“Yes. I can’t get my permit, and you promised you’d teach me how to drive. Then I can live with you.”

“Sure, I’ll see you in a bit.” Jen bit the inside of her lower lip until it hurt. So Dave didn’t want to speak to her. Everything was too much. Overwhelming. She handed Owen’s phone back and sunk into the couch.

Owen put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t cry. He’s not worth it.”

“I’m not crying.” She snapped. “Detective Tanner put those thoughts into his mind. I need to speak to him. Can you call him? Maybe he’ll pick up.”

Owen shook his head. “Maybe you should pay attention to internet gossip a bit more. Mr. Jewell is not the shining prince you imagine him to be.”

He opened the browser on his phone and pointed to OgleNews Turdlines. Bonnie and Clyde hit-and-run team split. Jewell nervous breakdown newsflash: She’s broken his build and ran over his heart, will his company sink? Mrs. Bowers squishes black dog with Jewell’s car. Rumor has it she’s his mistress. Read this before it gets deleted.

He browsed to a bookmarked slideshow. A picture of Dave cozying with Claire Tyler on a garden bench flanked by gnomes with pointy hats. Dave staring at an elaborate crystal in Melissa’s hands. Dave kissing Jen in Santa Cruz overlooking the ocean. And Lisa? The secretary? Standing behind him massaging his shoulders while he worked at his laptop. Who had taken these pictures?

The slideshow continued through pictures of Dave with women in clubs: at a New Year’s Eve party with a masked woman in a glitter gold bikini, at a Mardi Gras party… ewww… the woman in the harem pants had her tongue in his ear. Unbelievable. How could a man like this ever make her feel protected and safe? He’d ditch her for the latest floozy. Cast her away like yesterday’s used milk carton.

She pushed the phone back at Owen. “I need to take a shower.”

“Sure. I’ll call the cleaning service.” He stepped into the kitchen.

Once in the shower, Jen cranked up the water. She leaned her forehead on the cold tile and let the tears roll. This was the last time she’d cry over him. She’d find Abby and leave him alone with his memories of Jocelyn and his harem of playmates.

* * *

Dave glanced at Jen’s sister as she hung up. While Jen’s milk-chocolate hair was wavy, Christy’s was dark-brown and straight. She was pencil thin with cocoa-brown eyes and thin, straight brows that slanted down toward her temples giving her the stringy waif look popular with models in the 1990’s.

Christy pressed her lips together. “You’re mean, making my sister cry.”

He started the car. “There are some things you don’t understand about her.”

Dave’s stomach gurgled with a shooting pain. He fumbled in the console for antacids. He couldn’t talk to Jen while angry, and not while her sister listened in. It’d all be worse if she were crying.

Christy fiddled with her hair and glared at him as if he had clubbed a baby seal.

Dave pulled over to the shoulder and put the car in ‘Park.’ “Your sister’s been under a lot of stress. Let’s not make a big production, okay? I’ll drop you off. Here’s her iPad and cell phone.”

Christy shrugged and took them. “Are you going to talk to her? She sounded really hurt.”