Catherine Nelson - Zoe Grey 02 - The Trouble with Theft (32 page)

“How is it
no one figured out it wasn’t you who died in the house?” I asked.

She winced
at the question, and I saw guilt in her face.

“The babysitter’s
name was Alyssa. She was only seventeen, finishing her last year of high
school. She was excited about going to college. And she really liked the boy
she was dating. She had her whole life ahead of her.” Danielle choked back a
sob before continuing. “Alyssa and I looked very similar, both tall with long
dark hair. Alyssa was a ward of the state, living with foster parents who
didn’t pay a lot of attention. Mitch and I always felt like surrogate parents
to her. When she never came home, her foster parents assumed she’d run away,
which she’d done before, so the police didn’t think much of it. But what really
did it was Desirae’s identification. Everyone believed her when she said it was
me. Why would she lie about her own sister being dead?”

She sighed,
tears streaming down her face.

“Mitch was
a good man and a good father, the kind I never had, the kind every kid
deserves. I wasn’t in love with him, but I loved him for what he was to me and
my son. I hadn’t decided to go straight, but I took far fewer jobs, staying
home with my family. I suppose someone could argue it was nothing more than a
con, but it was a real life to us. And we were happy.”

“I’m
really sorry,” I said.

We were
both quiet as Danielle cried. Tears fell from my eyes, too.

I pulled into
the detention center and parked. Danielle wiped at her eyes and tried to pull
herself together.

“Where is
the sculpture?” I asked.

“Someplace
safe.”

“What are
you planning to do with it? Are you going to give it back to the Hollywood
guy?”

She
shrugged. “I hadn’t given it much thought. Why? Do you have a suggestion?”

I
shrugged. “The sculpture’s been away from home for ten years. Maybe it’s time
it went back.”

“Maybe it
is,” was all she said, though she was smiling.

“So you
stole the McKinnons’ painting and the Burbanks’ statue also?”

“No, only
the painting. Desirae and Lyle stole the statue. Todd is … well, if my
sister wasn’t caught up in the mix, I’d say Todd was Lyle’s lover. But Lyle
seems to have a relationship with Desirae, too. Anyway, Todd and Lyle have
known each other a long time. Todd does the gardener thing because it gets him
close to the type of houses Lyle likes to get into.”

Desirae
must have learned some of the same grifter skills Danielle made a living with,
because she’d gotten in and out of the Burbanks’ house with none of them being
the wiser. Mrs. Burbank thought she was there having an affair with Mr.
Burbank. Mr. Burbank thought she was working in the house with the other staff.
The housekeeper thought she was there as a decorator, at least at first.

“Where is
the painting now?”

“With a
collector in Georgia. Why?”

“I spent a
little time with the McKinnons,” I said. “I kind of liked them. It’d be nice
for them to get their painting back.”

She
smiled. “I love the south this time of year.”

I escorted Danielle
inside and handed her over to the booking sergeant. She gave me a hug then told
me to take it easy and rest up. Then she disappeared behind a heavy door with a
uniformed guard.

For the
first time, I had mixed emotions about an FTA going back to jail. It felt
right, but also very wrong. I knew this was the first step for Danielle, so I
clung to that thought. The sooner she got this behind her, the sooner she could
get back to her life, and to her son. She deserved that and a lot more. Her and
her son.

No one at
the detention center made any attempt to arrest me. So I went home. Ellmann was
already there when I arrived. He was busy straightening up. Danielle had said
“someone appeared to have been looking for something.” What she really meant
was, “your home has been ransacked.” Which was the perfect ending to my day.

Ellmann
looked out from the kitchen when he heard the door. He had an arm full of stuff
that belonged in the drawers.

“Everything
go okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. And
with Natalie?”

“Fine. Of
course, my father’s pissed, and Susan is upset, but that seems normal. So you
got your woman.” He pulled open a drawer as I came into the kitchen.

I nodded.
“Yeah, I did.”

It was
almost hard to take credit for this capture, because I hadn’t done anything.
This will have to be a small detail between you and me, though. I have a
reputation to uphold.

“Any idea
who did this?” he asked, indicating the mess.

“Yeah.
Lyle Young, the bastard. He also stole my gun.”

“So you’ve
put the pieces together.”

“Yeah.” I
shrugged. “Of course, my conversation with Desirae and Lyle helped clear up a
couple things.” I went to the fridge and pulled out the orange juice, then I went
to the open cupboard and got one of the only remaining glasses. “You thought
you and I were looking for the same person, didn’t you? You thought Danielle
Dillon was the one committing the murders.”

He nodded
as he put things back in the drawers. “We didn’t figure out the part about a
twin until we found a fingerprint at Caroline Marks’s house. I expected it to
come back to Danielle, but it didn’t. It tied to a sealed juvenile file for a
Desirae Dillon. There was nothing on her after she turned eighteen, but then we
knew she and Danielle were twins.”

“That’s
why you were worried about me. You thought I was chasing a woman who had
tortured and murdered dozens of people across the state.”

“Across
the globe, it’s turning out. And yes, that’s why I was worried. You have an
uncanny ability to find the people you’re looking for. I was worried I wouldn’t
be able to find her first. I was even more worried when I found out they were
twins.”

“Did you
really think there was a bug on the truck, or did you have Amerson plant one?”

“I
couldn’t easily explain how the Cadillac kept showing up. I thought it was
possible a tracker had been planted. I did want Amerson to check. I also asked
him to plant one. While you were with Natalie, I had someone tracking the GPS
in her phone. But, knowing my sister, that was temporary. You’d eventually want
to dump her. In the end, the tracker did help. It led us to Lyle Young’s
place.”

“Aaron
Shelton, like Andrew Dyer, is one of Lyle Young’s aliases,” I said. “I wrote
down a plate number for a car registered to Dyer outside Eric Dunn’s house the
first time I went there. I think that’s how Desirae and Lyle knew I was looking
for Danielle in the first place. Since they were looking for her, too, they
decided to stick close to me, see what I turned up.”

“What were
they doing at Eric Dunn’s house?”

“Eric Dunn
is the father of Danielle’s baby, Rusty. I think they were sitting on him in
case he could lead them to her.”

“And Eric
Dunn is how Priscilla fits in.”

I nodded.
“She was at Dunn’s house when Natalie and I went to see him yesterday
afternoon. I think she and Dunn were seeing each other. They’re both lawyers,
and I’m guessing they work for the same firm.” I looked to Ellmann. “Am I
right?”

He nodded.

“And is
Dunn a partner in that firm?”

“Yep.”

“Geez,
Priscilla, how
predictable
. Anyway, Priscilla mentioned we know each
other, and she made it sound like we’re closer than we really are, like she
always does. I don’t know if Dunn sold her out or if Desirae figured it out
simply by seeing us talking, because the front door was standing wide open, but
somehow it got out that Priscilla knows me. Desirae took her because she
thought it would lead to me. Priscilla had met you. I think she told Desirae
your name, and that’s how they got onto Natalie, figuring Natalie could lead
them to me.”

“So that’s
how they found your house.”

“And
yours. Desirae said she followed me, and that’s probably true. But they were
looking for Danielle and the art she stole—
allegedly
stole—from them,
and they thought I knew more than I was telling. They probably saw Natalie and
me together at Dunn’s and figured she was privy to more information than she
really was. I’m really sorry I got her into trouble. I mean, it’s one thing for
me to get myself into trouble, but another to drag your family into it. I’m
sorry.”

“I
appreciate that. I don’t blame you. And neither does Natalie. She swears you
saved her life, hers and Priscilla’s.”

“And how
does Priscilla feel about it?”

“She
blames you for being in that situation in the first place. If it wasn’t for you,
she wouldn’t have been tortured, blah, blah, blah. The usual lawyer stuff.”

I sighed
and shoved aside some mess on the counter, making room for the glass. Then I
crossed my arms over my chest.

“I will lie
if you ever repeat this, but … she’s right. I am the reason this happened to
her in the first place. And, really, Danielle was the one who saved her life.
All of our lives. If she hadn’t gotten there when she did, things would have
been very different.”

Ellmann
dropped the rest of what he was carrying and came over to me, leaning against
me.

“Then I’ll
be forever grateful she had perfect timing.”

He kissed
me. In that kiss, I felt his fear of losing me and his relief at finding me.
Surely he felt the same from me.

“You
scared me to death,” he whispered.

“I’m
sorry. But you could have just told me what was going on. I would have put it
together sooner.”

He stepped
away and stared at me.

“Zoe, I’m
a cop. I crossed a line with you once, a big one. You were my main suspect, my
only
suspect, actually, and I got close to you, pursued a romantic relationship. If
that case had ended any differently, I’d have been bumped back down to patrol
for years, maybe permanently, maybe fired altogether. The truth is, I shouldn’t
discuss any of my cases with you, ever. I break that rule too often.

“This
time, I
knew
you’d put it together if I said anything. Once we got onto
the pattern, we started making huge progress. We were closing in. I thought I
could close the case before you got into trouble. I realize now there really is
no hope of keeping you out of trouble. I just need to accept that.” He smiled
faintly.

I chuckled
lightly.

Sometimes
I forget Ellmann is a cop. I mean, I don’t forget what he does, but I forget
what it means. He was right; we crossed the line when we first met. The
repercussions of that could have been huge, for both of us, but especially for
him. Looking back, knowing how important Ellmann is to me, I wish we’d done it
differently, wish I had never put him in that predicament. Why, then, was it so
hard for me to remember that now? I shouldn’t ask him about his cases. I
shouldn’t ask him for favors or information. Not only did he have a right to
keep it from me, but he also had a professional obligation. I couldn’t be mad
at him for doing so.

“I’m
sorry,” I said. “You’re right, you could have lost your job. You still could by
giving me information. I’m going to work on that.”

He
carefully took my right hand in his again and held it.

“Let’s be
clear about one thing, though,” he said softly. “As shitty as it would have
been to lose my job, I have no regrets. If I had to do it over again, I’d cross
the same line.”

I smiled.

I did have
regrets, but none about meeting Ellmann, or letting him into my life. I was
beginning to understand that if I lived to be a hundred, nothing about my life
would ever be as right as Ellmann. And I was going to start taking that more
seriously.

Holding
his hand, I led him upstairs, hardly noticing the mess that continued up there.
We shoved the clutter from the bed and lay down. We came together and
everything fell away—not just the mess, but the whole world.

Sometime
later, I was showered, dressed, freshly bandaged, and back to tackling the mess
in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

I pulled
it open to a short, mostly bald man in an ugly brown suit flanked by two
uniformed officers, one of whom was Brooks. He beamed at me.

“Hi, Zoe,”
he said.

“Brooks.”
I looked at the suited man. “Detective Simmons, I presume.”

“I am.” He
held up a document. “And I have a warrant for your arrest.”

I nodded
and held the door open for them. “I’ve been expecting you.”

__________

I was arrested on a Sunday
afternoon. Fortunately, in Larimer County, arraignment hearings are held on
Mondays and Thursdays. As it happened, Danielle Dillon and I wound up sharing a
cell after all. Which almost made jail tolerable.

The following morning,
we were both arraigned and released on bail. Free to identify herself as
Melissa Conrad now, she posted her own bail. I did the same, since mine wasn’t
very high.

My first hearing was
set for a week later. I’d contacted Clifford Essinger, the lawyer I’d used when
I was a teenager. Essinger might not have been the priciest attorney, or the
best, but he was the only one I’d found willing to represent a sixteen-year-old
girl and not ask too many questions about where her parents were. He’d been the
best I could afford then, since I was paying out of pocket, and he’d agreed to
a payment plan.

And whatever else
Essinger was, he always answered the phone when I called. We sat together
behind the defense table. He was about five-seven when he stood, slight of build,
dressed in a tan suit, white shirt, and red bowtie. He had gray hair and
glasses.

Two prosecutors, a man
and a woman, sat at the other table. Both were dressed in suits and had
briefcases open in front of them. They were conferring with their heads together
while we waited.

The gallery wasn’t
very full, though Vandreen was seated behind the prosecutors, his arm in a
sling and his knee in a brace, with Eric Dunn beside him. I’d been vaguely
surprised to see Dunn with Vandreen, given what had happened between them, but
apparently Vandreen paid well enough for Dunn to forget their history.

Behind me, Ellmann sat
beside Amy. The rest of the spectators were lookyloos who’d wandered in,
someone from the press, and people waiting for the next case.

The door behind the
bailiff opened, and he turned to greet the judge, a fat man swimming in a black
robe. Then he addressed the court, instructing us all to rise. We stood while
the judge huffed up to his seat and then arranged himself in it. He gave a
quick nod to the bailiff, an averaged-sized, forty-year-old white guy dressed
in a tan uniform, who then addressed us again.

“Be seated. The honorable
Judge William Thornton presiding.”

Everyone sat.

Thornton banged his
gavel a couple times. “This court will come to order,” he said. “We’ll begin
with case number 12-9374, the State versus Zoe Grey.” Thornton looked up as
both Essinger and the male prosecutor stood.

“George Casey for the
state, your honor,” the prosecutor said.

“Clifford Essinger for
the defense.”

“Very good,” Thornton
said, looking down at a file opened on the bench in front of him.

Behind us, I heard the
main courtroom door open.

“We’ll begin with a
reading of the charges,” Thornton went on.

“Priscilla Casimir for
the defense, your honor. We’d like to waive the reading of the charges at this
time.”

Everyone turned and
stared: the judge, both prosecutors, Essinger, me.

Priscilla strode down
the aisle and pushed through the gate, stopping beside Essinger. She was
dressed, as always, in a perfect suit, today black. She looked as healthy as
I’d ever seen her.

The judge banged his
gavel and ordered everyone to be quiet, but no one was making any sound. Maybe,
like me, they were stunned into silence. I shot a look at Amy and saw her
staring at Priscilla with her mouth open, like a Martian had just beamed into
the room.