False Front (17 page)

Lily’s brow furrowed, her shoulders slumped and her hands were in constant motion, wringing against each other, until Ricky secured one of them in his hand. Her mouth smiled in response but the other signs of distress reflected on her face and in her posture did not relent for a moment.

The deputy sat on the edge of the matching easy chair, leaning towards them with his elbows resting on his knees. Jake could tell he wanted to file charges and suspected, like him, the deputy was worried about Seth repeating the night’s performance, but with a more lethal conclusion.

To no one’s surprise, Lily adamantly rejected the idea, tears forming as she pleaded on behalf of her brother. Ricky indicated that he would not oppose charges being brought against Seth except for the trauma and anxiety it might cause Lily. He was willing to go along with whatever she wanted.

Jake heard the unmistakable sound of a pick-up truck starting up and the subsequent revving of the engine. ‘Deputy?’

‘I heard it,’ he said. ‘Seth’s gonna have to decide how this thing’s gonna end. I’m not making a move until he drives off.’

Jake would rather step out to the truck and give Seth another warning but he deferred to the deputy’s decision and held his peace. His body tensed on high alert, listening for any change in the sound from the truck as he wondered how it all would end. He doubted Lucinda would be pleased if tonight’s events turned ugly. He imagined a dead Seth in a wrecked truck after a hot chase down the narrow winding roads. He thought of Seth arriving home first, taking his wife hostage, getting into a gunfight, being shot by the deputy – or worse, by him. He did not relax at all until he heard the engine shut off three minutes later. And then, only partially – his body remained coiled for instant response in case he heard the motor come to life again.

After the deputy left with his complete report and no charges filed, Jake pulled out his cell and pressed Lucinda’s number. ‘Hey, Lucy, it’s Jake. I’m not going to be able to talk long. I’m expecting a call from the deputy about Seth’s arrival back home. I wanted to update you on what’s been happening. Let me start with the fact that no one has been hurt but things were a bit out of control there for a while.’

‘Ricky’s OK?’ Lucinda asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And Lily?’

‘Yes. You knew there was a problem?’

‘Yes, I talked to Martha and then I called the sheriff.’

‘OK. Basically you don’t know what happened at Ricky’s house. Seth pulled a rifle on Ricky, knocked his sister to the floor and scared the crap out of me. Do you want to speak to your brother for a moment?’

‘Yes. But then I need to tell you about something that’s developed here.’

‘You got it,’ Jake said and handed the phone to Ricky.

Ricky said, ‘Hey, Sis. All’s well here. Lily will probably have a few bruises from tonight and we have a bullet lodged in the ceiling of the living room – but that’s the total extent of the damages.’

‘Do you feel safe, Ricky?’

‘Yeah, Seth’s not going to come back here any time soon. We’re not pressing charges – Seth might be an ass but he’s part of the family and Martha will give him plenty of grief for shoving Lily. I’m not at all worried about him coming back here.’

‘Lock the doors anyway, OK?’

‘Yes, big sister, I’ll lock the doors.’

‘Throw the dead bolt, too.’

‘Yes, ma’am, will do. Now, you stop worrying. Your FBI guy has everything under control. And he is staying here at the house. But tell me, is there something serious going on between the two of you?’

‘Not now, Ricky. I really need to speak to Jake again. Could you hand the phone back to him, please?’

‘That sounds like a “yes” to me.’

‘Ricky! Give the phone to Jake.’

Lucinda listened to her brother chuckle as he passed the phone.

‘Yeah, so what was your answer?’ Jake asked.

‘To what?’ Lucinda said, playing dumb.

‘Is there something serious going on between us?’

‘You know the answer to that as well as I do, Jake.’

‘I know it’s serious for me, but what about you?’

‘This is not a good time for this discussion, Jake.’ Lucinda bristled.

Jake sighed. ‘When, Lucy? When will it be a good time?’

‘I don’t know, Jake. I just know it’s not now. Can we change the subject, please?’ Lucinda felt like damaged goods. People make commitments every day. People take risks on relationships all the time. Why couldn’t she? Why did the thought of it make her stomach churn and cause a dull, aching throb at the base of her neck?

‘Sorry, Lucy. I won’t bring it up again until we’re face-to-face. Promise. Now, what’s going on with your case? Am I still a suspect?’

‘Of course you are, Agent Lovett. You are on the top of my list,’ Lucinda teased.

‘OK, I’ll work on my alibi,’ Jake said with a laugh. ‘But seriously, what have you learned?’

‘Rowland and my victim were in the same high school graduating class in Trenton, New Jersey. And it seems that we have a possible ID for the mystery Tess on that piece of paper – Tess Middleton, CEO of Scott Technologies.’

‘Big name means big trouble. Are you sure about that?’

‘No. But I’m hoping to get a class yearbook in the morning. I’ll see if she was in the same class and I’ll try to locate a Bonnie as well.’

‘Good work. I guess I should call off my researchers.’

‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather keep them on it. It’s possible your guys will find something mine couldn’t access.’

‘No problem. Hey, I’ve got another call coming up. Catch up with you tomorrow.’

And he was gone. Lucinda reached a hand down to stroke Chester’s head. He jumped and chirped at her touch as it roused him from a deep nap. ‘Sorry I startled you, Chester.’

The cat relaxed back down in her lap, purring like a well-oiled motor. Lucinda laughed. ‘It’s so simple for you, itty bitty kitty boy. I wish I could fall to sleep with half your ease.’

She wondered how she would sleep tonight. Her mind galloped through imaginary yearbook pages, searching for Tess and Bonnie. Would they be there? Or would it be another dead end? And if they were members of the same class, what brought them together then? And what connects them now?

If she did find a connection to Tess Middleton, would the DA block her efforts to confront the high-powered woman with the financial ability to make or break any political campaign? Or would he do the right thing? That open question created the greatest anxiety about the investigation now but she didn’t even know if it would go that far.

Would she find the answers she wanted tomorrow, or only more questions?

THIRTY-TWO

L
ucinda arrived in her office just after 6 a.m. the next morning – far too early for a Federal Express delivery but she couldn’t help herself. The day was too young for almost everyone else. She called Ted to ask about the computer search but his cell went straight to voicemail. The laboratory was empty and no one was present in research.

She fretted at her desk, trying to review her notes but failing to maintain her concentration. A little after seven, Ted called. ‘I drove down last night. I’m going before a judge this morning. With a little luck, we’ll have a subpoena for the computer records at Scott Technologies this morning.’

‘Do you need me there?’

‘I sure wouldn’t mind having you if you have free time. But someone from your district attorney’s office is meeting me at the court so I should be OK. And I’ll personally deliver the subpoena to you if you’re going to be in the office.’

‘I should be. If something comes up, I’ll give you a call. Thanks, Ted.’

‘At your service, as promised.’

‘How are the kids doing?’

‘They settled into life here as if they’ve never known any place else. Both are doing well in school and growing out of clothes faster than we can buy them. They seem very happy that we’re all under the same roof, even though they know Ellen and I have separate bedrooms.’

‘How’s your dad?’

Ted sighed. ‘A little worse every month. But, at least, up to now, he’s remaining cheerful.’

‘The downward spiral is inevitable, Ted. Terribly sad but inevitable. It’s the worse way to lose someone you love. I’ve got to run. I’ll see you after court and we can talk some more.’ Lucinda disconnected the call, a little uncomfortable about her lie – at the moment, there was nothing urgent to do. She just wanted to get off the phone.

She caught up on some long-avoided paperwork and then pulled out her reports on the death of Candace Eagleton. She started a to-do list: 1. Review yearbook – confirm Candace, Rowland, Middleton and look for people named Bonnie: 2. Check on lab results – most important contents under the victim’s fingernails: 3. Serve subpoena on Scott Technologies (if we get one): 4. Check up on Jake’s progress. She scratched the last off and started a second list. She wanted to keep the original one strictly for items connected to the Eagleton murder investigation.

When the phone on her desk interrupted her concentration, she snatched it up before it finished one ring. ‘Pierce.’

‘Hello, Lieutenant. This is Beth Ann Coynes. I wanted you to know that we have isolated the DNA of one male from the scrapings under Candace Eagleton’s fingernails.’

‘Whose is it?’

‘We don’t know that yet. It would be helpful if we had a DNA sample from her husband for comparison.’

‘OK. I’ll call his attorney.’

‘Ouch. It’s come to that already?’

‘Afraid so. Can you run the profile through AFIS in the meantime?’

‘Right now, it’s going through our local database. When that finishes, if there’s no hit, I’ll run it through the national database.’

‘Good. Keep me posted each step of the way, please. I want to know even if you come up empty-handed.’

‘Will do, Lieutenant. Good luck getting your guy.’

‘Thanks, Beth Ann. Anything else of significance?’

‘Not here. I’m hoping we’ll find something you can use in the toxicology but none of those results are in yet. I hate husbands who kill their wives.’

‘We don’t know that’s what happened here. It’s possible but we have other leads to follow first.’

‘The techs on the scene got a creepy vibe from him. I’d wager a week’s salary that in the end you’ll end up at the husband – either he did it or he hired someone to do it.’

Lucinda recalled the nastiness of leaks to the media in other cases and worried. She’d always trust Beth Ann but what if she was wrong? ‘I trust you will not mention your opinion to anyone outside of this investigation.’

‘Of course not. We’ve already had calls looking for results. Doctor Ringo chewed them up and spat ’em out. Then we had to sit through a long lecture about the need for everyone in the lab to keep their mouths shut about any and every case. She promised suffering if we did anything to compromise any investigation.’

‘Good old Audrey. Fear and intimidation – what a way to manage.’

Beth Ann chuckled. ‘No other method would work for her. She’s not the most likeable person on the planet.’

‘And she sure doesn’t like me,’ Lucinda said with a laugh and looked up to see research guru Lara Quivey step across her threshold. ‘Lara just walked into my office bearing a package. Gotta run.’ She dropped the receiver and said, ‘Is that it?’

‘I think so but I haven’t opened the package.’

‘Do it. Do it. Do it,’ Lucinda urged.

Lara pulled the tab on the FedEx package and slid out the 1978 yearbook. ‘Ta da!’ she said, handing the book to Lucinda. ‘If that’s all you need from me now, I’ll get back to work.’

‘Thank you, Lara. Thank you a lot. I’m sure I’ll be back to you when I get through digging in this.’ Lucinda opened the book to the Class of ’78 senior pictures. She quickly located Candace Eagleton, nee Monroe, Charles Rowland and Theresa Scott, now Tess Middleton. She searched through all the photos of the class and did not find a single person named ‘Bonnie.’ But what if it was a nickname? A nickname for what? First, she thought, she’d search for ‘Bonnie’ in the juniors and sophomores – then she’d worry about possible other names.

She’d just begun looking at the photos of the Class of ’79 when her cell phone rang. ‘Pierce.’

‘Oh, Lucy. I need you. I need you real bad.’

‘What’s wrong, Charley?’

‘Oh, please, come right away. It can’t be right. You need to help me. And Ruby’s just sucking her thumb.’

‘Are you at school?’

‘No. I’m at home. It’s a teacher work day. Please come. Please hurry.’

THIRTY-THREE

J
ake thought he was rising early that morning. He believed that Ricky and Lily would still be sleeping after last night’s drama. He was sorely mistaken. When he walked into the kitchen, both were at the table reading sections of the newspaper. Plates covered with crumbs and smears of egg yolk were pushed to its middle.

‘Well, look who’s up,’ Lily said.

‘You’ve already had breakfast?’ Jake asked.

‘Oh, sure,’ Lily said. ‘But I planned on fixing some for you soon as you got up.’

‘I guess we should have waited for you,’ Ricky said, ‘but after doing our morning chores we were pretty hungry.’

‘How you like your eggs, Jake?’ Lily asked. ‘Scrambled, poached, sunny side-up . . .’

‘How about once over light?’

‘You got it. Toast or English muffin?’

‘Muffin, please.’

Jake sat down at the table with Ricky. ‘You’ve done chores already? What time do you get up?’

‘You never lived on a farm?’

‘No, city and suburbs – no bucolic bliss for me.’

‘I heard the sarcasm around that bucolic phase. You gotta be a morning person to make it as a farmer. We get up at five, slug down some coffee and get busy. If we don’t get out to the dairy cows before six, the cows start lowing so loudly you can hear ’em in the next county. And the hens start picking on the weakest one something fierce if we don’t let them out in the yard by then.’

‘Hens fight?’ Jake asked, amazed at the prospect.

‘More like they bully. You can look at them and see who’s at the bottom of the totem pole. Always got a bare spot or two where the others plucked out her feathers.’