Someone Must Die (21 page)

C
HAPTER
37

The nurse on the ICU floor told her that her father was in surgery and would be for several more hours. They didn’t know the extent of his injuries, or the prognosis. His wife was very upset and had to leave, the nurse said, and it took Aubrey a minute to realize the nurse meant Star, not Aubrey’s mother.

Her mother may have been the one who tried to kill him.

Aubrey went to a small, empty, windowless waiting room, where a hanging TV was tuned to a man in a suit with a droning voice. She sat down on one of the chairs and stared at the man, trying to process what he was saying. Something about the economy and financial markets. She listened harder, making no sense of his words, but it was better than thinking about whether her father might die, whether her mother had been driving the car that had run him down, and where little Ethan was.

She blanked out her thoughts and watched a commercial that came on. An ad for a vacation getaway. Two people riding horses on a deserted beach. It reminded her of the time her own family had stayed on Sea Island in Georgia and went horseback riding one very hot day. Her dad rode a large white horse and had tied a scarf around his head to keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes. She remembered how her mother had looked at him. Her hero. Why would she try to kill her white knight on a snowy stallion?

The witness had to be wrong about the driver of the car.

Aubrey sensed someone standing the hallway. She took in the young man’s wrinkled white shirt, unshaved face, and mussed brown hair before registering it was her brother. “Kev,” she said. “You’re here.”

He staggered into the room and dropped into the chair next to hers. “Maybe Dad needs me.” He was slurring his words. “Can’t do anything for Ethan.” He reached into his pockets and took out two miniature bottles, one scotch, one vodka. “This cleaned out the minibar. Want one?”

She was about to refuse, then changed her mind. “Thanks.” She took the vodka from his outstretched hand.

He unscrewed the top of the scotch and took a swig. “They were happy to see me go,” he said. “Prudence and Ernest.” He said their names in a hyperarticulated, proper voice. “Don’t think drinking is appropriate behavior.” He took another swig. “Maybe they’ll fire me.”

She reached over and rubbed his shoulder. She wanted to say everything was going to be okay, but she didn’t believe that. She doubted anything would ever be okay again.

“Who told you about Dad?” she asked.

“Detective Gonzalez. She’s nice. She called a taxi to bring me here. Said she’d call if there was any news.” His shoulder began to quiver beneath her hand. He was crying.

“Shhh, Kev,” she said softly. “They’ll find him.”

He wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, drank back the rest of the scotch, and then put the empty bottle down on an end table covered with magazines. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s the devil, isn’t she?”

Aubrey shivered.

“Why did I let her back in my life?”

Kevin was talking about Mama. Smolleck or someone must have told him that the driver of the car looked like her.

“I wanted her to love me,” he said. “To be her little prince again. What an idiot!”

Their mother probably had no idea how much her aloofness had hurt both her kids.

“She does love you, Kev. She was dealing with her own issues and didn’t know how to show it.”

He gave his head an angry shake. “I should have known better. Dad did.”

“But Dad was the one who said you should forgive her,” Aubrey said.

“I mean years ago, when he left her. You don’t believe it was just because he met someone new, do you?”

Aubrey had always assumed Star was the reason, but maybe their father had suspicions Mama might be capable of something terrible.

My mother did not try to kill my father. She did not kill Jonathan.

Kevin eyed the unopened bottle of vodka in her hand. “You drinking that?”

She hesitated, then handed it to him. He was probably better off numb.

He took a sip of vodka. “You’re a good sister,” he said. “I’m sorry I almost let you drown.”

“It’s okay, Kev.”

“Do you think she’ll try to kill us, too?” he asked.

A chill flew down her spine. “What do you mean?”

“I heard the investigators say she probably killed Jonathan. And the woman who was driving the car that hit Dad looked like her. Maybe she’s trying to get rid of all of us.”

“No, Kev. Don’t think like that.”

My mother did not try to kill my father. She did not kill her fiancé.

“I’m sorry, Aubrey,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t drown you.”

Her brother was very drunk. His thoughts were getting mixed up. “You mean you’re sorry you almost let me drown.”

He shook his head like a stubborn child. “No. I’m sorry I didn’t drown you, and me with you.” He took another swig of vodka. “It would have been better than living through this.”

She opened her mouth to tell him he was wrong. That this was all a terrible mistake. Their family would be together again, laughing and celebrating Ethan’s next birthday. Happy and safe. Like she’d promised him earlier today.

But this time, the words got stuck in her heart.

C
HAPTER
38

The droning voice on the TV or the alcohol had caught up to her brother. He was curled up on the chair, asleep, but gripping the empty vodka bottle like it was a lifesaving tonic. Aubrey left him in the waiting room and went for a walk down the linoleum-covered corridor, past the nurses’ station and patient rooms and beeping machines.

She didn’t like what was happening to her mind—the dark, negative feelings. She understood Kevin’s need to succumb to them. It was almost too much to accept—Ethan, Jonathan, their father. There had to be some other explanation.

Her mother wasn’t a murderer.

She turned back at the end of the corridor and saw Special Agent Smolleck coming in her direction. She hurried toward him, hope that he had something positive to tell her overpowering her fear of more bad news.

Then she saw the tense expression on his face.

“I understand your dad’s in surgery,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go somewhere to talk.”

They were silent as they took the elevator down. She followed him outside to a small inner courtyard with several spindly trees. A few people she took to be visitors and some hospital staff were sitting on benches or talking in small groups.

Smolleck gestured toward a food cart. “Want something?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

They sat on one of the benches. His tie was crooked, and his shirt less crisp than earlier.

“We haven’t located your mother. I’d really appreciate your help.”

She didn’t answer.

“I thought we had the same goal,” he said. “To get Ethan back safely.”

“I don’t know where she is.”

An orderly pushed an old woman in a wheelchair to the sunny corner of the courtyard. The old woman lifted her wrinkled face toward the sun and closed her eyes.

“Have you come up with anything on the babysitter at the carnival?” Aubrey asked.

He shook his head. “We spoke with Star. She told us she’d called a few agencies, but didn’t remember which one had sent the babysitter. We’re checking with each of them.”

“But most agencies have photos of their babysitters, don’t they? Wouldn’t you be able to get a match with facial-recognition software?”

“We’re working on that.”

“What about an invoice from the agency? Didn’t Star or my father get billed for her services?”

“We haven’t found anything on their credit-card statements.”

“So what does that mean? Is Star lying?”

“It’s possible.”

Of course Star was lying. Aubrey just needed to persuade Smolleck.

“You say we have the same goal,” she said. “But you’re holding back from me.”

“There are a number of aspects of this investigation that—”

She had no patience for his posturing. “Why don’t my parents come up when I do a search on Stormdrain or the explosion in 1970? We both know they had some involvement with the organization.”

He frowned.

“What did they have to do with the explosion?”

“I already told you I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Did they make a deal with the FBI? Is that why you can’t tell me?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

His stubbornness was infuriating. “Without saying it, you’re telling me my parents were involved in some way. Which means a survivor of the explosion might be seeking revenge against them.”

“I appreciate you trying to solve this, but help us do our job,” he said. “Help us find your mother.”

“Twenty years ago, a man claiming to be Jeffrey Schwartz approached the FBI and said he knew who set off the brownstone explosion. It made the headlines, and I think it spooked my parents. I believe they thought the real Jeffrey Schwartz was out to get them. Tell me why.”

“I can’t.”

“Did my parents blow up the brownstone?”

He looked miserable. He gave his head a little shake. “It wasn’t that.”

“Then what was it? Why were they afraid of Schwartz?”

He pressed his lips together tightly. He was done sharing.

But she wasn’t done asking questions. “Where is Schwartz now?”

“We don’t know, Aubrey. Look, enough of this. Tell me where your mother is.”

“What about the man who claimed to be Schwartz? Have you found him? Have you asked him why he went to the FBI? Who gave him the idea to say he was Schwartz?”

“He’s a psychotic.”

“Have you found him?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, we found him and spoke to him.”

“And?”

“He was useless. Said he didn’t know what we were talking about.”

“Found him where?”

Smolleck shook his head, annoyed. “He’s still working as a janitor at some upscale shopping mall in Buckhead. He’s been there forever.”

Upscale shopping mall in Buckhead.
Where had she heard that reference? “Peachtree Shoppes?”

He frowned. “How do you know that?”

Her heart was pounding. “Because Star owned a business there years ago.” She made a quick calculation. The article was from ten years ago. It said Star had owned the business for ten years. That would have been twenty years. “If this man worked as a janitor when Star was there, she could have known him. She could have convinced him he was Jeffrey Schwartz and told him to go the FBI.”

“Enough, Aubrey. You’re pushing for impossible connections. How would Star even know about Schwartz?”

“Because she isn’t Star. She’s Linda Wilsen.”

“She isn’t, Aubrey. Stop this and tell me where your mother is.”

“Think about it,” she said. “There’s a physical similarity between Star and Wilsen. They’re the same age.”

He shook his head. “You’re completely off track here.”

“Star could have been working on an elaborate plan to punish my parents all these years. First she convinces some guy with delusions to go to the FBI knowing that news about April Fool will rattle my parents, then she gets my father to leave my mother, and finally, when the timing is right for her, she gets my dad to convince Kevin to let my mother be part of Ethan’s life and kidnaps him.”

“Aubrey.”

“I know. You need a motive,” she said. “Linda Wilsen was completely disfigured in the explosion. If she blamed my parents, there’s your motive.”

“Aubrey.” His voice was sharp. A couple of people at the next bench turned to stare at him. He shifted closer to Aubrey. “Star isn’t Linda Wilsen,” he said quietly.

“But—”

“Linda Wilsen is dead.”

“No, she isn’t. You said you couldn’t find her.”

“We found her. She moved to Canada in 1971 and changed her name. We’ve confirmed that she died in 1980.”

“But—”

“Star isn’t Linda Wilsen. We need to talk about your mother.”

Aubrey looked at the old woman. Her face was now in shadows, but she kept her eyes closed and head back as though hoping the warmth would find her again.

Was Aubrey so desperate to prove her mother’s innocence that she was finding patterns in unrelated events and creating a flawed, alternative narrative?

“I know you think you’re doing the right thing by trying to protect her,” Smolleck said, “but you aren’t.”

Aubrey wished the sun would come around to the bench where they were sitting. “Star could still be involved,” she said.

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“Where was she when my father was hit by the car?”

Smolleck shook his head.

“Before you convict my mother, I want to know why you’re so sure Star can’t be a suspect.”

“Star was in her apartment,” Smolleck said. “She told us she had a migraine and asked your father to pick up her medicine from the drugstore.”

“But doesn’t that sound like a perfect opportunity for her to have followed him and tried to kill him?”

“Except that the driver of the car looked like your mother.”

“Star could have been wearing a wig.”

“The SUV was the same make and model as Jonathan’s.”

“What?
”

“A valet saw a woman with shoulder-length dark hair and a white blouse drive out of the garage in Jonathan’s SUV minutes after he fell to his death. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have GPS, so we can’t track it.”

“It still could have been Star,” Aubrey said. “Have you checked out her alibi? Have you looked into her background?”

“Where is your mother, Aubrey?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your mother was seen at Jonathan’s condo shortly before he died. Someone who looked like her was seen driving Jonathan’s SUV away from the building immediately after his death. An eyewitness described someone who fits the description of your mother as the driver of the SUV that ran down your father, almost killing him.”

“But she didn’t arrange for the babysitter,” Aubrey said.

“I can’t explain that yet.”

“So you believe my mother was also behind Ethan’s kidnapping?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept his face in a rigid, unreadable mask.

Aubrey couldn’t find her breath.

“Where is she?” Smolleck said.

The corner of the courtyard was completely in shadows, and the old woman in the wheelchair was gone. “I don’t know,” she said.

“If you did know, would you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

He stood up. “Well, I appreciate your honesty.”

She watched him walk through the courtyard and back into the hospital. She wanted to call after him, tell him that he was chasing after the wrong person, that her mother wasn’t a murderer. But she knew he wouldn’t believe her.

Because neither did she.