Someone Must Die (9 page)

C
HAPTER
14

The shower hadn’t cleared her head. Aubrey was annoyed that she had opened herself up to Smolleck’s scrutiny, but at least she had taken a couple of things away from her talk with him. For some reason, the FBI continued to be interested in her parents’ past. Smolleck had also brought up something disturbing about her father—his unwillingness to take a lie detector test.

She thought about her mother’s odd behavior at the park when Aubrey had suggested Dad may have left the note. Mama’s language was too emphatic, too defensive.

Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I protect him?

It had reminded Aubrey of the stonewalling she’d gotten as a child when she’d asked her parents whether anything was wrong. She’d always retreated, afraid to upset them further.

But she was no longer a child.

Although she was satisfied her father hadn’t been directly involved in Ethan’s kidnapping, she sensed he knew something. Something that might help them get Ethan back.

She dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved jersey, then went into her mother’s bedroom. She grabbed the extra set of car keys Mama always left for her in the top drawer of her dresser, then hurried down the stairs, hoping not to attract the attention of the FBI team.

Smolleck would expect some explanation of where she was going and why, and a visit to her father might arouse his suspicions further.

She left the house and walked around to the driveway where her mother’s old red BMW 325i convertible was parked. She backed out of the driveway, maneuvered her way through the narrow streets to US 1, then headed toward South Beach.

When she’d called her father earlier, he had told her that he and Star were staying at a time-share, and invited Aubrey to come up for a drink. She wasn’t happy about seeing Star again but didn’t want to suggest someplace else and risk having her father change his mind. She had to confront him and try to unravel this mess before someone got seriously hurt.

The traffic was light, and she drove the old car just over the speed limit. She remembered when her mother had gotten it, shortly before Aubrey’s eighth birthday. Mama had put the top down and taken Aubrey and Kevin for a ride across the bridge to Key Biscayne, singing along to an oldies station, then stopping at the marina for conch fritters and Cokes.

It had been a great day.

It was also the only time Aubrey could remember her mother taking the top down.

A short time after Mama had gotten the car, everything changed in the Lynd household. Her parents began fighting, then Mama had gotten sick and stayed in bed for what seemed like weeks or months to Aubrey, though it had probably only been a few days. Years later, she realized Mama had been suffering from a vertigo attack, and she’d wondered whether Jimmy Ryce’s kidnapping and murder had changed Mama, too.

It took Aubrey twenty minutes to get to Meridian Avenue in Miami Beach: a pretty, tree-lined street of old pastel-colored apartment buildings and narrow houses. The address her father had given her was of a three-story, mustard-colored art-deco building that looked more like someone’s residence than the luxury time-share she’d been expecting. It was across from a neighborhood park, which was enclosed by a chain-link fence.

She found a spot by the park and crossed over to the building, which was surrounded by tall hedges and heavy foliage. Decorative, wrought iron bars covered the windows and front glass door. Definitely not a place her dad, whose taste ran to modern, would choose. A narrow, warped garage door was on one side of the entrance, but weeds grew in the pebbled driveway, as though the garage were rarely used.

Aubrey examined the old-fashioned intercom system by the recessed front door that had a buzzer for each of the five apartments. She pressed the one for “100” to announce her arrival and noticed the outer door was slightly ajar. She was immediately buzzed into a small foyer with a dull terrazzo floor. She glanced around, noting a staircase that led up to the other apartments, a utilitarian doorway on the left that probably provided access to the garage, and a hallway that went straight through to a rear door. Beneath a row of mailboxes sat a cardboard box with several short metal pipes—probably a plumbing project in one of the apartments.

The door to the right opened, and her father came out, his white hair damp and neatly combed as though he’d recently showered. He’d changed out of the light-blue button-down he’d had on back at the house and was wearing a short-sleeved, untucked shirt with a pattern of palm trees.

“Come on in,” he said. “We’re glad you called.”

She hated that he included Star in his welcome, but at least he didn’t seem angry with her after their quarrel earlier.

She stepped directly into the living room, which smelled of overcooled air and looked as if it had been furnished in the eighties with catty-corner rattan sofas in a tropical print, a matching rattan dining-room set, and a shelving unit covered with knickknacks made of seashells and pastel-colored glass. A ceiling fan hung in the middle of the living room, and another in the small, open kitchen which, judging from the mica countertop, hadn’t been updated in many years. The one concession to the present was the flat-screen TV on the wall opposite one of the sofas.

“I know,” her father said, as though reading her mind. “It’s not the usual time-share property, but it’s very convenient, and Star was able to secure it for us for as long as we need it.” He touched her shoulder lightly. “And the bar is fully stocked, so what can I get you?”

“Is she here?” Aubrey asked, looking toward a closed door beyond the kitchen that was probably the bedroom.

“Star’s off buying some snacks for us, but she should be back any minute.” He went into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. “So what’ll it be? A cocktail? Wine?”

“Wine’s good,” she said, speaking over the hum of a noisy, in-wall air-conditioning unit. “Doesn’t matter what kind.”

He took three wineglasses down from a cabinet, then opened a bottle of red and poured it.

She watched his competent movements, his frown of concentration. She remembered him making her scrambled eggs one Saturday morning when Mama had gone to the hospital to check on a patient. How delicious those eggs had tasted.

He came back into the living room and handed her one of the glasses, which was filled almost to the brim, then sat on one of the sofas.

She took a seat on the other sofa and set her wineglass on the bubblegum-colored mica coffee table, next to an ashtray made of seashells and a remote for the TV.

Her father took a long sip of wine. “Pretty tough watching that press conference tonight, wasn’t it?”

“Tougher for Kev,” she said softly. Although going to the park with her mother had been crucial, Aubrey regretted that she had missed seeing her brother. Missed being there to support him. He still hadn’t responded to her texts, but the best help she could give him would be to find Ethan and get him home safely.

She leaned toward her father. “Dad. I need to ask you something.”

“Sure. Ask.”

“Smolleck told me you refused to take a polygraph test.”

His white eyebrows rose. “What business does he have talking about me to you?”

“It just came up,” she said. “Why didn’t you take it?”

He studied her. The whites of his blue eyes were laced with red. They’d been clear when she’d seen him earlier, and she wondered whether he’d been crying, or perhaps drinking. “There’s no legal requirement to take it,” he said. “And no point for me. I was in California when he was taken.”

“But they use it to eliminate suspects. Not taking it raises questions.”

“For whom?” His face got red. “You think I kidnapped my own grandson?”

“I think the FBI is interested in you for some reason.”

“Then they’re a bunch of morons,” he said. “Why are they wasting their time?”

“Smolleck asked me questions about your past political interests.”

“What?” He put the wineglass down on the table a little too hard. “And this is supposed to be connected to Ethan’s disappearance?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Could there be a connection? Were you ever affiliated with any groups that might try to use Ethan as leverage?”

“Affiliated? What the hell are you talking about, Aubrey?”

“I’m trying to understand why Smolleck was asking about you. He brought up Columbia University. He asked if you knew Jonathan there.”

Her father’s eyes widened, then he looked away quickly. He picked up his wineglass and swirled it. He was hiding something.

“Did you know Jonathan before he started dating Mom?”

He shook his head, then took a sip of wine.

“Did something happen when you were at college? Something connected to the accident Mom was in?” She was grasping at straws, throwing at him the questions Smolleck had asked her, because why would the FBI care about those things? And why was her father acting as though he were holding something back?

Her father took in a deep breath. He looked like he was about to explode. Then he let it out. “Why are you here, Aubrey? What the hell are you doing?”

He had never used an accusatory, belligerent tone with her. Of course, she had never confronted him about anything while she was growing up. Maybe because she’d been afraid he would react like this and shatter the already-cracking glass bubble they’d been living under.

She tried to keep her voice even. “Someone has Ethan,” she said. “I’m wondering if you have some idea who, and where Ethan is. And I think someone is playing some kind of sick psychological game. I don’t know why, but maybe you do. I’m worried about Ethan, and I’m worried about you.”

He continued staring at her as a vein pulsed in his neck.

“Please, Dad. If you know, tell me what’s going on. Tell me before Ethan or someone gets hurt.”

He slammed his hand on the coffee table, and the ashtray went flying, crashing onto the terrazzo floor. “Did she put you up to this?” he said, spit coming out with his words.

Aubrey was stunned. She had never known him to get so angry.

“Your mother, did she send you here? All I’ve tried to do these past eight years is make things right with her. To get Kev and Kim to drop their grudge and let her see her grandson. And they finally listened to me. But does your mother ever see the good I’ve done? No. She’s a bitter woman and she wants her revenge.”

“You’re wrong,” Aubrey said, bewildered. “Mama knows nothing about this.”

“I’ll
bet
she knows nothing,” he snapped. “Columbia? Politics? Why is the FBI asking about that unless she put them up to it? And if she did, she’s a fool, because it will all come back around to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“That, little girl, is something you should ask your dear mother about.”

C
HAPTER
15

Heat rose to Aubrey’s cheeks. Never in her childhood had her father yelled at her. Of course, she had practically backed him into a corner, so what did she expect—a pat on the back and a “good job”? Still, she didn’t understand why he was suggesting that Mama had some secret past.

He picked up his glass of wine and froze. She followed his gaze to the front door, where Star stood holding a grocery bag with one arm. Aubrey hadn’t heard her father’s girlfriend come in, but she’d probably been there for a good bit of the argument. It was just like the first time Aubrey had met her years after Kevin’s wedding, when Star had lurked in the shadows before announcing herself. Aubrey again felt a visceral tug of bitterness.

“Hello, Aubrey.” Star crossed to the sofa, moving gracefully in a yellow tunic and flowing pants, like someone who’d practiced yoga for years. “I’m so sorry about Ethan and what your family is going through.” Her soft accent made her sound like she came from southern aristocracy.

Aubrey was far too agitated to have a civil conversation, especially with the woman who had broken up her parents’ marriage and hurt her mother so deeply. She stood. “Thank you, Star. I’m sorry, but I was just leaving.”

“Oh, please don’t go. I ran over to the store to pick up cheese and crackers for us.”

Aubrey glanced at her father. After their quarrel, she was sure he would want her to leave quickly, but he looked sad rather than angry. Maybe once he had some time to absorb their conversation, he would reconsider confiding in her.

“Stay, Aubrey,” he said. “I don’t want you to leave on a bad note.” He got up from the sofa, took the bag of groceries from Star, then went into the kitchen.

She sat back down, partially to appease her father, but she was also curious about this woman and the possibility she’d been involved with Ethan’s disappearance in some way. As she and Mama had discussed, they didn’t know very much about her.

Star took her father’s place on the sofa and folded her hands on her lap. Her nails were short, with pale-pink polish, and there were rings on all her fingers. Aubrey hadn’t seen her since they’d all been in New York for Ethan’s fourth birthday.

She was as attractive and youthful as ever—though she was probably close to Mama’s age, with a similar height and build. She wore her white, wispy hair very short, hugging her scalp. The pixie bangs, arched black eyebrows, and dangling hoop earrings accentuated her large blue eyes, which were doing a quick assessment of Aubrey.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Star said. She glanced at the broken ashtray on the floor, making no move to pick up the pieces, then looked back at Aubrey. “Any news about Ethan?”

“No. No news.”

Star tugged on one of her earrings. “I hoped the press conference would have shaken loose some leads.”

Aubrey tried to be polite without saying too much. “I believe there have been a number of calls. The FBI is following up on them.”

Her father returned with a tray of cheese and crackers and a glass of wine for Star, then sat down beside her. He didn’t make eye contact with Aubrey. She wondered whether he regretted blowing up at her earlier.

“Thank you, dearest,” Star said, accepting the wine and taking a sip. She held her glass delicately, her pinkie extended. On it was an unusual silver ring that wound up to the lower joint and ended with a garnet stone. Aubrey remembered her father once mentioning Star had a jewelry business and sold her designs to small boutiques.

“How is your mother holding up?” Star asked.

“She’s managing,” Aubrey said.

“She’s lucky to have you. I know you two have always been close.”

“Yes,” Aubrey said. “And I’m happy you’re here for my father.”

Star raised an eyebrow, as though she had picked up on Aubrey’s sarcasm. “That’s very nice of you to say, dear. I’m glad to be able to help organize things so your father can be here for your family. And, of course, I’m very worried about little Ethan.”

Aubrey glanced at her father, who was frowning at her. She’d already gotten his nose out of joint, so she might as well continue asking questions, even if he didn’t like where she was going. “I know you’ve spent some time with Ethan in LA,” she said to Star. “My dad sent me some photos of the three of you together.”

“Oh, yes,” Star said. “I’ve gotten to know Ethan quite well. He’s an engaging little boy. I think of him almost as though he’s my own grandson.”

She wondered whether Star was taunting her, reminding her that all those years Mama had been kept from Ethan, this woman had been in his life. Aubrey tried to keep the anger out of her voice, and asked lightly, “Do you have grandchildren yourself?”

Star seemed taken aback, then said, “I’m afraid I don’t have that blessing.”

“But you have children?”

Star nibbled on a cracker with a piece of cheese. “I do. I have a daughter.”

Aubrey picked up on Star’s discomfort. This was something new. Some skeleton in her closet? “I don’t mean to sound like I’m prying,” Aubrey said. “It’s just that you and my dad have been together for eight years, and we’ve never had a chance to get to know each other.”

Star gave her a little smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s never too late to start.”

“Does your daughter live near you in LA?”

Star took another sip of wine. She could have been thirsty, or she could have been avoiding the question. The air conditioner kicked in with a cough, then made a humming noise.

Her father sat forward on the sofa. “Janice lives in Atlanta, Aubrey,” he said loudly, possibly to be heard over the A/C, but Aubrey picked up an edge of impatience.

“Oh,” Aubrey said. “So you’ve met her, Dad?”

Star put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Larry.” She turned to Aubrey. “Unfortunately, my daughter and I haven’t spoken in years. It’s been very difficult for me, which is why I understand how your mother must have felt being estranged from your brother and his family.” She stood up. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, but I’m feeling a migraine coming on. We haven’t had much sleep, and I imagine you haven’t, either.”

Her father started to stand.

“No, no, don’t get up, Larry. Talk to your daughter. You get to see each other so infrequently that I’m sure you’d like to catch up.”

Aubrey watched her glide across the terrazzo floor and go into the room that was probably the bedroom.

“So now you think Star is involved?” her father said in a low voice. His arms were folded across his chest. “Because you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I was just making conversation. You’ve been telling me to get to know her.”

“Star is one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever known,” he said. “Did you know she’s been your mother’s biggest advocate all these years? She’s the one who pushed me to get Kev and Kim to let your mother see Ethan. Star knows how painful it is when your children don’t want you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to come across as if I’m accusing anyone.” Even if Star’s intentions were selfless, it infuriated Aubrey that her father continued to defend her.

She got up to leave. “But I’m going to keep asking questions until we find Ethan. And if you care about him the way you say you do, then you’ll start asking questions, too.”