Submerged (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Hinton, AB – Saturday, June 15, 2013 – 8:47 PM

At the Hinton Police Department, Marcus stood on the viewer's side of the one-way glass, while Detective John Zur interviewed Kingston in the adjoining interrogation room.

Wesley
Kingston had a slick-looking lawyer present, probably a gift from Daddy Kingston. The lawyer was in his midthirties, and he licked his lips continually, as though he were hungry for a case that would propel him into the limelight. This could be that case—if Rebecca's husband had hired someone to take her out.

Zur had warned Marcus that they were still considering the angle that
Kingston had hired someone to do the deed. The kids' inheritance was more than enough incentive. They were combing through his phone and e-mail records.

"I would never do anything to hurt my kids,"
Kingston protested yet again.

"But you stand to inherit some hefty cash if your wife and kids are dead," Zur said. "That's motive for a lot of people, especially those who are raking up bad debts."

"I've always been able to pay off what I owe. No one's after me or threatening me." Kingston scowled at his lawyer. "The only money being wasted right now is on this guy."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," the lawyer
said. "Your father wants you to have the best defense."

"For what?"
Kingston roared. "I didn't do anything!" He jumped to his feet and paced in the small space behind his chair. "As I've insisted numerous times, I have no idea who would do this. I've not heard from anyone about it. I've not hired anyone to do it. I love my children. I love my wife."

"Then why did you have an affair?" Zur asked.

Kingston stopped, shrugged, then dropped back into the chair. "It simply…happened. Rebecca and I weren't getting along. We were on two different paths. I met Tracey years ago."

"
This affair has been going on for how many years?"

"About
five years maybe. I'm not sure. Tracey and I have been on and off."

"But you're 'on'
now, living together."

"M
y marriage is over. It has been for a long time."

"Then why haven't you signed the divorce papers and moved on?"

Kingston crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought maybe she'd change her mind. Maybe we both would. I wanted to be sure I was doing the right thing. That's what I thought, so I mailed the papers back to her lawyer."

"Do you want to know what
I
think?" Zur asked, leaning forward. "I think you didn't sign the papers because once you did, you'd have zero access to the money that's supposed to go to your kids. I think you've been holding out for that. And I think you hired Rufus Delaney to get rid of the three things that are standing in your way."

"
You're not listening to me," Kingston said in a weary voice, "I don't know any Rufus Delaney."

Zur slid a photo toward
Kingston. "You have no idea who this guy is? Never met him? Maybe you hired him blind, a recommendation from one of your gambling cohorts, perhaps."

Kingston
shook his head. "No."

"This guy," Zur tapped the photo, "intentionally ran your wife and children off the road and into a frigid river
, where they were submerged underwater, holding their breath, probably thinking they were going to die there."

Kingston
shuddered and broke into gulping sobs. "I swear it wasn't me."

"
Your son and daughter, such beautiful children, almost died."

Kingston
covered his face. "I'd never hurt Colton or Ella. I love them!"

"We're done here," the lawyer said, tapping his client's arm.

"Mr. Kingston," Zur said, "you're free to leave. For now. Don't go anywhere. We may have more questions for you later." He flicked a look toward the one-way mirror and gave a subtle lift of his shoulders.

Behind the glass, Marcus clenched his jaw. "Shit."

Wesley Kingston was walking out of the station because there wasn't enough evidence against him to hold him here.

Marcus considered everything the man had said.
Kingston's alibi had checked out. He'd been in Fort McMurray.

The door opened and Zur stepped inside
, a manila folder tucked under one arm.

"We got nothing, Marcus."

"So if he didn't do it, we're back to the theory that someone was sending him a message because he owed them."

John closed the door.
"We checked the casinos. He has some debt, but not much. He'd recently paid off a two-thousand-dollar loan."

"The money Rebecca said was missing from their account."

Zur nodded. "We've got Delaney though. We've got him on security footage at the gas station. A search of his house nabbed us the baseball cap and T-shirt—Route 66 with a mustang on it. And paint transfer on his truck matches the paint on Mrs. Kingston's car."

"Sounds like you've got enough on him to lock him away for a long time."

"Yeah, except we're hoping he'll be ready to make a deal. Give up the one behind this all."

"What kind of deal?"

"Maybe less time in prison. Don't know yet. Prosecution is putting together a proposal."

"Jesus, John. We can't let Delaney walk. He has to pay for his actions. He tried to kill them
, for Christ's sake."

"
He won't walk. He'll go to prison. No doubt about it. We're going to offer him minimum security in exchange for giving us the name of whoever hired him."

"When are you questioning him?"

"He'll be here in about twenty minutes."

"Can I—?" Marcus indicated the one-way window.

"Yeah." Zur cleared his throat. "I heard you're going to stay with Mrs. Kingston for a few days. You sure that's a good idea?"

"She's got no one else."

"You seem to be getting a bit too close to this case. You're supposed to remain impartial."

"Says who? Emergency services criteria and regulations?"

"Exactly."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not currently working. I've been suspended. I'm on my own time now. And technically, when I left my desk, I was minutes from being done with my shift. I went to look for Rebecca on my own time."

Zur nodded. "Stick with that story."

"It's not a story. It's the truth."

Zur stared at him but said nothing.

"Your truth radar is malfunctioning, John. And not
just with me."

"What do you mean?

"Wesley Kingston."

"What about him?"

"He was telling you the truth. He didn't hire Delaney. He wouldn't hurt his kids, no matter how pissed off he was with Rebecca. And no matter how much money he owed someone."

"How do you know?"

"I saw it in his eyes."

"Saw what?"

"His love for his children. I was a father once too. Remember? He's not personally responsible for this. He'd never risk the lives of his children."

"But you heard him. He had no idea they were goin
g with Rebecca. That was a last-minute change in her plans."

"Yeah, but Delaney
saw they were with her. He would've reported back to whoever hired him, revealed that the kids were there. And that coldhearted person is the one who gave the order, with no forethought about killing two innocent children. Kingston isn't that ruthless."

"Then who is?"

Marcus released a heavy sigh and shook his head. "I have no idea."

"According to
Kingston, everyone loves his wife. She's got no enemies, been in no altercations with anyone and no one else would gain from her death. She's cleaner than a Catholic nun."

Marcus
moved to the door. "I need to see her."

"What about Delaney?"

"Call me if he gives up a name?" He paused in the hallway. "And, John? I'll bet you season tickets to the Oilers that he won't name Wesley Kingston."

John smiled. "Done.
I could use some downtime."

"You won't be the one going."

"Hold on a minute." John rifled through the folder, then handed him a photo of an unshaven, unsmiling man.

"Rufus Delaney?"

"Yeah. Show it to Mrs. Kingston. See if she knows him from someplace."

Marcus
tucked the photo into his jacket pocket and strode away.

Something
nagged at him. He was missing something too elusive to catch.

Chapter Thirty-
Six

Hinton, AB – Sunday, June 16, 2013 – 9:49 PM

Rebecca checked her reflection in the handheld mirror one of the nurse's had lent her. Her blue eyes were framed by hollow valleys, but other than that, she looked presentable. She'd washed her face and brushed her hair—simple tasks normally, but not tonight. Her ribs still ached.

At Rebecca's insistence and after a three-hour visit, Kelly had headed back home to be with her kids. It had been hard to say good-bye, but Rebecca reassured her sister that she'd be home soon.

Marcus had called to let her know he was back in town with the clothing he'd promised to retrieve. He'd stopped off at the police station first, where Wesley was being questioned. She was relieved to hear her husband wasn't being locked up in a cell. There was no way Wesley had tried to kill them.

"Hi," Marcus said from the doorway.

Self-conscious, she slid the mirror beneath the covers. "Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." Then why was her stomach so twisted in knots?

"Good. And the kids?"

"They're asleep. Supervised by a female officer."

Marcus nodded, then approached the bed. He set a plastic bag on the side table. "I hope these are okay."

"I'm sure they'll be fine. Thank you."

Conversation seemed unusually stilted
, and the air felt charged with electricity. It was as though they each wanted to say something but held back out of fear.

"Someone brought you a rose," he said.

She looked at the vase in the window. It held the red rose Wesley had brought her. "A peace offering, I guess."

"From your husband?"

"Soon to be
ex
."

"I have something to show you,"
he said after a long silence.

"Pull up a chair."

He pulled something from his pocket. "Have you seen this man before?"

Rebecca took the photo. "Is this the man?"

Marcus nodded.

She stared at the photograph, thinking back to the times she'd gone shopping, driven to the school, gone to work. She traced a finger over the man's face. He had cruelty in his eyes and meanness in very line of his face.

This man tried to kill me and my kids.

"Does he look familiar?" Marcus prodded.

"No. I've never seen him before in my life."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. What's his name?"

"Rufus Delaney."

She shook her head. "Never heard of him."

Marcus deflated
with a soft hiss. "Damn. I was really hoping…"

"Me too
."

She held out the photo. This time, their
fingers made contact. They stared at each other, and Rebecca wondered what he was thinking. Had he felt the frisson of electricity in his fingertips like she had?

Marcus moved toward the window
and stared at the starry sky. "Rebecca, someone hired Delaney to kill you. Someone who hates you that much has to be someone you know. Or someone you once knew. What about past relationships?"

"You mean boyfriends before I met Wesley?"

"Yeah. You hook up with anyone who was angry with you for some reason?"

"Hook up?" She smiled. "You know, in today's
day that term means more than go out with someone to dinner or a movie."

"I, uh…well, I meant date."

She laughed at his obvious discomfort. "I didn't date much. And the guys I did date were decent ones. I wasn't a rebel. I didn't 'hook up' with the bad boys."

"What about casual friendships? Any of them end on
unfriendly
terms?"

"None that I can think of.
"

"Yo
u get any crank calls, any hang-ups recently?"

"Detective Zur alr
eady asked me that. No. No hang-ups, no strange e-mail or letters, no cars following me—that I noticed. Nothing out of the ordinary. I can't even remember the last argument I had with anyone, aside from Wesley. Oh wait, I think my sister and I argued over timeouts for her children."

She knew she sounded rather disdainful, but she was frustrated, dammit.

Marcus let out a groan. "None of this makes any sense."

"I know. But I'm telling you, unless it's a telemarketer ticked off because I set the phone on the table and walked away while they rambled on, I
haven't got a clue who would be angry enough with me to try to kill me."

"I'll have to remember that table trick."

"It doesn't really work. They keep calling back."

As Marcus sat down again, t
here was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Rebecca called out.

Wesley poked his head inside, a smile on his face. "You up for visitors?"

She sighed. "I don't think we have anything more to say."

She saw the frown on Marcus's face. "Marcus, this is my—uh, Wesley. Wesley, Marcus Taylor is the man who pulled us out of the car."

Wesley opened the door all the way and stepped into the room, one hand outstretched. "I can't thank you enough, Mr. Taylor. If you hadn't been there…" He shook his head and looked at Rebecca. "My wife and kids are alive because of you."

Rebecca noticed that Marcus gave an abrupt nod, but didn't offer his hand.

"Becca," Wesley said, "
there's someone else who'd like to see you."

Rebecca looked over hi
s shoulder. "Ah, the other woman."

Tracey
Whitaker gave her a timid smile and sniffed. "Rebecca. I hope you don't mind, but as soon as I heard what happened I asked Walter to drive me here. We knew Wesley would head straight here as soon as he heard." She inched near the bed. "I was so worried when I heard about the accident. And the kids. I couldn't believe it when Wesley told me what happened. And now here you are with police guards on your door. Oh my God!" She rambled for a few seconds, then said, "How are the kids?"

Rebecca couldn't answer. Her mind was too numb
from the sparkle that resonated from Tracey's left hand. "You're engaged?"

Tracey
covered the ring. "I, uh…we…Wesley and I were going to tell you later. At a better time."

Rebecca swallowed
. "There is no better time."

"I'm sorry,"
Tracey said, staring at the floor.

It wasn't that
Rebecca hadn't seen this coming. She'd anticipated it a while ago. Hadn't she been the one who asked Wesley if he had wedding plans? And hadn't he said he'd tell her if there was?

She eyed her future ex-husband.
"When's the happy day?"

"We'll pick a date as soon as the divorce is finalized
," Wesley said. At least he had the decency to look shamefaced.

"Congratulations. I hope you two will be happy."
She was surprised to discover she meant it.

Marcus
stood. "Uh, I should be going, let you all talk."

He slipped past Wesley and had one hand on the door, when R
ebecca called out, "What time will you be here tomorrow to pick me up?"

"Dr. Monroe
said you'll be released at noon. I'll be here by then."

She waved. "Bye, Marcus."

After he was gone, she let out a yawn. "It's late, Wesley. We can talk another time."

"My dad wanted to come by and—"

"Not now. Later maybe. I appreciate your concern, but I'm tired."

Wesley opened his mouth as if to argue, but
Tracey tugged on his arm.

"
Hope you feel better soon," Tracey said.

Rebecca's lips thinned. "Me too.
"

"We'll go see the kids now." Wesley ushered
Tracey into the hall. "Take care, Becca. Oh, we're staying in Hinton overnight. We'll come by in the morning." The door closed on his last words.

Last thing she wanted was to see Wesley again. But Colton and Ella were his children. Of course he was concerned about them.

In the back of her mind there was a small glimmer of doubt.

No. Wesley had nothing to do with this.

But what if she were wrong?

"Mrs.
Kingston?"

"Huh?" She looked up.
The guard stood in the doorway.

"You okay, Mrs.
Kingston?"

"Yeah.
But I am tired."

"I'll be right outside if you need anything."

"All I need is sleep."
And answers.