The Next Victim (13 page)

Despite the heat, Kali shivered and wished Sabrina were here.

Her gaze slid to the pool, which she'd been deliberately avoiding until now. How ironic that John had ended up drowning in a backyard pool. At their mother's insistence, all of the O'Briens had learned to swim at an early age, but none of them were serious swimmers. Sabrina had always preferred flirting on the sidelines and absolutely hated to get her hair wet. Kali liked to cool off in the water, and she'd sometimes swim a lap or two, but she found anything more than that tedious. John was not big on exercise of any sort. Even with a pool of his own, she doubted he made much use of it.

She tried to picture how it might have happened. John coming out to enjoy the night, just as she had. Only it would have been much darker then, his balance and judgment impaired. Somehow he lost his balance or slipped and ended up face down in the water, too inebriated to save himself.

How could he have been so stupid? Booze and drugs--didn't he know better?

Anger choked back the tears that had begun to sting her eyes. But it wasn't just anger at John. As long as she was meting out blame, she had to look at herself, as well. Why had she cut him off during that last phone call? If she'd taken the time to listen to him, would he have felt the need to numb himself into a stupor?

Or to take his own life?

She bit her lip. No, she wasn't going there, no matter what Reed suggested. Not John. His death was a terrible, wasteful tragedy brought on by his own carelessness. But it was accidental. It had to be, or the burden of her guilt would be too great to bear.

Regret was difficult enough.

Kali was seized by the sudden desire to get a sense of the man others saw in John. She wasn't about to box up his belongings without consulting Sabrina, but she could do a first cut and at the same time learn a little about her brother.

She wandered inside and poured herself another glass of wine, then looked around the kitchen. John favored high-quality cookware and appliances, no surprise there. His cupboards were sparsely stocked but neat, his dishes and flatware simple but elegant. Not the sort of thing you picked up at Target. A bottom drawer held dish towels, including two that their mother had embroidered many years before. Kali remembered her sitting in front of the television every evening, sometimes embroidering, sometimes knitting, her hands never idle. John must have gotten them from Sabrina after she and Kali had cleaned out the family home following their father's death. They'd made a separate pile for John when they had divvied things up, but Kali hadn't paid much attention to what had gone in it. As usual, she'd stormed through the process of settling the estate without much thought to either of her siblings. Although, to be fair, neither of them had offered to help.

Moving on to the living room, she examined the CDs in the rack by the sound system. Jazz, country, and modern classics like Eric Clapton and Led Zeppelin. She wouldn't have pegged John as someone who listened to country, but their dad had been a big fan and maybe that had influenced John's taste. He had only a couple dozen DVDs:
Band of Brothers
, about World War II; three seasons of
The Shield;
and a small collection of what looked like porn movies. She wouldn't have pegged him for that, either.

She browsed the bookshelves in John's den--popular fiction, history, the classics, an economics text, and a few self-help books. She pulled a couple down at random to see if there were other photos tucked between the covers. There weren't.

But in one of the desk drawers, she did find a box of loose photos, mostly family pictures from their childhood. On top were more recent photos: Sabrina's family; holidays; and several of Kali, including one John had taken during his last visit when they'd climbed Mt. Tam. She'd been impatient with him that afternoon, telling him to wait for another time when the wind hadn't mussed her hair and she'd had a chance to put on lipstick. Now she'd give anything to go back and relive that moment, just to see her brother again.

The ring of her cell phone saved her from further self-recrimination. When she saw from the display that it was Bryce, she experienced a flutter of pleasure that was quickly quelled by uneasiness. She'd told Bryce only that John had died--not that he'd stumbled drunk into his own pool and drowned, nor that he was the prime suspect in a double homicide. And although it was foolish, Kali was hesitant about laying it all out now. She feared it might taint her by association. She hated that she felt that way--that she was betraying John by being embarrassed, and Bryce by not trusting him.

"Hi," she said into the phone, still breathless from the dash to dig it out of her purse.

"Hi, yourself." His voice was soft, like the caress of a summer's breeze, and she felt her skin tingle in spite of her nerves. "How are you holding up? You haven't called and I've been worried."

"I'm sorry. There's been so much going on." Although she
had
managed to call Jared to check on things at the office. What did that say? she wondered.

"What happened with John? Was it an auto accident?"

"He drowned," Kali said. "In his backyard pool."

"In the pool? Couldn't he swim?"

She closed her eyes, as if that would make the words less real. "Booze and Xanax. Too much of both."

"Oh, Kali, I'm sorry." Bryce seemed to be searching for something more to say. Offering condolences for an automobile accident was certainly a more straightforward matter.

"But that's only part of it," she blurted out. In for a dime, in for a dollar. "He was a murder suspect. In fact, the police were close to arresting him. I think that's probably why he was trying to reach me. And why he binged on drugs and alcohol."

A beat of silence, and then Bryce asked, "Who do they say he killed?"

"Two women." Kali filled him in on the details. "Sabrina isn't having any of it. She's sure the cops are wrong. But I think...I mean, I worry..." She took a breath. "What if he actually did it?"

"You think he could have?"

"I don't know. Part of me says
no way
. He's my brother, after all, even if he was sometimes a bit of a jerk. But there's evidence suggesting he did. And I know what a temper he had. I don't want to believe it, yet I can't rule it out."

"Jeez, you must be torn up inside."

The caring she heard in his tone brought tears to Kali's eyes. "I'm okay."

"No one would be okay in those circumstances."

"Well, maybe not okay, but I'm..." She wiped her cheek. "He tried to reach me. All that time we were in the mountains. Maybe if I'd returned his call sooner..."

"You want me to come out there?" Bryce asked.

"Here?" She was both surprised and touched. The emotionally supportive Bryce was new to her. But she wasn't sure she was ready to have him share the ugly parts of her life up close and personal. "That's sweet. There's really nothing for you to do, though."

"I could be there for you. That's something."

Touche. It hadn't even crossed her mind. "I'd like that," she told him. "I'm just not sure, what with the funeral and Sabrina being here and all...."

"Sure. I understand." But his tone said he didn't.

Kali wondered what was wrong with her that she wasn't more eager to have him close.

With all that was on her mind, Kali worried she might have trouble sleeping, but the minute her head hit the pillow she was out like a light. She was still half asleep the next morning when she heard what sounded like the bang of a door closing in another part of the house. She shot awake.

"Sabrina?"

There was no answer.

Kali was sure she'd heard a sound. She swung herself out of bed. Her heart was racing. What now?

Confront the intruder head on, or hide here and hope he never found her? In either case, she didn't want to meet up with him wearing only her pink and white shorty pj's. She pawed through her suitcase for a skirt and sweater, which she threw on over the pajamas. If only she hadn't left her cell phone in the kitchen.

She looked around the sparsely furnished guest bedroom for some way to defend herself but came up empty-handed. Finally, she said a silent prayer and tiptoed to the hallway.

She thought she could hear someone breathing.

"I have a gun," she called out, hoping the lie wasn't blatantly transparent. "Whoever you are, get out now."

"Don't shoot! Please. I not know anyone home."

The voice was female, older, with a Spanish accent.

Mindful of a trick, Kali approached cautiously. A round-figured woman in her late fifties hovered near the coffee table in the living room. She held her hands over her graying head. "Please, no shoot."

"Who are you?" Kali demanded.

"Graciela. I work for Mr. John."

At the crack of dawn on Saturday morning? "Work for him, how?"

"Around the house." The woman was eyeing Kali's empty hands, no doubt looking for the gun.

"He passed away a few days ago," Kali told her.

"
Si
. I find him." Graciela lowered her head and crossed herself before raising her hands again and giving Kali another skeptical look. "You police? Reporter?"

"I'm his sister, Kali."

"Oh, I am sad for you." Graciela started to reach a plump arm for Kali's hand, then pulled back uncertainly.

"Why are you here?" Kali asked. "And you can put your hands down."

Graciela looked embarrassed. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her blue cotton sweater. "I don't mean to cause trouble. I return something."

Kali waited silently.

"The day your brother die, it was a bad day. Very much happening. Many, many people, police"--she made a sweeping gesture with her arm--"and here," she said, placing a hand over her heart, "I feel bad."

"I can imagine it was confusing and upsetting for you," Kali said noncommittally.

"
Si
. And when I finally leave, it's late. I am in a hurry. I take Mr. John's appointment book." She nodded toward a weekly calendar on the coffee table. "It was on the kitchen counter, near my bag. I no mean to. I am not thief."

"No, of course not." Kali had no idea, really, whether she was or not, but the woman didn't look dangerous and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Graciela also had firsthand information about John. Kali wanted to pump her for what she could.

"Would you like some coffee?" Kali offered. "Or tea?"

"I make." Graciela hurried into the kitchen.

Kali followed. "I didn't mean for you to make it."

"Sit. I do it. Please."

Kali sat at the counter while Graciela bustled about the kitchen. Kali wanted to ask about finding John's body but couldn't decide the best way to raise the issue.

"It must have been horrible for you, finding John in the pool," she said finally.

Graciela nodded and again crossed herself. "The patio door was open. I think he outside. I begin work in here, in the kitchen. Much mess, like Mr. John make a sandwich and not clean up." She opened her hands, palms up.

That explained why the kitchen had been so neat when she and Sabrina had arrived, Kali thought. Graciela had just cleaned it.

Gracelia continued recounting the morning she'd found John's body. "I finish here in the kitchen, then scrub the bathroom. Still no Mr. John. I go outside, call his name. I think maybe he go to work and forget about the door." She paused, looking distraught.

"And then you saw him?"

"
Si
. In the water, at the bottom."

"What did you do?"

Graciela started crying. "I no swim. I not help."

"No one's blaming you, Graciela. I'm just trying to understand what happened. There was nothing you could have done to save him."

"The doctor say that too." Still, she looked miserable.

Kali took the cup of coffee Graciela handed her. "Sit down," Kali said. "Please."

Graciela dropped into one of the empty chairs.

"Don't you want coffee, too?"

She shook her head, tucked her hands back into her pockets.

"How long had you worked for my brother?" Kali asked.

"Almost one year."

"What was he like to work for?"

"Mostly he is not here. He is at his job. When I see him, he is polite. Ask about my husband and children. Tell me thank you."

"Was he hard to please?"

Graciela shook her head. "Not like some clients. Mr. John could get himself into a temper, but never at me. I hear him on phone sometimes."

Kali was familiar with John's angry explosions, but it had been years since she'd experienced one.

"How did he seem the week or so before he died? Upset? Worried? Angry?"

"I talk to him only once. He is just leaving when I arrive. Hurry, like many times."

"Did you notice
anything
different?"

She thought for a moment. "He work more at his desk. Many papers there. Dirty dishes. Crumbs."

"At the computer, you mean?"

A nod. "Like he spend many, many hours."

A project for work? Something that involved his battle with Sloane Winslow? When she'd tried to check her own e-mail, Kali had discovered that John's computer was password protected, and she hadn't been able to get access. Not that whatever he'd been doing would tell them if he had really killed two women.

Graciela pulled her sweater across her broad middle. "Is it okay I go now?"

"Sure." Kali realized the woman had probably stayed and talked with her only because she was afraid not to. "Thank you for talking to me about my brother."

Graciela rose. "Thank you for not shooting me," she said softly.

"I didn't really have a gun," Kali told her. "I was scared because I heard someone in the house."

It took a moment, but Graciela laughed. "A trick. A good one."

The moment Graciela was out the door, Kali picked up the appointment book the housekeeper had returned and opened it to the week when Sloane and Olivia were murdered. A dental appointment was noted for Thursday morning, the day the bodies had been discovered. A coincidence, or had John planned that to allow himself a little breathing room? Kali hated that the thought even entered her head.