“Me, too, Mike, me, too.” Richard Moore's voice also had a catch in it. “You know something? I just started believing in miracles again. I'll leave in a couple of minutes. It shouldn't take more than an hour to get into the city. I'll be there well before nine.” Then his voice broke. “First, I'll send Cole to the jail to tell Gregg what's going on. And I'll call Alice and Katie.”
“I only wish I could be there with them when they hear this,” Mike said, thinking back to that awful moment in court when the word “guilty” had been repeated twelve times.
“I'm going to make one other important call,” Richard said, his tone now quietly firm. “Emily Wallace. And you know what, Mike? I don't think that she's going to be surprised.”
Just Take My Heart
70
Zach turned off the television after the segment about him was finished. Seeing the composite again that was so similar to the way he looked now terrified him. He knew it was too dangerous to stay here another minute. He'd noticed that the clerk had a little TV in his office, and it was obvious that he was not all that busy. If he was still there at six o'clock, he could easily have been watching that channel. Or maybe he was at home, sitting in front of his television. Either way, if he saw the composite again, even his slow brain might start working.
The van was in the complimentary parking area next to the lodge. Luckily, the clerk had not asked him for the license plate when he had checked in. If the police ever came here looking for him, some?body might be able to tell them the make and color of the van, but he doubted that anyone would remember the license plate number.
Frantically weighing his options, Zach decided to pull down the shades, turn on some lights, and leave. At least until tomorrow, that would give the impression that he was still here.
Immensely frustrated, he knew that if the clerk hadn't noticed him, this cabin might have been relatively safe for at least a few weeks. It was better to get down to North Carolina, find a place to stay, and then drive back up to Glen Rock to take care of Emily in a few months, when the heat was off.
But then something told him again that his luck was running out. Wherever he went, he knew that at any moment there could be a police car behind him, with flashing lights and siren blaring, forcing him to the side of the road.
He thought back to Charlotte divorcing him, and getting a judge to decide she should get his house. He thought of Lou and Wilma, and how good he had been to both of them, and yet both of them had left him.
By now Emily must know he had been spying on her and going through her house. He hoped she understood the reason that he had left the intercom system in his kitchen: It was his message to her that he would be back.
He could imagine what was happening there now. Emily's sure to have a guard outside, in case I come back looking for her. But who's to say that I won't find her someplace else? And who's to say I can't sneak back into the neighborhood again?
Zach had not unpacked a single thing from the van. Now as he got into it, having decided that he would drive through northern New Jersey to the New York Thruway and find a motel in one of those sleepy hamlets on the way to Albany, he had a thought that pleased him.
He had taken Emily's fancy nightgown with him last week. It was obvious she'd never worn it. She should wear it, Zach thought. Maybe it would be nice to tuck it around her after she's dead.
Just Take My Heart
71
Emily pulled down the shades in her kitchen and put on water to boil for pasta. Energy food, she told herself. That's what I need. Bless Gladys for trying to make sure that I don't starve. Her cleaning woman sometimes brought in containers of her homemade pasta sauce or chicken soup and left them frozen in the refrigerator. Now the pasta sauce was defrosting in the microwave oven.
While it was cooking, Emily made a salad and set it on a tray to take into the living room. Tonight was not the night to start on the Aldrich files, she decided. Her nerves were simply too raw. Yesterday afternoon I walked past Madeline Kirk's house and thought how I didn't want to end up a recluse like her. While I was thinking that, she was wrapped in plastic bags in the trunk of her car.
The pleasant autumn day had turned into a sharply cold night. She had changed into pajamas and a robe and turned up the heat, but even so could not get warm. What did Nana used to say? Emily asked herself. I know: “I'm chilled to the bone.” I think after all these years I finally know what she meant.
Bess was asleep now on a pillow on the kitchen floor. As she took warm Italian bread from the oven and poured herself a glass of wine, Emily kept glancing at the dog for reassurance that she was still there. If that guy Zach tries to come back, Bess will warn me, she thought. She'll bark her head off. But of course the police officer is outside guarding the house. My own private bodyguard, she thought. Just what I needed.
Then she wondered if Bess might actually be glad to see Zach. She'd probably think he was there to take her for a walk. He even took care of her while I visited Dad and then Jack. My helpful neigh?bor. Emily shivered at the memory of coming home and finding Zach sitting in near darkness on the porch with Bess on his lap. I was lucky he didn't kill me that night, she thought.
The comforting aroma of the marinara sauce filled the kitchen and the spaghetti was ready. Emily dumped the spaghetti in a strainer, transferred a portion of it into a bowl, took the sauce out of the microwave, and spooned it over the pasta.
She carried the tray into the living room, placed it on the wide tray table in front of her favorite chair, and sat down. Bess, hearing her move, woke up, trotted into the living room, and settled beside her. It was quarter of eight. I'll find something worth watching until Courtside comes on, Emily thought. There's bound to be a panel discussion about Jimmy Easton's outburst. After that, I'm sure the news will have plenty of coverage about Zach Lanning.
Jimmy Easton and Zach Lanning. A great combination for my viewing pleasure, she thought as she began to twirl the spaghetti onto her fork. Michael Gordon was in the courtroom today. I'm sure he'll show a clip of Easton's speech. “I did what I was supposed to do.” How much of Easton's testimony had been fed to him?
From where she was sitting she could see the duffle bags with the Aldrich files stacked against the wall in the dining room. Tomorrow morning, early, I'll start on them, she decided.
The phone rang. For a moment Emily was tempted to let the an?swering machine pick it up, but then she realized it might be her father. He's bound to hear about Madeline Kirk and be worrying about me.
But the caller was Richard Moore, not her father. “Emily, I heard about that serial killer and that he murdered your neighbor, but Cole just told me he was also stalking you. I'm so sorry. You've got to be pretty rattled about that.”
“That's a good way of putting it, Richard, and yes, I am. There's a cop on guard full time at the house.”
“I would hope so. Emily, you'd better watch Courtside tonight.”
“I was planning to watch it. I'm sure it's all about my witness, Jimmy Easton.”
“It is all about him, Emily, but there's a lot more than what hap?pened in court. Mike has a guy coming on the show who has proof that Jimmy made a delivery to Gregg's apartment the very day he swore he got the ransom money.”
For a long minute Emily simply could not speak. Then she said quietly, “If that's the case, I want those people in my office tomorrow morning. I want to see that proof and if it's legitimate, Gregg Aldrich will get out on bail, then we'll take it from there.”
“That's what I expected you to say, Emily.”
A little more than an hour later, her dinner barely touched, her arm around Bess, Emily watched Courtside. When it was over, she went into the dining room, turned on the light, and pulled the first batch of files from the duffle bag.
She did not go to bed at all that night.
Just Take My Heart
72
The inmates at the state prison filed into breakfast on Tuesday morning at seven a.m. Jimmy Easton had
not slept well. He had al?ready been hassled by some of the other inmates about being a snitch. “You'd sell out your mother, Jimmy,” one of them had shouted to him.
“He already did,” another one yelled back.
I'll call Moore this morning as soon as they let me get to a phone, Jimmy thought. When I spill the beans to him, I know they'll try to bring me up on perjury charges. They'll want to bury me, but they still need my testimony. Moore will tell them to give me a good deal. So when I make the prosecutor's office look dumb, the guys here will get a laugh out of it and get off my back.
He wasn't hungry, but he ate breakfast anyhow. Oatmeal, toast, juice, and coffee. He didn't talk to the guys on either side of him at the table. Or they didn't talk to him. No problem.
Back in his cell he started to feel lousy. He lay down on his bunk but the burning feeling in his gut wouldn't go away. He closed his eyes and drew up his knees as the burning became hot coals ripping up his insides. “Guard,” he called, feebly. “Guard.”
Jimmy Easton realized he had been poisoned.
His final thought was that his prison term had been shortened.
Just Take My Heart
73
On Tuesday morning, a nine o'clock meeting took place in Pros?ecutor Ted Wesley's office. Richard and Cole Moore had brought along Sal and Belle Garcia to repeat their story. Richard had pre?sented the receipt and the phone book to Wesley and Emily.
“We will also obtain the sworn affidavits of a couple who live in Yonkers, Rudy and Reeney Sling,” Richard Moore said. “When Jimmy Easton was helping to move them into their residence in Yonkers nearly three years ago, Mrs. Sling found him going through the dresser drawers, obviously looking for something to steal.”
The people on the panel at Courtside last night had been so kind, Belle thought, but it had been a shock to learn that Reeney had tried to cash in on the fact they knew Jimmy Easton worked for Sal. Some friends! she sniffed. When I think of how Sal moved them for free when they had to get out of their apartment and couldn't afford to pay him! And Mike told me Reeney will get some of the reward be?cause it's important that Jimmy Easton tried to steal from them. He said that it shows a pattern.
Emily Wallace was even prettier in person than on television, Belle decided. When you think of all the trouble she's had, poor thing. Being a war widow. The heart transplant. Living next door to a serial killer who was spying on her. She must be very strong. I hope she gets a break. It's not her fault she worked so hard to convict Gregg. That was her job. And she's been so nice to us. Someone else would be furious that all that work she did at the trial was wasted.
But someone is furious about it, she decided: the prosecutor. She didn't like him at all. He'd hardly even acknowledged Sal and me when we got here. You'd think we were the criminals. She'd heard that he was going to be appointed attorney general of the whole country. Now he was glaring at Emily when she said she wanted his okay to go to Judge Stevens and get Gregg Aldrich released on bail.
I'd love to meet Gregg, Belle thought. But he'd probably be mad at us, even though we finally spoke up. Maybe I should write him a letter of apology? Or send him one of those nice “Thinking of You” cards?
Prosecutor Wesley was saying, “We will consent to having bail reinstated. However, Richard, even if Jimmy Easton lied about hav?ing access to the Aldrich apartment, it doesn't mean that Gregg Al?drich did not solicit him to kill Natalie Raines.”
That's ridiculous, Belle thought. She could see that remark made Richard Moore really angry because his face got all red. Then Moore said, “I doubt any thinking person would believe that Jimmy Easton delivered a lamp to the Aldrich apartment at three p.m. and was back an hour later to get a down payment on a murder contract.”
“Maybe not,” Ted Wesley snapped. “But don't forget that before Easton came forward, Gregg Aldrich was the only suspect in this case, and for my money he still is the only suspect, and the right one.”
He's not going to admit how wrong he's been, Belle decided, then watched as Emily Wallace stood up. She's so graceful, Belle thought. That red jacket is so nice with her dark hair. She's wearing a turtle-neck under it. I wonder if the heart surgery left a big scar?
Emily looked at Belle and Sal. “I know it took courage for you to come forward. I'm very glad you did.”
She turned to Richard. “I'm sure Judge Stevens is in. We can walk down to his chambers and talk to him. I'll call the jail and tell them to bring Mr. Aldrich right over. Then we can go on the record about the bail.”
Her tone changed as she addressed the prosecutor. “As you know, I'm taking a couple of days off. I'll be home most of the time if you need to contact me. Or you can always call my cell phone.”
Belle noticed that the prosecutor acted as though he hadn't heard her.
Boy, I'd hate to work for him, she thought.
Just Take My Heart
74
At ten thirty a.m., Judge Stevens reinstated bail for Gregg Al?drich.
Forty-five minutes later, after phoning Alice and Katie, Gregg was having coffee with Richard Moore in a diner near the courthouse. “How long was I there, Richard? About ninety hours? I don't even remember the weekend, but it was still the longest ninety hours of my life.”
“I can understand that. But you won't ever be there again, Gregg. You can count on that.”
Gregg looked tired. “Can I? That's the trouble. I'm back to being the chief suspect in Natalie's death. I'll always be the 'person of in?terest' to the police. What's to keep somebody else from coming up with some wild story? Remember I still can't account for those two hours when I was out jogging the morning Natalie died. I don't have a witness who saw me in the park. Suppose someone in New Jersey comes up with the story that they saw me in Natalie's neighborhood in Closter that morning or in her driveway. What happens then? An?other trial?”
Alarmed, Richard Moore stared across the table. “Gregg, are you suggesting you might have driven to New Jersey that day?”
“No, of course not. My point is that I'm still so vulnerable. I must have seen someone I knew that day when I was jogging, but I was sick with worry about Natalie. I think that's the reason I was so tuned out.”
“Gregg, don't torture yourself thinking that someone is going to appear out of the blue and say they saw you around Natalie's house that morning.” Richard Moore sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. Not likely, but it could happen, he thought.
“Richard, hear me out. On the witness stand I testified that when I looked in the window of the Cape Cod house I could tell that Nat?alie was terribly upset. She was practically in a fetal position on the couch. On the drive home I was desperately worried about her even though I had begun to realize that I was ready to let her go. I was tired of the drama. On that drive from the Cape, I was even remem?bering how much fun I had with Kathleen and thinking I wanted that kind of relationship again.”
“Maybe you should have said that on the stand,” Richard said quietly.
“How would that have sounded? Richard, I had a lot of time to think sitting in that cell yesterday. Suppose Natalie was afraid of someone? No one ever saw the man she had hinted she was seeing and maybe he doesn't exist. Maybe she said that to get me to stop calling her. But suppose she really was seeing someone, and that someone was lying in wait for her when she got home?”
“Gregg, where are we going with this?”
“I'll tell you where. I'm not made of money, and with all due re?spect you didn't come cheap. But you have that private investigator, Ben Smith, who works for you, don't you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I'll pay him, or someone else you hire, to open up this case and start from scratch. I've been the 'person of interest' long enough. I'll never be free until Natalie's killer is found and I'm exonerated.”
Richard Moore took the last sip of his coffee and signaled for the check. “Gregg, everything you said about being vulnerable is absolutely true. When Ben was investigating to try to find whoever
Nata?lie may have been seeing, he came up blank. But just the way the Garcia couple was sitting out there on this lifesaving information, so may somebody else. We start searching today.”
Gregg stretched his hand across the table. “Richard, I'm glad you agree with me. If you hadn't, this would be the last coffee we'd share. And now I want to get home, kiss my kid and Alice, and take the longest shower of my life. I feel as if the smell of that jail cell is stick?ing to my skin.”
Just Take My Heart
75
I know I should feel tired but I don't, Emily thought as she drove down the West Side Highway in Manhattan. There's probably no connection between Natalie's death and the fact that her roommate, Jamie Evans, was murdered in Central Park nearly twenty years ago. The police believe that Jamie was the victim of the same mugger who assaulted three other women in the park around that time.
But she was the only one who was murdered.
Alice Mills has never believed there was even the possibility of a connection between the two murders, and there probably wasn't. Natalie never even met the guy Jamie was dating. She only saw his picture once and wasn't even sure if it was still in Jamie's wallet when she was killed.
Two and a half years ago, in the early stages of the investigation into Natalie's murder, Billy Tryon had gone to the Manhattan Dis?trict Attorney's Office to review the reports in the Evans case and determine if there could be even a remote connection. He had cop?ied the major reports and had brought them back to New Jersey. In?cluded had been a police artist's sketch of a possible suspect, which had been drawn from Natalie's description of the picture she had seen in Jamie's wallet.