‘Shit,’ Fitzpatrick hissed.
‘Oh dear,’ Berman murmured.
‘Craig says it appeared she’d been dead in her apartment for several days.’
‘I wonder if the file was what got her killed,’ Stevie said. ‘And I wonder why she was looking for this information to begin with. What else did Dr Mulhauser say, Lucy?’
Lucy scrolled through the text messages. ‘She was found in an apartment in Laurel. The call was put in to 911 by one of her co-workers who was worried when she didn’t check in. Two Laurel detectives are assigned to the case. Wenzel and Graham.’
‘I’ll call them,’ Stevie said. ‘We need to talk to the person who made the 911 call.’
‘What was in the file?’ Lucy asked.
‘Mostly what you already told us,’ Fitzpatrick said. ‘The suicide was an eighteen year old named Ricky Joyner.’
‘Who’d gotten into it with Buck Trask after a football game earlier that season,’ Higgins said from behind them and all four of them jumped. In his hand he held an envelope that he extended to Stevie. ‘The copies you asked for. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.’
Stevie glared at him. ‘Yes you did,’ she said.
Higgins shrugged. ‘Okay, I did. Call me curious. There are events that have an impact on a kid’s life. Ileanna Bryan’s murder was one of those for me. Buck’s accident was another. Every kid I knew had wanted to be him. Including me.’
‘What did you mean?’ Fitzpatrick asked. ‘About Ricky Joyner and Buck?’
‘Joyner played for another team. Rival school. He’d sacked Buck with a dirty hit in one of their games. Afterward, some of Buck’s pals worked him over. Lots of folks thought that’s what made him lose it, finding out his girl dumped him to go to the prom with Buck of all people. Of course, all the crack he’d smoked sure didn’t help.’
‘What about Ileanna?’ Berman asked. ‘What do you remember about her?’
Higgins sighed. ‘You have to remember, this was years ago. I remember people saying that girls who “dressed like that Bryan girl” were asking for trouble.’
‘Asking to be raped,’ Stevie said flatly.
‘I know,’ Higgins said, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘And I agree with you.’
‘What happened to Ileanna’s family?’ Fitzpatrick asked.
‘They moved away somewhere,’ Higgins said. ‘I didn’t know any of them. Ileanna was older than me and her brother was younger.’
Lucy’s blood went cold. ‘Younger brother? She had a younger brother?’
‘His name was Evan. That’s who the PI was originally checking on when she requested the articles.’
#1 Sister. Lucy stared at the bracelet on her wrist, her stomach beginning to churn. She looked up and saw that Fitzpatrick had come to the same conclusion. She slipped her hand into her pocket, hoping her action was subtle and knowing it was not.
‘I heard Ileanna was missing some jewelry,’ Fitzpatrick said.
‘A diamond necklace, shaped like a heart,’ Higgins said. ‘It was supposedly an heirloom.’
‘Supposedly?’ Stevie asked.
‘Nobody had ever seen it before that night. Mr Bryan was a hard-working waterman. He worked the channels for crabs and whatever else he could pull from the Bay. People said that if they’d really owned a diamond necklace they would have sold it long ago to have a better life. The Bryans said they kept it in the mother’s jewelry box, that nobody wore it.’
‘But Ileanna was wearing the necklace that night,’ Fitzpatrick said.
‘Yes. That’s a fact. It was in the prom picture and it’s heart-shaped. Whether it was diamond is anybody’s guess, because it never turned up. Apparently Ileanna had wanted to wear it to the prom, her mother had refused, and Ileanna snuck it out anyway. Her family made a big fuss about it.’ He glanced at Lucy uneasily. ‘They even went as far as to accuse the police and coroner of stealing it.’
‘What was the response?’ Berman asked and Higgins shrugged.
‘The police said the guy who’d killed her and then himself had probably taken it and who knew where it had gone? Then Buck crashed and died and people were happy not to focus on the murder of a girl from the wrong side of the tracks anymore.’
‘Do you have a copy of the prom pictures?’ Berman asked.
‘Yes. My uncle took the pictures for the paper. He took homecoming and graduation photos too. They’re stored in the basement, but I can find that year’s box.’
‘How long will it take you to get it?’ Fitzpatrick asked. ‘We need to get back to the city.’
‘An hour, tops. If I can get it faster, I will.’
Fitzpatrick gave Higgins his card. ‘One more question. A few weeks ago Russ Bennett requested copies of the articles on Lucy’s trial. Do you know why?’
Again Higgins glanced at Lucy uneasily. ‘It wasn’t Russ. It was Jason Bennett.’
Lucy flinched, feeling like she’d been punched in the gut. ‘Russ’s father? Why?’
‘He didn’t say. I didn’t ask. I’ll call you when I’ve found the pictures.’
Lucy stared after him, barely breathing, and when Fitzpatrick put his arm around her she leaned into him without hesitation. Shoving furious tears back down, she fumbled with the clasp on the bracelet, bile burning her throat. ‘I want this off. Now.’
‘Whoa,’ Stevie said quietly. ‘Let me help you.’ She took it off Lucy’s wrist and placed it in a plastic evidence bag. ‘Number One Sister,’ she said grimly.
‘Which was not me.’ And it hurt, a lot more than she’d thought possible. ‘I think we have a more specific question to ask my father now. What did Buck do to Ileanna Bryan?’
‘We have questions for a lot of people,’ Stevie said. ‘I want to go back to the sheriff’s office and get the official report on Ileanna’s death.’
‘I want to ask Jason Bennett why Russ asked for those articles,’ Fitzpatrick said. ‘They’re probably connected to the “client” he was meeting the day he disappeared.’
‘And I want to talk to my mother,’ Lucy said grimly. ‘I want to know what she meant by “What did Buck do?” ’
Tuesday, May 4, 3.55 P.M.
Ah. They were here. It paid to have a good memory. He’d played on this section of beach once upon a time. Before his world was smashed to oblivion by the Trasks. He tied Ron Trask’s boat to the dock and went below.
Trask had come to, muffled grunts coming from his mouth. He shoved in more of the gag. If the old man fought, he’d throw up. Then he’d choke on it and die. Which was too good for him. Taking the cell phone from Trask’s pocket, he scrolled through the contacts until he found the one he wanted, then dialed.
‘Hello?’ a woman asked.
‘Hi, I’m trying to reach Mrs Kathy Trask.’
‘This is she. Who is this and why are you calling from my husband’s cell phone?’
Because I’m going to kill you. ‘I was fishing when your husband’s boat hit my dock. He kind of staggered out of the bridge and collapsed on the deck. At first I thought he was drunk, but he doesn’t look so good. I’m no doctor, but I think he’s sick.’
‘Oh dear God. Oh no. Did you call 911?’
‘I was going to but he asked me not to. He got really upset and asked me to call you first. He said you’d know what to do.’
‘Of course. He hates hospitals. Where did you say you were again?’
He smiled down at Ron, who seemed to have just caught on to what was going on. The man’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head. ‘I’m renting a place about two miles up the shore. It’s a little cottage with blue shutters. The mailbox says “Turlington”.’
‘I know the place. Tell Ron I’ll be there as fast as I can.’
‘I will. And I won’t leave him until you get here.’
‘Thank you so much,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘You can’t know how much I appreciate this.’ A car started, then screeched out of the driveway. ‘I’m on my way.’
&nbs
p; He hung up and smiled at Ron. ‘She’s going to meet us. Then the fun will begin.’
Tuesday, May 4, 4.15 P.M.
‘Clay,’ Alyssa said.
Clay looked up from the stack of Nicki’s client files he’d removed from her office. They’d spread the files out on his dining room table and had been searching for clues for hours. ‘Did you find something in her credit card statements?’
‘Maybe. I’ve been through her statements for the last four months and haven’t seen any changes in her spending patterns. Any place she went coincided with her case log, except for a day about two weeks ago. She had no purchases, not even Starbucks.’
‘A cash-only day,’ Clay murmured. ‘She went under, but where did she go?’
‘I’ll start looking through her receipts. Maybe she kept something.’
Clay put the box client files aside. ‘If she went on a cash-only day, she probably didn’t keep anything. Not on purpose anyway.’
‘What are you doing?’
He found the box of trash he’d taken from her car. ‘Check the toll tickets. I’ll go through the receipts. I want to know where she went that day.’
Alyssa frowned. ‘Wait. Didn’t you say you could track her car?’
Clay closed his eyes. He’d been so preoccupied with where she was that he hadn’t thought to use the tracker to find where she’d been. ‘Yes.’ He opened his eyes to find Alyssa giving him a sympathetic look.
‘You’re still in shock,’ she said. ‘Don’t beat yourself up.’
He nodded, logging into the tracking website he and Nicki had used. ‘I can see the last fourteen days.’ He immediately saw what he’d been looking for. ‘She went to Ocean City that day, but the long way. The really long way. She went to a place called Anderson Ferry first. It added about two hours to her drive.’
‘What’s in Anderson Ferry?’ Alyssa asked.
‘I don’t know. I have to pick up Nicki’s parents from the airport. I promised them I’d go with them to the morgue to do the ID. When I’m done with that, I’ll drive out to Anderson Ferry and find out.’
‘I’ll go with you.’
‘No, you don’t have to. I’d rather you stay here until we find Mr Reardon.’
‘I’ll see what I can find on Anderson Ferry while you’re gone.’
‘Lock the door behind me.’
Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday, May 4, 4.25 P.M.
‘Which one first?’ JD asked. The four of them stood on the sidewalk between the Trask and Bennett houses. Lucy stared anxiously at her childhood home while Stevie finished texting DA Grayson Smith for a little assistance in getting the Bryan case file from the Anderson Ferry police. Sheriff Westcott’s clerk had informed them of the twenty-four-hour response time on archival requests.
Ryan Agar had been taken by a killer and twenty-four hours might be too late.
They’d also been unsuccessful in talking to Lucy’s father again – his boat had been gone when they’d returned to the dock. Lucy had looked both frustrated and relieved. And lost. The look on her face when she’d really accepted that the bracelet had not been bought for her, that she was not the ‘#1 Sister ’ . . . It had broken JD’s heart.
‘My mother,’ Lucy said. ‘If she’ll speak with me. Dr Berman, I may need your help.’
‘You know I will,’ Berman said, ‘but I have to ask how and why?’
‘I told you my mother had a nervous breakdown.’
‘From the grief. Because your brother died,’ Berman said.
‘Yes,’ Lucy said, but she didn’t sound convinced. ‘My mother was once a sharp woman with an important job. She was always busy, always going somewhere, helping someone. Then Buck died and she . . . wound down like a clock. She’d spend hours polishing his trophies while my father watched Buck’s games on videotape over and over. One day I found her sitting on his bed, staring into space. She was unresponsive and I got scared. I called my father, who called her doctor. I didn’t know she’d been seeing a psychiatrist. They took her away.’
‘What about when she came back from the mental hospital?’ Berman asked softly.
‘She was different. She’d been afraid of my father, but after she wasn’t. If you mentioned Buck, you got a response and you could never be sure which one it would be. Sometimes weepy, sometimes angry. Sometimes she’d shut down again.’
‘So why are you afraid she won’t speak to you, Lucy?’ Stevie asked.
‘I don’t think I understood how very fragile she’d become and I pushed her buttons. I talked about Buck as often as I could. I was getting in trouble a lot and then I got caught by Mrs Westcott and I think that was the final straw. She contacted St Anne’s and they took me away.’
‘Your mother sent you away?’ JD asked, stunned. He’d assumed it had been her father.
‘Yes. Asking about Buck may upset her. I’d like you to be there, Dr Berman. Just in case.’
‘It’s been twenty years,’ Stevie said. ‘Surely she’ll be better now.’
‘Not according to the Bennetts. They update me whenever we have lunch. My mother is still fragile. She’s never gone back to work. She rarely leaves the house.’
‘Do you think your father still hits her?’ Stevie asked carefully.
‘I don’t think so. Like I said, she was different when she came back. She’d defy him and he’d back off. So I don’t think he does.’ A sad yearning filled her eyes. ‘Although she wouldn’t leave him, even if he did.’
JD thought of the mixed feelings he got when his mother came around. Mostly hate, but always that kernel of hope. Of wishful thinking. He hoped Lucy’s mother didn’t turn her away.
Lucy squared her shoulders. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
The four of them walked up to the Trasks’ front door and JD started to knock.
‘She’s not there.’
JD’s fist froze an inch away from the door and the four of them looked to the right. Two doors down Mrs Westcott stood on her doorstep, her arms crossed over her sizeable bosom, a formidable frown on her face.
‘Where is she?’ JD asked.
‘I don’t know. I saw her rush out about a half-hour ago with her medical bag.’
It was JD’s turn to frown. ‘Medical bag? Why?’
‘Because she’s a doctor,’ Lucy murmured.
‘Because she’s a doctor,’ Mrs Westcott said at the same time, with some importance.
‘Your mother is a doctor?’ JD asked, surprised. A sharp woman with an important job.
‘Was,’ Lucy said, so softly he had to strain to hear.
‘She was.’ Mrs Westcott cast a scowl at Lucy. ‘Until her daughter drove her crazy.’
Lucy stiffened and once again JD wanted to strike Mrs Westcott.
Mrs. Westcott must have sensed she’d hit a nerve because she smiled with satisfaction. ‘Now all she does is see hypochondriacs and people crazier than she is.’
Lucy’s fists tightened. ‘Don’t,’ JD murmured. ‘She’s not worth it.’
Stevie cleared her throat. ‘Let me and Lennie talk to her.’ She and Berman crossed the front yards until they looked up at Westcott on her stoop. Stevie introduced herself and the doctor.
Westcott looked at them suspiciously. ‘Are you with her?’
‘More like she’s with us,’ Stevie said. ‘How did she drive her mother crazy?’
‘She was wild, that’s how.’ Mrs Westcott descended her front steps, standing inches from Stevie. ‘You know she did time,’ she said loudly, ensuring that Lucy heard.
Stevie feigned shock. ‘Really? Dr Trask?’
‘No,’ Westcott said, then blinked. ‘Yes. The daughter, not the mother. She’s a bad seed, that’s all. She stole from me.’ Again Westcott scowled at Lucy. ‘I bet she didn’t bother to tell you that. Stole my ring and a hundred dollars in cash. Found it in her unmentionable drawer. She got sent away. Then she killed a man and nearly killed two others. She sat in jail for that.’
‘We understand she was fou
nd innocent,’ Stevie said.
Westcott sniffed. ‘What she found was a fancy-pants lawyer who got her off. Lots of excuses, half-baked explanations and what-have-you. No justice in this world.’
‘It’s a shame,’ Berman said quietly. ‘Sometimes people can have the truth stare them in the face and yet they won’t accept it.’
‘That is so true,’ Westcott said, aggrieved.
‘If I needed to reach Mrs Trask, would you have her cell phone number?’ Stevie asked.
‘Of course. I’m the neighborhood watch coordinator. I have everyone’s number. I’ll be right back.’ Quickly she returned. ‘Why do you need to talk to Kathy Trask?’
‘Very complete,’ Stevie pronounced, ignoring the woman’s question. ‘If all neighborhood watch coordinators were this prepared, our job would be so much easier. We stopped by the sheriff’s office to ask a question, but your son had been called away. Might I also have his cell?’
‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,’ Mrs Westcott said, still preening at Stevie’s compliment. ‘Anything to help a fellow officer.’ She rattled the number off and Stevie wrote it down.
‘Thanks. If you’ll excuse us, we need to check on the Bennetts before we leave.’
‘You missed them,’ Mrs Westcott said. ‘They left this morning.’
‘Do you know where they went?’ Stevie asked.
‘Into the city,’ she said. ‘To make arrangements for Russ’s burial. Sad to have to bury your own child. Not the way it’s supposed to be.’
‘No, ma’am,’ Stevie said. ‘It’s not. Thank you for your time.’
Tuesday, May 4, 4.25 P.M.
‘Hello? Where are you? Ron?’
He peeked out the cabin window. All was ready for Mrs Trask, who was now rushing up the dock, her medical bag in her hand.
‘Down here,’ he called. He’d hoisted Ron to the bed, covering him with a blanket so that his bonds remained unseen. ‘I thought he should rest.’