Blood Ties (26 page)

Troy agreed without discussing it with me. Troy has blind-ers on when it comes to Charles.”

Kevin made sympathetic noises and murmured,

“What did Troy agree to do?”

“Report any potential lawsuits from patients. I don’t know the particulars. I don’t want to know. And, they now split the referral kickbacks fi fty-fi fty.”

“Referrals to whom?”

“Mike. Or Danny. He’s a psychologist,” Nancy said.

I couldn’t imagine Danny Christopherson as an expert in the workings of the human mind. He’d always 274

resembled a braying jackass that rivaled Charles LaChance for obnoxiousness. No wonder they were all still good buddies. No wonder Kevin and I had usually avoided them like the plague.

“So, did Danny counsel Shelley?”

“No. But he is in charge of assigning individual counselors.”

It made perfect sense. Th

at’s how Charles LaChance

knew the particulars about Shelley’s rape. Danny boy probably gave him a whole play-by-play. It sickened me.

It’d all been about money, never about healing or even helping Shelley. Or, poor Samantha.

Kevin frowned. “Th

e Board doesn’t know?”

Nancy shook her head. “On Charles’ recommenda-tion, they switched accounting fi rms. Now, the money Troy receives is considered a perk. And, the referrals are legitimate. Th

e paperwork says what they’re doing is completely legal.”

“But unethical as hell,” I pointed out.

She glared at me, eyes superior, bare, ugly mouth down-turned in condescension.

Th

at was the last straw. We had what we needed and I had to get the hell out before I did something rash, like stab her to see if she bled vinegar. As I brushed past Kevin, he stepped forward and clasped her hands. “Th ank you.”

I didn’t thank her. I was thankful I’d gotten through the interview without slugging her.

We left the James’ house and zipped down Main Street to Fifth . Luckily, Danny Christopherson and Mike Lawrence had set up shop in the same medical building. Unfortunately, their TAR wouldn’t even let us know whether Danny and Mike were in the offi ce, let alone

allow us to talk to them. Since their appointments were booked solid for two weeks, Kevin left a business card, but we knew we wouldn’t be hearing from them, especially when their pal Nancy shared her fun visit from us.

In desperation we headed to St. Augustine’s to question Father Tim again. We didn’t talk much, which was becoming the norm with us. I didn’t like it and didn’t like that Kevin seemed fi ne with the change. Usually, if I pissed him off he’d tell me. Th

is silent treatment sucked.

At the Catholic church, the crabby receptionist motioned for us to stay back while she chastised some poor 276

soul over the phone. Lord. It was a toss up which was more antiquated; her or her Danish Modern desk.

I studied her wrinkled skin under the layer of white powder she’d pounded to the top button of her high-necked blouse. Hah. A nun incognito. I wasn’t fooled by the no-wimple attire; little wonder her disposition was lousy. If someone had told me I couldn’t have sex,
ever
, I’d shrivel up and snarl at everyone too. Come to think of it, I had been pretty snappish lately. My gaze dropped to the skin on the back of my hand. Hey. Was I looking a bit prunish? While I didn’t miss Ray, I missed the regular sex.

God, I needed to get laid. Soon.

After cooling our jets for fi fteen minutes in the no-smoking fi re and brimstone zone, Miss Tight Mouth haughtily informed us Father Tim had taken a well deserved mini-sabbatical. He wasn’t expected back until the following week.

She sent a lingering scowl to the man tracking concrete dust across the red-carpeted foyer. Th

e construction con-

tinued; unfortunately, I didn’t catch a glimpse of Bobby Adair running around and barking out orders. He probably avoided this woman too.

We left. I popped Stone Temple Pilots into the CD

player, letting “Sex Type Th

ing” block the empty air in

Kevin’s car all the way to Kevin’s offi ce.

David LaChance leaned against the hallway wall outside of Kevin’s suite. Unshaven, sloppy clothes, dark circles 277

under his eyes; he epitomized haggard. He pushed away and strode toward us.

“Hey, David,” Kevin said as he punched in the access code for the alarm. After the green “ready” light fl ashed, he opened the door, motioning us inside the dark offi ce.

“Didn’t expect to see you. Aren’t you close to the end of the semester?”

“Meredith called me last night.”

Kevin tossed his keys on the desk. “So, you know about Shelley.”

“Yes. What the hell is going on? First Samantha is murdered and now Shelley kills herself?”

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

David went rigid. “I don’t want to have a seat. I want some answers.”

I

fl ipped my pack of cigarettes open, grabbed the ashtray, and settled into the buff alo-skin chair. Th is could be

a long conversation.

Kevin remained composed, moved behind his desk, and eased into his chair. “Answers about what?”

“About all of this,” David said. “I know you’ve told me where Sam spent those last two weeks.”

“Which is what you paid us to do,” Kevin pointed out.

“Yeah, so? I want to know who killed her.”

Kevin shook his head. “Th

at’s something I can’t do.

It’s strictly a police matter.”

“Can’t or won’t?” David turned to me. “Why would 278

Shelley kill herself?”

“Why don’t you ask your father?” I suggested sweetly.

He blanched, sulking into the chair. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Shelley had considered hiring him.” I blew a series of tiny smoke rings. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No. Dad and I aren’t exactly sharing confi dences these days.”

“Ah. So, your father didn’t tell you he’d visited Sam at her house right before she disappeared?” Kevin said, watching David’s reaction like a hawk circling a wayward prairie dog.

David leapt to his feet. “Th

at’s a lie. Why would he

do that?”

Kevin held his hands out, palms up, and shrugged.

“You tell us.”

“Who told you this?”

“Meredith.” I paused and exhaled. “She was there. She has no reason to lie, especially now.”

Face red, hands clenched, David expelled a loud,

“Goddammit!”

He looked ready to throw something or hit someone. I was tired of being on the receiving end of angry men’s fi sts lately, so I scooted back.

“You aren’t really surprised that he was warning Sam off , are you?”

I glanced up at Kevin’s strange comment and waited 279

for him to strike. He knew something. But, since he and I hadn’t been swapping confi dences either, I felt like the proverbial mushroom.

“Tell me, David,” Kevin said slowly, “why did you really hire us? What did you expect us to fi nd out?”

David didn’t move in mouth or body.

“Or, maybe a better question is: What were you afraid we’d uncover?”

He closed his eyes; his voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “Th

at my Dad was the one who raped Shelley.”

I hadn’t expected the deafening silence in the room to increase, but it did. Tenfold. Kevin and I exchanged a fl eeting glance. Th

at was one scenario we hadn’t con-

sidered. Th

en again, no one willingly conjures up those abhorrent images.

“Why would you think that?” Kevin asked.

Th

e thick laugh bubbling from David came mighty close to hysterical. “Because that bastard is capable of anything. When I fi rst started dating Sam, he freaked, I mean totally freaked. Called her every name in the book and he hadn’t even met her. I didn’t understand why since he’d never acted like such an ass to any of my other girlfriends.”

“When did you fi rst think something was wrong?”

“When I found out he’d been at the fair that night all those years ago.”

“How did you fi nd out?”

“He didn’t bother to hide it after I told him about 280

Shelley’s rape.”

“So, you jumped to the conclusion that you’d fallen in love with your sister?” Kevin said with skepticism.

“Half-sister,” he corrected. “No, not right away. But, why would he be so adamant against me getting involved with her when he never gave a shit about anything I did, good or bad.”

“Come on. Th

at’s soap opera farfetched,” I said.

“You don’t understand. He became obsessed with the details about what happened to Shelley. He kept hounding me for specifi cs; what Shelley remembered, and what she’d told Sam.”

“Still, that’s quite a stretch.” Apparently his father’s conversations with Danny Christopherson weren’t giving him the dirt he needed and Charles wasn’t opposed to using his own son as a shovel.

“Now, you tell me he went to see Sam? What would you think?”

“Th

at even your father wouldn’t stoop low enough to let you continue a sexual relationship with your half-sister,”

Kevin said.

But, I wasn’t so sure.

“You’d wonder though, wouldn’t you? Th

en Sam cut

off all contact with me. It’s like she found out something she was ashamed of.”

“Something she couldn’t tell you.”

He nodded. “Or, knew I’d freak about. God. I’ve 281

never been close to my dad, but he acted in a way I’d never seen. It just got worse after Sam disappeared.” David slumped against the back wall, knocking Kevin’s picture askew. “Th

en he did a complete 180. He encouraged me to hire you.”

Kevin’s stillness sucked even more air out of the already oxygen-deprived room. “What?”

David’s smug smile said it all. “You heard right. Dad suggested I hire you, knowing you’d never willingly work for him. Said you were probably a sucker for a sad story so he advised me to tell you that he was against me hiring you.”

I choked on the last bit of smoke to leave my lungs.

“David. Th

ere was no inheritance for the retainer, was there?”

He shook his head.

“Th

en, where’d you get the money?”

“From

him.”

Kevin stood abruptly, losing his balance on his bum ankle and knocking his chair into the window. Th e metal

blind crashed to the fl oor.

David’s questioning stare burned into my forehead, but my eyes were glued on the tensed line of Kevin’s back.

We’d been played. By Charles LaChance.

I recalled Shelley’s last story, how her rapist used his violent actions against her to disprove his homosexual-ity. Charles LaChance hadn’t remarried since his divorce.

And, David’s grandfather had threatened to have Charles 282

arrested for rape after his daughter’s pregnancy. Another coincidence? Or, was rape the only way Charles could get it up for a woman? And what about Charles’ eagerness to help Troy James? Because they’d been lovers years ago? Is that why Nancy seemed panicked when I’d asked what else they were to each other? What was their relationship now?

Embarrassing enough to kill for?

How did Danny Christopherson and Mike Lawrence fi t in? Although they were openly gay now, it never would’ve been acceptable behavior in — or just out of high school.

What had they wanted to prove?

Had that whole macho bullshit group of guys been covering up their homosexual activities?

I’d never seriously considered LaChance a suspect in Sam’s death. Until now. In Shelley’s last, desperate frame of mind, he could’ve coerced her into anything. Maybe she’d checked out early to meet him. In my mind’s eye, I saw him pulling a gun, forcing her to drink until she passed out. He’d done it before with success. Except this time he guaranteed her death by leaving her body in a garage fi lled with carbon monoxide.

Th

e scenario made perfect sense to me in some ways.

And yet . . . in others, it didn’t fi t.

If Charles had raped Shelley, she knew all along he was Sam’s father. Didn’t think anything of it, lost in an alco-holic stupor. Until her daughter started dating David, her half-brother. So, had Shelley done something stupid when 283

she’d sobered up, like blackmail Charles? Th reaten to cement his bad reputation and reveal his sexual preferences?

And their child? Had she thought up the back child support issue on her own? With him in the starring, paying role? Is that why he questioned Tony’s lawyer? Wondering about his
own
legal options?

Shelley’s

fi nancial choices were limited. Dick was divorcing her and she hadn’t held down a paying job since high school. It’d probably seemed like easy money. I doubted she believed he’d kill both her and Sam to keep his business quiet.

It did seem farfetched. And, there wasn’t a damn shred of proof.

Another horrible thought sneaked in. What if Shelley had told Samantha about her birth father, not knowing that Samantha had already been intimate with David? For some reason Catholics believed the chastity of their youth until faced with rounded bellies as contrary evidence.

Samantha and David’s relationship hadn’t been platonic.

Is that why Samantha had cut off all contact with him?

It didn’t make sense, but the sick feeling in my stomach intensifi ed. I was glad I hadn’t eaten lunch because I’d be wiping the remnants of it off Kevin’s desk.

David’s weary sigh broke the icy silence.

Kevin’s face was devoid of any expression when he turned around. “I’m sorry, David, I don’t know what else to tell you.” He reached into a manila folder, withdrew a sheet 284

of paper and handed it to him. “I planned on mailing this, but now that you’re here . . . I’ve itemized our time and charges. As you can see, your initial retainer is used up.”

Dazed, David stared at him. “So, that’s it?” He looked from me to Kevin helplessly. “How am I supposed to deal with not knowing what happened to Sam? Where am I supposed to go now?”

“I suggest you take that up with your father.” I stood, opened the door, and leaned against the jamb, hardening my resolve in the face of his misery.