Hush (34 page)

―Because Yvette started saying so. The night of the campout, Yvette wanted us all to believe she and Lucas were lovers. She insisted they were, but they weren‘t. It was all a lie to cover up something else. So, where was Yvette that night? Was she with someone else? She wasn‘t with Lucas.‖

―You know this for a fact?‖ Danner asked.

―I can‘t account for every minute of Lucas‘s time, but most of it.‖ She ran her tongue around her lips, frowning, deep in concentration. ―We all kind of had a thing for Lucas, you know. He was like this major make-out king, but not with Yvette.‖

―But there are a lot of hours unaccounted for after everyone fell asleep.‖

―Not so many . . . I snuck away with Lucas for a while,‖ she admitted with a faint smile. ―So did Coby, first, though it was just a warmup. Some making out. But later, when he and I were alone

. . .‖

Danner was aware she was needling him a bit and kept his face expressionless. ―Maybe Yvette snuck away with him, too.‖

―Nope. I think she met someone else,‖ Genevieve stated clearly. ―Someone she doesn‘t want us to know about. Bet it was Benedict‘s father.‖

Her words were slurring just a tiny bit. As if hearing herself, she got to her feet, then had to grab for the counter for support, hanging on to the edge.

―Maybe they were fighting over something else entirely,‖ Danner said. ―She had the envelope with the lock of hair in her hands.‖

―But that was new. Something she found that night. She and Yvette were arguing earlier, just like always.‖ She refilled her glass, but her aim wasn‘t on the mark and she slopped a bit of wine onto the counter. ―Oops.‖

Danner decided it was maybe time to make an exit, before Genevieve became falling-down drunk. She‘d held it together at Annette‘s party, but then she‘d been with Jarrod and maybe he‘d kept her from going too far.

―Tell Jarrod I‘ll see him tomorrow,‖ Danner said, setting his barely touched glass near the kitchen sink.

―You‘re going . . . to the club . . . the Cellar . . .?‖

―That‘s right.‖

She seemed to have a little bit of trouble focusing on him. ―Maybe I‘ll go, too . . . then . . . as long as you‘re gonna be there.‖

Danner said good-bye, realizing on the way out that she hadn‘t eaten one piece of cheese or a cracker the entire night.

Coby was in bed when her cell phone buzzed on her nightstand. Fumbling for the switch, she snatched up the phone and saw it was Danner. ―Hi,‖ she greeted him. ―You got my message?‖

―Yeah. Did I wake you?‖

―No, no. I was waiting for your call. Listen, I thought of something. I went to see McKenna‘s act and believe it or not, Ellen Marshall and Theo Rivers showed up.‖

―Ellen . . . from the night at the beach?‖

―She‘s back with Theo again.‖ Coby could hear the bit of incredulity still filling her voice.

―Did I tell you about them? Well, never mind, I‘ll fill you in tomorrow.‖ She stopped herself. ―Are we still going to the Cellar to see Jarrod‘s band?‖

―You bet,‖ he said emphatically.

―Good. Anyway, I was talking to McKenna and Ellen and Theo about Annette‘s death, and we got onto Yvette and Annette‘s fight, and who Benedict‘s father might be . . .‖ She heard his sound of surprise and asked, ―What?‖

―I had a similar talk with Genevieve tonight. Go on.‖

―Anyway, then I thought about how when I called Dana and asked if she knew why Annette demanded, ‗And what about Dana?‘ to Yvette, and Dana told me I must have got it wrong.‖ She paused. ―Tonight I realized I
did
get it wrong.‖

―What?‖

―It wasn‘t ‗what about Dana,‘ it was ‗what about DNA?‘ because the next thing Annette said was, ‗The truth‘s going to come out.‖‘

―So you think they were talking about a paternity test for Benedict.‖

―I do. And I think they were talking about a paternity test that had already happened,‖ Coby agreed. ―They were fighting about it.‖

―So the boy‘s paternity‘s still a secret. I wonder why.‖

―Yvette let me know that it wasn‘t Lucas, but that‘s all she said. When she and Annette were fighting, she told Annette to keep her mouth shut, and then said that Annette was only eighteen when she first got involved with my dad. And Annette told her it wasn‘t about her, and Yvette said it was always about her.‖

Danner mulled that over a moment, then said, ―You know what it sounds like?‖

―Yeah. Like Yvette was involved with someone older than she was, because she was only seventeen when she got pregnant. If Benedict‘s father was her same age, it wouldn‘t really be the same issue. But if he‘s older . . . like one of the dads, even . . .‖

―Who?‖

Coby had been thinking about it ever since she‘d understood what she‘d overheard. ―Hank Sainer,‖ she said.

―Why Sainer?‖

―Because he stopped me just before I left Annette‘s memorial service and asked to meet me at my office on Monday.‖

―Ahh.‖ Coby could practically hear the wheels turning in his brain. ―He didn‘t say why?‖

―No. But I got the impression he wanted to talk about Annette‘s death.‖

―If what you‘re suggesting is true, it would ruin him politically,‖ Danner said. ―People might get over the fact that Yvette was underage because she was seventeen, but this secret paternity for all these years. . . . That smacks of cover-up.‖

―He‘s never acknowledged he‘s the father,‖ Coby said. ―Maybe he didn‘t know. Maybe he just found out.‖

―There‘s Lucas Moore‘s death wrapped into that, too. It was ruled an accident, but now with Annette‘s death, there are questions.‖

―Danner, I know we‘re just speculating, but . . .‖ She could feel her heart pounding.

―But?‖

―What if Yvette was meeting Hank Sainer the night of the campout? What if that‘s who she was with, and she just said she was with Lucas to hide her affair with Hank?‖

―Then I‘d say your Monday meeting is going to be very interesting.‖

Charisse Werner called Danner at 10 A.M. the next morning as he was making himself a cup of coffee. Instant. Starbucks Via.

The ADA didn‘t mince words. ―You read him his Miranda, right?‖

―If you mean Lloyd, no. I told him to tell me everything about Sheila and he just started talking.‖

―I just spoke with Lieutenant Draden. According to what
you
told him, Lloyd implicated himself in a double homicide last night,‖ she said in a voice that could cut glass.

Danner stated tightly, ―He‘s on a seventy-two-hour hold. If you want him arrested, I‘ll go down and read him his rights right now.‖

―You should have done it last night,‖ she insisted.

―If I‘d planned to arrest him, I would‘ve,‖ he shot back.

―Yeah, well, now we‘re gonna have a bitch of a time in court, if he gets any kind of defense attorney. Remind me to send you a bowl of fruit and say thanks.‖

Danner held back a smart remark. Charisse was known for borrowing trouble and tossing around blame long before it ever became a problem. ―I‘m going to do my damnedest to track down the woman who killed Beth and Angie Lloyd,‖ he told her. ―Jarvis said she just took him over.

About a thousand times. I don‘t care whether you can use that in court or not. I‘m going to find Sheila, and when I do, I‘ll read her her goddamn rights.‖

―Do that, cowboy.‖ She clicked off in a huff.

Danner ran through the shower to cool off. Lawyers. Rules upon rules upon rules. Half the time the true issue got buried under layers of lawyer shit. He supposed he should be more concerned with an individual‘s rights, but when it came to spineless worms like Jarvis Lloyd, he really didn‘t care.

As he was getting dressed—blue jeans, black shirt, black jacket, and yes, cowboy boots, thank you, Charisse—his cell rang. Glancing at the number, he almost hooted with joy.

―Where the hell are you?‖ he demanded.

Detective Elaine Metzger drawled, ―Well, by golly, sounds like you missed me.‖

He could picture her short and tough frame and pugnacious chin. Somewhere between forty-five and sixty—she was cagey about her age—she scared people with her glare, though there was almost always a twinkle in her eye; you just had to know.

―Are you back?‖ he asked.

―I‘m in town. Wasn‘t planning on showing up for work yet, but from the sound of it, you might need a hand.‖

―I do. Come back early. Please.‖

―You know, I learned something about myself on this trip: I hate good weather. Hawaii . . .

what a fucking waste of time. Everybody shows off their skin and guzzles fruit drinks with a squirt of alcohol and acts like they know how to party.‖

Elaine was a scotch drinker. She could nurse a glass all night, or gulp down three in succession; she never seemed to show the effects.

―I need help with the home invasion case,‖ Danner said.

―Honey, that‘s what I‘m here for.‖

Sending a thank-you to the gods, Danner brought her up to date on everything that had happened with Jarvis Lloyd since she went on vacation. He didn‘t say that he wanted her to take over as lead dog because he wanted to spend his time elsewhere; she could figure that out on her own. Probably already had.

In the end, she proved him right by saying, ―I‘ll take the sketch of this Sheila to Mr. Prick . .

. Rick . . . with the silent ‗p‘ . . . whatever . . . and squeeze him. You go ahead and figure out what those bohunks in Tillamook are doing over the Deneuve murder. They need you more than they think they do.‖

―Not exactly bohunks at the sheriff‘s department.‖

―Bohunks,‖ she insisted. ―Anyone who lives at the coast . . . bohunk.‖

―Have an opinion, why don‘t you.‖

―I‘ll try. How‘s Celek been helping out?‖ she asked, almost as an afterthought.

―Fine. Working some burglaries.‖

―Off homicide? That your idea?‖

Danner thought about the implications with his brother‘s band and the venues they played that had been burglarized. His gut tightened at the thought, and it took him a moment to drag his attention back. ―Celek‘s a terrier. Grabs hold and won‘t let go, tail wagging all the way.‖

―You‘re actually giving him a compliment?‖ she asked, incredulous.

―Well, yeah. He‘s got his moments.‖

―You got time to go with me over to Prick‘s?‖ Metzger asked. ―What the hell‘s his last name?‖

―Wiis. Spelled with two i‘s.‖

―And a silent ‗p‘. Can‘t wait.‖

―I‘ll be at the station in about an hour.‖

―All right. Get your pretty on,‖ she retorted. ―We got work to do.‖

The JJ&R offices were closed for all intents and purposes on Saturdays, but like the week before, Coby found herself working anyway. This time she had no client to deal with; she ‘d just come in to give a glance over Shannon Pontifica‘s contract and another longer look at Rhys Webber‘s written refusal to open the pocketbook for his ex-wife. Already one of the man‘s numerous paramours had found her way to YouTube and had sent out a message about Rhys and his philandering ways in a both comical and scathing video that was enjoying thousands of hits. The ex-wife‘s lawyer had called Nicholette and said gleefully that they would see her and her client in court.

Rhys was said to be apoplectic. Coby had tried to warn him that when the shit hits the fan, it‘s stinky and messy, but he hadn‘t listened and now, well, it was stinky and messy.

Her cell phone rang and she saw it was her dad. ―Hi there,‖ she greeted him. ―I‘m at work, just kind of cleaning up and—‖

―They‘re going through our bank records,‖ her father burst in. ―Mine and your mother‘s!

And our phone records. All financials. It‘s invasive and makes me feel like a criminal!‖

―Who?‖ she asked automatically, but she knew.

―The sheriff‘s department. I hear that your ex-boyfriend‘s working with them. When I saw him with Faith, I wondered what the hell. Now he‘s part of the investigation, for God‘s sake. Is she still seeing him?‖

―Um . . . no.‖

―Good. I was afraid he was feeding them information about me.‖

―Dad . . .‖

―Do I need a lawyer? I think I need a lawyer. And your mother, too.‖

―Dad, I‘m . . .‖ She‘d been about to tell him that she was the one seeing Danner Lockwood, but his words knocked it right out of her head. ―Are you and Mom . . . together?‖ she asked instead, her voice just short of incredulous.

That stopped him. ―How do you want me to answer that, Bug?‖

―Honestly, would be a good start.‖

―We‘ve been seeing each other,‖ he admitted. ―We understand each other. Always did.‖

―Good God.‖ Coby got up from her desk and stared out the window at the skyline. It was clear that afternoon, the low sun slanting against the downtown buildings, creating dark shadows that swallowed the landscape on their other sides. ―I need to ask you a question.‖

―All right,‖ he said cautiously.

―Were you seeing Mom before Annette died?‖

―No. Never. Not the way you mean,‖ he said quickly. ―I loved Annette. But you know your mom and I have always been friends.‖

Not always, Coby recalled very clearly. ―Could the police make a case that you were thinking about leaving Annette for Mom?‖

―No!‖

―Dad, I‘m not fooling around here. I know Annette wanted a baby and you were less than excited about the prospect. Add that to the fact that you were seeing Mom and it‘s a problem.‖

―It‘s not like that,‖ he insisted.

―I don‘t care what it‘s like,‖ Coby shot back at him. ―That‘s what it
looks
like. And that‘s what prosecutors go for, when they‘re making a case.‖

―I called you for some help,‖ he said, his voice sounding uncertain, like he was losing control of it. ―That‘s all I wanted.‖

―And I want to help you. One of the best ways I can is to point out reality. It doesn‘t look good. It doesn‘t. And if they‘re going through Mom‘s records, too, then they already know.‖

―Find out who killed Annette. It wasn‘t me, Bug!‖

―I know, Dad. I know.‖

―Find him!‖

Or her . . .

―Dad, Faith isn‘t seeing Danner Lockwood. I am,‖ Coby admitted. ―And Danner‘s already doing his best to find Annette‘s killer. Just be smart. Let the authorities do their job and stay calm.‖

And away from Mom
.