See Jane Die (35 page)

Thursday, November 13, 2003
4:30 p.m
.

S
tacy made headquarters in good time. She headed up to the division and collected her messages. “Captain available?” she asked Kitty.

“Nope.” The young woman snapped her gum. “He's in with Williams and Cooper from Internal Affairs.”

A visit from that quarter was never good news
.

Could the subject of today's discussion could be her?

Stacy suppressed a grimace. “IA? What are they here about?”

“Who, more like.” The blonde shrugged. “Got me.”

“Captain wanted to see me. Let me know the moment he's available.”

“You got it.”

Stacy stopped at the door to the squad room. “Mac around?”

“Left about fifteen minutes ago. Heading to the coroner's office. Then home, I believe. You can reach him on his cell.”

Stacy nodded, then headed for her desk. She didn't like the way this afternoon was unfolding. Internal Affairs here on the heels of the captain demanding an ASAP tête-à-tête with her. Could Mac have told their captain about her
showing Jane the tape? Or could IA have gotten wind of her sister's presence at a meeting with a snitch? A meeting that proved to be a murder scene?

Either scenario—or both—left her in a world of hurt.

“Hey, Killian. You still the biggest hard-ass in the department?”

She swung around. Detective Benny Rodriguez stood in the doorway to the squad room. The minute she saw him, she remembered the message from him. She had never responded.

“Giving it my best shot. How about you? Still the DPD's resident hot dog?”

“Always,
chaquita
.” He slipped into the accent of his ancestors. He didn't fool her: she knew that he had spent the better part of his youth on the East Coast and had an Ivy League education. He had returned to Texas to make a difference.

“What brings you down to my little corner of the world?” she asked.

“Seeing how the other half lives, natch.”

“Glamorous, yes?”

“Takes my breath away.”

“That would actually be Camp here. He forgets to bathe.”

The detective in question made a show of sniffing his pits, shrugging and returning to the report he was tapping into his computer terminal.

Benny laughed. “Actually, I stopped in to see McPherson about the dead hooker from the other day. Figured I'd hang a couple minutes for you, kill two birds with one stone.”

“Sorry I didn't get back to you. Things have been nuts. What's up?”

He glanced at Camp. “Can we talk? Privately?”

“Sure. Come on.”

She led him to one of the interrogation rooms, shutting the door behind them. She faced him. “Shoot.”

“You're a friend of Dave Nash's, right?”

“Dave? Sure.” She wasn't surprised Benny knew Dave; not only did her friend occasionally consult on cases for the DPD, he had treated a great number of the officers.

“We're running a sting operation on a local bookie. This bookie's connection is big-time, Stacy. Drugs. Prostitution. The whole nasty package.”

“Mob?”

“Yup.” He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “Here's the thing, we've got Dave on tape. Numerous times.”

Stacy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Dave, a gambler?

Gambling was illegal in Texas with the exception of games in the privacy of one's own home. Bookmaking was a major no-no.

Benny frowned. “The way I hear it, Nash's lost big recently. He owes some serious people some serious money.”

Damn, how could Dave have been so stupid?
“I don't know what to say.”

“Dave's a good guy and I like him, but I can't protect him on this. He's on tape. We're going to have to bring him in, put the screws to him. Try to get him to turn. It's going to be soon. When the time comes, tell him I'm sorry as hell about it.”

Thursday, November 13, 2003
5:10 p.m
.

A
sound dragged Jane from sleep. She came awake slowly, with great effort. Ranger, she realized. Whining. Pawing at his kennel.

That wasn't right, he'd been in here with her
.

He needed to go out
.

She cracked open her eyes. Her head and limbs felt heavy. She struggled to move them, anyway.

Then it all came back. Taking the sleeping pills. And before that, finding the coat. The hat and gloves. Proof of her husband's guilt.

The truth crashed over her and she moaned.

“Jane?”

She shifted her gaze. Dave, she saw. Standing by the window. He was smiling at her. The smile struck her as odd. How could he smile with everything that had happened to her?

She blinked, scrambling to recall the sequence of events. She vaguely remembered that Stacy had called him. Asked him to come sit with her. How long ago had that been?

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She pulled herself into a sitting position. “Groggy. How long have I been asleep?”

“Don't know. I got here forty-five minutes or so ago.”

“You didn't have to come baby-sit me.”

“Stacy called me.” He crossed to stand beside the bed. “You gave both of us a scare.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“The sleeping pills, Jane. It was so unlike you. And coming on the heels of so many upsets.”

“I'm not going to kill myself, Dave. Don't you know me at all?”

“Better than maybe anyone.” He caught her hand, curled his fingers around hers. “So I know what a shock today must have been. What a betrayal. Finding that Ian hid evidence in your studio. To protect himself. You gave him your heart and your trust. He trampled them.”

She held his hand tightly. Her vision swam. “I don't want to talk about it. Not yet.”

“I understand.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I'd feel the same way.”

Her throat tightened. She wished for the oblivion of sleep. For the blind trust she had clung to only hours before.

Was that how it started? she wondered. With alcoholics or drug addicts? Wishing for oblivion? To be numbed or knocked out? She had never thought of herself a candidate for either, and yet sitting here, hurting so bad that just breathing took effort, she understood.

He rubbed her hand between his. “I'm so sorry, Jane. I wish I could help. Believe me, time will lessen the pain. And, finally, it will heal you.”

“Promise, stupor genius?” Her attempt at humor came off miserably, choked and aching.

“Promise.” He leaned across and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then straightened. “What would you do without me?”

Jane stared at her old friend, something nagging at her. Something that wasn't right. But what?

She struggled to shake off the lingering effects of the medication. Then she remembered. Stacy had said the same thing to him, on the phone earlier. Stacy had made the call from the hall outside her bedroom. Jane had been dozing but awake. She hadn't wanted to talk, so she had pretended to be asleep.

I can't go into it right now. Long story short, she's in a really bad place and I'm worried about leaving her alone
.

Jane scrolled forward, to something Dave had said to her just minutes ago.
I know what a shock today must have been. Finding that Ian hid evidence in your studio
.

Stacy must have told him when he arrived to watch her. She decided to ask, anyway. “How did you know about that, Dave?”

“About what, sweetheart?”

“The evidence in my studio.”

Dave didn't blink. “Stacy told me, silly. When she called.”

Jane stared at him, realization moving over her, a chill with it. He was lying. But why? And if Stacy hadn't told him about the evidence, how did he know?

Because he had planted it
.

No. That was crazy. Insane. Her thoughts tumbled over one another, a confusing jumble. Dave was her friend. He had been there for her when no one else had been. Not even her sister.

But he knew her schedule. Her likes and dislikes. He could have obtained a key to the studio and the alarm code as well, easily. Because she had trusted him completely.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” she managed, though her voice shook.

“Like I'm the enemy.”

The enemy
. Could he be? The one behind it all?

But why? If only she could think clearly!

“You're trembling,” he said softly. He curled his fingers tighter around hers. “You don't have to worry. I'm here for you. I've always been here for you. Haven't I?” He leaned closer, eyes bright. “Haven't I?”

She nodded, unable to find her voice.

“I love you, Jane. I always have.”

He meant it. She could tell.

But if that was true, how could he have done what she suspected? How could he have tried to destroy her?

Love and hate, she remembered him telling her. Equally strong emotions. Both with the power to create. And destroy.

“Do you remember the day we met?” He didn't wait for an answer. “I do. Your life started after the accident, I understand that. But mine started before. The day I met you.”

Before?
She searched her memory. That wasn't right, was it? They had met after. He had come to her aid. Championed her.

His expression turned almost dreamy. “It was February 16. Two days after Valentine's Day. I always thought that was wrong. As if Cupid's arrow had gotten waylaid.”

February 16? She scrambled to recall the day, meeting him. She came up empty.

“It was at the mall. Outside the Gap. I ran into you. Literally. You were wearing a lavender-colored sweater. I thought your were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.” He paused. “I asked you out, right there.”

Jane remembered. He had bumped into her, had helped pick up her packages. The whole time he had been babbling—about how he had just moved to Dallas and didn't know anybody. Then he had asked if she wanted to go out. Her friends had laughed at him; Jane had turned him down gently and walked away.

She had immediately forgotten the incident—and him.

“You were with those snotty friends of yours,” he continued. “Abbie Benson was such a bitch. I hated her. She called me a klutz. Laughed at me. I wanted to die.”

Abbie Benson
. Jane hadn't thought about her in years. Abbie had dropped her after the accident, taking her place with the ranks of many others who had done the same.

The girl had been killed in a hit and run a half dozen years back. As far as Jane knew—

The driver had never been apprehended
.

That fact was followed closely on the heels of another.
Dave's dad had owned a boat
.

Jane had never thought anything about it—many people in the Dallas area did. She had never even been out on it; after the accident she had lost all affection for water sports.

As if oblivious to her silence, Dave began to reminisce. He recalled people and events from her years in high school, things she had long since forgotten. He remembered her schedule of classes, her friend's names, the times they had spent together—all in amazing detail.

Dear God, could it be? Could Dave have been the one sending the clippings? Could he have been the one who had run her down sixteen years ago?

“Fate brought us together,” he said. “Then and again now. Don't you see? We were meant to be together.”

She blinked, refocusing her full attention on him. The way he was looking at her made her skin crawl. His tone bordered on desperate. She saw the strain then. The cracks in the mask.

He was having trouble keeping it together
.

She had to get a hold of Stacy
.

Jane scrambled for something to say. Something to reassure him. So he would go away. Leave her alone long enough to call her sister.

Ranger barked and clawed at his kennel door.

Jane jumped on the opportunity. “Stacy didn't want Ranger kenneled while all this was going on. He's no protection to me locked up.”

“That's why I'm here, Jane. To protect you.”

She made a move to climb out of bed. “But it sounds like he needs to go out.”

Dave pushed her firmly back against the pillows. “He's fine.”

“But I haven't—”

“Shh…don't you worry. I took him out before you woke up.”

Another lie
. She saw it so clearly in his expression. How had he managed to lie to her for so long?

She feigned reassurance. “All right. But could you check on him, anyway? And while you're there, I'd love a cup of Earl Grey.”

“Sure.” He leaned across and kissed her forehead. “Be right back, sweetheart.”

The minute he cleared the room, she sprang out of bed. She looked wildly around for the portable phone. It wasn't on the nightstand.

Where—

The foyer. That's where Stacy had been when she called Dave. Jane tiptoed out of the bedroom. She paused to listen, heard Dave in the kitchen and hurried to the foyer. The phone was there, on the entryway table.

Jane snatched it up. She dialed Stacy's cell.
Answer, Stacy. Please
—

“Detective Stacy Killian is not available. You may either leave a message or call—”

“What are you doing, Jane?”

She turned, feeling the blood drain from her face. “Ca-calling Stacy. To let her know I'm okay.”

He crossed to her and took the phone from her hand. He ended the call and slipped the device into his jacket pocket. “Silly, that's what I'm here for. Back to bed now.”

“I feel fine. I'm going to get up.”

“I don't think so.” He cupped her elbow and directed her back to the bedroom, to the bed. In the kitchen, the teakettle screamed. “You've had a shock. You're not as strong or steady as you think you are.”

He was wrong about that. But she wasn't about to tell him so. That misconception might be the only chance she had.