You Belong to Me (39 page)

‘Then my instincts tell me you weren’t supposed to have it.’

He thought she’d protest, but she didn’t and his opinion of her ratcheted even higher. ‘I wonder what Sheriff Westcott would say if he saw me wearing it,’ she mused.

‘Let’s find out.’ JD released her hand to call Stevie on his cell. ‘We need a plan.’

Tuesday, May 4, 12.50 P.M.

How sweet
, he thought, disgusted. Kissing her hand. Fitzpatrick had achieved what no man had in a whole lot of years. It was a shame. He had nothing against the detective, but if the man got too close to Lucy then he’d be in the way. Which meant he’d need to die too.

Right now the two were engaged in what appeared to be serious conversation. He wished he knew what they were saying. In hindsight he should have gone for the more deluxe tracker that broadcasted sound. Live and learn. He could order the more deluxe model, but by the time it was delivered she’d be dead.

So there didn’t seem to be much point.

It was enough to know that they were going to Anderson Ferry. Whatever she was telling the detective would be lies and half-truths anyway. She wasn’t wired to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. No Trask was.

He dropped back several car lengths so that his presence would continue to go undetected. He’d been riding too close. He didn’t need to do that. He knew exactly where Lucy was and where she’d go. It didn’t matter if he lost them. He patted his right jacket pocket, felt his cell phone with its tracking website. He then patted his left pocket. Felt his pistol.

Well, Ken Pullman’s pistol, anyway, but Ken wouldn’t mind if he used it. Wasn’t like Ken needed it anymore.
Asshole
. He’d got what he deserved. He should have been ashamed of himself. A cop, extorting a civilian. Greedy sonofabitch.

Now a dead sonofabitch. Exactly what he deserved.

Lucy’s car sped up, putting distance between them and changing lanes. She and Fitzpatrick were headed for the next exit.
Let them go. I’ll keep going and get there first
. He was pretty sure he knew where she’d go.
And like the big bad wolf, I’ll be waiting
.

Tuesday, May 4, 1.20 P.M.

‘Where are you going?’ Lucy whispered.

‘Wait,’ Fitzpatrick mouthed. He’d been on the phone with Stevie for a long time, telling her all the details Lucy had shared, but he’d just whipped over to the right lane and was now exiting off the highway, several exits early.

She remembered what he’d done the last time he’d exited early. Part of her wished he’d do it again. Quite a bit of her wished he’d do it again, if she were honest. She caught him watching her as he pulled to a stop at the end of the exit. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was listening to Stevie who’d received Russ Bennett’s LUDs on her laptop and had pulled over several miles ahead to review them.

He turned at the exit and pulled into a gas station. ‘I’ve got Janet’s cell phone bill in my briefcase. Wait one.’

Lucy leaned back toward her window to give him room as he twisted to grab his briefcase from the back seat. He brushed his lips against her cheek as he resettled himself into his seat and gave her a wink.

‘Later,’ he mouthed and Lucy felt her face heat. That she’d wanted him to kiss her again was so plain on her face it was embarrassing. But it was what it was. She couldn’t change what she wanted. Last night in the alley shouldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t happen again. But it would. She knew it would.

Fitzpatrick’s eyes grew darker. Either he could read her mind or she was still broadcasting her desires, loud and clear. She looked away and he dropped his gaze to his briefcase, which he balanced precariously on the gearshift. Lucy took the briefcase and held it open on her lap so that he could find the papers he sought.

‘Here they are,’ he said, his voice gone husky. He cleared his throat. ‘What was the number that called Bennett the afternoon he disappeared?’ He ran his finger down the list of calls on Janet’s bill. ‘Janet got a call from that same number the day after Bennett disappeared. But no calls before that. We’d need her most recent statement for any calls she got the day she disappeared. I wonder how this guy lured them both to meet him.’

He listened. ‘You’re right. There’s no way this guy bought a cell phone in his own name. He had to know we’d be looking at LUDs.’ He frowned. ‘Wait. When was the first time Bennett got a call from that number?’

He rummaged in the briefcase and came up with a folder with a familiar scribble on the tab. When he opened it, Lucy recognized the papers Hyatt had shown her yesterday – the file Russ Bennett had collected. ‘All of these newspaper clippings on Lucy’s trial are stamped as having been copied by the newspaper office the day after Bennett first got a call from that number. The byline of the trial articles is—’

‘Milo Davidoff,’ Lucy said.

‘Milo Davidoff,’ Fitzpatrick told Stevie. ‘If Bennett requested these the day after he got a phone call from the guy who lured him out and killed him, the newspaper office might know why. Let’s start with the sheriff, then talk to Davidoff. I’ll meet you in front of the Sheriff’s office.’

‘We can’t talk to Davidoff,’ Lucy said when he’d hung up. ‘He’s dead.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Same way I know that Sonny is the sheriff. I keep up with the news that’s published online. Kind of like when you get fired from a job and go back to see your boss from hell is dead.’

‘I’ve done that,’ he confessed, and tossed his briefcase to the back seat, then pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit a few keys. ‘Stevie, it’s me. I forgot to tell you that we were being followed by a black Lexus. I hoped it would pass me when I pulled off the exit, but it hung back. It could just be someone on their way to the beach, but I’m betting a reporter. Keep your eyes open for him. I’ll see you soon.’

After hanging up again, he put them back on the road toward the highway and Lucy found herself disappointed. ‘I’m on the clock,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday afternoon. Although I’m not the least bit sorry.’ He hesitated. ‘Are you?’

‘No.’ He put his hand on the console palm up and she aligned her fingers with his. ‘I’m sure I’ll be later, but I’m not now. What do you need to know about my trial? Most of it was covered in the Davidoff articles.’

‘Which I read after we hung up last night. I’m sorry, by the way. I should have said you were innocent, not “not guilty”. I wasn’t thinking.’

‘It’s okay. I’m sensitive about it.’

‘Understandable. I guess I also understand now why Mrs Westcott testified against you. She thought you’d stolen from her, so you had history. How were the Bennetts involved?’

‘Mr Bennett put up my bail and hired my attorney,’ she said. ‘I was poor, putting myself though college, living with the Pughs. My fiancé and I weren’t married yet, so I wasn’t entitled to any of his life insurance, not that his parents would have let me have a penny. Heath did leave me a little in his will and they fought that, saying I’d murdered him. After my acquittal I eventually got that money. I used it all for med school.’

‘Mr Bennett hired your attorney?’ JD said, surprised.

‘He did. I had a public defender who sucked. I thought I was going to prison and then Mr Bennett showed up with an attorney. It didn’t take the guy more than a day to get the evidence to show I couldn’t have been in the vehicle when it crashed.’

‘How did he prove it?’

‘Hired an expert witness, again at Mr Bennett’s expense. This guy measured skid marks, damage to the other car, and all the accident markers. If I’d been driving, my ribs and sternum would have been crushed and I never could have run a mile for help.’

‘Most people didn’t have cell phones then,’ he said.

‘Rich kids had them, but I didn’t. You don’t know how many nights I wake up wishing I’d had one. I can still hear that baby’s cries.’

‘The baby and her mother in the other car lived.’

‘Yes. The baby was in a car seat and was terrified but fine. The mother was a mess. Huge gash to her femoral artery. I applied first aid and stopped the bleeding.’

‘You saved her life.’

‘Yeah,’ she said bitterly. ‘After I almost took it.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘You weren’t driving.’

‘No, my fiancé was. Heath was . . . kind of like Buck. Bigger than life.’ She looked at Fitzpatrick from the corner of her eye. ‘He raced motorcycles. Motocross.’

Cognition dawned. ‘Oh.’

‘And so did I.’

He jerked around to stare at her before returning his gaze to the road. ‘You?’

‘Yes. Which sounds utterly preposterous now, with me spouting statistics for every dangerous activity known to man.’

‘But it explains a lot.’

‘I guess.’

‘You said you were too poor to afford a cell phone back then. How did you afford motocross? It’s not a cheap sport.’

‘Heath paid the bills for racing. His parents had money, lots of it.’

‘How long were you engaged to him?’

‘Four years. I met him my first semester in college. I was waiting tables to help pay tuition and he . . . swept me off my feet. I was twenty-one when he died.’

‘Did you love him?’

She drew a quiet breath, remembering. ‘Yes, very much. But I was young and so was he and it was quite possible that I loved loving him more, if you know what I mean.’

He nodded grimly and she wondered about the wife he’d lost. ‘I do.’

‘I did love him, though, and I loved to race. Loved the speed and the thrill and all the danger. And to be honest, loved knowing that it drove my parents crazy that I was on a motorcycle after what happened to Buck.’

‘They knew?’

‘I made sure they did. I’d send them clippings of my race stats, which I suppose was childish of me, but I was angry with them for, well, abandoning me.’

‘You should have been angry. They did abandon you.’

His fierceness was sweet. ‘When I finally got out of St Anne’s and went to college, I was mad at them and the world in general. I thumbed my nose at them, and then disaster struck.’

‘What happened that night, Lucy?’

‘Things were getting out of hand. Heath had gone from this sweet, reckless boy to a mean, spiteful person. He started driving too fast everywhere we went. At first I egged him on, because I loved speed. Then he started drinking and popping pills and I couldn’t stop him.’

‘You testified that you tried to take his keys that night.’

‘I did, but he was strong. I had one glass of wine but he’d had two bottles. He found this road to race that went down to one lane over an old bridge. I tried to grab his keys from the ignition, but he hit me and threw me out of the car.’

‘That’s how your face got bruised.’

‘Yes. The prosecutor claimed the bruises were from the accident, but the expert witness proved that false quickly. Heath revved his engine and took the road at about eighty. The limit was twenty. The woman was coming over the bridge and there was nowhere for either of them to go. Heath was in a convertible. He was thrown from the car, dead before I got to him.’

She squared her shoulders to finish the story. ‘Because I had alcohol on my breath, I was charged. Because Heath died, it was vehicular homicide. Because I’d had a “troubled past”, people were all too happy to believe that I’d done it.’

‘What about your parents?’

Lucy laughed bitterly. ‘They came to court every day, sat behind me looking so ashamed of me. The only character references I had were Mr Pugh and Barb.’

‘Your parents didn’t stand up for you?’

‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘Heath’s parents called me a liar, said their son never would have gotten behind the wheel of a car while drunk. What turned the tide in my favor was when my lawyer got hold of the autopsy report.’

Fitzpatrick frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Heath had cancer,’ she said, ‘a brain tumor that was affecting his behavior. He’d been having awful headaches and had started drinking to self-medicate. His family knew, but hadn’t told me. They said I was a bad influence, and at that stage of my life, I was. But I didn’t cause him to drink and drive. When the jury heard about the tumor, it made a difference. They looked at me with sympathy and not revulsion.’

‘So an autopsy report saved you.’

‘That and a good defense attorney who knew to ask for it. I thought I knew what it was to be scared. I was terrified the first few nights at St Anne’s. But to sit in a courtroom like that and know I could be truly locked up and that I was
innocent
. . .’ The memory still had the power to make her queasy. ‘That was fear.’

‘That makes a lot of things clearer. When was the last time you saw your parents?’

‘The day I walked out of court. My mother looked like she wanted to say something, you know, nice. But my father pulled her out of the courtroom. I didn’t want to hear it anyway. When I graduated, I went as far away as possible.’

‘California,’ he said. ‘Barb told me that’s where you’d come from.’

‘When I finished my residency I took a pathologist’s position there. I came back for holidays with the Pughs. And then Mr Pugh was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.’

‘So you came home for good,’ he said and she nodded.

‘I was lucky to find a position with the state. I’d kept in touch with the Bennetts, holiday cards and such. I owed them so much for hiring that attorney. I tried to pay them back, but they wouldn’t let me. So I’d take them to lunch when they came into the city.’

‘Then you went back to a place you hated to give them the news about their son.’

‘That pretty well sums it up.’

‘Not entirely,’ he said and she frowned.

‘What else do you want to know?’

He cast a sideways glance. ‘After your fiancé died, was there anyone else?’

Lucy looked away, too tired to even go there. ‘We’re almost in town.’

‘I guess that means you don’t want to answer my question.’

‘You tell me about your buddies and I’ll tell you about mine.’

He made an annoyed sound. ‘How many “buddies” did you have?’

The
Welcome to Anderson Ferry
sign approached, then disappeared behind her. ‘After Heath, two. You met one of them yesterday morning, slumped over a chess table. Where did you want to go first? Sheriff, Mr Bennett, or newspaper?’