You Belong to Me (43 page)

‘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.’

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.

‘
W
hich 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 found 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.’

Mrs Trask hurried down the steps, whisking past him to where her husband lay. ‘Ron.’ Too late she saw the gag. Then she saw the gun in Evan’s hand and grew deathly pale. ‘Please don’t hurt us. I’ll give you anything you want. Cash, credit cards . . . I have a few narcotics in my bag. You can take it all.’

‘That’s not what I want, but thank you for the offer,’ he said politely.

‘Then what do you want?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘I want what you stole from me.’ He shoved her face down on the bed, easily overpowering her. He taped her hands and feet together, then gagged her, all in plain view of her husband who had to lie there helplessly and watch. ‘I want my sister back. I want my parents back. I want the life that you ruined.’ He leaned forward, watched her eyes go wide with horror. ‘I want my mother’s necklace. But you can’t give me any of those things, can you? All you can give me now is my satisfaction.’

He also wanted his damn bracelet, but he knew exactly where to get that. ‘We need to pick up one more passenger. I need you to make a call for me, Sheriff.’ He loosened the gag from Ron’s mouth.

‘Go to hell,’ Ron spat.

‘You know, Malcolm Edwards didn’t want to do what I asked the first time either. So I cut off his wife’s finger, right in front of him. Then I slit her throat.’

A terrified mewling sound came from Mrs Trask’s throat and Ron was barely able to contain his fury. ‘You’re sick,’ Ron spat.

‘I’m sure many would say so. I really don’t care.’

‘She’s old and ill. She’s no threat to you. Let her go.’

His brows lifted. ‘Such tenderness. My mother was old and ill, too. I was with her when she died, and you know what the last things were that she asked for? Her mother’s necklace and her dead daughter. She didn’t get what she wanted and neither will you.’

Using Ron’s phone, he found the other number he desired. ‘Now you’re going to tell Sonny Westcott to get his ass up here. That those Baltimore detectives have come asking questions and the two of you need to talk. And you’re going to be convincing or your wife will start losing important body parts.’

‘We’ve seen your face. You can’t let us live. Why should I do what you say?’

‘I guess this is going to dictate how you die. Malcolm’s wife died relatively painlessly.’ He shrugged. ‘If you don’t count the finger. Last week I killed a PI who crossed me. Gutted her like a pig and she felt everything. So it’s up to you. I’ll have my revenge. Whether Mrs T here goes nicely or very painfully is entirely up to you.’

He put his knife to Mrs Trask’s throat. ‘I’m dialing now. Think carefully about what you say. I can have her gutted before you utter my sister’s name. I promise you she’ll feel every slice. Okay, here he is. Make it good,
Sheriff
.’

He put the phone far enough from Ron’s ear so that he could hear too. Ron sent him a glare full of hate.
Right back atcha, boy
.

‘Sheriff Westcott. Who is this?’

‘It’s Trask. I need to meet.’

‘Not a good idea.’

‘Don’t make me push you,’ Trask snapped. ‘Meet me at the Turlington place. Now. Or else I start saying things nobody’s gonna want to hear.’

‘Sonofabitch,’ Sonny hissed. ‘You and that daughter of yours can’t leave it be.’

Evan pressed the knife a little harder to the old lady’s throat and Trask’s jaw tightened. ‘Look,’ Trask said. ‘If you don’t come, I’ll tell the detectives what they want to know.’

There was a small pause. ‘Fine. I’ll be there.’

He closed the phone and nodded to Trask. ‘Very good.’

‘Now let her go,’ Trask said, somehow still holding onto his arrogance.

‘No.’ He took out their phone batteries, then leaned closer, so he could feel their terror. Smell it. ‘You ruined my life. Your son killed my sister.’

‘No. He didn’t,’ Trask said, desperately. ‘He didn’t touch her.’

‘And you’re a fool. You knew what your son did and you knew what he’d stolen from us. Knowing that, you actually stood in my father’s house and threatened him.’

Trask could say nothing. He lay there, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Mrs Trask had turned her head to stare at her husband.

She didn’t know
. He’d assumed she had. ‘She didn’t know you went to my parents’ house and threatened to have him arrested because they wouldn’t “shut up about that damn necklace”. You ran us out of town. Made us move. We lost
everything
. I was there, hiding in my room, so scared of you. I’m not afraid of you now, old man.’