Truth and Consequences Page 8

“Still? It’s late.”

  “Yeah, I’m working late.”

  “Geez, Iain, I made dinner.”

  “I, uh, did we have plans?”

  “No, but I wanted to surprise you, and I worked really hard on this. I made your favorite. Chicken enchiladas. I’ve been working on this for hours. I kept texting you asking when you were going to come home, but you ignored me. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but everything’s getting cold.”

  “Harley, you shouldn’t do stuff like that without asking me.”

  She let out a disbelieving noise. “Screw you,” she said, and now it sounded like she was crying.

  He winced. “I didn’t know about this.”

  “You are such a bastard, Iain.” She hung up.

  He took the phone away from his ear. So, what was he supposed to do now? Go home and have an argument with her? Eat cold food? Or just stay here and let it blow over? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to make the wrong choice. He called her back.

  “Go to hell,” she answered.

  “Should I come home?” he said. “I mean, where are you, anyway? My place or yours?”

  “Your place, dumbass. It was a surprise. You’d come home to a nice dinner. I was trying to make up for the other night at the bar.” She was definitely crying. She was sniffling and her voice was wavery.

  “Harley, don’t cry,” he said softly. “I can be there in five minutes.”

  “No,” she said. “Don’t bother. I don’t want to see you.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive.” She hung up on him.

  He peeled it away from his ear again. He still wasn’t sure that he shouldn’t go home. But, hell, she’d told him not to come, and he honestly didn’t think he had the capacity to deal with her emotions right now. He was crap with that stuff.

  So, he didn’t go home, at least not right away. He stayed and went through the file a little more, trying to find anything else he could on Joel Sanders.

  * * *

  “So, do you know what he’s talking about?” Elke was pacing in her living room, clutching her cell phone as she talked to her brother.

  “Actually, I might,” said Patrick.

  Elke let out a frustrated noise. “Are you kidding me, Patrick?”

  “No, I have it,” he said.

  “So, then you have to give it back,” said Elke. “Or go to the police, or—”

  “I definitely can’t give it to the police. Don’t be crazy.”

  “Well, do you have some way to contact Jeremiah or someone on his team? Set up a place to meet and hand it over,” said Elke. “I can be there if you want.”

  “I don’t have it on me,” said Patrick. “I hid it.”

  “Patrick!” She stopped pacing. “Why would you do that? Why would you even take it?”

  “I was afraid when they came looking for me. I thought I needed leverage,” he said.

  “And you neglected to tell me about it.’

  “Well, I didn’t see how it was important.”

  “According to Jeremiah, it’s the only reason they’re after you. So, if you hand it over, he’ll back off.”

  Patrick was quiet.

  “Patrick?”

  “What?”

  “You all right?”

  “I’m just wondering if I should believe him,” said Patrick. “I mean, what if this is a ploy to get me out of hiding? I go to pick up the product, and he finds me and kills me or something.”

  “I’ll pick it up,” said Elke. “Where is it?”

  “I can’t let you do that,” said Patrick. “This is my mess.”

  “I’m your older sister,” said Elke. “You can let me do this. I want to protect you.”

  “I don’t know, El.”

  “Did you hide it in some dangerous place or something?”

  “Well, no. I put it in the old tree house out in the woods.”

  “On Mom’s and Dad’s property? Are you insane?”

  “I figured it would be safe there.”

  “And what about Mom and Dad?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Damned straight you weren’t.” She sighed. “Well, look, that settles it. You can’t go after the product, because if Jeremiah found you, he might follow you to our parents’ house and they could get hurt.”

  “They might be tailing you too.”

  “Even if they are, they won’t think anything of me going to visit my parents. They won’t think it’s connected. So, I’ll go and get this, and then…” She shook her head. She wasn’t totally sure what to do then. Was she really going to get involved in some hand-off of illegal drugs? That wasn’t the kind of thing she did. She tried to stay on the right side of the law.

  “Elke, I don’t want you to do this.”

  “Too bad,” she said, and she hung up on him.

  * * *

  When Iain got back to his apartment, all the lights were on, and the remains of the dinner Harley had cooked were still sitting out on the table, but Harley was nowhere to be seen.

  Iain tossed all the food because it had sat out too long.

  He considered just going to bed, but he did feel bad. Harley had gone to a lot of trouble for him, and he guessed he could understand that his not showing up would be disappointing. He felt guilty. He did care about her, and he didn’t want to upset her. He called her.

  She didn’t pick up.

  He left a message. He wasn’t sure what to say, so it was a halting apology, punctuated by a lot of “uh”s. He hung up and got ready for bed.

  He couldn’t sleep.

  He put on the TV. Sometimes that helped. But not tonight. Tonight, it only seemed to keep him wider awake.

  He called Harley again.

  Still no answer.

  Damn it. Now, he was starting to get worried. What if something had happened to her? He sent a text, saying, Even if you’re mad, just respond to this so I know you’re okay.

  Nothing.

  Well, that could mean anything, though. It might mean that she was away from her phone or asleep. She was probably fine.

  He punched the pillow, turned off the TV, and rolled onto his side. He closed his eyes.

  Twenty minutes later, still wide awake, he called her again.

  This time, she picked up. “Iain?” came her slurred voice.

  “You’re drunk,” he said. He should have realized.

  “After the night I had, I deserved a few,” she said. “I went out to Bob’s, but then some people said I should come to this party, so I did. I caught a ride with them. I don’t have my car. I don’t know how I’m going to get home.”

  He sat up. “I can come get you.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. “I’m having fun. I don’t want to leave yet.”

  Fun. Right. “Okay,” he said.

  “Sorry I didn’t answer the phone,” she said. “It’s loud here.”

  “But you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.” She let out a drunken laugh. “All right, bye, Iain. Bye-bye.”

  After they hung up, he still couldn’t sleep. It all felt wrong, everything that she’d done. It felt like something she would have done in high school, not that they’d been dating in high school. No, back then, it had been more like she’d been convincing him to do her math homework by giving him hand jobs in the backseat of his car. Not dating, no, because Harley wanted them to be free to see whoever they wanted, and that meant that she was always hooking up with random other guys, sometimes right in front of him, which made him crazy, but he never did anything about it.

  Her going out and getting drunk, it was as if she was punishing him. He’d screwed up by not coming home for her surprise, so she’d done this. It was like they were still kids. It was immature.

  Hell, he wouldn’t put it past her to be hooking up with someone else again, right at this minute, even though he made it abundantly clear to her that if they were doing this official business, it meant tha
t she was going to be faithful to him, not that she ever was, and why the hell did he put up with this?

  He didn’t know the address of the party where she was, but he thought about getting in his car and driving around and looking for it. He had a general idea of the location, and maybe he could hunt her down and…

  And what?

  What if he found her with another guy? What was he going to do then?

  And suddenly, he flashed on a tapestry splashed with red spatters of blood that he and Harley were moving across her room because the scene didn’t look right, and he had to make sure the scene looked right, because Dale was dead, and the back of his skull had exploded from the shotgun blast, and they needed to make sure it looked right and they needed to work fast and—

  He sat up straight in bed.

  It was the Dale crap that kept them together, wasn’t it? Having a secret like that, it bonded people.

  He called her again.

  “Iain, what the hell?” she said.

  “Tell me where you are,” he said. “I’m coming to get you.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When Elke got to work the next morning, there was a stack of newspapers sitting in front of the office door. She was early, the first person there, so she didn’t know who had put them there. They didn’t subscribe to any papers at the office, and they sure as heck didn’t need a stack of ten of them.

  She opened the door and nudged the stack inside with her foot.

  After switching the light on, she managed to make out the headline. Criminal Element Running CRU.

  What?

  She picked up one of the newspapers and tinier piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. It had handwriting on it. She picked that up. It was a handwritten note that read, How’s it going, Lawrence? -Detective Powell.

  What the hell? That Powell guy had something to do with this?

  She sat down at Amos’s desk and read the article. It was bad. It had a bunch of details about Felix and her, and it went so far as to make accusations that she and Felix had been in the drug business together, and that she had profited from Felix’s ill-gotten gains. Then there was a whole section about Iain, which basically accused him of murder.

  She remembered Iain saying something about his girlfriend Harley (or whatever they were—Iain often claimed she wasn’t his girlfriend) having shot and killed her abusive husband in self-defense. This article went into the situation in detail. It said that there were inconsistencies in the crime scene, and that there was suspicion that the husband had been moved and the scene staged to look like self-defense. It said that Iain had killed Harley’s husband because he and Harley were having an affair and had covered the whole thing up, because he was a police officer and no one would prosecute one of their own.

  The article went on to quote Detective Powell, who said, “It’s pretty ironic that these people are heading up the unit supposed to restore justice to the city. They’re nothing but common criminals themselves.”

  As for Frankie and Amos, they were barely mentioned, but Frankie was named as a former defense lawyer with ties to the “sleazy element” of the city. Amos was implied to be a hard-drinking party boy who had probably brought being captured by a serial killer on himself.

  After reading the article, Elke was so mad she didn’t know what to do with herself. She sat in the conference room, reading the newspaper over and over, as the others came in.

  Everyone else read the article.

  They all sat in the conference room silently, pouring over it. Amos had brought bagels and cream cheese, but no one ate anything.

  As Frankie read the article, she kept looking up at Elke, and Elke wondered if Frankie believed the article. She and Frankie were not exactly getting along these days. Maybe Frankie only needed a little bit of nudging to think the worst of Elke.

  Angry, Elke got up from the conference table. “Give me the newspapers.”

  Everyone looked at her with wide eyes.

  Elke held out her hands. “Go on. Hand them over.”

  Wordlessly, Amos, Frankie, and Iain placed the newspapers in her waiting hands.

  Elke crumpled them up against her chest, marched over to the trash can, and shoved them in. She picked up the rest of the stack of papers and pushed those in too. Now the trash can was a mound of crumpled newsprint. Elke took a deep breath, straightened her suit jacket, and went over to get herself a bagel. There were plain and blueberry. She got a blueberry one and began smearing cream cheese on it.

  Bagel ready, she turned to the others. “Well, what are you looking at?” she said. “Get back to work.”

  At which point the door to the office burst open and DA Andrews came in, holding the paper.

  Elke felt herself inwardly deflate. She didn’t think she could do this right now. The last time that there had been bad press, Andrews had come in and ripped them all a new asshole. If he started yelling at them now, Elke was going to start yelling back. Or worse. She might crumple into tears.

  You can’t cry, she told herself. You absolutely cannot cry.

  She nodded at the DA. “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good?” said Andrews. “Have you seen this?”

  Elke sucked in breath. “I have.”

  “Well, it’s bad.” He wasn’t yelling, that was something.

  “It’s not good,” she said. “It’s Powell’s doing.”

  “Powell?” Andrews didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “I came to you before, said he threatened me,” she said. “He left the papers here with a note. And he’s quoted in the article.”

  “What it says about your knowledge of your husband’s exploits—”

  “Lies,” said Elke. “And he’s my ex-husband.”

  Andrews sighed. “Can you prove that?”

  “How do I prove I didn’t know?” said Elke. She shook her head.

  Andrews rounded on Iain. “And you? You have anything to say for yourself?”

  Iain looked at the floor. “I’m not a murderer, sir.”

  “And you can prove that?”

  “Dale Adams’s death has already been investigated. The evidence indicated it was self-defense,” said Iain.

  “But you were sleeping with his wife?”

  Iain shifted on his feet. “Well, the thing is—”

  “Spare me,” said Andrews. “That’s bad. That looks bad.” He shook his head. “You know what? I can’t. Right now, I just can’t.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the office.

  Elke sat down heavily at the conference table. She felt like crying. Instead, she ripped off a piece of her blueberry bagel and shoved it in her mouth.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Amos’s hands were shaking as he dialed on his phone. He half-hoped that Carlos wouldn’t pick up the phone, because he didn’t like confrontation. But he didn’t want to explode on the guy’s voicemail, so he was really hoping the jerk answered.

  God, Amos couldn’t believe what an idiot he’d been. He should have known better.

  The phone rang.

  “Hello?” Carlos answered.

  “You bastard.”

  “Uh, who is this?”

  “It’s me, Amos Bradley. The guy you shook down for your damned article. Thanks for saying I was a lush.” When Amos had seen the byline, he’d been astonished. He knew Carlos Reyes.

  “It doesn’t actually say that.”

  “Not in so many words it doesn’t,” said Amos. “I thought you were just a guy coming on to me at the bar. I didn’t realize you were trying to research an article for your paper. Are you even gay?”

  “Yes!” Carlos sighed. “Hey, hold on a second. I’m out in the open at the news room right now. Let me get somewhere more private.”

  “I don’t see why I should do anything for you.”

  “I get that.” Carlos paused for a moment. “I do get that.”

  “You have no idea how badly you’re messing things up. You’re spreading lies about good people.”
>
  “Hey, I didn’t make that stuff up,” said Carlos. “I just reported on it. And yeah, okay, I ran into you at the bar on purpose, but then I talked to you and…”

  “And?”

  “Hold on. Just let me close the door.” A long pause. “Okay, I’m alone now. Listen, if I can just explain?”

  “There is nothing you can say right now.”

  “I didn’t quote you, did I? You said some stuff when we were talking, but I kept it out of the article.”

  “I didn’t say anything.” Amos was indignant.

  “Not anything really bad, but just a few things here and there about how Elke Lawrence had seemed preoccupied lately and how there was some tension amongst your co-workers, that kind of thing.”

  Damn it. Amos remembered blabbing now. He’d thought he was among friends. He was so stupid.

  “Anyway, I kept that out of the article, and I didn’t have to do that.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Because I like you. Maybe I came to that bar to try to get a story, but then I talked to you, and I… look, I know you probably hate me, but is there any chance you might want to go out sometime? We could get dinner or—”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Lunch?”

  “You have incredible nerve.”

  “Coffee?” Carlos’s voice had gotten quiet.

  “Of course I’m never going on a date with you. I only called to tell you that I think you’re a worthless piece of trash. You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re scum.”

  “Hey, Amos, really, I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

  * * *

  “So, anyway,” Elke was saying to the others, “I had no idea what Felix was up to. He was a charming man and a good liar, and I fell for his act. When he was first accused, I was sure it was a mistake, and I did everything I could to prove his innocence. I was all over the media, giving interviews, saying my husband would never do such a thing. I was in love with him.” She paused for a moment, because tears were threatening.

  It was a little after lunch, and Elke had called everyone into the conference room so that she could clear the air. She knew that she shouldn’t have to defend herself against the accusations in the news article, but she felt as if she had to. These people worked under her. They deserved an explanation if she expected them to keep faith in her.