The Scandal Page 19

  “I’m going to follow up with Avery but I need to ask you one thing. Was he home last night? And if he wasn’t, and if he uses you as an alibi, will you lie for him?”

  I’ve done many things to keep my husband happy, including lying to his smug face. But I’m done. No more.

  “After what you’ve just heard I think you know the answer to that.”

  Foreboding tiptoes down my spine. I have a feeling my life is about to change irrevocably. For better or worse, I’m not sure.

  “He wasn’t home until one a.m.” I meet her curious gaze dead on, relieved I won’t be Avery’s patsy any longer. “And I won’t lie. Not anymore.”

  I’ve been lying to myself for years. Pretending I was okay being raised by a mother who’d checked out emotionally the day my father left us. Pretending I adored Avery for years when in fact he makes me feel second-rate. Pretending I lead the perfect life so I won’t end up full circle, alone and poor and pitied.

  That’s the thing about lies. They eventually come back to bite you on the ass.

  “Okay, thanks, you’ve helped.” Claire stands and I do the same. She’s about to hug me again when Elly opens the door to my office and enters without being invited.

  Her imperious gaze sweeps us both, as if we’re guilty of some unspoken crime. “What’s all this about Jodi being murdered?”

  Thirty-One

  Elly

  Ris and Claire gape at me like they’ve seen a ghost.

  Ris is pale, her immaculate make-up doing little to hide the shadows lurking under her eyes. Her silky hair looks like she’s dragged her hand through it a hundred times and her ebony pinstriped suit is creased. Claire appears formidable as usual in that police uniform but I glimpse sadness in her eyes, as if she’s just imparted bad news to Ris.

  When their gawking at me borders on uncomfortable, Claire finally recovers. “How do you know about the murder?”

  I roll my eyes and close the door. I don’t want other people privy to what I may or may not divulge in the next few minutes.

  “The health center was abuzz with the news this morning.” I cross the small room to perch on the edge of Ris’s desk. It’s as tidy and pristine as her house. “She was a patient of ours.”

  Claire frowns, the grooves between her brows appearing all too quickly. If she’s not careful, she’ll need Botox sooner rather than later. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Details haven’t been released yet.”

  I wave away her concern. I don’t need vague cop-speak; I need the truth. “One of the receptionist’s boyfriend works with the M.E. Anyway, I’m presuming it’s true?”

  Claire’s lips compress. More lines appear, this time at the corners of her mouth. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the case.”

  “Then what are you doing here? Having a little catch-up without me?”

  Ris flushes, her fingers fiddling with the hem on her skirt, plucking at a loose thread. “Contrary to popular belief, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Elly.”

  I’m stunned at her comeback. Ris is nothing but pleasant and upbeat, always. Today, she looks like she hasn’t slept and her eyes have a strange maniacal gleam, like she can’t quite fathom that one of the women under her care has been murdered.

  “What’s going on, Ris? It disarms me when you’re not your usual Pollyanna self—”

  “Fuck off.” Ris collapses back onto the sofa, crosses her arms to hug her middle and pins me with a glare that can freeze the Atlantic.

  Claire’s gaping mouth matches mine. Ris never swears, ever. Something’s going on. I felt the undercurrent the moment I stepped into the room. I don’t like being kept out of the loop. It makes me nervous. I don’t like being oblivious to what’s happening with those closest to me. I don’t cope well with secrets other than my own.

  “Let me guess, you feel responsible for that girl.” I cross the room to sit on a chair at right angles to the sofa. Ris’s eyes shift away from me, and focus on a point over my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, one of the things I most admire about you is your dedication to helping others, but you can’t save the world, Ris, no matter how much you want to.”

  Ris’s head turns slowly toward me, the pain in her glare startling. “Thanks,” she murmurs, shooting Claire a frightened glance I have no hope of interpreting.

  “We’re all in shock, Elly, Ris more than anyone, because Jodi was her client.”

  I’m used to Claire’s short, sharp way of speaking. It’s as natural to her as breathing. But she sounds softer today, like she’s treading on eggshells around Ris.

  “How did she die?”

  Ris visibly flinches and Claire shakes her head, disapproval pursing her lips. “You’ll read about it in the newspaper like everyone else.”

  I snort. “It’s already online.”

  Claire huffs out an angry breath, her exasperation palpable. “Why are you here, Elly? Really?”

  I can’t tell them the truth, that I have my suspicions. So I fake it. I’m used to that.

  “Because I care, okay? I may not act like it most of the time but I know Ris had a bond with this girl because of the favor she asked, so I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

  Claire’s in full cop mode – she doesn’t need the uniform to do this but when she’s in it she’s intimidating – and she fixates on my slip up instantly. “What favor?”

  “Sorry,” I mouth at Ris, who hasn’t lost the scared look, before continuing. “Ris asked me to pull strings at the center to get Jodi in to see the best ob-gyn ASAP. So I did.”

  I still can’t figure out why. What was so special about this girl?

  “You did that for me?” Claire turns to Ris, her eyebrows raised, her eyes soft and filled with emotion. “Thanks.”

  “Means little now.” Ris sounds bitter and so unlike herself I feel like I’ve stumbled into some alternate universe.

  I’m confused but neither of my friends seems inclined to enlighten me. “Why would Ris organizing an appointment for Jodi have anything to do with you… oh.”

  I stare at Claire, who’s blushing. I get it now and it makes me sadder, knowing that Jodi’s death affected both my friends in its own way.

  “I’m sorry.” I step toward Claire, unsure if she’ll accept my hug. She’s not usually the touchy-feely type.

  She must hear the sincerity in my tone because surprisingly, she allows me to embrace her for a few seconds before stepping back. Ris is staring at me like I’ve grown another head.

  “Look, just because I’m a self-absorbed bitch most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad for my friends,” I say, annoyed I have to justify my good behavior.

  Then again, I don’t do it very often. Be nice, that is. I like playing the badass. I like holding my friends at bay, only letting them get as close as I allow. It helps me justify my appalling behavior when they eventually discover what I’ve done. Our friendship circle is close. We’ve been through a lot together and now this, yet another traumatic incident to bind us further.

  But it doesn’t matter how close we are, when I tell them what I’ve done the judgment will come and our friendship will be over. I’m prepared for it. I expect it. It doesn’t make it any easier.

  I don’t want to reinvent myself all over again. But I will have to and it’s a risk I’m willing to take. If anyone deserves to know the truth, these women do. Trusting, kind-hearted souls easily taken advantage of.

  I should know. I’d once been just like them.

  “You’re also insightful and incredibly supportive,” Ris says, a soft smile curving her lips. “And we love you, even if you don’t want us near you half the time.”

  Claire laughs and I’m glad to hear it. She’s been so morose lately. Not that I blame her, with all she’s had to deal with. But Ris’s declaration gets to me where I fear it most: my impressionable, bruised heart. I love these women too and it’s unbearable to contemplate the betrayal they’ll feel when I tell them everything.

  I swallow to ease
the sudden tightening of my throat.

  “Who are you and what have you done with my friend Ris? She’s never as mouthy as you.”

  “About time I started, don’t you think?” Ris stands and squares her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle.

  “Yeah,” Claire and I answer in unison.

  We all glance around, as if seeing each other for the first time.

  “Group hug?” I venture, tongue in cheek, yet in less than a second I find myself enveloped by these two women.

  We hug each other tight and tears sting my eyes, for all of us and for what is to come.

  If only I didn’t have to tear their worlds apart when they discover I’m not the person they think I am.

  Thirty-Two

  Claire

  Chas, the medical examiner, a career veteran of forty years, confirms what the early responders from forensics thought.

  “She was drugged with GHB. Much higher than the standard dose that we normally see from date rapes. So whoever did it wanted to ensure she wouldn’t wake up… or was so damn clueless they had no idea about dosages and accidentally gave her an OD.”

  He consults his clipboard while absentmindedly pushing his glasses up as they slide down the bridge of his nose. “Doesn’t look like a manufactured blend. Probably an amateur mixing up batches at home after downloading the recipe off the Internet, so it’s not a stretch to assume they didn’t understand how to administer the dosage correctly.”

  I nod and avert my gaze from the huge glass window where Jodi is laid out behind it. I can’t look at her, not now. I made that mistake the moment I entered the M.E.’s office and what I saw will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Her stomach is flat.

  Jodi doesn’t have a small baby bump anymore; the baby is gone, as if he never existed. I almost lose it but manage to fake a cough or two, buying me some time while Chas gets me a cup of water from the dispenser outside his office. I’m okay, as long as I don’t look at that awful window and what lies behind it.

  “Pressure patterns here and here,” Chas points to his nose and eye sockets, “indicate she suffocated by having a pillow forcibly held over her face.” He tuts. “Thankfully, with the amount of GHB she had in her, she probably wouldn’t have realized what was going on.”

  “So it was quick and painless?”

  I have no idea why I ask such a stupid, pointless question but somehow, the idea of Jodi suffering – and in turn her baby – makes me even sadder if that’s possible.

  Chas nods, as solemn as always. “That amount of GHB would’ve kicked in pretty quickly. She would’ve been in a trance-like state and would’ve thought she was falling asleep.”

  I like that analogy. I’ll remember it whenever the image of Jodi’s flat belly pops into my mind. I’ve been privy to horrific details of torture inflicted by madmen and seen my fair share of gruesome crime scenes over my career, but I know that seeing Jodi lifeless on the M.E.’s slab will haunt me more than anything else.

  I clear my throat, determined to gain as much useful information as possible so I can bring her killer to justice. “No defensive wounds? Nothing under her fingernails?”

  Chas shakes his head and his glasses slip again. “Nothing. Then again, with that amount of GHB in her system she wouldn’t have been able to put up a fight. The team scoured the scene for any traces of hair or fibers but came up blank. Sand on the carpet from the front door to the sofa and back don’t tell us much. The composition of the grains matches the sandy path outside Jodi’s door.”

  He pauses, his brow furrowed. “I have to say, I worked in Washington D.C. and New York City for most of my career, and I’ve never seen such a civilized murder. It’s almost like…”

  “What?”

  “Like the murderer didn’t really want to hurt the girl.” His gaze drifts to the glass panel before refocusing on me. “In fact, it seems like this person cared. Drugging someone before suffocating them is a mild form of murder.” He screws up his nose. “You know as well as I do that a lot of the depravity we see is born of violence, horrific, bloody murders where the perp has either lost control or has no empathy for the victim. This crime…” he shakes his head “… it’s subtle.”

  Chas’s assessment surprises me. I can’t see Avery caring about anyone but himself, least of all a girl he may have impregnated during one of his sordid affairs.

  Chas taps his pen against his clipboard in an annoying staccato rhythm. “I’d even go as far as to say I think your suspect could be a woman.”

  I struggle to hide my surprise. Chas only deals in facts so his assumption comes from so far left field it’s out of the ballpark.

  I have my theory and my motive. Both revolve around Avery. But if what Chas says is true… this case just got a whole lot more complicated.

  “Thanks for your help, Chas.” I don’t shake his hand. I never do, considering what that hand has been cutting into before I arrive and this time it’s too close to home. “If you come up with anything else, let me know.”

  “Sure thing.” He does a cutesy salute and turns back to re-enter the autopsy room.

  My cue to bolt; I hate that room. I rarely enter it if I have a choice. The pungent smell of formaldehyde makes me light-headed and conjures up memories of every repugnant, macabre corpse I’ve had the displeasure of seeing.

  With Chas’s surprising assessment of Jodi’s murder bouncing in my head, I’m back at the station in ten minutes. Avery should arrive in another five.

  Gledhill citizens come into the police station for a variety of reasons, most of them not nefarious. Witnessing of legal documents. Reporting of minor misdemeanors. Neighborhood disputes. So Avery entering the station won’t be big news. What I have to ask him will be, so I’ve reserved an interrogation room.

  Thankfully, Ron is happy for me to run with my theory while he chases up Jodi’s last movements in the city for possible leads there. I’ve convinced him I’m one hundred percent better and work focused.

  If he only knew.

  I’m grateful that Ris won’t mention my possible adoption of Jodi’s baby if anyone else from the department questions her. Not that they will. I’m the senior officer on the case and I’m grateful I can control the situation. But with the clock ticking I need answers and I’m convinced Avery can provide them.

  He arrives seven minutes late, as if to prove that his time is more valuable than mine. Asshole.

  I greet him at the front desk, eager to whisk him away and begin. “Thanks for coming in, Avery.”

  “Anything for you, C.C. You know that.”

  He has the kind of voice that most women would love: deep, resonant, with just a hint of naughtiness. It’s that hint that riles me. Ris is a wonderful woman and while I have no idea if Avery’s unfaithful or not, she certainly hinted at it earlier. She doesn’t deserve a philandering husband whose practiced charm tends to fool most people.

  If he is responsible for getting Jodi pregnant, I can only imagine the lengths he would go to in order to protect his precious image.

  I wait until the door is closed before gesturing at a chair. “Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

  He appears completely unfazed by being called in for questioning. Either it’s more of that supreme arrogance or he’s a damn good actor.

  “Are you going to handcuff me when we get started?”

  His innuendo makes me feel sick. He’s always like this with me, with Ris’s friends, usually in front of her, as if trying to prove he’s man enough to attract any woman he wants. I know now why she tolerates it but for me, I’ve never liked the sleaze. I pity Ris, keeping up appearances of her perfect life, despising her husband but not willing to leave for fear of being alone. It’s sad because she’s accomplished and warm and the kindest woman I know. She would thrive on her own if she dumped this jerk.

  He grins as he takes a seat and interlocks his hands behind his head. His legs are outstretched, ankles crossed. He’s totally at ease and his confidence sows
the first seed of doubt. If he were guilty would he be this relaxed, this nonchalant?

  So I decide to rattle him.

  “Cut the bullshit, Avery. You’re here for one reason only.” I brace my hands on the table in front of him and lean over, trying to intimidate. “I need you to take a paternity test.”

  I watch for the slightest tell. Widening of pupils. Beating of veins. Twitch of lips. Clenching of jaw.

  Nothing.

  The man’s either a freak actor or he’s innocent.

  “Why?” He smirks, his gaze sliding up and down my body in a slow, deliberate perusal that only angers me. “Wouldn’t you and I have to do the good stuff first before we do a test like that?”

  He never quits with the bullshit flirting. I thought he only did it at social gatherings to try and impress his friends or tease Ris. Now I know better. The guy’s a liar and a cheat, if my theory about his connection to Jodi is right. He can’t help himself. The flirting is his thing. He can’t turn it off.

  Annoyed that I can’t fluster him, I aim for bluntness again. “Have you ever met Jodi Van Gelder?”

  He frowns, like he can’t place the name. “You mean that girl my wife rescued when she turned up at our house?”

  “That’s the one. Have you ever met her?”

  “Never.”

  He doesn’t hesitate and his emphatic response resonates. But I continue to push.

  “Seems odd then, that the first thing she does when she gets to town is research you at the library.”

  One eyebrow raises a fraction at that. “Me? Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t waste my breath saying it if I wasn’t.”

  He feigns bafflement. It has to be fake. I can’t accept the possibility he may not have anything to do with this. As long as Avery is my primary suspect I don’t have to remember my first theory, that Dane is somehow involved.

  “Look, C.C.—”

  “It’s Claire, asshole,” I snap, immediately regretting my outburst when a slow, self-righteous smile creeps across his face. He called me the stupid nickname the first time Ris introduced us and I voiced my disapproval. He’s persisted with it ever since.