Текст книги "Vindicate"
Автор книги: Beth Yarnall
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Chapter 13 Cora
I don’t know how Leo does it. From the outside he looks like a total slacker. But somehow he manages to pull things off that I never could. Like getting Beau to open up to him and actually agreeing to talk on the phone. Beau hates talking on the phone. Even before he went to prison he had a thing about telephones. He’d say what he needed to say and then end the call. Sometimes in the middle of the other person’s sentence. Used to drive my mom nuts. The only person he ever spent any real time with on the phone was Cassandra.
That fact says everything about their relationship.
I also don’t know how Leo managed to get me to agree to go out with him again. Our first date proved how much I suck at it. I can’t even carry on a normal conversation without bringing it back to me and especially back to what happened to Beau. I never used to worry about how that little quirk of mine affected my relationships with people. After losing just about everyone in my life after Beau’s conviction, there weren’t a lot of people left around to offend. And those who stuck accepted my obsession.
What does he see in me? He could have just about anyone. Hell, he had Savannah and probably a dozen girls just like her. What does he want with me and my cargo ship of baggage?
I pace our tiny office, waiting for Leo to get back from talking to Cassandra’s friend Maisy. It took us a few days to track her down. To our surprise she agreed to meet with Leo, totally buying his ruse of being a law student researching a high-profile local case. Leo had an appointment with her first thing this morning and texted me an hour ago to tell me he has some news, but he didn’t say what. It’s killing me not to know.
At some point in the past few weeks I’ve come to see Leo as a partner in this fight. Before I met him I never would’ve been comfortable sitting on the sidelines while someone else worked on Beau’s behalf. No, that’s not true. I can pinpoint exactly when it was that I gave over all my trust to Leo—when he got Beau to agree to his visit.
The outer door opens and I rush out to the reception area, hoping it’s Leo at last. I come to a screeching halt at the sight of my mother peeling off her sunglasses.
“Hello. I’m here to see Cora Hollis.”
My first reaction is to back away slowly and pretend I’m not here. No such luck. Both my mom and Savannah turn toward me. I have no choice but to paste on a smile.
“There she is,” my mother says.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I came to see you, since you don’t answer your phone.” She says this as though she sees me all the time. I haven’t seen her since Mother’s Day and I saw her then only out of guilt.
And there’s a reason I don’t answer my phone when she calls.
Savannah leans back in her chair with a smirk, totally onto what a giant farce my mother’s visit is.
“Why don’t we take this to the conference room?” I don’t want my mom to see Leo’s and my office. It’s littered with snippets of Beau’s case. She’d take one look and launch into some shit about how I don’t take her feelings into account and how could both of her children have turned out so badly?
“Mr. Nash has a client coming in fifteen minutes,” Savannah says. She’s enjoying this way too much.
“We’ll be finished by then,” I say. “Mom?” I motion for her to follow me down the hall and close the door after us. “What’s wrong?”
“For starters, you can tell me why a private detective—one of your coworkers, I assume—called me, wanting to talk about your brother. I’m trying to put that chapter of my life behind me. I don’t need my failings shoved in my face all the time. I can only assume this is your doing. Why do you have to constantly find new ways to torment me?”
I take a deep breath. When my mom gets that look of righteous indignation she reminds me so much of Beau that it makes it hard to look at her. He gets most of his features from her, whereas I look my like our dad, except for my eyes—those are all Mom. She used to like it that Beau looked so much like her. Now she does all she can to separate herself from him. Hence the blond highlights and colored contacts. I have good memories of my mom, but they’re washed over and scarred from moments like this.
“You assumed wrong. I didn’t tell anyone to contact you.” Goddamn Leo. Why didn’t he check with me first before involving my mother?
“I don’t understand you.” She looks around the room. “What are you doing here? What happened to that nice job at the law office? And when are you going to stop dying your hair that god-awful color? It’s not professional. Men, real men, aren’t going to give you a second look, let alone a first one, with that blue hair. You’re a beautiful young woman. Why are you trying to turn people off?”
“I don’t care what other people think of me.”
She props a hand on her hip. “That’s obvious.”
“I’ll tell Leo to leave you alone.”
“Who’s Leo?”
“You said someone from this agency contacted you.”
“His name wasn’t Leo.”
If it wasn’t Leo, then who? “What was his name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“If it wasn’t Leo Nash, was it Ed Nash?”
“It was nobody named Nash.”
“Jerry Sullivan? Al Torres?” She shakes her head after each name. I’m stumped. Those are the only guys who work at the agency. “Then it wasn’t anyone from this agency. Probably a crank caller and you came down here for nothing.”
“No, he said he was with a private detective agency and that he wanted to talk about your brother.” Your brother, not Beau or her son, as if his conviction is somehow my fault.
“Which detective agency?”
“I told you, I don’t know. I assumed you’d know, since you’re the one who won’t let anything go.”
Yeah, I’m the one who won’t let anything go. “If he calls again, get his info and I’ll take care of it.”
She puts a hand on the doorknob and pauses. “Have you seen your father lately?”
I don’t know why my parents split up, because they’re always asking about each other as though there’s some glimmer of something still left between them. They’ve always had a strange dynamic I can’t begin to understand. Now that they’re divorced, they use me to find out about the other instead of just picking up the phone or taking the time to go see each other. I hate being caught in their whatever it is.
“I saw him on Father’s Day.”
“How’s he managing?”
“Fine. He’s managing fine just like you.”
“I’m not fine, not that you’d care.”
With that, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and leaves. No goodbye. No see you around. She didn’t ask about Beau. She never does. Our father never does either. But for our dad it’s different. For him Beau is a deep hurt. For Mom he’s a deep shame. I’m not sure what I am to either of them anymore except a reminder of Beau.
Leo strolls in as my mother huffs out. He gives her a first, then second take. He raises his brows at me. My answer is to go into our office, out of Savannah’s earshot.
He closes the door and leans back against it. “That had to be your mother.”
“Yup.”
“She didn’t look very happy.” He slides into his chair opposite me.
“She never is.” Especially with me. “What did you find out from Maisy?”
“The name of the guy Cassandra was seeing. Dylan Newman.”
“No way.”
“You know him?”
“He was Beau’s best friend. No wonder it was such a secret. Goddamn it. That sucks.” I can’t tell Beau this. He can never know.
“He apparently had a thing for Cassandra the whole time she was going out with Beau. He moved in the minute the field was clear. Asshole.”
“Yeah, and he stuck by Beau right up until he was convicted. Was in the courtroom nearly every day.”
“If Beau and Cassandra got back together, that would’ve left Dylan the odd man out. Some guys wouldn’t take that well.”
“What are you saying? That Dylan could’ve killed her?” I shake my head. “No, I don’t see it. He’s an asshole for taking up with Cassandra as soon as it looked like she was free, but that doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“He was obsessed with her, according to Maisy—her word, not mine. That obsession could’ve turned violent. It also could account for the strange things that were happening to Cassandra.”
“But if he’s obsessed and he has access to the object of his obsession, why mess with her?”
“To ensure she needs him.” He fakes picking up a phone. “Oh, Dylan.” He pitches his voice really high like a woman’s. “I need you to come over right now. Something strange just happened.” He resumes his normal voice. “Could’ve gone down that way. Some guys have rescue fantasies. In his mind, he could’ve been ensuring she needs him to save her from the big bad whatever.”
“Maybe. Okay, a strong maybe. He was pretty broken up at Cassandra’s funeral. But then a lot of people were.” Except Beau, because he wasn’t there. He was sitting in a jail cell. “He still lives in San Diego. I’ll call him and see if he’ll meet with us.”
“There’s something else. After our conversation Saturday night I did some digging. What you said about prosecutor misconduct stuck with me.” He pulls a file from his messenger bag. “So I called in a favor and got access to some of the prosecutor’s notes and reports on the trial. I wanted to see if there were any inconsistencies.”
“And?”
“There was. One.”
I bolt upright in my chair. “What is it?”
“Two different DNA samples were discovered on Cassandra’s bed.”
“What?” I dig through my box until I find the DNA report that was given to Beau’s attorney. I flip through it, searching for any mention of this second sample. “There’s no mention of it in this report.”
“I know.”
“What was the sample?”
“A body hair found on Cassandra’s bedding with the root intact.”
“Why didn’t they disclose that to Beau’s lawyer?”
“All of the samples were tested and all were a match to the only suspect in the case—Beau. The lone unmatched sample was never compared to any database.”
“Why the hell not?”
“They had a witness who placed Beau there at the time of the murder, a preponderance of his DNA on Cassandra’s body, his fingerprints all over her apartment, and Beau himself admitting that he had sex with Cassandra shortly before she was killed. There was no reason to run that second sample.”
“Except that it could’ve exonerated Beau.”
“It might not have. It could be from her dad, her housekeeper, a friend, coworker, or anyone else in her life. It might not belong to the killer.”
“But it might.”
“Or it might not.”
“There’s no way to know that until it’s run through the national and local databases.”
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up. No one’s going to run it without a reason to.”
“And with a conviction in the case, there’s no reason to.” I know I sound sarcastic, but I don’t care. The unfairness of it kills me. None of this would’ve happened if they’d run that damn sample.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“So basically we have a smoking gun that can link the killer to the crime, but we have to find the guy before we can match it to him.”
“Yup.”
“That’s so bass-ackwards.”
“I know it is. I’m sorry.”
I sigh. It’s not his fault. The fact that he thought to get that info by himself and discovered the second sample is pretty dang awesome. Not to mention finding out about Dylan Newman and Cassandra.
“I have more news,” he says. “Zelda agreed to meet with me.”
“What is this magic you have?”
“What do you mean?”
“You get people to do stuff they don’t want to do. First Beau, then Mindy, then Maisy, whoever you got that report from, now Zelda.” And then there’s me.
He taps the tips of his fingers together. “I have my ways.”
“If only you could get Savannah to curb the hostility. Your record would be perfect.”
“Is she still giving you a hard time?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, but it’s annoying. Just saying.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Don’t worry about it. When are you meeting Zelda?”
“Day after tomorrow at four o’clock. Why don’t I pick you up for dinner afterward?” He slides that in so coolly.
“Do I have to wear something pretty?”
“If you want to. I’ll be in whatever I wear to meet Zelda.” Which means shorts or jeans and a T-shirt.
“So it’s not a date?”
“It’s definitely a date.”
“See what I mean about getting people to do what they don’t want to do?”
“Oh, you want to go out with me and you know it.”
“Not really.” Yes. Totally.
Chapter 14 Leo
“You know, meeting with that Maisy chick was brutal,” I tell Cora. “She kept hitting on me. I finally had to tell her I have a girlfriend.”
She looks up from the DNA report I got for her, a corner of her lips tugging up. “Poor baby. Girls just throw themselves at you left and right, don’t they?”
“Pretty much.” Except for the one I really want to throw herself at me.
“You don’t look any worse for the wear.”
“But I am.” I rise and move around our desks to sit down on the edge of hers next to where she’s sitting. “I think I need a kiss to make it better.”
“Go sit down.”
“Come on, Cora. Just a little one.”
“The problem with you is you never stop at just one.”
“Kisses are like potato chips, you can’t have just one.”
“I don’t like potato chips.”
“Come on.” I bring her around to look at me with a finger on her chin. “Hey. What’s wrong?” Something in her eyes…
“Nothing. Get your kiss, then get your ass back to your own desk. I’m working here.”
“No. Something’s up. What’s going on?”
She catches my finger and holds it in hers. A bold move for my little Bluebird. “My mom said something…I don’t know whether to believe her or not. She can be more than a little dramatic.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she got a phone call from a PI who wasn’t anyone from here, asking about Beau’s case.”
“Did she get a name?”
“Of course not. That would be helpful.”
“A phone number?”
She shakes her head.
“If he called on her cell or she has caller ID, then we could get the number.”
“I didn’t think to ask. I’m going to have to ask, aren’t I?”
“That would be helpful.”
“Ha, ha. But seriously, why would someone call my mom wanting to talk about Beau’s case? And why identify themselves as a PI?”
“Yeah, when they could’ve used the old law-student-studying-a-local-case ruse. That’s worked for me three times now.”
“I’m serious. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Could be a reporter.”
“Beau’s case is old news.”
“Get that number from your mom and we’ll check it out.” I lean in and give her a quick peck on the lips.
She has a thing about not getting caught here in the office. I agree. All I need is my dad coming at me again or Savannah pulling more of her crap. I don’t know what I’m going to do about Savannah. I’ve tried every way I know how to apologize and smooth things over with her, but she just doesn’t want to forgive or forget. It pisses me off that she’s taking it out on Cora though. That shit is not cool at all.
“We have a meeting with my dad in five minutes,” I remind her.
“Yeah, okay.” She’s nose-deep in that report, comparing it to the one she had.
I go back to my seat and check my email. I put out some feelers that I’m hoping will lead to something new in the case. I don’t want to tell Cora about them, because they could come to nothing. Which is pretty much what we’ve got right now—a whole lot of nothing.
There’s a knock at the door, then my dad pokes his head in. “You mind if we start a little early? I’ve got another meeting.”
“Sure,” Cora says, packing up her files.
I do the same and we follow my dad to the conference room. He sits down with a mug of steaming coffee and a big grin on his face. Something’s up. I close the door and take my seat next to Cora.
Dad starts, “As you know, I’ve been working on getting in to see your eyewitness, Damien LeFeaux, at Donovan state prison. Well, I’ve got a meeting with him next Saturday.”
“I swear,” Cora mumbles, “I don’t know what kind of voodoo you Nashes have, but I’m glad to have it on my side.”
“How’d you get him to agree?” I ask.
“I promised to give a message to his girlfriend, who won’t visit him in prison. I also put a hundred bucks in his commissary account. Half now and half after we meet. He’s the easiest and cheapest witness I’ve ever bought access to.”
“I’ll pay you back,” Cora insists.
“No, this one’s on me,” Dad says. “I’m dying to know what Mr. LeFeaux has to say. I have a feeling he’ll fold like a lawn chair the minute I put any kind of pressure on him.”
“We’ve made some headway ourselves.” I tell him about what we’ve learned so far and what we’ve got lined up.
He’s impressed. Hell, I’m impressed. I had no idea we’d get so far so soon. Or that I’d be any good at this investigation thing. When I glance at Cora I can tell she’s impressed too, and not just with our progress, but with me as well. My throat gets tight and my face heats up. I look at Dad, the wall, the papers in front of me, anything to avoid the look Cora is giving me.
“You two seem to be working well together.” Dad glances from me to Cora, looking for her affirmation.
“He’s been a bigger help than I thought he’d be.”
Ouch. But she’s not wrong. I’ve surprised myself. The biggest shock of all is how much I actually like PI work. Maybe hanging out here during the summer did rub off on me or else it’s in my genes. I don’t dare let Dad in on any of this. He’d take it and run all the way to retirement if he even got a hint that he could go and leave me in charge.
“Good,” Dad says. “And everything else is going okay?”
“There was one weird thing,” Cora says. “My mom got a phone call from a man who said he was a private investigator asking about Beau’s case. It’s not anyone from here.”
Dad leans forward in his chair. “Did she get his contact info?”
“No.”
“I suggested checking her caller ID to see if we can get a phone number,” I supply.
“I’d like to know who this PI is and what he wants. And if he is an actual PI, as he claims.” Dad’s gaze moves to Cora. “Can you get the number from your mother?”
“I’ll see what I can do. She’s not always the most helpful person in the world.”
I try not to show my surprise. Cora hasn’t talked much about her parents at all, and I can tell that her mom’s visit upset her. I can also see that the prospect of getting the number out of her mom is about the last thing she wants to do.
Dad nods. “Have your parents ever been contacted by a private investigator before?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Did they hire one to help with Beau’s trial?”
“Definitely not.”
Okaayyy. Sore subject.
Dad rises. “Good work, you two. Keep me in the loop. I’ll let you know about my meeting with Mr. LeFeaux.” He leaves Cora and me alone.
She closes the file she had open, then just sits there.
“Hey.” I take her hand. “Do you want me to talk to your mom?”
“No, that would only make things worse. I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you all right?”
“You’re lucky, you know that? Your dad is a really cool guy. I bet your whole family is cool.”
“Not my little sisters. They’re annoying.”
“You have sisters?”
I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve ever talked about our families. “Two. They’re nineteen and sixteen.”
“No brothers?”
“Nope. Do you have any other siblings besides Beau?”
“He’s it. All I’ve got. Are your parents still married?”
“Yeah. Yours?” Cora would not be happy to know Dad investigated her so I don’t let on that I already know the answer to my question.
“They separated during Beau’s trial. They finalized the divorce about a year after his conviction. I don’t see them often.”
“Why not?”
“It’s awkward. They don’t want to talk about Beau and he’s all I want to talk about.”
“Do they visit him?”
“Never. I’m the only one. ‘His good friend’ Dylan visited a couple of times. Then I guess he moved on. Everybody’s moved on.”
I give her hand a squeeze. “Everyone except you.”
“Everyone except me.” She pulls her hand from mine, gathers her papers together, and rises. “I’m stuck, and now I guess you’re stuck with me.”
“Beau’s lucky to have you and I’m glad to be stuck with you.” She gives me a look like she doesn’t believe me. “No, really. There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with. Wait. That didn’t come out right.”
Her laugh does something funny to the pit of my stomach. “Thank you.” She takes a quick peek at the hallway, then leans down and gives me a kiss.
It’s only the second time she’s kissed me. She’s gone before I can pull her back down for another one.
I head out to follow her and practically run into Savannah. “Oh, hey, sorry.”
She bumps my shoulder as she passes me to go into the conference room. “Yeah, right.”
This is as good a time as any to talk to her. I close the door. “Look, I know I’ve been an asshole to you and I’m sorry for it, but when are you going to get over it?”
She slams a folder down on the table. “I am over it.”
“You don’t look or act like you are.”
She shifts her posture, propping a hand on her hip. “Everything isn’t always about you, you know. Shittier things have happened to me than hooking up with you. Not many, but a few.”
Ouch. “So you’re just in a bad mood in general? It has nothing to do with Cora or me?”
She snorts. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, the world does not revolve around you and that little bitch whose pants you’re trying to get into. Word of advice? Get some new moves.”
“So we’re cool?”
“Cool isn’t the word I’d use, but rest assured I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t do.” She puts a pen at each person’s place. “Or I should say who you do or don’t do.”
I start to leave, then turn back. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
She doesn’t answer for a moment. It’s like she’s been put on pause. “Unless you can cure cancer, no.” She goes back to laying out the materials for Dad’s meeting.
I’m debating what to say or do next when I hear a sniff. Oh, damn. She’s crying. She turns to the window and tries to hide that she’s swiping at tears. I don’t know what to do. I’m shit when it comes to stuff like this. My instinct is to leave and let her be, but it seems my feet don’t agree.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She turns in to my chest and lets loose, gripping fists of my shirt and sobbing. Fuuuuuuck. I awkwardly put my arms around her and pat her back. The door opens behind us. I don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. Fucking shit, fuck, fuck.
Cora.
The door closes again, harder than normal. Goddamn it. I want to pry Savannah’s fingers off me and run after Cora.
Instead, I ask, “Who has cancer?”
“My m-m-mom. Stage four.”
I don’t know anything about cancer except that the higher the number, the worse it is. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. She’s still holding on to me, so I put my arms around her for real and hold her. I am an ass for thinking her bad mood was all about me. “I’m sorry,” I say again, for an entirely different reason.
She knocks my chest with her fist. “Stop saying that. You make me sound pitiful.”
“You’re not pitiful.”
She pulls away a little and gives me a wobbly smile. “And you’re not a total asshole.”
“Thanks.” I smile at her. “I think.”
“I should get back to work.” She steps out of my hold and swipes at her tears, wiping her hands off on her pants.
“Is there anything we can do?” I grab a box of tissues and hand it to her. “Does my dad know?”
She pulls out a wad and blots her face. “No, I haven’t really told anybody. When I try to, I just start crying.”
“Do you want me to tell him?”
“Yeah, could you? I have to go to the doctor with her next week. I don’t want to have to explain. But just him. I don’t want everybody in the office looking at me and feeling sorry for me.”
“Sure.” I back toward the door. “Will do.”
“Thanks for, you know…” She motions with the tissues.
“Sure. Any time. I really am sorry about your mom.”
“I know. Thanks.”
I give her a half-wave and go off to find Cora, hoping I’m not totally screwed.
