1 Depth of Field (18 page)

He paused for affect, and Allie Kate paled. She leaned heavily on John’s arm.

“Now, I can look around and question your ‘friends,’ or I can shut you down and have a few of my deputies take their time with the procedure. It’s up to you.”

“Very well,” John conceded.

“Good.” Spencer took my arm. “Now, I’m going take Makayla home, and I’ll be back. I expect everyone I saw enter this building to be here when I return.”

Again John gave an unhappy nod, and Spencer escorted me to the door. I started to protest but waited until we got outside. “You’re going back in there?”

“This is work, Makayla. I’m not joining.”

I blushed. “I wasn’t suggesting you were.”

We walked toward my car. “I have to question them about the last night Alvin was here,” he said. “I need to know if anything significant happened, like a fight among the members and Alvin.”

“You’re right. Of course.” I headed to the driver side of my car. “You don’t have to take me home. We brought my car, remember? You can call me, and I’ll pick you up later.”

He pulled me close and kissed me. “I’ll walk to your place. See you later?”

“Sure.”

Chapter Nineteen

I woke up an hour late thanks to Spencer coming over the night before. He’d questioned everybody, he said, but had learned nothing new. Yes, the ladies argued over him, but no, nothing other than petty jealousy. So they said, and both Spencer and I were pretty fed up. Both John and Allie Kate claimed Alvin voluntarily covered for them financially. Yes, it was most likely because of their interesting relationship. Spencer had been inclined to believe them for now, he’d said. Would we ever solve the case or get a breakthrough?

I yawned and stretched, my bones cracking. Spencer’s side of the bed was cold, and I frowned. He’d obviously had no problem waking up on time. Sighing, I climbed out of bed and thought through my morning as I showered and dressed. I had two more appointments that day, clients who had agreed to come to my apartment for their photo shoots. I hated working out of my place because it felt unprofessional. I thought I had graduated past this point, yet here I was again. Next week, I would try to break my current lease based on the attack and find a new place. No excuses.

At two, I phoned Peony and asked her to stop by. She arrived fifteen minutes later, and I chuckled. “Wow, that was fast.”

She shrugged. “You said you had a surprise for me.”

“I do.” I wiggled my eyebrows and stirred my mouse so that my computer screen came to life. “I was able to retrieve most of the pictures, and look what I have for you?”

She gasped. “The baby’s first photos?”

“Yes, I already added the digital ones to my new share account, and I’ve emailed you the information to retrieve them. Also, I developed a few this morning. Tell me how you like this package I put together. If you want, I can arrange to have some blown up, but that will take a few days.”

Tears filled Peony’s eyes, but she blinked them away and took the envelope I handed her. A sense of pride and satisfaction came over me. This was what I loved about my business, making others happy. Forensic photography had its merits, but it had never fulfilled me. Seeing Peony almost weep to see her little one captured on film was what made it all worth it. I also had Spencer to thank because I’d been devastated when my files were erased and the last of the prints stolen. His idea to contact the storage company for possible backup was brilliant. He would be sufficiently thanked later.

While Peony made small noises of excitement over each picture discovered in her packet, I checked my email and found one from Spencer had just popped in. I opened it, half expecting a naughty message. The one line simply read, “Look at this.”

I clicked the link to open the attachment. Alvin Aston’s face came up on my screen. I recognized the shot, similar to one of Inna Spencer and I had discussed, it demonstrated the depth of field technique. One portion of the photo was in sharp focus while the rest blurred. John, in the foreground, was crisp, almost 3D, while the people and the building behind him were much less so.

As I studied the shot, my gaze lingered on one individual in particular. The hair was like mine, the bearing, build, all similar. The only difference was, I had never been pregnant in my life. I had taken the picture of Alvin soon after I arrived, when Peony still carried her daughter. If I had not known better, I might have thought I was the woman standing in the doorway.

Then a memory struck me, of my shop, and the sliver of moonlight that might have worked its way through the blinds the night Alvin died. He’d clutched the picture I had intended to use for my dating profile. There could be no reason for it. We had spoken only once, but in that lighting, he might have thought it was Peony in the photo!

A sound caught my attention, and I glanced up to find her at my elbow, staring at the picture of Alvin on the screen. This time tears streamed down her cheeks. “He called me Peony Treasure.”

I recognized the play on her last name and heard the ache and longing in her voice. Goodness, another one who loved Alvin. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “You loved him?” I said unnecessarily.

She nodded. “And he loved me.”

They all believed that, or hoped it. I hesitated, but I had to ask. “Did you know he belonged to…that special club?”

Her small mouth tightened, but she nodded again. The entire time I questioned her, she never took her gaze away from Alvin’s picture. Nor did she stop crying. My heart went out to her. In some ways, I felt Alvin did deserve what had happened to him. All these women he hurt so deeply with his philandering ways.

“Is that why you killed him?” I asked. “Because he wasn’t faithful?”

Peony recoiled. She tightened her hold on the baby strapped to her front, and the little one fretted. Absently, Peony patted the baby’s back, and she quieted. “I would never hurt Alvin! But yes, I knew he belonged to that disgusting group.”

I raised an eyebrow at her superior attitude. “Everyone is entitled to do and live the way they choose as long as it’s not against the law.
You
were seeing Alvin despite being married. Were you going to leave your husband?”

A blaze of anger flashed in Peony’s eyes. She opened her mouth, but a banging started on my front door. We both jumped. I stood up to answer, but my ringing cell phone interrupted. I paused to check the screen and found it was Spencer. I picked up my phone, and Peony went to the door. I stretched out a hand toward her. “Wait a minute, Peony.”

She opened it, and Talia’s music burst in, followed by a hobbling Frank who frowned. “Why are you here, Peony?”

I spun away from them to take Alvin’s face off my screen, but it was too late. “Him again,” Frank shouted. “Why can’t I escape him?”

Her gaze cast downward, meek and quiet, Peony shut the door. Talia’s music was muffled, and it seemed to me the apartment was too silent. My phone blared to life again.

“Ignore it,” Frank said. I didn’t hear a threat in his tone, but I did hesitate, and by the time I braved glancing down at my phone it had stopped ringing again. A text came in, Spencer wanting to know if I was okay. I didn’t know that myself.

My thumb was poised over the buttons to answer Spencer when the glint of steel froze me to my core. I didn’t need a forensics lab to tell me the knife Frank held was the original murder weapon. I licked my lips.

Another text came in. This time Spencer wrote, “I overlooked a clue I had from the beginning. Frank Trevor.”

Frank removed the phone from my fingers, read the screen, and let out a low menacing chuckle. He tossed the phone away, and it landed on the carpeted floor, bounced a couple times, and disappeared beneath the couch. I had the irrelevant thought that I hoped it wasn’t broken or if it was I’d gotten insurance on it. I was pretty sure I hadn’t because I’d wanted to save a couple dollars.

Frank threw the cane away, and at first I thought he would reveal he had never needed it, but that wasn’t what he was doing. He’d thrown the cane aside and snapped his fingers. Peony popped away from the door and hurried toward him.

“Get me a chair,” he demanded.

“Too bad for you, I don’t have any chairs,” I was foolish enough to sass. He sneered at me.

“I fought a war for you,” he growled. “Show some respect. Show some loyalty.”

I straightened. “I don’t know how not wanting to be killed in my own apartment is being
dis
loyal.”

I glanced at Peony, and her eyes widened, still wet with tears, pleading to me. To do what exactly, I demanded in silence. I was just as terrified as she was. More so because no matter what Frank had done, he obviously loved his family. I was a nosy photographer who didn’t know how to leave well enough alone.

Frank jabbed the knife closer to me, and I suddenly recalled the folding chair in the closet. Go figure. After he sank heavily onto it, he let out a sigh and a groan. With his free hand, he rubbed his thigh, wincing as he did. Peony stood behind his chair, small, pale, and surprise of all surprises—resentful.

“When the IED ripped into my body,” Frank explained, “it tore apart my testicles.”

Nausea assailed me. I didn’t want to know that.

“There are still bits of shrapnel in my body, even after all this time.”

The truth hit me. Now I knew what Spencer had figured out. He’d had Frank’s history from the start, a war hero who had survived Iraq. The effect of the IED must have been written somewhere, but maybe not. Now we knew for sure. Frank was unable to have children, and he knew it. Peony knew it too. Her baby wasn’t Frank’s but Alvin’s. That sweet little baby girl had been deprived of her biological daddy because of Frank’s jealous rage.

“We are going to be a family,” Frank said, as if he had read my mind. “I’ll be her daddy. No one will know the truth.”

I swallowed, thinking fast. “Frank, do you really think you can get away with this?”

“Of course. I already have.”

I glanced at Peony. Two small spots of color broke the whiteness of her skin. “Look at your wife. If you really love her, set her free.”

“We’ll be a family!” he shouted. The knife arced. I slammed back against my desk, wincing at the pain. There would be a bruise tomorrow, but I didn’t care at the moment. He hadn’t tried to kill me. I had no doubt if he wanted me dead yet, I would be. Frank wanted to talk. He wanted someone to understand his position, and I did get it. I truly did. Peony had betrayed his love and preferred someone else.

“We had a plan,” he said.

“I know about plans, Frank. They don’t always pan out.” I looked at the baby and knew no matter what Frank loved Alvin’s daughter, even though he knew from the start she couldn’t be his. “Think of that little girl. You want to be her daddy? What are you going to do, walk out of here with the baby and Peony? You’ll go back to The Donut Hole like nothing happened?”

“Yes,” he said, a desperate quality coming into his tone. His eyes were wide and glazed. I’d said the wrong thing and scoured my mind for the right words. Sweat beaded on my forehead and upper lip. I felt sticky all over and wanted another shower. Most of all, I desired to feel safe again and for this to be over.

“And if the police go there and there’s a shootout?” I doubted this would happen, but he needed to believe it could. “Your wife and daughter could be hurt or even killed, Frank. Don’t let it happen. Give them a chance at life.”

Vaguely, I was aware that Talia’s music had shut off. A creek in the floorboards outside the door sounded. I looked at Frank to see if he noticed, but his head was bent low, and a teardrop rolled along his thick nose. He sniffed.

“I didn’t mean for it to be this way, Peony,” Frank cried. “I thought killing him was the answer, and we could be happy.”

The flash of dislike in Peony’s face shook me.

“He…” Frank whimpered. “He wanted pictures of her and of my baby! That’s why he was in the shop. He told me so before… Never! I could never let him have her or you!”

At his words, Peony cried out and threw both hands over her mouth. Her shoulders shook.

“I love you,” Frank continued. He couldn’t imagine it was the worst time in the world to say such a thing to Peony. Her husband looked up at her with pleading, tear-filled eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”

I tried to speak to Peony with my expression when she didn’t answer.

“Y-yes, Frank,” she stuttered. “I know.”

I gestured for her to continue. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides and then raised one to pat Frank’s shoulder, soothing him.

“I love you too, Frank.”

She spoke the words, but they came out flat and unbelievable. I thought back to all the times I’d seen her with Frank, the three of them together. Frank gushing with happiness, lost in his illusion of his perfect family. Peony had been tolerant of his antics, but there had been constant redness and puffiness to her eyes that I had put down to lack of sleep from handling a newborn. Now I knew it was heartbreak. The man she loved had been murdered.

Frank’s moans turned to sobs, and my entire body tensed when he stood up, Peony’s hand on his back falling away. She and I both froze where we stood, waiting, but Frank turned away from me and walked to the front door. He opened it, unsurprised to see Spencer standing there, weapon trained on him.

“Drop the knife, Frank,” Spencer ordered.

To my great relief, the knife fell to the carpet, and Frank raised his hands.

“Behind your head and on your knees.”

Frank obeyed, and in seconds, Spencer had him cuffed. Deputies flooded my apartment. Elderly ladies, including Talia, crowded the hall outside, straining to see in. I wanted to sag to the floor, but I was still wound too tight, too scared.

Then Spencer hugged me, and I laid my head on his shoulder. He didn’t allow me to stay there long enough, and I complained when he pushed me back gently. His worried gaze met mine. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” I mumbled.

He glanced at Peony. She shook her head. The way she shifted from one foot to the other, I knew she wanted to escape. Spencer narrowed his eyes at her.

“We’ll need a statement from you,” he said.

She started to protest and then just nodded her head. “At least it’s over.”

I couldn’t agree more.