Dead Lies (34 page)

Anna thought about Web and his family, and her heart went out to them. They’d lost so much.

“So, what’s going to happen to Web?” she asked, referring to the fact that after the shooting, Web had been charged on two counts—possession of a deadly weapon and menacing—then released on bail. It had been in the papers, and her mother had told her about it.

“Jane’s probably going to let those charges drop. No one wants to see him punished for what he did.”

Anna felt the morphine kick in, and relief bloomed inside her. Her lids were growing heavy, and she blinked a few times to keep them open. She wanted to keep talking about the case, and maybe eventually getting around to asking Kreeger how his date with Jane Carmichael had gone. She was so curious. But she realized she was quickly losing her battle with fatigue.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Anna,” Kreeger said. His voice had dropped and it sounded different, funny, and she wondered what was up. “There’s an opening in Homicide,” he said.

“Really? That’s great!” When she got a look at his face her heart sank. “But you’re not offering it to me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he said. “I
am
offering it to you. It’s just that, well, the spot’s open because of Leon… because of something he did.” He rubbed his chin, looking pained, and she waited for him to explain. Finally he said, “Remember the items Web told us were missing from Serena and Bill’s house?”

“Yes.” Actually, she’d completely forgotten about them.

“Well, it turns out Leon stole them. He sold them on eBay.”

Anna was stunned. De Luca, a thief? The most decorated police officer in the department after Kreeger, and his closest friend? She didn’t know what to say. She’d once made a similar discovery about someone dear to her, so she knew how awful Kreeger must be feeling. “How did you find out?” she asked quietly.

“It was those photographs you took,” he said, to Anna’s amazement. “One of your shots—the one you must have taken from the door to the hall—captured the couple’s bedroom dresser. The cuff links and watch were lying on top. I didn’t notice them at first because it wasn’t a close-up—”

“Neither did I,” Anna interrupted.

“—but something must have registered anyway,” he continued. “Yesterday, when I was putting all the final pieces of the puzzle together and I couldn’t find an explanation for the missing items, the memory of what I’d seen clicked in. I had the photo blown up to confirm it then compared it to photos the Crime Scene Unit took. The items weren’t in any of them.” Kreeger went on to explain how he’d checked files from past cases where valuables had gone missing from the crime scene and found that De Luca was the link between all of them. He also told her how he asked Wilmer to comb De Luca’s computer for evidence, and when he confronted De Luca with what he’d found his friend hadn’t even tried to deny it.

When he was finished, she asked, “What are you going to do?” Anna knew that Kreeger could charge De Luca with larceny, a penalty that could land De Luca in jail. A bad place for a cop.

“I told him if he resigned I’d look the other way.”

They were silent for a few moments while Anna considered Kreeger’s decision. What he’d done was more than an ethical violation; technically he’d broken the law.

She would have done exactly the same thing.

Anna started, and her eyes flew open. “Did I fall asleep on you?” she asked groggily. “I’m so sorry.”

Kreeger came over to her bed, and she could see he was wearing his coat. She wondered how long she’d been out.

“Go back to sleep, Anna,” he said, touching her hand. “I’m going to take off, but I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

“
’k
.”

She watched him walk to the door and noticed that his movements weren’t as quick and effortless as usual, but slow and labored, as if some unseen hand was pushing down on his head. He was clearly conflicted about the Leon situation. He paused at the door and turned around, looking like he wanted to say something. He put his hand on the door frame and thought for a moment before saying, “You know that theory you have about Good Cops and Bad Cops?

She nodded.

“Which one does this make me?”

Anna fought the urge to weep. He wore his guilt like a heavy coat. “Jerry, you’re the best cop I know.”

CHAPTER 43

A
NNA WATCHED THE ABSENT-MINDED WAITRESS REFILL HER COFFEE CUP,
wincing inwardly as the brown liquid splashed around the white ceramic tub, then sloshed over the side into the saucer. Her mommy instinct kicked in, and she pulled a stack of napkins from the metal dispenser on the table and placed it under the cup, watching the coffee-colored stain spread as the paper absorbed the spill.

As the waitress refilled Web’s cup—no less cleanly than her own, she noted, with another stab of annoyance—Anna looked around the café, which was housed in the basement of a high-end stationery store on Avondale’s Main Street. It was the most popular breakfast spot in town, and she’d been here a few times with Brenda and Paul. As usual, the place was crowded and dark, like a cave. Before, the lack of light and the low ceilings had made the café seem cozy. Today it felt claustrophobic.

She tugged at her turtleneck sweater as if it was trying to choke her. Ever since she’d been laid up in that hospital bed, hooked up to beeping machines and poked and prodded by antiseptic-smelling hands, she’d craved fresh air, freedom.

She looked at Web, who’d called yesterday and asked her to meet for coffee, saying he wanted to talk. She hadn’t heard from him since The Incident, as she’d begun to think of it, and that had confused her, but she’d agreed to meet him after he’d expressed genuine regret for not being in touch. She was also curious to see if there was still something between them. Would they pick up where they’d left off before The Incident or agree to just be friends?

“You look good, Anna,” Web had said when they’d met in the parking lot. He’d bent down to give her a kiss then changed his mind and rubbed her arm instead. It had been an awkward gesture of peace that somehow felt right for the moment.

“I feel good,” she’d responded truthfully. She was still somewhat weak from her surgery and sometimes felt pain around her incision, especially when she picked up Max, but she was finally starting to feel like her old self again. This morning she’d even jogged for a few hundred yards as she took her daily walk around the neighborhood. She hadn’t told anyone she’d done it, except for Kreeger, who’d warned her to stop pushing herself so hard and give her body the time it needed to heal. In a few weeks her doctor would hopefully clear her to go back to work, first to Avondale, then to Hackensack as soon as her transfer papers came through. A detective. In homicide. She could practically feel the weight of the gold badge in her hands.

“And how are you?” she’d asked Web as they crossed the parking lot and headed toward the café. His bruises had finally healed, she was glad to see, but he was pale and looked a little thinner.

“I think I’m finally past the denial and bargaining stages, moving into acceptance.”

She laughed, knowing firsthand how making jokes in the wake of tragedy was sometimes the only way to cope.

They’d gone inside and found a table in back and after a few moments of chit-chat about her health and even the weather. Now they were both on their second cup of coffee and ready to tackle more substantive things.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked lightly.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said. “For what I did. I… lost my mind a little back there.”

Anna touched his hand lightly. “There’s no need,” she said with all sincerity. “Nobody blames you for what you did.”

He nodded, seeming to study the contents of his cup intently. “I also wanted to thank you for everything you did for my family,” he added. “My parents and sister extend their thanks as well. We’re very grateful.”

“You’re welcome,” she said simply. Web looked like he’d run out of things to say, or perhaps he’d decided it was a good idea to leave certain things unspoken, so she said, “Web, can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“What are you and your family going to do about Violet?” she asked. It was the one thread of the story she hadn’t yet tied off.

A look of sadness crossed his face. “We’re going to sue for visitation. Our lawyer tells us it probably won’t go anywhere without… er, Danny’s participation, but we’re going to try anyway.”

“So you talked to Danny?” she asked, noting Web’s discomfort at saying his friend’s name. From what she understood, Danny was still in a local psychiatric hospital on suicide watch and wasn’t in shape to do much of anything. Tanya was in prison awaiting trial—she hadn’t been granted bail—and their remaining three children were staying with their grandparents in Florida. Anna hoped Danny would pull it together for the kids.

“I tried, but he refuses to see me. Maybe I’ll try again in a few weeks…” His eyes flashed and he looked away, and Anna waited for him to continue, knowing there was nothing she could say to assuage his anger. “I went to Casey’s funeral,” he added, still keeping his eyes averted.

“That was good, Web,” she said. “You loved him, after all.”

He turned back to her, and she could see tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. He quickly pulled himself together. “To your earlier question about Violet,” he said, “now that I know I’m adopted, part of me feels that fighting for custody is wrong, even though that’s what Serena wanted.” He shook his head. “If worst comes to worst and the suit doesn’t come to anything, we’ll wait until Violet is eighteen and hope she wants to find her biological family. Then maybe we can arrange a meeting…” He grabbed his cup and gulped some coffee, wincing as the hot liquid slid down his throat. He took another gulp anyway and set the cup down again with a clatter. “I don’t know, Anna, but I just don’t want to rock the boat anymore, you know?” he said. “All these lives have been shattered, and I just can’t bring myself to destroy another one. Violet is just a little girl, and her adoptive parents are all she knows. She needs them.”

Shattered, Anna thought. That’s exactly the right word to describe what had happened to all those involved in the case. Lives—whole families—had been shattered by one long-kept secret. It reminded Anna of something Max said when they moved into their new house and the owner hadn’t yet made the repairs he’d promised. “Mommy, are we going to live in the broken house?” he’d asked. Broken houses. That’s what some of those fancy Avondale homes were, Anna thought. Beautiful on the outside, broken on the inside. She wondered how many more there were out there just like them.

“How’s Max doing?” Web asked. “Does he understand what happened to you?”

“All he knows is that I was sick. After I got out of ICU, he was allowed to come see me on the regular recovery floor, and he seemed okay at the time. But now that I’m home he’s been clinging to me more than usual, so I guess seeing me in that hospital bed hooked up to all those machines affected him more than I thought.” She paused for a moment. “He hasn’t done the mirror thing in a while, so that’s good.” She paused again, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just grateful that I don’t have to go back to work for a while. It’s wonderful being able to spend time with him. And every day he gets better, more secure. He’s a tough little boy.”

“Like his mother,” Web observed. “You’ve both been through a lot.”

As have you, Anna said silently. She stole a glance at her watch, feeling a sudden, overwhelming urge to flee the café. She’d been wondering if Web would ask her out again, but now she realized she no longer wanted him to. With all this talk about Max and allusions to their collective tragedies, she was keenly aware that Web was—she hated to sound so harsh—a project. The last thing she needed was to get dragged into somebody else’s world of pain so soon after she’d pushed through her own. Though meeting Web had made her realize she was ready for a relationship again, she knew now it wasn’t going to be with him.

“I hate to cut this short, but I need to get going,” she said, reaching behind her for her scarf, which she’d hung over the back of her chair. “I have to pick Max up from the babysitter in an hour, and I want to swing by the station house and say hello to everyone first.”

“Of course,” he said, pulling his wallet from his pocket and setting it on the table as if to signal their ditzy waitress for the bill. If that was his plan, Anna guessed he’d be sitting here for a long time.

“You know, I came to the hospital to see you,” Web said as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and tied it loosely.

She looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t known he’d come. Had he, too, been one of the murky figures she’d seen in the blue chair as she slipped in and out of fitful sleep?

“After making a heartfelt apology to you”—here he clutched his heart in jest and grinned—“I was going to ask you out on another date, beg you for another chance. But Detective Kreeger was there, and I could see that wasn’t going to happen.”

Anna frowned. “What do you mean?”

His eyes twinkled. “As my mother would say, it’s obvious you have eyes for someone else.”

Anna stared at him, uncomprehending, until something began toggling the back of her brain. She felt her face flush as a vision of Kreeger popped into her mind—his elegant, cat-like figure, his quiet strength, the way he’d eased into her life and taken root. There was a squeeze in her chest, a tightening, and she felt something titanic shift inside her, a blossoming that turned the dark closeness of the café into a warm embrace. Her face burned as she rose and fumbled with her coat, and Web rose to help her with it.

“Are you going back to New York, Web?” she asked, avoiding his eyes and the thumping behind her ribs by fishing in her purse for her keys. She was thoroughly flustered now that she’d recognized that her attraction to the man standing in front of her had, in an instant, morphed into a onetime silly schoolgirl crush. It seemed far away, like a distant memory.

“As soon as the prosecutor gives me the okay to leave the state,” Web said quietly. “I’m itching to get back to my life in New York.”

She still felt shaky, but she’d adequately recovered her composure to look up at him again. “I’ll bet you do,” she said. “And I wish you all the best.”

Web looked deeply into her eyes for a moment—searching for something perhaps—then put his hands lightly on her shoulders and planted a light kiss on her cheek. His lips were dry, and she was relieved to see that there was fondness in the gesture, nothing more. “See you around,” he said.

“See you around, Web.”

She threaded her way between the crowded tables, feeling slightly dizzy from the mix of emotions broiling inside her, wanting to alternately laugh and weep as she struggled to sort them out. By the time she reached the door she realized she’d made a decision, and, with her hand poised on the knob, she paused to savor it, feeling the heady rush of hope hammer inside her like a beating heart. She turned the knob, pushed the door open and stepped outside, into the light.