Evidence of Guilt (41 page)

"Did Lisa say anything to you about selling her property?"

"You don't give up, do you?"

"No, I don't." I tried to keep the tone light. "So you

might as well answer my questions and be done with me."

Stockman grumbled, but he answered. "We talked about it some. Lisa's aunt left her the place because she wanted Lisa to live there. Lisa suggested that we make that our home and let Helene have the family house. But that was out of the question, and I told her so."

"Why was it out of the question?"

"Ours is a much nicer house. And it belonged to my parents. I wouldn't think of moving."

I couldn't understand how Lisa had ever agreed to marry the man. "So Lisa decided to sell?"

"I know that she'd been approached by someone who was interested, but I don't know the details."

"Or the name?"

"Afraid not."

"Did she ever mention the name Barry Drummond?"

"He was her aunt's husband. I knew him myself, though only to say hello to."

"What was he like?"

"Rude, impatient. The kind who's over-impressed with himself. Lisa asked me the same thing not too long ago."

"Did she say why?"

"No, she didn't. And you've more than used up your two questions." Stockman punctuated this last remark by hanging up on me.

By late afternoon my back and neck were stiff from work. But I had the case files in order and was feeling pretty confident about convincing Jake Harding that I was the woman for the job. I was also feeling optimistic about our chances at trial.

At five o'clock Jake Harding called. "Sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner. It's been one of those days. Are you free about eight? I've got to admit a patient for surgery,

and then I've got to make rounds, so I'm afraid I won't be free any earlier."

"Eight is fine."

"Why don't you meet me here at the office. Hopefully I'll be through for the night and we can go out for a drink somewhere. Maybe get a bite to eat."

Softening me up before he fired me, no doubt. But I'd made a decision: I wasn't going to roll over and give up. And I wasn't going to remove myself from the case unless I heard directly from Wes.

I worked for another hour, then went home, took a shower and put on clean clothes. I chose a professional-looking mid-calf skirt and jacket of navy gaberdine. I carried my leather briefcase and hoped I remembered to hold it so that the impressive brass monogram was readily visible.

On the way to Jake's office, I stopped by to see Sam. He was heavily sedated. There was no sign of the recognition I'd seen on my first visit. No fluttering of the eyes, no response when I squeezed his hand. I had trouble recognizing anything of the man I remembered.

The nurse I'd talked to that morning was right--Sam was resting comfortably. But only because he was no longer able to experience discomfort.

I leaned over and kissed his forehead lightly. In a storybook tale he might have woken. But this was life, and Sam remained as motionless as a waxwork.

Jake's office was across from the hospital. I walked there and found the main door to the building locked. I pressed the intercom button, identified myself to Jake and was buzzed in. On the main floor I passed a janitor sweeping the hall-

way. He didn't look up. Most of the offices were dark, but occasional lights shone from inside. Jake Harding was not the only doctor working late.

The waiting room to his office was empty, as was the reception desk. I knocked on the glass partition.

"Is that you, Kali?" he called out.

"It's me."

"I'll be with you in a minute."

Before I could take a seat he poked his head around the corner. "Come on back while I finish up."

I followed him past the examination rooms to his office at the back. The desk was wide and highly polished. To the side was an array of family pictures. One of Grace and the three girls, another of Wes and himself with fishing poles. Jake's various diplomas were arranged on the wall straight ahead, along with certificates for service on the hospital board and recognition within the community.

He smiled when he saw me looking. "Myself, I think it's a bit pretentious. But if you don't have them prominently displayed, patients wonder what you're hiding."

The phone rang. Jake picked it up. "Charles. Good of you to get back to me."

The conversation progressed to gallstones and bilirubin levels. I tuned out and mentally ran through the major arguments in favor of my remaining Wes's attorney.

In the process of reaching for a pen Jake knocked some loose message slips off the desk. I bent over and picked them up for him. As I handed them back, I caught a quick peek at a phone number that looked familiar. I tried to place it and couldn't.

" When Jake was off the phone he looked my way and smiled wearily. "Let's get out of here. You up for a drink?"

"Sure."

"Good; so am I." He gathered some papers from his desk. "Is it okay if we take your car? Mine's low on gas."

"Sure. " As we headed down on the elevator, it hit me why the phone number on Jake's message slip looked familiar.

"How do you know Bud Simmons?" I asked.

Jake gave me a curious look.

"I saw his number on one of the message slips I handed you."

The scrunched brows eased. "He does real estate work for me. I have some investments in small commercial centers, medical office buildings, that sort of thing. He puts deals together. Why?"

"Probably nothing. It's just that the man's name has come up before. He apparently has a client interested in the Cornell place." We left the elevator and walked through the lobby. "You haven't heard anything about development of that property, have you?"

Jake shook his head. "Zoning restrictions would make that difficult, I should think."

The parking lot had emptied out. Visiting hours at the hospital must have been over. "It's the blue Subaru," I said, nodding in the direction of the car. It hardly looked like something a successful attorney would choose. I started to apologize.

Jake smiled. "I don't pick my attorneys by the car they drive."

I smiled back. "Good thing."

I opened the door and set my briefcase in the backseat, monogram side out. I'm sure he didn't pick his attorneys by the briefcases they carried either, but I'd learned early on that success breeds success. And it never hurt to look the part.

"I have a good grasp on the facts of Wes's case," I told

him. "I've laid out some ideas for his defense and I think we can win. I've interviewed most of the people involved in the case. It would take anyone else weeks to get up to speed."

He mumbled noncommittally.

"There've been a couple of recent developments you might not know about." As I started the car and backed out of the parking space, I told him about the planted evidence in the compost bin, about Lisa's drawing of Barry Drummond, even about Sally Baund. I was trying my darnedest to be impressive.

Jake listened and nodded. Polite, but clearly not enthusiastic.

As I talked, I made a sweeping turn around the back of the lot to head out the east exit. We passed the doctors' parking lot and then a row of white vans. They all had wheelchair racks affixed to the rear, and a wide dark stripe down the side with printing above.

Just like the van Mrs. Baund had seen at the back of Lisa Cornell's property the night she was killed.

There was a tickle in my brain. Suddenly I didn't like what I was thinking. Jake Harding had a message from Bud Simmons, a man who was representing a mystery client interested in the Cornell property. Jake Harding no doubt had access to a white handicap van with a stripe on the side.

I turned to ask him about the vans and saw a gun in his hand.

"You
are
a smart attorney, Kali. Too smart for your own good."

I tried swallowing but my mouth was dry. My pulse was pounding at my temples, my chest tight. My stomach felt as if it were playing hopscotch.

Fleetingly, I considered jumping out of the car and attempting to escape on foot. I knew I'd never make it, though. The surrounding area was wide open and empty. If I could just stay calm, maybe I'd be able to attract attention later when we weren't so isolated.

But Jake had me turn right at the exit instead of left

We weren't going out for drinks, after all. We weren't even going in the direction of town.

"Where are we headed?" The words came unevenly, as though I were speaking an unfamiliar foreign language.

"You'll see. Just do what I say and don't try anything funny."

I nodded, gripped the wheel tighter and took a breath. "It was you who killed Lisa Cornell and Amy, wasn't it?"

His jaw twitched. After a moment he said, "I didn't want to."

"Why did you, then?"

'It's a long story."

Jake kept the gun pointed at my head. His eyes were cool, but his voice was slightly frayed. "I didn't want to kill them. I really didn't. Just like I didn't want to kill Donna Markley." He paused. "Or you either."

Good. That made two of us.

"And I
doubly
didn't want to kill Sam. Hopefully I won't have to."

The words took a moment to register. "You caused Sam's heart problem?" My voice rose till it scratched in my throat. "You did that to him on
purpose?"

I remembered the pleading look in Sam's eyes the first day I'd visited. How he'd pulled at the ventilator tube, struggling to speak. A prisoner in his own body. "How
could you
do that to him? He's your friend."

"He's alive," Jake said.

"But why any of this? Merely so you can get your hands on the Cornell property?"

Jake shook his head. "It's not that simple."

"You're Simmons' mystery client, aren't you?"

He sighed. "I wanted the Cornell property, but only to keep it from falling into other hands. That wasn't the reason why I had to kill Lisa."

'You didn't
have to
kill anyone."

"But I did, you see. I'm not happy about it."

"Why?"

"Why doesn't matter. You won't be around long enough to care."

"Then it wouldn't hurt to tell me."

Jake licked his lips. "Turn here," he said. We climbed

higher into the hills. The road was narrow and winding. I could think of no plan for escape.

"I never wanted any of this to happen," Jake remarked with only a trace of emotion in his voice. "If I could only go back and change things, change that one moment..."

"What moment?"

"It's been more than twenty years, and I remember it like it was yesterday. When Annie said she wished she'd never laid eyes on him--"

"Annie?"

"Anne Drummond."

"You knew Anne Drummond?"

"I was in love with her." Jake paused. "Years ago, before I married Grace. I was just out of medical school, just setting up practice here in Silver Creek. I thought die feeling was mutual."

"It wasn't?"

"Oh, it was. For a while. That's the irony of the whole thing. She was married to a first-class jerk. He knocked her around, treated her like dirt. Always so full of himself. She complained about him constantly."

"Why didn't she leave?"

"At the time I thought she was afraid to."

"And now?"

"I guess on some level she also loved him." Jake shook his head in bewilderment. "I only wanted to help. I was trying to protect her. Trying to protect the woman I loved."

"Protect her how?"

Jake's voice was growing softer. I had to listen hard in order to make out the words.

"He must have been following us, "Jake said. "He found us together at my place and dragged Annie home. I was afraid of what he might do to her. I went over later to have