Evidence of Mercy (18 page)

“For what?” Tony asked.

“For questioning. We can't prove he was there when the house burned, but we can at least find out where he was and why he's looking for Paige when he's not supposed to go near her.”

“All right,” Tony said. “Let's go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

K
eith Varner wasn't used to being told what to do, and when Larry and Tony found him sleeping in his apartment and insisted that he come with them for questioning, he hadn't taken it well. Now he sat in the interrogation room waiting for his lawyer, trying to be a little more cooperative since he was beginning to see that he had no choice.

“I was looking for my little girl,” Keith told Larry. “There's no law against that, is there?”

“No, but there's a law against arson, pal.”

“I told you I was at work last night. Ask anybody.”

“We did. We found out that you work alone on the bank's computer system. You're not that closely supervised. You could have left at any time and come back.”

Keith dropped his face helplessly into his palm. “What would you guys do? You're sitting at home watching the news on television; you hear about some fire, and all of a sudden you see your only child right in the middle of the whole thing.” He looked up at them. “I freaked, okay? I didn't care about that stupid restraining order. I just cared that my Brianna was okay. And I
still
haven't found out if she is.”

“She's fine,” Larry said. “And your concern is moving, especially considering that her mother feels the need to hide from you to protect that same child.”

“Give me a break!” Keith shouted, slapping the table and springing to his feet. “It's the oldest trick in the book. There's probably a restraining order and an abuse accusation for every custody case that's brought to court. You guys have been around. You know how things work!”

Tony glanced at the notes he'd found in Paige's and Keith's files. “Says here that Paige called just the other day because you had broken into her home. She also alleged that you tried to take the child from her school.”

Keith sat back down and leaned forward, fixing his eyes on theirs as if they could understand. “I just had to know she was okay. I wanted to see her, make sure she was clean, didn't have any bruises, that sort of thing. Paige may come across as a sweet, mousy little thing, but she can be violent when you cross her, and she tends to be real selfish. She's neglected my daughter before. And if I broke into her house, why didn't I get arrested?”

Neither Larry nor Tony made any response.

“It's her word against mine. You won't show one violation of that restraining order against me. Look in the file. Do you see one?”

“That just means the police department didn't catch you in the act.”

He leaned his elbows on the table. “As I recall, you're innocent until proven guilty. I'm telling you, boys, this is a war. She'll stop at nothing to keep me from getting custody, so she's going around staging crises to make her look like the victim. She deserves an Oscar.”

The door burst open, and Keith's lawyer, a spit-and-polish yuppie who'd been too successful for his own—or anyone else's—good, rushed into the room. “What's going on here, gentlemen?”

Larry shot Tony a look that said the production was about to begin. He'd never liked Steve McRae, first because he was a smart aleck who thought he had all the answers and expected everyone else to acknowledge it, and second, because he'd gotten too many criminals off on technicalities, after the police department had spent hours of legwork making an arrest. With a bored, markedly unimpressed expression, Larry muttered, “We were just questioning your client about his whereabouts last night.”

“They think I torched the lawyer's house,” Keith said, like a kid telling his mommy of all the wrongs done against him. “Can you believe that? I wouldn't be surprised if Paige gave them the idea herself. Great strategy. Make me out to be the culprit, and it'll still be in the judge's head by the time we have the hearing.”

McRae set his briefcase down on the desk but didn't sit. “Is my client under arrest?”

Larry glanced at Tony, knowing there wasn't cause. His restraining order didn't prohibit him from going to the site of a burned-down house, and as far as they could document, he hadn't gone near Paige or Brianna. At least not today. “Not at this time, no.”

“Then I'd suggest you release him immediately, gentlemen.”

“We could get a warrant. Search his house. Lock him up.”

“Not without evidence,” his attorney said. “And unless I've read the report wrong, the only evidence you have is that he asked one of the neighbors where his daughter is. Am I missing something?”

Larry rolled his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh.

“He fits the description of the arsonist,” Tony said. “We have a witness, you know.”

“No way,” Keith said.

All eyes in the room turned back to him. “What's that?” Larry asked.

What Larry had at first thought was fear instantly became indignation. “I said,
no way.
Did someone tell you they saw
me
there last night? Could they pick me out in a lineup? Could they describe what I was wearing?”

Neither of the cops answered, and after a moment, McRae began to chuckle. “You know, if you guys would stop wasting time bringing in innocent fathers, you might get a little police work done. Now, if you're finished with him . . . ”

Tony swept his hand in a be-my-guest gesture, indicating that Keith was free to go. Keith got up and with a mocking grin, extended his hand to Larry for a facetious handshake. Larry made no move to take his hand. “It's been fun, guys.”

“Hasn't it, though?” Larry muttered.

Keith headed for the door. Still within hearing range of the two cops, he said, “If somebody's really trying to kill that woman, and Paige is still staying with her, that means she's putting my daughter into direct, unnecessary danger. Isn't there something I can do about that before this guy tries again?”

“There sure is,” McRae told him. “We'll go back to my office now and put our heads together.”

Larry waited until the men were gone, then glanced back at Tony. “I think he's lying.”

Tony shook his head. “I don't see it, Larry. He could just be a father who cares about his little girl.”

“His wife is hiding from him. Doesn't that tell you something?”

“It tells me that both their stories are convincing, and either one could be a lie. When custody of a child is involved, sometimes the parents take desperate measures. You know that.”

“Sometimes they will,” Larry agreed. “Even to the point of killing her lawyer?”

“Why her lawyer?” Tony asked. “Why not Paige herself?”

“He almost did, last night.”

“Well, the crash had nothing to do with Paige. Your theory is kind of scattering all over the place, Larry. I say we get back to the facts. Stick to what we know for sure.”

“All we know for sure,” Larry said, “is that there was a crash and a fire, and Lynda almost died in both of them. And that if we don't do something soon, chances are, there's going to be another attempt.”

“Then let's get out there and find the guy,” Tony said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

T
he physical strain of the night before had taken its toll on Lynda as had the stark loneliness. Outside, a policeman whom she hadn't met guarded her house in Larry's place. Fighting soreness and fatigue, she got up and went to the washer to drop in the pajamas she had worn here last night, the only clothes she had escaped with. Today, she wore an old T-shirt of her father's and a ragged pair of her old jeans that she'd found in one of the closets.

She wondered what Paige and Brianna were going to do for clothes. Mrs. McMillan had given Paige a housedress to wear last night, but it wasn't something Paige would want to be seen wearing in public. And Brianna had nothing but the big T-shirt she'd worn to bed last night for pajamas.

Larry had left a note under Lynda's door before he'd left that morning with the phone number and room number of the hotel where Paige was staying. Now Lynda dialed the hotel, hoping she'd catch Paige there.

“Hello?” Paige's voice was soft, tentative.

“Paige? It's just me.”

“Lynda!” she said, breathing more freely. “How are you feeling?”

“A little tired and a little sore. But very much alive.”

“Yeah, me, too. I keep trying to be thankful.”

“I was thinking,” Lynda said. “We all need clothes. Do you think it would be too much trouble for you to take my credit card this afternoon and buy us all something to wear?”

“I'll be glad to go shop for you, but we're fine,” Paige said. “Really. We don't need anything—”

“Come on, Paige,” Lynda insisted. “Everything was burned. You can't wear the same thing every day for the rest of your life.”

“But it isn't your responsibility to pay for replacements. I can go to the Salvation Army or something.”

Lynda moved her phone to the other ear, as if that would help her make her point more clearly. “My house was insured, Paige. I'll get compensated for it. Please. I want you to buy enough clothes for several days for both of you. Socks, underwear, shoes, clothes—everything.”

Paige still wouldn't budge. “I still have some things at my own house.”

“Not enough. Admit it, Paige. Most of your clothes were at my house.”

Paige hesitated. “Okay. I guess they were.”

“Come on. Let me do this. Help me assuage some of this guilt.”

“Guilt? What do you have to feel guilt for?”

“Everything,” she insisted. “Don't make me recite the list. Just buy some clothes.”

“All right,” Paige said with a chuckle. “Maybe just a few things.”

Lynda smiled weakly. “Good.”

“So what time are you due for your doctor's appointment?”

“Three o'clock,” Lynda said. “They said Larry or Tony will take me.” She breathed a soft, sad laugh. “Isn't this amazing? I'm practically trapped here in this house that I've been trying desperately to get rid of and can't go anywhere without police protection.” Her voice broke off, and tears filled her eyes. Her voice betrayed her despair as she whispered, “Who would have ever thought I'd be in this position?”

“It's gonna be okay,” Paige said, too quickly and without conviction.

And as Lynda surrendered to the emotions she'd been storing up, she realized how ironic it was that this woman whom she had vowed to comfort and protect was now comforting her instead.

A
n hour later from the offices of Schilling, Martin, and Barrett, Sally Crawford dialed the number of Lynda's cellular phone.

“Hello?”

“You're not going to believe this,” Sally blurted. “Are you ready?”

Lynda hesitated, and Sally realized with a tinge of guilt that Lynda couldn't take many more surprises. “What is it?” she asked in a hoarse, hollow voice.

“Keith Varner just filed a motion with the court to get temporary custody of Brianna pending the hearing”

“What? That's ludicrous! He's wasting his time.”

“I don't know,” Sally said. “He's basing it on the fire last night, Lynda. He saw Brianna and Paige on the television coverage, and now he's saying that Paige has put Brianna in jeopardy.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

Sally wagged her head, as though Lynda could see her. “The hearing's tomorrow. If you're not up to meeting him in court, maybe Bill or Andy can fill in.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I'll be there.”

“Are you sure, Lynda?”

“Dead sure,” she said. “Call me back if you need me. I'm keeping the cellular close by.”

“Are you sure you don't want to tell me where you are, Lynda? I could do some shopping for you, or whatever. You know you can trust me.”

“Of course I do. But knowing could put you in danger,” Lynda told her. “It's best if no one knows. Besides, I'm not sure the office phone isn't bugged. If you need to give me something, I'll meet you somewhere. And be careful, okay? This lunatic might follow anyone who knows me, hoping they'll lead him to me. I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire.”

“Reassuring thought,” Sally said. “Maybe I need to get a gun. So have there been any leads yet?”

“None that I know of.” She paused. “Sally, you're the one who has to deal with the tempers of all the irate clients. Have there been any angry enough to kill me?”

“Not even close. Most of your clients are pretty happy.”

“Well, one of them isn't. Would you do me a favor and pull up a list of all the cases I lost in the past—say, three years? Or even cases I may have won but didn't win big. You know, low awards, that sort of thing.”

“Will do,” Sally said. “I'll call you as soon as I get it. Hey, Lynda, take it easy, okay? You sound really tired.”

“What can I say? It's been a rough week.”

“Are you sure you're all right?”

“Well, I'm safe. I'm being guarded twenty-four hours a day, at least for a while.”

Sally heard a doorbell ring on Lynda's end.

“Sally, I've got to go. Somebody's here.”

The phone clicked, and Sally hung up, hoping that whoever stood at Lynda's door wasn't bringing more trouble.

L
ynda saw Larry Millsaps through the peephole in the front door and let him in. “I thought it must be you. I'm almost ready to go.”

“No hurry.” Larry came in and closed the door behind him.

“Sorry about the outfit,” she said, slipping on a pair of sandals. “I found these shoes in my old closet. They must be ten years old. And the clothes are my father's. All I had when I got here were the pajamas I was wearing.”