Love is Murder (36 page)

And now, this young woman was asking him whether the autopsy results for Dr. Nicholson could be wrong.

Good question, Molly.

“That’s our job, Molly. To give them another explanation. So they don’t lay charges. And if they do, to establish that your actions were reasonable self-defense.” A snowflake eddied outside the window. “I’ll be straight with you, Molly. If you are charged with murder, we’ll have to show that you had a blackout. It’s not always an easy thing to get a judge or jury to believe.”

Her eyes met his. “But you believe me, don’t you?”

“Until you tell me you did it, I believe you are innocent.” He handed her his business card. “The best thing for your case is if you remember what happened. You can reach me day or night.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “When the police call you again, tell them you are not going to talk to them. When they put pressure on you—and they will—tell them to phone me.” He saw doubt flicker in her eyes. “They don’t have a right to question you until you are a suspect. And if you are a suspect, you need me present. One way or the other, you won’t be alone, Molly.”

He glanced at his calendar. “Let’s meet next Tuesday at 2:00 p.m. and touch base, unless the police have something they want to share sooner.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Molly’s eyes shone with gratitude.

His heart twisted. Brianna gave him the exact same look when he did something special for her. He needed to get home.

3:01 a.m.

The phone rang. Eddie was still yanking himself from the deepest undertow of sleep, when his wife murmured, “Hello?”

He heard a woman’s voice through the receiver. Elaine’s voice lost its grogginess as she thrust the phone at his face. “Eddie! It’s a client.” This was delivered with her usual mixture of resignation and irritation.

Eddie threw back the covers, his feet seeking his slippers as he muttered, “Eddie Bent here.”

“Eddie? It’s Molly.” Her voice was teary, ragged. Breathless.

He hurried down the stairs toward his study, wishing he hadn’t drunk that bottle of wine he’d bought to “celebrate.” Or capped it off with a couple of scotches. His head throbbed. His mouth tasted foul. “What is it, Molly?” He glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the landing—3:03 a.m. Jesus. She better not make a habit of this.

“I’m here, Eddie,” she whispered.

Her words stopped him in his tracks. “Where?”

“At your back door.”

“Jesus. Molly, you can’t come to my home.”

“Please, Eddie…” Her voice cracked. “I don’t have anyone else. Please let me in. I’m freezing.”

He headed through the kitchen to the back door and peered through the windowpane. He blinked. “Fuck.” In the space of three hours, a foot of snow had fallen. That was why the night sounded so quiet. Until the roads were clear, no one would be out driving.

Molly stood, huddled against the blowing snow, the collar of her wool peacoat pulled up to her ears. Wet snow clung to her eyelashes, her brows. The bitter February wind whipped her hair into wet strands. She didn’t try to shield her face from the onslaught dealt by Mother Nature. The wool-gloved hand clutching the cell phone to her ear was probably numb by now, Eddie guessed.

Her eyes met his through the snow-streaked glass. “I have nowhere to go, Eddie.”

“I can’t let you in, Molly.” He spoke firmly into the phone, his face set, but his heart turned once.

“Please.”

“No. I’m sorry. You must leave now.”

A gust of wind buffeted her slight frame. He heard her, over the phone connection, suck in her breath. But she didn’t flinch.

She gave him one last look. He thought of his twelve-year-old daughter, asleep in her warm, safe bedroom. Where were this girl’s parents? Why was she standing on his doorstep on this godforsaken February night with no place to call home?

He pressed the phone closer to his cheek. “Why aren’t you at the dorm, Molly?”

“I can’t stay there. My roommate says she’s terrified of me and they asked me to leave.”

“What about your parents?”

“They live in British Columbia. The police told me I can’t go home right now.”

He pulled his thick fleece robe more tightly around him with one hand, the other hand gripping the phone until his fingers turned numb. “I’m sorry.”

Somehow, through the blur of snow, her eyes seemed to be able to see straight into his booze-addled soul. She gave a little nod. “I’ll see you next Tuesday.” Snow rimmed her lashes in white, coated her soggy hair. “Sorry for waking you.” Then she disconnected the phone. She shoved her hands in her pockets and hurried off the porch, her footprints almost immediately covered by blowing snow.

She had reached the side of the house when he caught up with her. “Just for tonight,” he said. Elaine would be furious with him, but he’d explain. He couldn’t just leave her out in a blizzard.

“How did you know where I lived?” he asked, once they were inside the kitchen.

“I just did reverse lookup of the phone number you gave me.”

Shit. His number must be unblocked. Probably had been unblocked since they switched carriers a month ago. New Year’s budget cutting and all that. He made a mental note to call the phone company first thing in the morning. “How did you get here?”

“I walked.” She bunched her stringy hair over her shoulder, shivering. “Do you have a towel? I’m soaked.”

“Wait here.”

He ran upstairs to the linen closet, his breathing labored by the time he reached the upstairs landing.

“Eddie?” Elaine stood in the doorway, tying her bathrobe. “What in hell’s name is going on?”

He heard the scotch bottle call his name. Shit. Elaine was going to blow a gasket when she heard this.

“Remember that rape victim I told you about when I got home?” he asked, his voice low. He didn’t want to wake up his daughter.

“That was her on the phone?”

Eddie nodded. “She’s in the kitchen.”

“What?” Elaine stared at him.
He knew what she was thinking: you are so desperate that you now give our address to your clients?

“She found our address on the internet. Bloody phone company. They screwed up blocking our phone number.”

Elaine exhaled. “What’s she doing down there?”

“She has nowhere to go.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Eddie, are you kidding me?”

“Her dorm kicked her out, her parents are in B.C.”

“Just give her money to go to a hotel. I’ve got some cash in my purse.”

“Have you looked outside?”

Elaine’s gaze darted toward the window. But the blinds had been lowered hours before.

“It’s a blizzard out there.” Eddie waited.

She sighed. “Jesus, Eddie. You are such a bleeding heart. How the hell did you end up being a defense lawyer?” She brushed by him. “Where is this girl?”

“She’s down in the kitchen.”

“I’ll take care of her.”

And he knew she would. That was why he married Elaine: she could protest as much as she liked about not being a pushover, but she had the biggest heart around. He knew that one look at the shivering, frozen girl in their kitchen, and Elaine would have her tucked into bed with a mug of hot chocolate in no time.

He followed his wife downstairs. “Molly, meet my wife, Elaine.”

Molly stood where he’d left her in the kitchen—dripping on the doormat. She gave Elaine a tentative smile. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bent, to intrude. It’s just—” she swallowed “—I had nowhere else to go.” Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them with the back of her hand, furiously, and raised her chin. “I promise it’s just for tonight. I’ll call my parents tomorrow. See if they can send me some money.”

Eddie thought of the three-thousand-dollar check he’d cashed after they met today.
Barbados, here we come,
he’d thought. It must have been her entire savings.

Elaine glanced at the kitchen clock. 3:23 a.m. “Let’s try to get some sleep, shall we?” She put her arm around Molly. “Come into the family room. The sofa is pretty comfortable there. I’ll get you a pair of jammies and some bedding.”

“Thank you,” Molly whispered. Her earlier bravado had gone, leaving a glazed exhaustion in her eyes. Eddie handed her the towel. “Dry yourself off. I’ll let Elaine bring you the stuff.”
Give you some privacy.
“Good night.”

He headed upstairs. With each step, his bulk complained. He felt like hell. Just two scotches tomorrow night, he promised himself. Maybe three.
But you are not replacing that bottle of wine.
You’re too old to handle all that booze on a work night, Bent.

His bed, with its crumpled covers, looked incredibly inviting. He settled into its warmth. Elaine was still downstairs. He wanted to wait up for her, to thank her for putting up with him and his crazy clients once again.

The quietness soothed him. Sleep pulled at him.

And then he jolted awake. Why was it so quiet?

He should hear the stairs creaking as Elaine came back to bed.

He should hear the whisper of her robe as she slipped it off her body and slid under the covers next to him.

He should hear—

Something.

Christ, how long had Elaine been down there with Molly?

He leaped out of bed and rushed to the hallway, smashing his hip against the door frame as he lunged through it.

She’s chatting with Molly.

She fell asleep.

Molly asked her not to leave.

All the calm, rational arguments sped in—and out—of his mind. They were chased away by fear. By instinct.

By the knowledge that he’d missed something today.

Something had gnawed at him.

He took the stairs so quickly, his feet barely skimmed them.

He heard a scream. It was his wife, although he’d never heard her make a sound like that before, not even when she was delivering Brianna.

“Elaine!” he yelled, barging into the family room.

He heard Elaine before he saw her: fast, gulping breaths of pure fear.

“Don’t move any closer, Eddie,” Molly said. She crouched over Elaine, her knees pinning his wife’s arms to the ground. At first glance, Eddie thought that Elaine hadn’t moved because she was wedged between the sofa and the large steel-and-glass coffee table that anchored the rug.

But then something glinted.

It was a large carving knife. Molly held it against the arch of his wife’s neck.

He knew that knife. It was the one they used for Sunday dinner, the one he flourished with great effect on Thanksgiving.

Elaine’s eyes met his.

What have you done, Eddie?

He willed his voice to sound calm and steady, not desperate and terrified. “Molly, don’t do this. I can help you.”

She snorted. “I don’t think so.” She pushed the tip of the knife against Elaine’s throat. Elaine exhaled, trying to shrink from the blade.

Think, Eddie, think. You can talk her out of this. “Molly, you don’t want to do this. Don’t throw your life away.”
Or Elaine’s,
he begged silently. “We can solve this together. There are people who will help you.”

She raised a brow. “Oh, really?” She traced the knife blade in a small circle on Elaine’s throat. Her eyes met Eddie’s. So blue, a raging blue. How could he have missed that? “What people will help me? People like you? A defense lawyer who can’t even muster a defense against a forensic pathologist who can’t tell an asshole from a prick?”

He stared at her.

“You still don’t know who I am. Do you, Eddie?” Her lips twisted. Elaine threw a stunned look at him.
You know her?
“Wait, don’t answer that question. I know the answer. You didn’t give a fuck about me. Or my mother. All you wanted was your money and your ego stroked. When you lost the case, you just abandoned us.”

Those eyes, that honey-brown hair…

“You are Laura’s daughter, aren’t you?” he whispered.

“Took you long enough,” Molly said.

Eddie stepped forward. Molly raised her arm, ready to plunge the knife. Her eyes locked with Elaine’s.

“Molly!” He needed to break her focus. “I never believed your mother killed your little brother. But Dr. Nicholson was the expert. No one could beat him.”

“But someone did. Someone fought it. How else did he get caught?”

Her words slammed him in the heart. “But it was years later…”

“Years that my mother sat in prison, being called a ‘baby killer,’ and getting beat up by other inmates. She couldn’t take it anymore… .” Molly’s fingers clenched the knife handle so hard they were white. “She started using drugs. Did you know that? She became an addict. And then she overdosed.”

“I’m very sorry, Molly.” He took a cautious step closer.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are. You put up a shitty defense of my mother, and who pays the price? Not you. Oh, no, you’ve got this nice house—” she waved the knife around “—with this nice wife and a nice daughter upstairs.”

Elaine threw Eddie a panicked look.
Keep her away from Brianna!

“What did I have, Eddie? I had a mom everyone teased me about. Child Protection took me away. I lost my mother, my little brother and my home. I ended up living in foster care for the past ten years. And did anyone give a shit? No. I lived for the day that my mom would come home. But she overdosed instead.” Her voice caught. “Before I could help her. I never had a chance, Eddie. Not one fucking chance.”

Elaine eyes locked with his.
Now, Eddie. Do it.

He stepped closer, as lightly as he could with his bulk, holding his breath.

The knife moved so quickly, he wasn’t sure if his fear had conjured it.

Elaine gurgled. Blood welled from her throat.

With a roar, he vaulted around the coffee table. Molly jumped onto the sofa and brandished the knife at him. “You didn’t think I’d do it, did you?” He felt the cold steel of the coffee table frame digging into the back of his knees. He lunged forward, grabbing his client’s wrist before she could plunge the knife in his chest.

“Molly, drop the knife.”

She gazed down at him. Her eyes were bright. Victorious. “So glad you
believed
in my innocence, Mr. Bent. Just like you
believed
my mother. But I made Dr. Nicholson pay. The bastard wasn’t even going to jail! So I tricked him. I let him do his perverted little act on me. And then I killed him.” She smiled, but it twisted itself into a snarl. How had he ever thought that Brianna could grow up to be like her? “Why should you be able to have a family when you cost me mine?”