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Authors: Nancy S. Thompson

Stirred (41 page)

BOOK: Stirred
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“But Mr. Ross didn’t have a legal prescription. We found a vial with a different name written by a physician who happened to have an account with your husband’s firm.”

I rolled my eyes. “One big happy boy’s club, eh, Detective?”

He nodded, but his brow was drawn low, as if he were confused.

“Mr. Ross also had propranolol in his system, the same beta-blocker we found in a search of Mr. Bennett’s residence, one he stole from his stepfather and allegedly used to treat occasional anxiety. Now, Viagra is a beta-blocker, as well, so using two at once is risky and likely caused a dangerous, if not deadly drop in his blood pressure. Even more suspect were high levels of Ambien, which I know you have a prescription for. But most surprising of all was the presence of the metabolite succinic acid in conjunction with choline, which, I’m told, are the remnants of a drug called sux or succinylcholine, a powerful but otherwise undetectable muscle relaxant that undoubtedly paralyzed your husband and, ultimately, stopped his breathing. Depending on the administration, the combination of all these substances would have surely sent your husband’s body into a tailspin, and, in the end, there was significant brain damage from highly elevated intracranial pressure, and his damaged heart stopped.”

I shook my head, overwhelmed by the scope of information, let alone the technical aspect of it all. “I don’t understand what all that means, Detective.”

“Well, as you know, he was painfully restrained, endured a beating, electrical shock and all that, but…more than anything…Mr. Ross was medically tortured, and he suffered greatly. Now, I know—regardless of your feelings for your husband and Ms. Wylde—that you were home at the time of the murders. Your son verified as much, as did your husband’s time-stamped security camera footage. I feel pretty solid about your alibi and lack of involvement, but…”

“But what, Detective?”

“Well, makes me wonder who could’ve hated Mr. Ross so much to want to inflict that kind of extreme suffering. And, considering your own relationship with Mr. Bennett—”

“Whoa, stop right there,” I said with my hand up. “You’re mistaken if you think Sean had anything to do with it. He’s kind, loving, even competes in triathlons with his paralyzed baby brother. He’s certainly not the type of monster who’d torture and kill in cold blood, Detective. And while Sean might’ve resented Declan for what he did to me, he didn’t hate him. For God’s sake, he never even met him.”

“But he did see him, though, didn’t he, Mrs. Ross? With you here at your home that night before? He admitted as much. Said he ran off afterwards, collapsed in those woods right over there where that body was found, which leads me to believe he saw something that upset him.”

I felt the blood in my head rush to my stomach, which now felt like it had sunk to my feet.

“Did Mr. Bennett tell you about his memory lapses from that night?” Reed asked.

“No. What…what lapses?” I replied, afraid to hear the answer.

“He can’t account for two significant periods of time. The first shortly after he left here, the same time Ms. Wylde expired. And the second some hours later, during which your husband was killed.”

I sat there with my hands still folded and my face a blank slate, terrified of what it would show if I allowed it.

“Have you ever suspected Mr. Bennett of lying to you about anything else?”

“No, Sean hasn’t lied,” I argued, knowing full well he had.

Reed rocked his head from side to side. “A lie of omission is still a lie, Mrs. Ross. And I suspect it’s not the first time, is it?”

I dropped my gaze and studied my fingernails.

“Mrs. Ross, I don’t believe you had anything to do with these murders, but if you aren’t forthright with me and answer all my questions honestly, I won’t be able to determine who did, and, by the bodies now piling up, that could mean you’re in significant danger. So I’ll ask again. Have you ever caught Mr. Bennett lying to you?”

“Um…well…just…just once. He kept his true identity from me the second time we met. Before that, he followed and chatted with me on Twitter, using his real name, but when he showed up at one of my book signings, he told me his name was Daniel. Which, of course, it is, his
middle
name, but…he deliberately kept his association with me on Twitter to himself. I only found out later when he showed up at my school to pick-up his little brother and Robbie referred to him by name.”

“And did Mr. Bennett know
you
, the author, were the same woman who ran his brother’s school?”

“No. He swore he didn’t know beforehand.”

“And you believe him?” Reed asked.

My mouth flapped about for a moment before I could find the right words. “Well, I…I have no reason not to, Detective.”

“Really?” He paused, palms up. “Well, I’ll tell ya, Mrs. Ross, all things considered, I’m not sure you know Mr. Bennett nearly as well as you think you do.”

I raised my chin and crossed my arms, not so much out of defiance or stubbornness, but out of fear. Because I couldn’t help but think Detective Reed was right. Which meant I was beginning to doubt Sean’s innocence after all.

 

 

 

I stood next to Eden’s car and watched Reed escort her into the house. She peered over her shoulder at me, her brow angled as if pleading me to whisk her away. But I couldn’t. We’d come this far; we had to see it through.

A large part of the crowd had followed Eden and Reed, but as soon as they were safely inside, the crowd turned back and joined their colleagues, who’d clustered around me. They pressed in so tight, I could barely even get the car door closed. Camera lenses and microphones were shoved in my face, while the reporters behind them called out my name and shouted question after question.

I couldn’t hear myself think and was quickly losing patience. I elbowed and jabbed them away as lights flashed rapid-fire, blinding me for several moments at a time. With spots clouding my vision, I held out my hands and thrust at the rowdy mob, only to lose my balance and stumble. Luckily, someone caught me before I fell to the pavement. It was the beautiful female detective I first saw questioning Ian Ross at the police station. She’d pushed her way through and now stood in front of me, her hands at my elbows to steady me.

“Mr. Bennett,” she hollered over the crowd. “I’m Lieutenant Sienna Monroe. I’m relieved to see you and Mrs. Ross. We’re going to clear this crowd soon, but let me escort you to a quieter spot so we can talk.”

I simply nodded, unwilling to even try to be heard over the bellowing crush of media. With the assistance of a Seattle uniform, Lieutenant Monroe ushered me to the side of the house closest to the wooded wetland, where bright lights glared from deep within its heart. Angry at the unchecked chaos, I shirked free of Monroe’s grasp. Back on the driveway, the remaining cops formed a line, surrounded the press corps, and herded them up the driveway, through the tight gap in the tall hedge and back out onto the narrow street, where they swarmed like bees who’d lost their queen.

“This is ridiculous! You need better control. They never should’ve been allowed to step foot onto this property!”

Monroe nodded. “I apologize, Mr. Bennett, but they’re gone now. No harm, no foul.”

My mouth gaped open. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you hear the filth they were spewing, the accusations?”

“That’s their right, Mr. Bennett, as well as their job.”

“You have one, too, Lieutenant, which you’re doing pretty piss-poor at at the moment.”

Her eyes narrowed, and, with her hands at her hips, she cocked her head to the side. “I think you need to take a deep breath and relax, Mr. Bennett.”

I snickered at her attitude. Relaxing was the furthest thing from my mind. But there was nothing I could do about it, so I let it go. Still, I was now beginning to think it had been a mistake to come here. I didn’t expect Eden and me to be separated like we were. I had no idea what Reed was telling her or what she was sharing with him. I could only hope and pray she wasn’t disclosing what she’d found at Aurelia Wylde’s place or what I’d told her about the girl in the photo. While I was sure Trinitee was behind everything, and I had what I believed would prove it, I didn’t know how she’d pulled it off, why, or if she’d left anymore surprises that might implicate me and Eden. I needed to confront her myself, before the cops did.

If only I could find her.

Almost as if Monroe were reading my mind, she moved in closer and started asking me questions about Trin. Had I heard from her at all since leaving her apartment that night? Did I know where she might’ve gone? What did I think could’ve happened to her?

I tried to at least
appear
cooperative and answer her questions, but I was sure, not having any solid answers made me come off as evasive. Not much I could do about that, however, and Monroe’s attitude went from amicable to authoritative to downright accusatory, like she didn’t believe a word I said. Truth was, though I definitely knew more than I was letting on, I didn’t have answers to her questions, which troubled me, as well.

Lieutenant Monroe stepped toward the edge of the woods, but stopped short, spun around, and faced me. “Would you mind coming with me, Mr. Bennett?” she asked politely, like I had a choice.

But I knew otherwise and asked, “To see the body? Why? So you can gauge my reaction?”

She shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Not a bad idea actually.”

I lifted my arm toward the lights. “Who’s buried in there? Do you even know?”

“I’m not at liberty to say at the moment, Mr. Benn—”

“Then why am I here?” I interrupted. “Why should I go with you?”

“Well, I was just hoping you could show me where you fell that night you ran through here. You know, so we can get a better idea of where that was in relation to the house.”

“Yeah, right.”

She waved me toward the forest. “Come on, let’s give it a try,” she suggested and proceeded without me.

With a huff, I caught up to her. “It was dark and rainy that night. I don’t see how I can possibly remember,” I said, but she was undeterred and led me deeper into the woods toward the busy, illuminated scene at its core.

As we marched through the ferns and between the tall pines, I kept looking back over my shoulder to keep a line on Eden’s property to my left. All the while, I knew damn well that whoever had left this latest body knew exactly where I’d collapsed that night, and I couldn’t help but curse Trinitee for ruining any prospect I once had of a decent life.

Monroe peered over her shoulder at me. “You okay, Mr. Bennett. You look a little…pale.”

I trudged along for another twenty yards or so before reaching for her shoulder. “Wait. Please.”

She stopped and turned to face me. “Do you recognize this spot? Are we close?”

I glanced around and shrugged. “I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter anyway.”

Her brow rose high. “Why’s that, Mr. Bennett?”

I hitched my hands on my hips and looked down at the forest floor with its thick bed of pine needles and decomposing leaves. “Well, um…I might…know something…”

I was clearly reluctant to share any information and hated that I felt forced into disclosing any of what Eden had found, but I needed the cops to change their focus from me and Eden to Trinitee. I figured I could tell them just enough to lead them in the right direction, then let them figure out how it was all connected. But before I could share what I knew, a voice from the scene up ahead called out to Lieutenant Monroe.

She raised a finger at me. “Hold that thought and follow me, please.”

We walked the last thirty yards or so to the sealed-off crime scene, where Monroe lifted the yellow police tape and, with a hand above my elbow, escorted me closer to the shallow, canopy-covered pit the forensic team was gathered around. She stopped ten feet away and held me in place.

“Stay here while I go see what they want.”

I nodded without a word and diverted my attention to the grave once Monroe walked away. While I waited, I took the time to decide exactly what and how I would tell Monroe what I knew about Trinitee Marsh, but it was hard to wrap my head around how she’d used and manipulated me over the last few years. It didn’t help that I was distracted by Monroe and the forensic investigator, who was pointing out several things inside the open cavity.

BOOK: Stirred
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