Terminated (27 page)

“Thank you,” the chairman said.

The chairman asked her a couple more questions before adjourning so the board could make a ruling. Everyone would be called back in the next thirty to forty minutes. Gwen didn’t wait around for the decision. She’d done all she could do and hoped it was enough. On the way out, Naylor chased after her, calling her name. She heard irritation in his
voice. She kept on walking toward the exit and managed to get outside the building before he caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

“What the hell was that?”

She stared at his hand gripping her arm, and he released his hold.

“You know you screwed us in there.” He fought hard to keep his voice civil. “Parker’s going to be granted parole now and with no special conditions after what you said. Is that what you want?”

“It’s not important.”

“It’s not important? That’s not what you said two weeks ago.”

“I lost my job last week, and my husband is in a coma after a near fatal beating. Desmond Parker is no longer an important issue. He can trawl the streets for more college girls for all I care. I have bigger problems to worry about.”

“You don’t mean that. I know you, Gwen. You wouldn’t want him doing to someone else what he did to you.”

Naylor was right. The idea of Parker repeating his crime on another woman left her feeling sick. It was an idea she shoved into the far corners of her mind. She didn’t believe he would, and she hoped helping him get parole wouldn’t give him the freedom to revert to his old ways. Anyway, it didn’t matter now. Parker was a means to an end, and that was all she could think about.

“You’re right. I pray to God he never assaults another woman. But if he does, it’s your fault. You should have made sure he never got out. That was what you promised me, but that wasn’t what you did.”

Naylor tried to object, but Gwen talked over him.

“When you met me in the hospital after he stabbed me, you promised me you’d get him life, but you bargained with his lawyer. Parker tried to rape me, but you reduced it to assault to get a faster conviction. If anyone is responsible for Parker’s parole, it’s you. You sold me out back then, and you thought you’d ease your conscience by trying to kill his
parole. Well, it has backfired, and you’re going to live with the consequences.”

Naylor was silent. She’d hit a mark. She was sorry she’d said it. It was something she should have said back then, not now. She wanted to apologize, but she had bigger problems, ones he couldn’t help her with.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Gwen.”

“Can I go?”

Naylor nodded. “I’m sorry to hear about your husband.”

Gwen didn’t respond. She turned away before the guilt of what she’d just done got the better of her.

G
wen let Parker choose the place to meet. She
guessed he’d have more experience than her at this kind of thing. He picked a park in Antioch. It was a good location, if “good” meant completely isolated. The place closed at twilight and was deserted by the time she arrived at nine. She parked and followed the trail with a flashlight into the park as arranged.

She glanced back over her shoulder at the parking lot barely illuminated by a couple of streetlights. Besides her own vehicle, there were no others. Either Parker was on foot or hadn’t arrived. Uncertainty crept up on her. She was trusting Parker to behave. She believed he was interested in her money and grateful for her hand in getting him paroled. But all that might turn out to be wishful thinking. This park was a great place to finish what he started back in Davis. She cursed herself for not bringing protection. Even a can of pepper spray would have been something. She stopped. It wasn’t too late. She could stand him up and rearrange the meet on her terms.

Listen to yourself, Gwen. You’re getting paranoid.
She shook her head. Leaving wasn’t an option. She didn’t have the time for rescheduling. She’d gotten Tarbell hooked, and he’d only wriggle on the line for so long before she lost him. She had to trust that Parker would be true to his word. But just in case, she brought out her key chain, slipped a key between each of her fingers, and closed her hand around
the fob. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but she’d escaped Parker once before with less.

The trail led her to the meeting place—the entrance of a closed mine that was now the park gift shop. The moment she reached the barred and gated shop, Parker emerged from behind a nearby tree.

A bolt of panic struck her. This was the first time since he’d stabbed her that she was face-to-face with him alone. It brought memories of her abduction flooding back. She hadn’t expected the wave of emotion, and she couldn’t control it. Instinctively, her grip on her keys tightened.

Parker’s gaze flicked to her spiked fist. He stopped a safe distance from her and tried on a smile for size. It didn’t quite fit.

“Forgiveness is not easy, is it?” he said.

“No.” She didn’t know if he was trying to pacify her, but she didn’t like it. This had to be weird for him too, but she didn’t want empathy between them. Not after what he’d done to her. This was just business.

“How’s freedom?” she asked.

“Different, but I’m getting used to it.”

After Gwen’s star performance at the parole hearing, Parker’s release had come swiftly. She’d left Naylor no option but to request the minimum conditions for Parker’s parole. He’d been released on Monday. It was now Friday. Tomorrow, he would help her kill someone. It was going to be an eventful week for him.

“Did you bring the money?”

The cash came from Gwen’s sister. It was a lot of money to most people but not to Lucy. She worked on Wall Street. She wasn’t Forbes 400 material, but ten thousand was a sum she had on tap. The money request had raised suspicions, but Gwen had allayed them with a story about car problems. Lucy had FedExed the cash over right away. Gwen reached inside her purse and pulled out an envelope containing half of Parker’s agreed payment. She tossed the money to him.

He caught the envelope
but didn’t bother checking it. “Gwen, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Gwen said nothing, and Parker didn’t make a move.

“If you’re looking for an apology, I gave it already. I meant what I said at the parole hearing. I’m sorry. I promise you that you’re not in any danger, and it has nothing to do with the ten grand you’re paying me. OK?”

Still Gwen said nothing, but Parker took an exploratory step forward. When she held her ground, he moved within arm’s reach. Her grip on her keys remained tight.

“OK, I’ve got my money. Now tell me exactly what you want done for this money.”

“Stephen Tarbell was my coworker. He threatened to kill me. I want you to kill him.”

“Why?”

“You don’t need to know why. What you do need to know is that he attacked my husband, leaving him in a coma, and he’s threatening to kill my daughter before he comes after me. He’ll make good on his threat. I think he killed a private investigator. You’ll be working hard for your ten thousand.”

“Jesus.”

Gwen noticed that genuine shock marked Parker’s face. He might have thought he’d brought carnage to Gwen’s life, but it paled against what Tarbell had achieved.

“I’ve offered myself as bait. I’ll let him do what he wants to me as long as he doesn’t lay a hand on my daughter.”

“So you’re going to be a part of this.”

“Yes. It’s the only way it will work.”

Parker raised an eyebrow, but she ignored it and outlined her plan to lure Tarbell to Fort Richardson. She handed him a prepaid cell phone, just like the one she’d given Tarbell and the one in her pocket. She’d programmed her number into it. She also gave him an envelope containing five pages of notes with locations, directions, times, and dates. It was all handwritten, making it easy to get rid of. She couldn’t take the chance of anything
being found on her computer if anyone came asking when Tarbell didn’t surface. She’d gone to three different libraries in two different counties to look up the information. She’d even gone to the extent of burning the legal pad she’d made her notes on in case anyone read her impressions on the clean sheets underneath. Extreme paranoia? Maybe. But she wouldn’t go to prison, not for Tarbell.

“How closely is your parole monitored?”

“Not very, thanks to you. I have to check in with my parole officer Monday.”

“Good. You’ll be back before Monday. Don’t forget to use cash. I don’t want you leaving a credit trail.”

He smiled. “I’m a felon. Credit cards don’t come easy.”

Gwen’s next question was the big one. “Do you have a weapon?”

“I have what I need.”

Gwen didn’t ask for more details. She didn’t want to hear it was a knife.

“This all takes place tomorrow. We’ll stay in touch by phone, but that’s it. We don’t meet other than when it’s done. Just go to the places and times you have in your notes. You’ll find me there as arranged. Wherever I am, he won’t be far behind. You shouldn’t have any problem finding him.”

Parker nodded. “What about disposal?”

“The Pacific.”

“I never expected this of you, Gwen.”

“Is that why you picked me out all those years ago? Because I wasn’t the kind to fight back?”

“Jesus Christ,” Parker said and backed up a step. “Don’t go there.”

“Why not? I think you owe me an answer. It’s the least you could do.”

“Isn’t killing a man for you answer enough?”

“Not even close.”

Parker was quiet for a long
time. “OK, I went for you because you were a hot little number, and I thought you’d be a quick lay. That was all I was after, but I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought if I got you away from your friends, you’d come around, but you didn’t. That pissed me off. I took it too far; I admit that, and what happened, happened. OK? That’s your answer. Happy now?”

She wasn’t. There were no magic answers. It was an answer she’d always known. It didn’t take any genius to work it out. Shitty luck put them together in Davis, and it had hurt both of them, changing both their lives.

“I don’t like the position you’re putting me in, Gwen. I’m many things, but I’m not a killer.”

Gwen wondered if she’d misjudged Parker. Fifteen years ago, he was filled with hate and contempt. She didn’t know if prison had rehabilitated him, but it had certainly mellowed him.

She felt the itch of a nervousness creep up on her. She prayed she hadn’t made a mistake. “I didn’t get you paroled for you to back out.”

Parker remained stoic. “Gwen, you have no hold on me. I don’t have to be here. I can take your money and leave and there’s nothing you can do about it. You tell someone, and you’ll only be incriminating yourself.”

Gwen bristled. “So you are backing out.”

“No. I want to prevent you from making a mistake you’ll regret.”

“There’s no mistake to make. I’ve tried the alternatives, and they didn’t work. If there was another way, I would take it, but there isn’t. This has to be done.”

“Gwen, killing this guy won’t be the end of your problems. His death will stick to you for the rest of your life. Killing someone leaves behind an indelible mark. Trust me, I know. Driving a knife into your stomach is something I wake up to every morning. Some mornings my hands are curled around that knife even though it has been sitting in an evidence
bag for fifteen years. Do you want to live your life like that? Do you want your daughter knowing what you’ve done?”

Parker’s words hung in the air as heavy as gun smoke.

“I don’t have a choice.” Her voice sounded small and vulnerable in the night.

“You do. It might not seem like it, but you do. You always have a choice.” He pulled back the flap on the envelope containing the five thousand dollars and ran his thumb over the bills before pocketing the cash. “OK, I’ll help you. I made a bargain with you. Ten grand isn’t much, but it’s a start for me. I can get that bike business off the ground with it. And I feel I owe you something more than an apology.”

She nodded and turned to leave.

“Gwen, what if he kills you first?”

The same question had rattled around her head. It should have scared her, but it didn’t. “It doesn’t matter. As long as you do your job, you’ll get the rest of the money. Stopping Tarbell before he can get to my daughter is all that counts.”

Ingram sat alone in his office. Everyone had long since left for the evening. The occasional hum of a car passing by was the only thing to penetrate the silence of his thoughts.

He hadn’t liked how the Gwen Farris/Stephen Tarbell case ended. The client was satisfied, but that wasn’t good enough for him. The investigation had ended in a shambles with one of their own severely injured. The person he’d initially protected had turned out to be the instigator. That did happen sometimes. But in his experience, on such occasions, there was a common thread that ran through the investigation that made sense of the chaos. This one didn’t have one. It still wasn’t clear to him who was guilty and of what, exactly.

Even with a slew of new assignments
preoccupying his time, Gwen’s impassioned visit last week kept bothering him. He tried putting it out of his head and moving on, but he couldn’t any longer. Gwen had triggered the investigator in him. Just because he had a result, it didn’t mean it was the right result.

He struggled with the idea that Gwen Farris had concocted the whole story that Stephen Tarbell was out to get her as cover for her theft of Pace’s breast cancer research. Why would she do it? Playing the victim bought her sympathy, sure, but it also bought her attention, which is the last thing she would have wanted. Industrial espionage required anonymity. Instead of keeping her head down, she’d made a big deal about the incidents when Tarbell had assaulted her in the parking lot and the office building. She’d also reported the break-in at her home, the busted window, and the attack on her husband. The whole thing seemed way too elaborate for someone trying to build a sympathy case.

“Shit,” he murmured. “What am I saying? That I sided with the wrong person?”

Feelings meant nothing. He needed proof.

Once again, he pulled up the digitally enhanced video on his computer of Gwen’s alleged attack near the parking lot’s trash enclosure. He forwarded through until he reached the only piece of action, the fingers gripping the wall. He watched and rewatched those few seconds of video, then froze the image, blew it up, and printed it. Even using a magnifying glass he couldn’t tell if he was staring at a man or a woman’s hand. His gut told him it was a man’s. Gwen’s hands were small and slender. These fingers were much too big to be hers. But he’d pushed magnification to the point where pixilation distorted the image. He threw the printout and magnifying glass down. He needed something solid that would support the weight of his reputation.

He pulled out the case file, which was thick in comparison to the usual slim folder created by a normal two-week investigation, just a handful of papers that consisted of a background
check, surveillance logs, and a statement from the claimant. The Farris/Tarbell case file had spilled into three folders. He was going to be here awhile sifting through it all. He took the case file into the conference room, told his wife not to wait up, and ordered dinner in.

After rereading the incident reports, he decided Tarbell wasn’t an innocent party in Gwen’s deception. Amanda Norton’s verbal report convinced him of that. She’d seen Gwen corner Tarbell in Pace’s technical library after she claimed the man had trashed her home. If Tarbell was a clueless party in all of this, the confrontation shouldn’t have happened. There’d be no reason for it. What had they been talking about? If Tarbell had truly been innocent, he would have simply walked away from her.

He pictured his encounters with Gwen, including her latest visit. She was a woman driven to the edge, not a guilty woman trying to save her ass. Combined with Amanda’s account, it made for a compelling piece of circumstantial evidence.