Watch Your Back (47 page)

‘Excuse me? She told them that you forced her to have sex?’

His face heated. ‘Yeah.’

‘Well, she lied. Plain and simple. What did you tell them?’

‘That she’d lied. That she told me she’d lost the baby and they said, of course she had. What else did I expect her to do? Because I’d got her drunk and forced her, she was so terrified of me that she waited until I was halfway around the world before cutting me out of her life. And out of “her baby’s” life. That if I didn’t leave, they’d press charges and ruin my career.’

Her mouth bent sadly. ‘How could she do that to you? How could she lie like that?’

‘You’re sure she lied,’ he murmured.

‘Of course. She lied about everything else. But more importantly, I know that’s not you.’ She tilted her head, eyes sharp. ‘Oh my God. That’s why you kept asking me to say yes. After all this time, you still worry that she was telling the truth.’

‘No, it’s not that, although for a long time I did worry about that. I didn’t remember forcing her. In fact, I remember the opposite. I remember her climbing all over me. She couldn’t wait to do it. But alcohol screws with your perceptions.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Stevie stated flatly. ‘I think that she told her parents you’d divorced her when they pushed her to demand child support. When they didn’t stop pushing, she made up the story about what happened in that backseat, just to cover her tracks. Her parents were inclined to believe the worst about you anyway.’

‘My parents always believed it happened exactly as you just said.’

‘Because they know you.’

That she was so sure warmed him. He kissed her forehead. ‘Thank you.’

‘So, if it wasn’t worry about what happened that night, why did you want me to say yes?’

‘Because for a long time I did worry that it was true. It changed me. I never wanted to feel that kind of doubt again.’

‘I suppose I can understand that. Where is Donna now?’

‘She died right before Christmas. Cancer. I saw her a few times over the years, out in California. Found my daughter, too. Sienna. She was six years old. She looked like me. Dark hair, taller than the other kids. She was at school, on the playground at recess. I watched her through the fence until she saw me and ran away screaming. Donna must have shown her pictures of me. Told her that I was dangerous.’

It still haunted him, the memory of his child running from him like he was a monster.

‘She turned the child against you. Oh, Clay. What did you do?’

‘I didn’t have time to do anything at that moment. I was between deployments and being shipped out the next day. I applied for a leave to find Donna again, but it was weeks later that I got the time off. She’d moved, but I finally found her. She’d hidden Sienna away and wouldn’t let me see her. I sent cards, letters, every birthday, every Christmas. I tried to see her a dozen more times over the next five years, but Donna threatened a restraining order. I was a cop by then. I knew how it would work. She’d get her TRO and I’d lose my job.’

‘But why did she hate you so much?’

‘I begged her to tell me. She would close the door in my face. But one time, the door opened again and it was Donna’s aunt, the one who’d taken her in. Her aunt apparently knew the truth. She whispered that Donna could never let her father know, that he’d “die of a broken heart”.’

‘Drama runs wild in that family,’ she said. ‘You could have demanded a paternity test.’

‘I considered that, but the lawyer I hired talked me out of it. If I won, so what? I’d get partial custody of a child on the other side of the country. At the time I was stationed in DC and was about to be deployed again. How could I ever see her often enough to make her see I wasn’t the person Donna made me out to be? I hired a PI, ironically enough, to make sure that Sienna was healthy and that Donna wasn’t abusive. Sienna was happy and by all accounts Donna was a good mother. She married a third time to a guy with kids of his own. According to my PI, they made a nice family – home in the suburbs, white picket fence. I decided Sienna should have that. My PI and I parted ways. And then I changed my mind two days later. She was my child. I couldn’t just walk away. I rehired him.’

‘And then? What happened?’

‘My PI got arrested. Donna saw him taking pictures of Sienna and reported him to the cops as a pedophile. By the time he and I got that sorted out and the charges against him dropped, Donna had disappeared with my daughter. For a while, all I was able to find was a post office box. I kept sending Sienna letters, but she never answered. I kept looking and found Donna a few years later, but Sienna was “never home” when I tried to visit. Three years ago she turned eighteen. I tried one more time.’

‘She still “wasn’t home”?’

‘She was home. She just refused to come to the door, so I let it go. Until this past January.’

‘What happened in January?’

‘You almost died in December.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘My mother made me promise, on her deathbed, that I’d try again to see Sienna, to forge some kind of relationship with my daughter. But years had gone by and I hadn’t gone out to California. Dad kept reminding me that a broken deathbed promise is worse than a lie and therefore a really serious sin. Which didn’t bother me that much, until I needed to pray.’

‘When I got shot,’ she whispered. ‘Clay.’

He shrugged. ‘So, when you were bleeding on the courthouse stairs, I promised God that I’d keep my promise to my mother. In January I went to find Donna, discovered she was dead. The neighbors said that Sienna had gone back to school. The university said she’d taken the year off to care for her mother and stated no plans to come back. I’ve tried to find her, but she doesn’t want to be found. If Donna told her what she told her parents, I can’t say that I blame her.’

Stevie pursed her lips. ‘When all this is over, you and I are going to California and we’re going to find that girl. I’ll talk to her myself. This can’t be allowed to continue. You’re a good man, Clay Maynard, and your daughter needs to know that.’

Warmed from his head to his toes by her faith, he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘We’ll talk when this is over. But thanks. Now, you made a promise to me. A little quid pro quo, please.’

The determination in her eyes disappeared like mist, replaced by dread. He kissed her mouth gently. ‘Talk to me, Stevie. Tell me about your son.’

Bladensburg, Maryland, Monday, March 17, 9.15
P.M.

Ruby closed the car door behind her, then shivered. ‘It’s getting really cold out there.’

‘Imagine if you were still in that dress,’ Sam said dryly. She’d changed into black slacks and a soft lavender sweater. Unfortunately his blood hadn’t stopped rushing through his veins. She no longer threatened to spill out of her top, but the sweater draped so nicely over her breasts that he had to shove his hands in his pockets so that they wouldn’t reach out and touch.

‘I’d have frostbite. Kayla’s not home. The landlady said she’d be back any minute.’

‘What kind of place is it?’ Sam asked, looking at the large old house that was Kayla Richards’s current address. They’d sat outside for over two hours because no one had answered the door and Sam was beginning to wonder if they were wasting their time.

Finally a car had pulled into the garage and Ruby had once again worked her magic. Sam had watched her talking to the landlady, who’d been suspicious initially. Ruby had won her over in less than a minute, leaving the woman to close her front door wearing a smile on her face.

‘Your basic boarding house. The landlady said that Kayla worked as a secretary at a law firm, but on Monday nights she takes a class at the university. She’s getting her degree.’

‘That’s good. Is she healthy?’

‘Didn’t ask. She’s alive and that’s all that matters to our investigation at the moment. But the landlady didn’t look sad when she spoke of her.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ The background check Ruby had run revealed that Kayla had a record for possession of crack, enough for her personal use. She’d taken a plea, done a stint in rehab, then had no other issues with the law.

‘I was, too. I was glad to hear she was getting a degree,’ she added wistfully.

‘Have you ever considered going back to school?’

‘Only every day,’ Ruby said with a shrug. ‘I haven’t gone back, though.’

‘What would you major in?’

She glanced at him sideways, almost like she expected him to laugh at her. ‘There’s a forensic science program at UMBC.’

‘I’ve heard about it.’ The University of Maryland’s Baltimore campus offered a number of law enforcement related majors. ‘I considered the police science program a while back, but I decided against it.’

‘Why?’ she asked seriously.

‘I’m happy where I am. And going to school would mean a huge time commitment, which would take time away from other things.’

‘Like the volunteering and coaching.’

‘Yeah. And taking care of my mom. You’re not happy where you are, are you, Ruby?’

‘I’m not
un
happy. But I’ve been considering a change for a long time.’ Again she gave him a sideways glance. ‘I’ve been considering becoming a death investigator.’

‘You’d make a good one. You’ve been around death scenes for what, ten years now? You know your way around the corpses, but you have a way with the living. What’s stopping you?’

Her eyes had warmed. ‘Thanks, Sam. But unless I want to get my investigator’s certification at the same time as my AARP card, I’d have to go to school full-time.’

‘Which means quitting your job with the ME. You’d have no income.’

‘Oh, I’d have some income. I’ve being doing freelance work for Thorne, consulting work when he needs a death scene analyzed. He’s already told me he’d hire me.’

‘Then I repeat – what’s stopping you?’

‘I’ve worked as an ME tech for so long. I know people are comfortable with how I do that job but some people think I’m flighty. Maybe they wouldn’t respect me on a crime scene.’

‘Then they’d be wrong. When all this is over, I’m taking you to the UMBC registration office and you’re going to get enrolled. But right now, we have company.’ He pointed to an older model VW coming toward them. It parked on the curb and out climbed a woman.

‘Is that her?’

Sam nodded. ‘I think so. You ready to roll?’

‘Sure. Just try not to do the Joe Friday routine. Let me do the talking.’

But that wasn’t to be. Kayla Richards took one look at the two of them approaching and came to a halt on the sidewalk. She searched Sam’s face carefully, her own growing shadowed. She appeared healthy and strong. But her eyes filled with dread, her face registering a resignation that Sam understood far too well.

Somehow he knew that Kayla Richards had known this day would come.

‘I wondered what happened to you,’ she said quietly.

‘You remember me, then?’ Sam asked and she nodded. ‘My name is Sam Hudson. This is Ruby Gomez. We’d like to ask a few questions about that night, eight years ago.’

Kayla closed her eyes. ‘Are you going to call the cops?’

Ruby put her hand over his. ‘Should we, Miss Richards?’ she asked softly.

‘I’m not sure. I had nightmares that maybe you’d died. I am so glad to see you didn’t.’

‘What happened that night?’ Ruby asked still gently, but with an authority that had Kayla straightening her spine.

Kayla checked her watch. ‘Can you give me ten minutes? I have a child to tuck in.’

‘How old is your child?’ Sam asked.

Kayla met his eyes squarely. ‘She’s eight and a half.’

So her child had been six months old that night. ‘Can we wait inside? It’s cold out here.’

‘Of course. My landlady has a parlor she lets us use. You can wait there.’

Baltimore, Monday, March 17, 9.25
P.M.

Stevie was trembling. Clay tightened his arms around her. ‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘You don’t have to talk about Paulie. You don’t have to remember anything you don’t want to.’

‘I don’t need to remember. He’s always there, in my mind. I don’t know where to start.’

‘What was his favorite color?’

‘Yellow,’ she whispered. ‘Paulie loved yellow. He’d use the yellow crayon down to a nub and the other colors would still be brand new. Suns and cars and dogs . . . all ended up yellow.’

He smiled against her hair. ‘Favorite food?’

‘Lasagna. He liked Paul’s better than mine, which wasn’t really fair. Italians make lasagna better than Romanians. But he did like my macaroni and cheese.’

‘Right out of the box?’

‘Best kind. He was beautiful. His hair was golden like Paul’s, but his eyes were brown like mine.’ She drew a deep breath, held it. ‘He loved to play rugby with my dad and he was a major Orioles fan. He could remember all the players’ statistics. My dad used to say he’d be a mathematician like him and Paulie would cry. He kept thinking Dad meant magician and those guys scared him. Especially when they pulled the scarves out of their mouths.’

Clay’s chest was becoming wet. She was crying and it broke his heart. Still he kept his voice crisp. ‘That is pretty creepy. I can see his point.’

‘He wanted to be a lawyer and a cop. Said he’d catch the bad guys, lock ’em up and throw away the key.’ Her laugh was watery. ‘I guess he overheard Paul and me say that a time or two. He really wanted a baby brother, but when I told him Cordelia was a girl he put both hands on my stomach and said he’d teach her sports anyway.’ She laughed again but it was more of a sob. ‘He’d already made a pile of all of his toys that he planned to give her. He was a good boy. He was a good boy who tried to save his father from a bad guy. And he got shot, Clay.’ Her body shook now, the sobs stealing her breath. ‘That bastard shot my baby in the chest and he died.’

Clay swallowed hard. ‘You can stop now, Stevie.’

She shook her head hard. ‘I was supposed to pick him up from day care, but I’d stayed late to finish a report. I can’t even remember the subject’s name now. I lost my baby over some guy who probably killed his wife and framed his son and I was going to prove it if it was the last thing I did. So I stayed late. I didn’t pick him up.’

He rubbed her back, trying to calm the spasms that twisted her body as she cried her heart out. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Stevie. You know that.’