Wrong Number (3 page)

“I love you, Devin. You’re going to be a great father.”

“You’re already a super mom.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

Devin usually fell asleep long before Aubree, but she continued to feel the tension in his body, and she fell asleep wondering why he was so worried.

Aubree glanced at the clock again, listened to footsteps pass by the interrogation room, and tapped her fingers on the table. Things would be tight at first with the new baby, but they had been saving for almost two years. She’d been working at a grueling pace as a Realtor in the San Diego area and had done quite well.

Lately, Devin had been suggesting she could still continue to work with a few clients to earn extra income. She shook her head. If times got tough, she could go back to work later, but for now she wasn’t going to leave her baby. She’d have to find a way to ease Devin’s doubts.

Wiping her eyes, she sat up and began writing what the man had said.
I might as well help the officers and get this over with
, she thought. She struggled to remember the exact words the man had used; her mind kept replaying his hideous laugh. The reference to the body seemed to be the most important part of the conversation, but there was something else.

She rubbed her forehead and tried to recall what he’d said after he revealed the body’s hiding place. The light above her made a buzzing noise and flickered intermittently. Aubree stared at the blank lines on the paper and willed herself to remember.

She scribbled a few words—he had said something about money and an intruder. After what seemed like an hour, Aubree heard the handle on the door turn. She lifted her head to see Officer Haskins and Detective Rawlings. They both looked terrible. Haskins licked his lips and swallowed before entering.

“Mrs. Stewart, how are you holding up? Can we get you anything?” Detective Rawlings asked. She noticed his neck was flushed and wondered what was going on.

“You can call me Aubree. And that depends on how much longer I have to be here. I’m starting to get a little hungry.” She tried to keep her voice light, but she had an overwhelming feeling that something was very wrong. Officer Haskins glanced at Detective Rawlings as he sat down across from her.

“Aubree, most people call me Haskins, and I’m sure Detective Rawlings won’t mind if you call him Cody.” Officer Haskins looked directly at her, but she could only concentrate on his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed and cleared his throat. “I’m going to tell you why you’re here.” He moved closer to her, pulling his teeth across his bottom lip. “None of this is going to be easy to hear, but it’s important.”

He swallowed again, and she could see his pulse beating in his neck, the vein bulged a little under his skin, attesting to his anxiety. She leaned forward, and her shoe scraped against the grit on the linoleum floor. “Just say what you have to say.”

“Can I get you anything?” Cody asked, changing the subject. She studied him, looking for some sign as to why he was stalling. She noticed the long, dark lashes surrounding his hazel eyes and the small dimple next to his faltering smile.

“Are you sure I don’t need a lawyer? What about my husband? Could he at least be here with me?” Aubree felt the tension in the room rise another notch.

Haskins’ face looked pale against his salt and pepper hair. “The phone call you received this morning was definitely not meant to be heard by you, but we’re so grateful you reported it.” He splayed his fingers out on
the table, and Aubree concentrated on the age spots covering the backs of his hands as he continued. “We checked out the manhole on 32nd Street and—” he paused and looked at her as if to gauge how much he should disclose. Aubree sat up in her chair and rolled her shoulders back, trying to appear unafraid.

Haskins rubbed a hand over his jaw. “We found a body.”

Aubree leaned back in her seat and covered her mouth.

“I know this is disturbing, Mrs. Stewart, but we feel you should know,” Cody said, and he frowned at Haskins.

“The body has not been identified at this point. We put in a search for all missing persons who wore some type of uniform in the San Diego area.” Haskins swallowed again and gripped the edge of the table. “But we think this murder is part of something bigger.”

Aubree tensed and shook her head. Why were they telling her this? Were they testing her reaction? She wondered if they still suspected her. Cody reached out and patted her arm.

“Don’t worry. You’re no longer a suspect in this case. Because of your help, we found a man—someone’s family member—in that manhole. I want to explain why we’re giving you so much information in a crucial case.”

Haskins wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “We wanted to tell you so you would know what you’re up against. Have you heard of the California Bureau of Investigation?”

She shook her head.

“The CBI has its own witness protection program, and we would like to place you under temporary custody for a few days until the threat has diminished,” Haskins said.

“What threat?” She felt her heart beat faster as she watched a drop of sweat trickle down the side of Haskins’ face. Something was making him extremely uncomfortable, and although part of her wished she could run from the room, another part wished he would just spit it out.

Haskins cleared his throat. “There’s no easy way to tell you this. We couldn’t reach your husband, so we had some officers run by your house to check if he might be there.” He hesitated. Aubree leaned forward in her chair, clenching her jaw.

Haskins rubbed his chin and continued. “Your back door had been forced open. The window was broken. We found your husband inside.
He was taken to the hospital.” His brown eyes were brimming with sympathy. “I’m sorry. He didn’t make it.”

“No!” Aubree cried. She tried to stand, but Cody was immediately by her side, gently pulling her back down into her seat.

Haskins knelt beside her chair. “I’m so sorry. We think your husband’s murder is connected to the phone call you received today.” He patted her back.

Aubree moaned, “No, no.” She wanted to get down on the floor and curl up into a ball. She felt the baby kick again and wrapped her arms around her stomach as if she could protect her child from the news she’d just heard. “Please, no. Not Devin. Are you sure it was him?”

“Yes,” Cody answered, and Aubree looked at him. His face was flushed, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Mrs. Stewart, our coroner is checking for the time of death, but we believe it was within an hour after you received the phone call. What time does your husband usually leave for work?”

Aubree tried to quiet the sobs that were making her entire body shudder. “Around eight o’clock.” She wiped her face across the sleeve of her shirt. “Where was he when they found him?”

Haskins hesitated and looked at Aubree. “At the kitchen table.”

She clenched her hands into tight fists. Her body felt like it was going numb. Images of Devin flashed through her mind. “How did he die?”

Haskins lowered his head into his hands, rubbed his forehead, and looked into her eyes. “He was shot.”

“How, I mean, where—why couldn’t they save him?” Aubree cried.

“Mrs. Stewart, I don’t think you—”

“Just tell me. I want to know what happened to my husband.”

Haskins’ voice was just above a whisper. “He was shot in the back of the head.”

Aubree felt her stomach churning again and willed herself not to be sick. She dropped her head into her hands.

“There’s something else you need to know.” Haskins waited until Aubree looked at him. “Your husband was shot through one of the kitchen windows, and then the door was forced open. It was made to look like a robbery. The murderer took your TV and some other electronic equipment, but we think he also took your cell phone because we didn’t find it in your home.”

“Are you sure?” Aubree cried. “Why would someone kill Devin?” She shook her head. “This can’t be happening. He’d barely woken up before I left for work. I didn’t even kiss him good-bye.” Her eyes stung with hot tears. “Can I go now? Why do I have to stay here if Devin is dead?” The back of her throat burned and she gasped—the emotions were choking her. She wanted to see Devin, but not dead.

Cody leaned forward. “We think after the phone call today, the perpetrator was able to locate the owner of the cell phone he’d accidently dialed—your husband. He murdered Devin and stole his phone before anything could be discovered. At least, that’s what the perpetrator thought he was doing.”

Aubree felt sure she was close to the breaking point. She wasn’t certain how much more she could take, and Haskins seemed to know that. He leaned on the edge of the table and glanced at his watch.

“Do you want me to wait to tell you the rest?”

“I need someone to help me, to be here with me.” She felt tremors in her body and wondered if she was going into shock.

“I’m afraid that’s too dangerous for you.” Cody pulled his chair closer to Aubree. “By now, whoever killed your husband has figured out he took the wrong phone.”

T
HREE

A
UBREE COULDN
’
T HOLD IT
in any longer. A wave of fear and nausea swept over her as Cody’s explanation became clear. She saw a waste-basket next to the table and struggled to get near it in time. There wasn’t much in her stomach, and after she retched, she could see little black dots in the air. Noises in the background grew dim as she sank to the floor.

The fear was a heavy blackness, and Aubree wondered if she was dreaming when she heard an unfamiliar voice. She struggled as she felt a hand on her arm. “Aubree, stay with me. Keep breathing.” Haskins spoke to her, but it sounded like it was from a long way off. Aubree relaxed and let the blackness overtake her.

She woke to find three people hovering around her, asking questions, and she felt something tight constricting her left arm. After a moment, she realized they were EMTs and that she was being loaded on a gurney. She just wanted to sleep, but there were noises all around her, and her body was being jostled. A loud whooshing sound vibrated in her ears. Aubree’s eyelids fluttered, and she took a deep breath of pure oxygen from the mask over her nose and mouth.

Fifteen bumpy minutes later they rolled her into a hospital room. When someone touched her face, she tried to open her eyes, but they were weighed down with fear.

“She’s coming to. Keep that mask on.”

A gentle voice broke through the blackness, and Aubree finally found the strength to open her eyes. She turned toward a woman wearing blue scrubs and a stethoscope.

“Hi, Aubree, I’m Dr. Gina Samuels, and I’m going to be monitoring you and the baby. I’m so sorry, honey. It’s too much, all this terrible news.” The doctor moved Aubree’s matted hair from her forehead and placed a cool cloth there.

Aubree looked around, surprised to see she was now in a different room altogether. “Am I in the hospital?”

Dr. Samuels looked at Cody, who bent over Aubree as he spoke, “No, you’re in a private medical facility with the California Bureau of Investigation. You came by ambulance. We thought it would be safer for you here.”

Then she remembered why she had become sick and passed out: fear. Cody said the killer would now be after her. Was this really happening?

“Here, drink this, and then put the oxygen mask back on for a few more minutes.” Dr. Samuels offered her a paper cup. “You’re under a lot of stress, and you’re very dehydrated. I’m going to be conducting a non-stress test on the baby to make sure he’s doing okay. You weren’t out for very long, but you’ve been through a lot.”

“Okay, I’ll try to drink some,” Aubree mumbled. She moved the oxygen mask and gripped the cup. She surveyed the room while taking small sips.

A picture of a flower garden hung on the white, sterile walls. A lamp cast a soft yellow light on the daisies and snapdragons in the painting. On the other side of the room, a burgundy love seat was positioned in front of a TV. The cabinet beside her was filled with medical supplies. “You don’t have to take my blood, do you?” she asked.

“No. I’ll attach this monitor, and we’ll see the baby’s heart rate.” Dr. Samuels motioned to a screen as she put a belt around Aubree’s middle and then clipped on the sensor that would pick up the baby’s heartbeat.

“Good. I hate needles,” Aubree said. In the pregnancy classes, they had shown an epidural needle, and Devin had squeezed her hand and whispered, “Don’t look, okay?”

Aubree clamped her eyes shut as she remembered that Devin was gone. Tears trickled down the sides of her face. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and Dr. Samuels said, “You don’t need to worry about your baby. His heart rate is good. I’m concerned about you, though, so we’re going to keep an eye on you.”

“Thank you.” Aubree took another sip of her drink. The cold liquid felt good on her dry throat.

“We’ll get you something to eat soon. You must be starved.” Dr. Samuels gave a curt nod to Cody and Haskins as she left the room.

Haskins held up his hands. “She’s upset at us for throwing everything at you like we did.” He took a tentative step forward. “I’m really sorry. We had to act quickly. We’re not sure what kind of danger you may be in.”