Rogue

by Izzy Gomez

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “It wasn’t Hank.” Joanna stared at the floor as she spoke.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific.” How the hell did Joanna know anything about Karen’s murder? How did she know Hank?

  Joanna folded her hands on the table between them. “Hank didn’t kill your mom. He couldn’t have.”

  Amanda's headache jumped from throbbing to full-fledged pounding. She studied the anxious girl in front of her. Under all the make-up and rebellion, she had to be a smart girl. Her father had been in politics all her life. She knew how the world worked. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t know something real.

  She would also smell bullshit. Straightforward was the way to go. Amanda sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “I understand you wanting to keep your involvement vague, but you’re going to have to give me a lot more than that if you want me to believe you. Because we have plenty of evidence to the contrary.”

  Joanna’s eyes flashed with panic. “I...I can’t. My dad...”

  “I’m sure you understand I can’t call the DA’s office and tell them to drop the charges because we got an anonymous tip Hank didn’t do it, but hey, we have no actual proof. So let’s start with how you know him.”

  Once again, Joanna’s teeth worked her fingernail. “He’s my...boyfriend.”

  Damn. The past week had been full of shockers, and this was no exception. “Your boyfriend? He’s, what, eight years older than you?”

  Joanna nodded.

  That explained why she didn’t want her father to know she was here. “I think you better back up and tell me everything you know. I’ll do my best to protect you, but I can’t guarantee your dad won't find out.” Yeah, like she could keep this information quiet. If Joanna Clarkson had information that cleared Hank, they were back at square one, without a suspect. The mayor would definitely hear about it, and he’d demand to know why.

  “I was at Hank’s last night. He told me how it can’t be your dad because of his hip, and how that makes you guys think it was him. He can’t prove it’s not, because he lied about his alibi.” Joanna’s words came out so fast Amanda barely understood them. Her mind raced to keep up.

  “Why did he lie about his alibi?” Amanda already knew the answer.

  “He was with me.”

  Amanda had to strain to hear the barely-whispered words.

  “Were you two at his apartment?”

  “No.”

  Why couldn’t Joanna be one of those people who ran at the mouth?

  “Where were you?” If they weren’t at his place, there might be witnesses. Always good. Except that not having another suspect part.

  “We were...” Joanna looked down at her feet. Her shoes must be fascinating. “We were at a club.”

  Hank? At a club? “Seriously?” Amanda couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. Dating an eighteen-year-old and going to a club did not fit the uptight, preppy engineer image she had of her brother.

  Joanna nodded. “That’s how we met. He thought I was twenty-three.”

  He should have broken up with her the instant he found out she wasn’t. She was still in high school. What the hell was Hank thinking?

  Then again, given the quantity of drugs they found in his apartment, he probably hadn’t been thinking. At least the clubbing explained the drugs.

  “So you two get together, take Special K and go clubbing?” Amanda asked. “Let me guess, your parents have no idea you’re dating a twenty-six year old, or that you go to clubs even though you’re underage.”

  Joanna's face twisted into an expression of misery. “I’m on the honor roll. They think I’m at the library.”

  Until after midnight? Amanda didn't take Mayor Clarkson for an idiot, but people could be blind when it came to their kids. Charlie and Karen hadn’t suspected Hank of doing drugs back in college and probably didn't know he'd relapsed.

  “You’re going to have to give me the name of the club you were at. We’ll have to verify your story.”

  “We were at S&G for a while, then we went to Lush.”

  Amanda jotted the names on her notepad. “After we found the drugs at his apartment, do you know why Hank didn’t tell us the truth?”

  Joanna finally met Amanda’s eyes. “He wanted to protect me. I begged him to tell you but he thinks your dad will be able to get him out of this.”

  Idiot. There was still enough circumstantial evidence to convict Hank even if his alibi proved solid. Juries had come up with guilty verdicts based on a lot less.

  Tears swam in Joanna’s eyes. Hopefully her make-up was waterproof. “He doesn’t know I’m here. But I can’t let him go to prison for the rest of his life when I know he didn’t do it. I mean, she's his mother. How could he have killed her?”

  Blood wasn’t always thicker than water. “You said you were with Hank last night, but have you talked to him today?”

  Joanna shook her head. She reached across the table like she was going to grab Amanda's arm, then pulled back. “You can’t tell him I was here.”

  Yeah, that would happen. “Once we verify he was with you, he’s going to figure out how we know.”

  “Can’t you say someone recognized him and came forward?” Joanna’s eyes were wide with panic. This close, Amanda could see exactly how much mascara she'd caked onto her lashes. Approximately an entire tube.

  “It might be hard to find someone who recognizes him, given that those places aren’t too well lit. Do you know if he used his phone while you were out?” They could get the cell tower locations and verify he hadn’t been near the airport.

  "Not that I know of.”

  So much for that. “Just a few more questions, then you can get back to school.”

  “I’m not skipping.” Joanna crossed her arms and stared defiantly at Amanda. “I’m only taking one class this semester. If it weren’t for stupid English, I could have graduated already.”

  “Fair enough.” She was worried Amanda would bust her for skipping school? The girl had no clue what was going to come down on her when her dad found out about this.

  “I don’t know anything else. I just know Hank didn’t kill your mom.”

  Stepmom. “What time did you leave Hank’s last night?” Maybe Joanna knew where he was and why he didn't show up for his meeting with the lawyers.

  “My weeknight curfew is 11:00, so about 10:45.”

  “What were his plans for the rest of the night?”

  Joanna shrugged. “He was going to bed. He had a meeting with his lawyer this morning.”

  “Have you talked to him since you left last night?”

  Joanna shook her head slowly. “Nooooo. We’re supposed to meet for lunch.”

  Damn.

  “Do me a favor. Call him.”

  “Right now?” Despite the confusion on her face, Joanna reached for her purse.

  Amanda nodded.

  “What do I say? I can’t tell him where I am.”

  “Ask what time you’re supposed to meet. Say you forgot. Or tell him you’re going to be late.”

  “But I’m not going to be late. We’re not meeting for two more hours.”

  Amanda resisted the urge to Scream. For a smart girl, Joanna sure was playing dumb. “Just do it. I’ll explain after you talk to him.”

  Still frowning, Joanna tapped her phone’s screen, then lifted it to her ear.

  Amanda could hear the rings. One. Two. Three. Four.

  Voicemail. She couldn’t understand the words, but could hear the murmur of Hank’s voice.

  Joanna set down the phone. “He’s not answering. He’s probably still with his lawyer.”

  Damn. Amanda forced herself to stay seated when she really wanted to pace. “He never met with his lawyer. He hasn’t been answering his phone all morning, and the patrol officer who went by his apartment didn’t get an answer.”

  “You mean he’s...missing?”

  Amanda reached out a hand to Joanna. Making a connection. Imploring �
��If you know where he is, you need to tell me. It doesn’t do him any good to hide. Jumping bail is a crime.” She studied the girl’s face for signs she was lying. “If he is innocent, we need to talk to him.”

  Joanna’s eyes again filled with tears. “I don’t know where he is. I swear.”

  Her fear looked genuine. “If you talk to him, you need to call me and let me know where he is. Please.” Amanda pulled her card out of her pocket and slid it across the table. “Or if you think of anything else you need to tell me.”

  Motionless, Joanna stared at the card. Then her head snapped up and she pinned Amanda with her gaze. Fear was replaced with a spark. “It was that guy.”

  That guy? “Can you be more specific?"

  “Last night, when I was at Hank’s. This guy came over.” Joanna started gesturing wildly as she talked. “We were watching a Real Housewives marathon and some guy showed up.”

  Hank watched Real Housewives? “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. Hank made me hide in the bedroom, and I didn’t recognize his voice.”

  “What did this guy want?”

  “They were fighting about your mom. Hank kept saying he didn’t kill her and this guy was yelling about how could Hank be such an idiot and get arrested and now it was all going to fall apart.”

  And she didn’t think to mention this sooner? Maybe this girl wasn’t so smart. Amanda's head was going to explode soon, both from her headache and from exasperation. “Did you see this guy at all?”

  “I peeked out at one point, but all I could tell is he was about the same height as Hank, with dark hair.”

  Amanda pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to hold her skull together. She shoved back the thought starting in a dark corner of her mind. It wasn’t possible. “Long hair? Short? Straight? Curly?”

  “Not super short, but not long. Straight, or maybe a little wavy.” Joanna gave Amanda an apologetic look. “I didn’t see him that well."

  “Fat? Thin?”

  Joanna shrugged. “Average.”

  “Did you see what he was wearing?” Please be something distinct. Monogrammed, maybe?

  Joanna closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Jeans, I think. Dark shirt.”

  Average height, dark hair, nondescript clothes. Could be anyone.

  Grasping for the proverbial straws, Amanda asked, “You didn’t happen to get his name, did you?”

  Joanna leveled her a flat stare. “I’m not an idiot. If I knew his name, I would tell you.”

  Amanda shrugged. “Had to ask.”

  They sat in tense silence. Amanda struggled to think of her next question, the question that would quiet the thought desperately trying to form.

  “Did you hear any more of what they were talking about?”

  “Not all of it. Hank kept lowering his voice, but this guy did a lot of yelling.”

  “Is there anything specific you can remember?” Something. Anything. As long as it halted the train of thought gaining speed in her brain.

  “The guy just kept saying how Hank ruined everything by getting arrested. He was very focused on Hank ruined things. He said ruin at least a dozen times.”

  Ruined. What did that mean? What had Hank ruined?

  They needed to find Hank and talk to him. Immediately. What if he actually was innocent?

  “This guy, did he say what he meant by ruined?”

  Joanna wrapped her arms around her waist. “No. But I got the feeling—“ She shuddered. “I think he knew who did kill your mom. I think, maybe, he did it.”

  And he could be anyone. Maybe Hank hired someone to kill Karen.

  Of course, the guy could also be a lie. The whole story could be a lie. First they needed to verify Hank’s supposed alibi.

  She wanted desperately to grill Joanna about the mystery man, it wouldn’t go anywhere. So Amanda stood. “OK. Thanks for coming to talk to us.”

  Joanna slid Amanda’s card into her purse as she stood. “I’ll call you if I think of anything else. I promise. And I’ll tell Hank he has to call his lawyer right away.”

  Amanda had a bad feeling about Hank’s whereabouts. If the man at his apartment knew details about Karen’s murder, which it sounded like he did, and if Hank had ruined things for the mystery man, it didn’t bode well for Hank.

  This damn headache was going to require an entire bottle of Advil.

  “One more question,” Amanda said as they walked together down the hall.

  “What?” Joanna asked.

  “Why did you insist on talking to me? You have to know they aren’t letting me work on this case.”

  They stopped in front of the elevators. “Hank told me once if I ever had trouble I should talk to you. He said you’re the best.”

  Chapter 18

  “That smells—“ Looking over Amanda’s shoulder, Greg inhaled deeply. “Phenomenal.”

  She laughed as she set the plates on his dining room table. “It doesn’t smell like much of anything. It’s just beef stroganoff.”

  He slid his arms around her waist from behind. “The most action this kitchen has seen in...well, since I bought the place, is a frozen pizza. Compared to that, anything smells phenomenal.” He nuzzled her hair.

  His breath chased along her neck and Amanda shivered. “You needed a home-cooked meal. Too much takeout is bad for the soul.”

  “My mom insists I come over for dinner often enough that I don’t go hungry. But I’d much rather have you cook. Who knew you had such hidden depths?”

  She turned in his arms. “Yeah, and who knew you knew how to show a girl such a good time? Invite me over, let me cook you dinner. How romantic.”

  He kissed her, his lips lingering long enough to make her fingertips tingle. Just when she was going to pull him in for a deeper kiss, he stepped away. “I offered to get Chinese.”

  She wrinkled her nose as she sat. “Takeout.” She waited while he sat. Waited again as he forked up his first bite.

  When he caught her watching him, he paused, fork halfway down to his plate. "What?"

  "How is it?" It shouldn't, but it mattered if he liked her cooking. Ridiculous.

  He grinned. "Amazing. But you know that." He scooped up another bite. "Don't tell my mom, but better than hers."

  Rolling her shoulders to release the tension, she tasted for herself. Not bad. She tended to over-salt her stroganoff, but she'd gotten it right tonight.

  Greg studied her over the rim of his wineglass. To her surprise, it didn’t make her uncomfortable. She liked the feel of his gaze on her face.

  “So.” He took a swallow of the wine, a rich, spicy pinot noir. “And you can tell me this is way too personal and to back off. But I’m curious. What happened to your mom?”

  She held in both a sigh and a sarcastic laugh. Shari. Yet another interesting study in screwed up family dynamics. When it came to parents, Amanda and Todd clearly drew the short straw.

  “My mom was never meant to have kids. Or get married.” She could still hear her mom’s voice telling eight-year-old Amanda, Being a mom’s no fun. I’m sorry, honey, but it isn’t. A piece of Amanda's young heart died that day.

  “Yet she did both.”

  “It wasn’t entirely voluntary. She got pregnant with Todd and my dad convinced her to get married. I think the idea was a fun new adventure. She likes adventures.”

  “And you and Todd are, what, not even two years apart, right?”

  “Fifteen months.” She chewed, trying to think about her mom without remembering all the pain. As if that were possible.

  "She left when Todd was two months old. Got involved with some political campaign and when the guy got elected to the senate, she followed him to DC. Except they wouldn’t give her an actual job, so she had to come back. She stuck around long enough to get pregnant with me, then got restless again and headed for Nashville. Was gonna be a country star.”

  “Somehow I’m guessing Reba McEntire isn’t your mom.”

  “Hardly. If she were, may
be I could carry a tune.”

  Greg chuckled. “And your mom? Can she sing?”

  “Better than me, but that’s not saying much.” Todd still had their mom's awful demo tape. Amanda hated it the first time they listened to it, but Todd had played it all the time. For a large part of his junior year, it was the only thing he played in his car.

  “So she’s not taking Nashville by storm?”

  The memory of Shari's false-twangy voice still grated on Amanda's nerves. She shuddered. “No. She waited tables until she got too big with me, then came back to Indianapolis. I was about a month old when she headed off again. I think it was Arizona to rock climb. I honestly don’t remember. It’s always something new with her. Half the time she’s following a guy who makes grand promises and half the time it’s her own crazy idea.”

  “But she never has the super-wacky idea to get to know her kids?”

  “Never.”

  “Do you see her? Talk to her at all?”

  “She emails occasionally about her latest adventure. She does seem like she’s enjoying herself. So who am I to judge?” The memories were painful, but a remote, vague pain. For the most part, she'd made her peace with it. Shari was a non-factor in her life. There was enough to be bitter and angry about. She'd had to let go of something.

  Greg looked incredulous. “Who are you to judge? You’re her daughter. She was supposed to raise you.”

  “If she’d stuck around, she would have been miserable and it would have made me, my dad and Todd miserable.”

  “So instead you and Todd were miserable with your stepmom.”

  She shrugged and scooped up her last bite. “At least both of them were happy. Better than none of us.”

  He gaped, shaking his head. “You can’t honestly believe you don’t need to be happy.”

  “Of course I don't.” The conversation was getting too personal. Personal made her antsy. Personal was...too much. Even with Greg.

  She rose and took her empty plate to the kitchen. He followed, bringing his plate.

  When he turned her to face him, she couldn’t look into his eyes. “You deserve happiness, Amanda. Lots of it. Probably more than most people, since you had so little as a kid.”