by Robin James
“She didn’t do this ... did she?” Diane asked. Her question gutted me. Her eyes widened with sheer terror.
“Diane, please,” Dan said, snaking an arm around his wife. “This is Aubrey. Our baby.” His voice was a soothing whisper. Though the man looked like he hadn’t slept in two days—and likely hadn’t—he was remarkably calm.
“We’ve had Coach D to our home,” Diane sniffed. “At our dinner table. He’s been working with ... he was working with Sean.” She looked over her shoulder at her son. Sean had practically blended into the wall. The ill-fitting suit he wore looked even bigger on him now.
“Look, I’m going to need to talk to you about all of this. In detail. But not today. Now, I’ve filed my appearance as Aubrey’s attorney. She’s my client. I’m going to do everything I can for her. But you need to be prepared. This is going to be a slow process. And right now, it appears the entire town thinks Aubrey’s guilty. They’re grieving. This is a shock for everyone. To get through this, Aubrey’s going to need your strength more than anything. I need you to resist the urge to talk to the press. To anyone about this case. I don’t have to remind you how small a town this is. People might try to goad you into reacting to ... whatever. You can’t. Not once. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Dan nodded. “We can keep things under control from our end. Just ... just get our baby girl out of that hellhole and back to us.”
I nodded. “I’m working on that. You’ve got your homework on it too. I’ll let you get to it.”
No sooner had I said the words before we heard a soft knock at the door. A young female deputy stood at the door.
“I’m really sorry to interrupt, but the judge is going to need this room soon. And ... uh ... the coast is more or less clear now. My boss arranged to have us walk you to your cars.”
“Thanks,” I said, finding a polite smile. I stepped to the end of the table and put a hand on Diane Ames’s shoulder. She rose in unison with her husband. Young Sean filed in right behind them.
He hung back a moment as his parents stepped into the hall. He looked so scared, so broken. I had no idea what all this must be like for him. He loved his sister, of course, but he probably idolized Larry Drazdowski like everyone else in that courtroom today. His grief was his own.
“Hang in there, kiddo,” I said, squeezing his shoulder.
I expected Sean Ames to look back at me near tears. He didn’t. His face was stone cold as he gave me a nod. “You gotta know they’re going to kill her for what she did.”
Before I could so much as react, he scooted past me and caught up to his parents.
Chapter 6
I couldn’t sleep. Larry Drazdowski’s frozen face seemed to float through my thoughts. As crime scenes went, his wasn’t even the most grisly I’d ever seen. But the man had died terrified. He would have felt the knife go in and each beat of his heart after that until blackness came.
I curled on my side, wrapping my arms around a pillow. I couldn’t breathe. Larry’s face wavered in front of me and became my own.
“It won’t hurt. Much. At least ... not for long. I can make it go quick or slow. One turn of the knife, or I can just let you fall over the side. It’s about three hundred feet deep here. You might even live long enough to feel your feet touch the bottom.” He pressed his lips against my ear, his Irish brogue thick and dark.
His fingers dug into my arms as I struggled against the bindings on my wrists. My lungs burned. He shoved me forward. I couldn’t get my feet to work. I flailed backward, panicked. He would do it. He would kill me.
I felt the churning waters coming at me. I hated bridges. All my life I’d had this phobia of driving over the side of one. Sinking to the bottom of the lake, trapped in my car. To me it was the most horrible way a person could die.
I screamed. My captor just laughed. Then his phone vibrated in his back pocket and Killian Thorne’s familiar ringtone became the lifeline I never thought would come.
I sat bolt upright, covered in sweat. I clutched the pillow to me, trying to convince myself it was real. I was here. This wasn’t the deck of the Crown of Thorne in the middle of Green Bay. I was home. Safe.
My phone rang again. Maybe I had been dreaming just now. I reached for it and stumbled out of bed.
“Hey, Cass.” Miranda Sulier’s usually bright voice was off. This was bad news and it wasn’t even seven o’clock in the morning.
“What’s going on?”
I rented office space a few blocks from the courthouse. The rent was dirt cheap but I didn’t need much. I shared the space with one of the larger P.I. firms based in Southfield. They had a satellite office here in Delphi and Miranda actually worked for them. But she answered my landline for me and referred any walk-ins I got.
“Honey, I’m so sorry to bug you. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate. But ... it’s just ... well ... your brother …”
Before she could get the words out, I heard a loud banging on the other end of the phone followed by some slurred, indecipherable words from a voice I recognized well enough.
“Rich bitch!”
“I’m so sorry,” Miranda said, clearing her throat. “I’d normally give a shout out to one of the deputies, but I figured you’d want a heads-up first.”
“Thanks,” I said, sliding out of bed. I tried to finger comb my unruly hair. It stuck out at wild angles. I needed to find a new stylist. I had an inch of brown roots sprouting and the honey-blonde I preferred had started to fade. “Can you give me just ten minutes and I’ll be there? Hand him the phone.”
Miranda let out a sigh. I heard muffled voices and more banging before my brother Matty took the phone from her.
“Rich bitch!” he shouted into my ear as if I hadn’t heard him the first time. “Just waltzes back here and takes everything away from me.”
I pressed my phone to my forehead and took a long, deep breath, steeling myself for the next bit. “Matty ... you’re loaded. Have Ms. Sulier let you into my office. There’s a couch in there. Crash on it until I get there, okay?”
“You’ll see,” he said, but his tone had already softened. He handed the phone back to Miranda. I heard one last loud bang as my younger brother must have found his way to my office door.
“Fifteen minutes,” I said. “And I’m so sorry, Miranda. I’ll be right there.”
I didn’t give her the chance to change her mind. Instead, I vaulted out of bed and ripped through my closet. I had no idea if I’d end up in court today but I dressed for it just in case. I pulled on a pair of black dress pants, a white shell, and swung a red blazer over my shoulders. My black pumps were still scattered somewhere in the living room. I twisted my hair into a top knot and brushed my teeth.
It took me closer to twenty minutes, but I pulled into the lot behind my downtown office. Gripping the steering wheel as if it could give me a shot of strength to face the day, I flipped the visor down and applied a coat of nude lipstick. It would have to do for now.
Miranda waited for me in the lobby, arms crossed, tapping her foot.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, hoping to get a few sentences in with her before Matty came barreling back out. With any luck, he’d passed out by now.
“He was propped up against the dumpster when I came in,” she said. “Doesn’t look like he tried to drive anywhere, so that’s the good news.”
It was great news. I knew Matty had two DUIs under his belt. A third would finish him.
“You didn’t call anybody else, did you?” I asked.
Miranda smiled. She had a kind face with an upturned nose, drawn-on dark eyebrows, and high cheekbones. At sixty, she’d come out of retirement at least twice to work for various lawyers. Her current job was easy as these things went. She was a whip-smart legal secretary who had probably put many a young lawyer in their place over the years.
“I know the drill,” Miranda said. “You know your mother was one of my best friends.” She reached behind her and handed me a steaming cup of co
ffee she had waiting for me. I gave her a disapproving brow raise. She knew I hated her getting me coffee unless she was getting some for herself. Miranda was a tea drinker.
“Thanks,” I said. I wouldn’t deny how badly I needed caffeine right now.
“You seen Matty yet since you got back into town?” Miranda asked. She knew the answer already and it wasn’t the first time she’d asked.
“He doesn’t return my calls these days,” I said.
“Well, he’s been sniffing around,” she said. “I wasn’t going to mention it, but he stopped in last week pretending like he was looking for somebody else.”
I shook my head. “There’s nobody else in here and my name’s on the door. Smooth. So much for his second career with the C.I.A.”
Miranda laughed. We heard a thump from inside my office. Matty had probably rolled off the couch.
“He’s sure mad at you,” she said. “Maybe he needs me to remind him how much you’ve looked after him all these years. Since …”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Since my mom died.
“My brother is under the impression our grandparents owed him something I got instead.”
“That dump on Finn Lake,” she answered, then had the decency to look chagrined. For a moment, she’d forgotten I was currently living in said dump.
“Right. Anyway, I’ve got this. Thanks for not calling the cops. My schedule is clear for the day. As long as he’s quiet, Matty can just sleep it off here for a while. Then I’ll figure out how to get him home.”
“He’s got a wife, hasn’t he?” Miranda asked. “Shouldn’t we call her?”
“He and Tina aren’t on good terms,” I answered. I hated this. Even though it was Miranda, I felt protective of my family. They were a shit show, but they were my shit show. But there was no judgment in the look Miranda gave me. The phone on her desk began to ring, saving me the need for any more explanations.
Reluctantly, I walked into my office.
Matty was on his back. He lay sleeping with his hands folded on his chest as if he were praying. It squeezed my heart to see it. He’d slept like that since he was a little baby. He had a thick shock of black hair that stuck to his forehead at the moment. Of all of us, he looked the most like my mom with penetrating green eyes and a ready smile.
I stepped over him and threw my messenger bag on a chair. The thud was just loud enough to make Matty stir. His eyes fluttered open. Before he could register where he was, Miranda knocked softly on my door.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I forgot to tell you. A courier dropped this off about an hour ago.” She held a white envelope in her hand. I took it from her, noting the return address on the label. It came from Jack LaForge’s office. My missing cell phone report on Aubrey Ames. Matty rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. I wasn’t sure whether I dreaded the contents of that envelope or Matty’s wrath more.
“Thanks, Miranda. Is there any more coffee left in that pot?” I asked, eyeing my brother. It occurred to me it might do more good to throw whatever was left in Miranda’s coffee pot on him rather than in him.
I made a move Miranda gestured for me to sit. “I’ve got this, Cass. You know I don’t mind.”
“I mind, Miranda. It’s not your job to fetch things for me.”
“Well, I appreciate your enlightenment. It’s refreshing. Truly. Except haven’t you figured out by now I don’t do things unless I want to?”
She was joking. Partly. But her point was made. I mouthed thank you again as she popped back into the hallway.
Matty found his way to his feet. I set the envelope on my desk. It would have to wait.
“Fancy office,” he said staggering sideways. Gravity won and he plopped back down on the couch. He reeked of bourbon all the way from here. It broke my heart. Matty had been off and on the wagon so many times. He’d been just six when our mother died. He had only fleeting memories of her. Then there was Vangie, the baby of the family. She’d only been four when Mom died. I felt that hollow ache again at just the thought of her and where she might be now.
“Cut the shit, Matty. You’re lucky Miranda likes to get in this early. Were you planning on breaking down the door if she hadn’t answered?”
“Maybe I was,” he said. “Would have served you right.”
“Jesus, Matty. For what? Huh? Exactly which of my million sins are you trying to punish me for today?”
I knew better than to try to argue with him when he was drunk. I’d had years of practice when it came to our father.
“Dad was right about you,” he said. Oh boy. There it was.
“You think you’re too good for all of us. Fancy cars. Fancy office.”
“Fancy? Matty, this is Turner Street. I park next to a dumpster and I’m next door to a laundromat.”
“Left!” he shouted, pointing a wavering finger at me. “Gone. Just like Mom. I needed you, sis. All the time.”
I let out a hard breath. I couldn’t do this with him. Not today. Maybe not ever.
“Well,” I said, stepping around my desk, I went to him. Matty hiccupped as I sank to the cushion beside him. I ran a hand over his head, smoothing his hair back like I used to do when he was little. “I’m here now. And you still need me. I need you too, Matty. But sober. Not like this. I won’t watch you turn into Dad.”
He dropped his chin to his chest. God, I knew that gesture too. I’d give him about ninety seconds, tops, before he’d be snoring loud enough to shake the walls. Thirty seconds later, he was out again.
“Well, shit, Matty. That’s just like you to fall asleep when I’m winning the argument.” I stood up, guided his head down and grabbed his ankles, swinging them over the arm of the couch. He might be out for a couple of hours. I could figure out what to do with him before lunch. In the meantime, I had a murder case to figure out.
Matty’s rhythmic snoring gave me a strange sense of comfort as I went back to my desk. I connected my phone to my Bluetooth speaker and picked a classical music playlist. Then I slid my finger under the seal of Jack LaForge’s envelope.
The bulk of Aubrey’s cell phone report dealt with pinpointing its location in the hours before Coach D’s death. Most of it tracked with what Aubrey had already told me. She worked at Dewar’s until they closed at ten that night. It pinged the tower nearest Shamrock Park at ten thirty. That fit with a witness from the police report who said he saw Aubrey leaning into Coach D’s driver’s side window around that time. Coach D’s body was found a few minutes past midnight by some late dog walkers.
Ninety minutes. What happened in those ninety minutes was the key.
I flipped to the last few pages. These contained the record of texts and calls Aubrey made. There was one call to her father at 10:05 that night. It lasted three minutes. She’d received incoming calls at 10:22 and another at 10:41. The latter was a telemarketer. The 10:22 call came from a local number. The police traced it to her friend, Kaitlyn Taylor.
There was a series of texts earlier in the night between Aubrey and Coach D himself. They started at eight o’clock while she was still at work. The transcript of them was on the very last page. As I read it, my heart stopped cold.
Miranda poked her head in. “Here’s that coffee for Matthew,” she said. Her step faltered as she read my face. She set the coffee on the edge of my desk.
“Thanks,” I managed. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
“Oh,” she said. “There was a call for you. I figured you wouldn’t want to be disturbed. It was the clerk’s office. Just an F.Y.I. The Ames girl posted her bond. She’s on her way home with her parents as we speak.”
My eyes went back to the transcript of Aubrey’s texts. “Can you track down their home number for me?” I asked. “I need to meet them there as soon as possible.”
Miranda pursed her lips but didn’t pry. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She gave me a slow nod and slipped back to her desk. Now I just had to figure out how to explain to them all that Aubrey’s case was sunk before it sta
rted.
Chapter 7
Aubrey Ames lived with her parents in a home built at the turn of the last century on Mancy Road. Mancy was one of the busiest streets in Delphi as it ran north to south and ran straight into U.S. 12. The speed limit was forty-five but people rarely heeded that.
I pulled into the long gravel driveway shaded by maple trees. The Ames family had two acres of woodlands in front of their house and an acre in back. Dan Ames had a horse farm on one side of him, and an archery center on the other. I saw a trail camera set up on one of the trees as I rounded the last curve. If he had to, he could set a silent alarm out here for even further protection.
I parked the car and cut the engine. Two huge Labs bounded around the side of the ranch house, wagging their respective chocolate and yellow tails. Their deep barks would let anyone inside know I was here as well as an alarm system. By the looks of these two, I was in more danger of being slobbered to death.
I grabbed my messenger bag from the passenger seat and hauled it into my lap. This would be a hard conversation. I had tough questions to ask and everything I thought I knew about the case turned upside down once I’d read Aubrey’s texts.
Dan Ames stepped out onto the porch. He waved as I got out of my car and slid the strap of my bag over my shoulder. The two Labradors circled around me, yipping with glee.
“Molly! Desmond! Leave the lady alone!” he called out to the dogs. I reached down and pet ... uh ... Molly on the head. Desmond, the yellow one, was easy to pick out as he was still rather well-endowed.
“Sorry I’m running a little late,” I said. Dan ushered me through the front door into the living room. Aubrey was sitting on the paisley-patterned couch with her hands in her lap and her hair still wet from showering. She wore ripped jeans and the same Delphi High t-shirt that Larry Drazdowski had been murdered in. Good God, my first order of business may be to tell her never to wear that thing outside the house again.
“Hi, Aubrey,” I said. “You settling in okay?”
She tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. I didn’t like her posture. She slouched and drew into herself as her eyes flicked to her father then back to me. Dan stood behind me, his arms crossed.
