The Next Widow: A gripping crime thriller with unputdownable suspense (Jericho and Wright Thrillers Book 1)
Page 22
“Come home with me,” Ruby interjected. “Or without me, I don’t care. Nellie’s house is more yours than mine anyway. I can leave if you want. But I know that’s what Nellie would want. You and Emily safe at home.”
Emily squirmed as Leah squeezed her hand too tight. Leah grabbed her bag, slung it over her free arm, and marched Emily out to the reception area where Brody stood watching. He gave Emily a small wave of his hand as they walked past him to the waiting area, Ruby and Jessica trailing behind. Before she could reach the elevator, Jericho caught up to her, gestured her to wait as he spoke on his phone.
Finally, he hung up. “No luck with any witnesses seeing the roses delivered. I’d like to assign one of my team to you. Make sure nothing like this happens again. Where are you headed?”
The question Leah hadn’t dared to ask herself. She still yearned to take Emily and flee, head in any direction, away from this madness that her life had become. But she didn’t even have her car, much less a roof to sleep under tonight.
“Can we go home?” She knew the answer, but the question was more exhausted reflex than driven by logic. Wishful thinking, Ian would call it.
“No.” His expression of pity shattered what little hope Leah had conjured. “We’ll be holding it for several days, maybe weeks—follow-up tests, the DA might want a video reconstruction for when we go to trial. And then the cleaning—”
“Mommy, I want to go home!” Emily’s scream sliced through the large open space, startling a mom who sat rocking her baby.
“I’m sorry.” Leah dropped to her knees before Emily. “We can’t go home, not yet.” Maybe not ever, but now wasn’t the time to broach that possibility. She yearned to be close to Ian, smell his scent, see his somehow-organized clutter… but Jericho was right. She might never have the strength to return to their home. And she couldn’t risk Emily reliving the horrors of last night.
The elevator doors opened and a black woman with thick bleached braids gathered into a ponytail appeared, strode over to ask Brody and the receptionist something, then spotted Jericho and joined them.
“This is Officer Harper.” He made introductions. “She’ll be acting as your family liaison.” Emily crinkled her nose in a question and Jericho surprised Leah by addressing Emily directly. “That means she’ll go home with you, watch over you, keep you safe.”
From the sour expression on Harper’s face she didn’t like the idea. Neither did Leah. She glanced at Ruby, the lesser evil compared to a hotel room. “Emily, we’re going to visit Miss Ruby, stay with her.”
That got Emily’s attention. “Really? Miss Ruby says she lives in a big house across the river.” Then she frowned. “But I need Huggybear. And my PJs. And,” she whispered loud enough to be heard on the moon, “clean undies.”
“I’ll take Emily,” Ruby volunteered. “We can stop at the store.”
“No,” Leah snapped, standing up. Spending the night in the same house as Ruby was one thing—trusting her with Emily? Never.
Twenty-Eight
Leah huddled beside Emily in the back seat of Jericho’s car while Harper followed behind them. Ruby had gone ahead to get things ready and Jessica had been kind enough to give them the use of one of the clinic’s loaner car seats.
Emily sensed her frustration and patted Leah’s arm. “It’s okay, Mommy. Dr. Jessica says Daddy is a hero. Do you think they’ll name stars after him, like Orion?”
Leah smiled weakly, half tempted to steal Ruby’s truck once they got to her house, keep driving until she was certain they’d outrun all pain and danger and that Emily would be past all this, safe and sound. But there was nowhere far enough to run to.
“Are you mad Daddy asked me to keep secrets?” Emily asked after they’d traveled several blocks in silence. “He said it wasn’t because it’s a bad thing, me meeting Miss Ruby, but because it’s a sad thing and sometimes it’s okay to keep secrets if it helps people not be sad.”
“He was worried your mother would be sad if she knew you met Miss Ruby?” Jericho asked from the front seat, not giving Leah a chance to answer for herself. She met his gaze in the rearview, gave him a warning shake of her head.
Emily nodded, her curls bouncing against her shoulders, and spoke directly to Jericho as if Leah wasn’t sitting right beside her. As if this was some kind of philosophical discussion or a game like the ones Ian and Emily designed together on the computer. But it was Ian’s betrayal they were dissecting, and it took everything Leah had to not break wide open at the thought of it. She pressed her face against the window, hiding from Emily’s recitation of the facts.
“Daddy said a long, long time ago they had a fight that made Mommy really, really sad. But that maybe I could help that.” Leah could see Emily’s frown reflected in the glass. “That part I don’t know about. But Miss Ruby’s really nice. I’m sure the fight was a big mistake. Like when I took Caleb’s computer game apart to see how it worked and he was mad because I should’ve asked first but then he would’ve said no because it was his favorite and I had to do chores until I paid him back and got him a new one and then we were friends all over again.” She sighed, her shoulders rising to her ears. “Mommy says don’t get mad, it’s bad. She says better to smile and walk away.”
They stopped at the red light on Park. Jericho swiveled in his seat. “Did your daddy ever take you to meet anyone else?” he asked. “Like this woman?” He held his phone up, showing Emily the photo of Katrina Balanchuk.
That jerked Leah back to reality. She turned back to face Jericho. “Stop.”
Emily considered the photo, tilting her head one way and then another. “She’s pretty.”
“Have you seen her before?” he asked, pocketing his phone as the light changed.
“Nope. But I like her hair. How do I get hair like that?”
“Can we talk about something else, please?” Leah said, hoping to regain control of the conversation. She understood Jericho was only trying to get answers he needed but she didn’t want Emily to feel responsible if she couldn’t help. And she definitely didn’t want Emily exposed to the idea that her father might have betrayed them both.
“I saw your toys up in the attic,” Jericho said. “Nice your dad let you play up there while he worked.”
“Daddy let me work, too. He says I’m a prodigy.” Emily sat up straight, her chest puffed with pride. “That means someone very special and very smart.” Then she deflated. “But I guess Daddy’s never gonna work with me again.” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
Leah reached across the space between them, hugging Emily. “She and Ian used to create games together,” she explained to Jericho. “He taught her computer coding.”
“Coding?” he asked. “At her age?”
“Yeah. Her mind works like his.” They’d discussed this, had meetings with the school after Emily tested as gifted, had tried to give her opportunities to explore her talents while also letting her enjoy her childhood.
Emily sat up, Leah’s arms falling away from her, obviously upset at being excluded from the conversation. “Did you know there’s no Santa really? Mommy says I need to keep that a secret from the kids at school. That’s when Daddy told me it’s okay to keep secrets, sometimes. Because Tricia cried last year when I told her, but it’s the truth. I figured it out a long, long time ago. He’s not real. But maybe a long time ago he was, but not now. That’s called being a myth. Like King Arthur or Robin Hood.”
She frowned. Paused for a long moment. “Daddy was real but now he’s gone, so is he a myth? Does that mean we need to keep him a secret and not talk about him? I don’t like that. He’s real and he’s my daddy and he’s brave like the myth people—more brave because he fought the blackspaceman—and I want to talk about him, not make him a secret and hide him like Christmas presents.”
Her voice grew until it filled the car with anger and fear and pain. Leah tried to hug her again, but Emily flailed her arms, pushing her away, as if afraid to trust her own mother.
“Right,” Jericho chimed in, annoying Leah that he felt the need to insert himself in her and Emily’s relationship. “Heroes help to inspire people—do you know what that means?”
Emily shook her head.
“It means that you want to be like them when you grow up because they’re brave or strong or smart or—”
“Daddy’s brave and strong and smart.” Now she was bobbing her head, Jericho somehow able to provide comfort that Leah couldn’t, making her feel even worse. “He was super smart. And everyone wants to be like him. I want to grow up to be just like him. He’s better than Santa, even. Because he’s real and he’s my daddy.”
Emily squinched her nose and mouth, delighted at being the center of attention once again. “My dad is a policeman like you, only he doesn’t need a gun to stop bad guys. He uses his brain. That’s why it’s important to never stop learning new things. You have to keep exercising your brain.” She said the last as if giving Jericho a performance evaluation, which he barely passed.
“Detective Jericho is helping us, Emily. It’s not polite to tell someone how to do their job.”
“No, it’s okay,” Jericho said with a smile. “And just for the record, I’ve never had to use my gun. Because your dad was right, Emily. Using your brain is a much better way of solving problems.”
Leah shivered and hugged herself, then twisted in her seat to look out the rear window. Harper’s car was directly behind them, hovering at a reassuring distance.
“Emily, when we get to Nellie’s house,” Leah could not bring herself to call it Ruby’s house, “no going online. Offline games only. Do you understand?”
“Did I do something bad?”
“No, sweetheart. This isn’t a punishment. It’s more like we need to play hide and seek. And it’s our turn to hide from anyone looking for us—in the real world and on the computer.”
“Because the blackspaceman came from the computer? He’s one of the bad guys Daddy catches?” Emily blinked and curled into Leah, stretching her arms past her safety harness to wrap around Leah’s neck. “Only he caught Daddy first.”
Leah met Jericho’s gaze in the rearview mirror. His tight lips and creased brow mirrored her own concern—but none of her fear.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she tried to soothe Emily. “The bad guys aren’t going to find us. Because we’re very good at hiding and because Detective Jericho is going to find them first. And stop them.”
It wasn’t a promise she could keep—and not hers to make in the first place. But Jericho’s jaw clenched and his chin jerked, accepting her challenge.
They turned onto the four-lane highway leading across the river. As Jericho drove them over the bridge, a motorcycle swerved into the passing lane, keeping pace directly alongside them. Leah tried desperately to think of something to distract Emily, but it was too late: she’d already spotted the motorcyclist wearing a black jacket and helmet.
“Mommy,” she cried out.
Leah unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled over to Emily’s side of the car, hugging Emily to her, turning her away from the window.
“Jericho. The motorcycle.” Leah’s voice emerged shrill, near hysterical. But with Emily sobbing in fear, fingers clutching Leah’s hair, and the rider mere feet away, only a thin pane of glass separating them, she wasn’t about to apologize.
The bridge was old and had no shoulder wide enough to pull off. Jericho slowed the car, but the rush hour traffic ahead was also slowing, enough that the motorcycle didn’t pull ahead of them.
Leah heard him talking to Harper on his phone, but his words eluded her as she tried to calm Emily, who was having a full-blown meltdown. And then she clamped her lips tight, her entire body sagging into the booster seat. “Mommy, I’m sorry,” she whimpered as a dribble of urine seeped down her pants. “Please. I’m sorry.”
Leah ignored the wetness as she unbuckled Emily and scooped her onto her lap, scooting over to the far side of the car, using her own seatbelt to strap them both in. “It’s okay, pumpkin. It’s nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t your fault. We’ll get you all cleaned up once we get to Nellie’s.”
Emily, exhausted, curled into Leah, fists gathered in Leah’s hair like she used to do when she was a baby. Beyond her Leah saw Harper flash her police lights as she pulled into the lane behind the motorcycle. The motorcyclist pulled as far off the road as they could, Harper’s car stopping behind them, blocking traffic. Finally, their lane began to move forward. Leah twisted and looked out the back window as Harper emerged from her car, and the motorcyclist removed their helmet. It was an Asian woman, early twenties, long black hair.
“Wrong make and model for the bike,” Jericho said in the sudden silence as Emily quietened and they drove off the bridge and turned onto Route 15. “But better safe than sorry.”
Leah sank back in her seat, Emily’s weight anchoring her. What if it had been the killer? She would have been helpless to protect Emily. She squeezed her arms around Emily, who twisted her face against Leah’s shoulder, leaving a trail of snot behind. Never in her life had Leah felt so vulnerable.
Emily stilled. Not asleep. Leah felt her tense with every turn or change in speed. More like resigned to her fate; a prisoner accepting that they were powerless against the shackles that bound them.
As the tires hummed over the pavement, Leah leaned her head against the window, staring at the landscape of her childhood. What had Ian been thinking, introducing Emily to Ruby? She heard his voice, almost as if he were sitting right beside her.
“She’s old enough,” he’d argue, totally side-stepping the fact that he’d lied to her, betrayed her. “They had that school project about ancestors and she didn’t understand why your side of the family tree was naked. Bad enough your mother never told you who your own father was, but to have a grandmother so near, just across the river, and deprive her of that relationship? I couldn’t do it.”
“You had no right, going behind my back like that,” she’d tell him. “You have no idea what Ruby’s like, the damage she could—”
“I met her first. Several times. Laid out ground rules. Didn’t even tell Emily that Ruby is your mother, just a friend of the family. That way if things went south, we had a way out. And I was there, every moment.” His logic would be faultless. And then he’d take both of her hands and caress his thumbs against her palms until she began to relax. “She’s changed, Leah. She really has. Maybe you should think about forgiving her? At least talk to her? Let go of some of the pain—for your sake, for Emily’s.”
As usual, he’d win the argument. Which was maybe why he never brought it up in the first place—he was waiting until she was ready, until his logic and persuasion weren’t even really necessary other than to allow her to save face.
Still, it hurt, knowing he’d kept such a huge secret from her. She understood keeping his work secret, that was different, that had nothing to do with them—except, given Radcliffe’s questions and insinuations, maybe now it had.
They bumped off Route 15 to turn down the lane that led to Nellie’s and Leah found herself leaning sideways, nose pressed against the window. The original Quinn farm had had over a hundred acres, but it had been whittled down over generations, until now there were seven acres containing the farmhouse, barn, and a few outbuildings, surrounded on two sides by thick forest preserved from development as State Game Lands. The lane leading to the house wove between hemlocks, mountain laurel, and white pines until the final turn revealed the snow-mounded fields of lavender and rose bushes that Nellie had cultivated for decades.
Leah was relieved to see that the plants appeared well tended—the less hardy tea roses sheltered beneath burlap, the rows of lavender clear of obvious weeds. Much of her youth had been spent helping Nellie make her artisanal soaps, candles, and candy using the fruits of her garden. She half expec
ted to see Nellie, clad in her uniform of jeans and flannel shirt with a wide-brimmed sunhat worn year-round, rise up from inspecting the plants, turn and wave at them.
But instead, it was another redhead who bounded through the emerald green front door. Ruby. Despite the cold, she pranced across the wide-planked porch barefoot, waving gleefully as if they might miss her in the gathering twilight. How typical. Leah and Emily were fleeing the man who murdered Ian and Ruby’s response was to act as if they were having a girls’ night out.
Jericho parked the car and came around to open their door. Leah unfastened the seatbelt. Emily climbed off her lap, tugging at her pajama top, pulling it down over her wet bottoms.
“Harper’s staying the night. Tomorrow I’ll send uniforms to relieve her. In the meantime, the only phone that’s on is Harper’s and that burner phone Dr. Kern lent you. The only number you call is mine.” He paused. “Dr. Kern gave me your phone. Do I have your permission to search it? It will help us trace the people harassing you.”
“Of course.”
He jotted a receipt on his pocket notebook, had her sign it.
“If you make a list, I’ll have someone go to the store for you in the morning.”
Leah barely heard his words as she watched Ruby grab Emily’s hand and practically dance her inside. One more betrayal to lay at Ian’s feet. “This woman, Katrina, the one you think—” She couldn’t even find the words. “You think she killed Ian? Or got him killed?”
“As soon as we learn anything, I’ll let you know.”
Her anger shattered her restraint. “I don’t need any more lies, Detective. I need to know if my little girl is in danger. I need to know how to keep her safe. And I need to know who the hell my husband really was.”
Twenty-Nine
Luka wished he had answers for Leah—if he did, he’d be that much closer to finding her husband’s killer. His phone vibrated with another text and he shoved his hand deep into his pocket to smother it. Stray snowflakes filled the air, harbingers of more to come, and Leah’s lips trembled with the cold as she waited for his response.