by Brenda Novak
“She’s on another line. Can I take a message and have her call you back?”
Don’t talk to her. She’s on their side, McCreedy had warned. Why wasn’t he listening?
“No, no message,” he said, and hung up.
6
“You got a minute?”
Ava glanced up as Jonathan Stivers poked his head into her office on Thursday afternoon. “Of course,” she said. “Get in here. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Sorry, my phone’s dead and I lost my charger.”
Just shy of six feet tall with a wiry build, brown hair and brown eyes, Jonathan was definitely handsome. Although Ava had never been attracted to him in a romantic sense, the interns and volunteers gushed over him all the time—to no avail. He was engaged to Zoë Duncan, a woman he’d met while he was working to locate her kidnapped daughter.
“Then I’m glad you stopped by.” She shoved some phone records she’d been studying for another case off to one side. “I’ve been dying to talk to you.”
He ambled in and took a chair across from her desk. “Fortunately, you’re still here. I didn’t want to drive all over the place looking for your houseboat.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start, okay? It’s not that hard to find.”
“It’s at least a forty-minute drive.”
“But I dock it in the same place every night. Well, every night so far this month,” she corrected.
“When are you going to buy a real house?” he asked. “It can’t be convenient driving out to the delta every night.”
“Skye’s house is farther.” She shrugged. “Anyway, a houseboat has its advantages.”
“And they are…”
“I’m not sure I want to live in Sacramento forever. If I had a regular house, I’d have to sell it in order to leave.”
“So you’re saying you can pick up and go whenever you want.”
She opened her top drawer to get a package of gum, then slammed it shut. “Exactly.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Like right now.”
“Yup. I could if I wanted to.” She unwrapped a piece of gum and tossed the paper at the wastebasket, but missed.
“You can’t simply abandon the houseboat.”
“I’d call my father and tell him to take care of it himself. After all, it’s his, isn’t it?” She popped the gum in her mouth.
“You couldn’t do that. Because then he’d have to sell it, dispelling the illusion you’ve helped him create that he hasn’t gotten too henpecked to steal away on a fishing trip now and then.” Jonathan jerked his head toward her desk. “I’ll have a piece of that.”
She threw a stick of gum at him instead of to him, but he managed to catch it. “His illusions are not my problem.”
“Now you’re dissembling.”
“Dissembling? Where’d you come up with that word?”
He wadded up his wrapper and tossed it in the direction of the wastebasket—it went right in. “I have a good vocabulary. I just try not to use it. I don’t like to intimidate those around me.”
She had to laugh. “Well, I’m not dissembling or prevaricating or fabricating.”
“You’ve been holding back, too,” he said with a whistle. “I’m impressed.”
“I’m glad. Does that mean we can stop arguing?” There was no point in trying to convince him she was right, because she wasn’t. She couldn’t hand the houseboat back to her father, not without plenty of notice. Now that her mother was in prison, Chuck Bixby was all she had. Distant though he’d always been, at least in an emotional sense, she was taking it upon herself to bridge the gap between them, to build what she could out of the tattered remnants of her family. That meant she couldn’t rock the boat—in her case, the houseboat.
“We’re not arguing. We’re ratiocinating,” he said.
“Ra…what?” She got up to put her gum wrapper in the garbage.
“Ratiocinating.” He offered her a smug smile. “It means to reason methodically and logically.”
She raised one hand as she returned to her seat. “Fine, smart-ass. I’ve got one for you. Quit being a polemical asshole, okay? Now, can we get on with business?”
He scratched his head. “The asshole part I definitely understand….”
“Forget it!” She opened her file on Kalyna Harter. “What have you learned about Captain Trussell?”
Jonathan made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I hate to tell you this, babe, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“What?”
“The Luke Trussell you had me run could be a Boy Scout. I don’t know what more there is to say.”
“His record is that clean?”
“Two speeding tickets in three years. That’s it.”
“No previous arrests? No DUIs?”
“No assault and battery. No domestic abuse. No disturbin’ the peace. No freakin’ skateboarding in the park.”
“Have you talked to his friends, enemies, previous lovers?”
“I couldn’t find any enemies. I got hold of two women he’s dated in the past. One said he took her out a few times, but never tried to sleep with her. When I asked why, she told me he didn’t want to make a commitment. He was only twenty-four at the time, wasn’t ready.”
“And the other one?”
“Paris Larsen. Captain Trussell dated her for more than a year. And she admitted right up-front that he was the best lover she could imagine. Kind and gentle. Those were her words. He broke off the relationship eighteen months ago, but if I had my bet, she’s still in love with him and would take him back in a heartbeat. And this woman is a clothes designer who’s now living in San Francisco and making a name for herself. Completely credible, very sharp.”
“He’s a kind and gentle lover?” Ava echoed. “My client claims he used his fists on her, and then he raped her. Does that sound kind and gentle to you?”
“You’re forgetting the alleged part.”
“Why would my client lie?”
“I don’t know, but Trussell has a flawless service record. And get this—he was valedictorian at his high school.”
Ava wasn’t sure what to make of this information. So far, she’d heard her client portrayed as a tramp, and the accused as a model citizen. “So, what’s up? Did he drink too much and let his libido get out of control?”
“This wasn’t about libido, Ava. Whoever attacked Kalyna Harter was angry.”
The phone rang, but it was after-hours so Ava let it go to voice mail. “Maybe she really pissed him off. She could’ve hit him first or belittled him in some way.” She tilted her head quizzically. “Maybe she made fun of his package.”
“From what his ex-girlfriend had to say, I’m guessing his package is nothing to be embarrassed about. I doubt it’s as impressive as mine, but you know…not bad.”
“You’re too much.” She grinned in spite of the serious nature of their conversation. “He was drunk the night he attacked Kalyna. Alcohol alters behavior.”
“Bar-hopping isn’t a pattern of conduct. None of the places I visited recognized his picture.”
She could’ve argued that anyone could get drunk and act up, even if it wasn’t a pattern. But something Jonathan had said caught her attention. “You have his picture?”
He pulled a photograph from his back pocket. “Courtesy of Paris Larsen,” he said, and slid it across her desk.
She studied the clean-cut man staring back at her. He had nice, even features and a great smile, but it was difficult to make out the finer details of his face because he was outdoors at a baseball game, wearing a ball cap, a pair of sunglasses and a windbreaker. “What about steroids? Is he into weight lifting?”
“He lifts, but he hasn’t been to a civilian doctor or pharmacy in six years. He gets regular checkups at the military hospital, and that’s it.”
“I would imagine, because of his job, there’s some mandatory drug testing going on.”
“There is. He’s tested randomly. All his tox s
creens have come back clean.”
Ava refused to give up so easily. Kalyna’s past exploits meant she’d have a very small chance of obtaining justice. If Trussell was actually guilty, she thought, but she didn’t want to consider the possibility that she’d been played. She hadn’t believed Bella, either, and Bella had been telling the truth. She’d left Bella friendless and depressed enough to resort to the most desperate of measures…“There are other ways to get steroids.”
“Trussell lifts to stay in shape, like he plays basketball,” Jonathan said. “He’s not a bodybuilder.”
She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Why would such a smart, successful, clean-living guy suddenly flip out and rape a woman—especially so violently?”
“That’s my point,” Jonathan said. “I don’t think he did.”
But he could have. And if she hoped to help Kalyna—hoped to avoid another tragedy like Bella’s—she needed to know for sure.
“Then there’s Technical Sergeant O’Dell,” Jonathan went on.
She set Trussell’s picture aside. “Who’s Technical Sergeant O’Dell?”
“According to the bartender, Trussell was hanging out with him at the Moby Dick.”
“What about him?”
“He says our supposed victim is nothing but a two-bit whore out to hurt someone. He was furious when I told him she’s accusing Trussell of rape.”
“Whores can be raped, too. They have the right to say no if they want to,” Ava said, clinging stubbornly to her belief in Kalyna’s tears, to her own determination to protect the weak and powerless. Because Bella was a stripper, no one would believe she’d been raped. It wasn’t until two months after she’d killed herself that the truth came out. That was when the man she’d accused struck again—and strangled his next victim.
Bella had deserved more than she’d been given, more than instant acceptance of brief character sketches.
“O’Dell didn’t go home with them, did he?” Ava said. “He can’t know for sure what really went on.”
“No, but he’s pretty familiar with the defendant. He’ll testify if this case goes to court. And he’ll say Kalyna sidled up to the captain wearing a skimpy dress cut low on top and high at the bottom. That she kept bending over to give him an eyeful. That she repeatedly insisted he dance with her. That she wouldn’t let him out of her sight. What does that sound like?”
“It sounds like she was more interested in him than he was her.” Kalyna’s version had the captain acting decidedly more aggressive. But that could be a matter of perspective. It didn’t prove she was lying.
“She was pursuing him, Ava,” Jonathan said. “Maybe she was even setting him up.”
“Why would she do that?”
“There could be a lot of reasons. Revenge is one of them.”
Ava didn’t answer.
“She’s part of his flying squadron,” he continued. “Maybe she’s got some sort of grudge against him.”
“But look how handsome he is! Isn’t it possible that she was honestly interested in him and had no idea he was dangerous?” she asked. “The fact that she was pursuing him is no excuse for what he did to her.”
“Only the two of them know what really happened in those early morning hours.”
“Exactly.” She straightened a few things on her desk. “I wish he’d talk to me.”
“You’ve tried to reach him?” Jonathan asked in surprise.
“I left him a message. Why?”
“Because there’s no way he’ll call you back. His lawyer would never let him. Surely you know that.”
Bristling at his skepticism, she stiffened. “He could. If he’s innocent, he should.”
“Why? You think he owes it to us to relieve our curiosity?”
“I’m neutral. I just want the truth.”
Jonathan got to his feet and crossed to the desk. “Ava, you’re not neutral, and he knows it. You’re working for the victim—the alleged victim. But whether the captain returns your call or not has no bearing on his guilt or innocence.”
She sat up. “Maybe he thought he could get away with it because she is a whore and he can easily prove it. Maybe he considers her expendable.” A cast-off—like Bella. “Someone beat her up, Jon.”
Straightening, Jonathan folded his arms. “Why does it have to be him?”
“Because he left her place at 3:00 a.m., and she was admitted to the hospital thirty minutes later. The neighbor said Kalyna was hysterical, completely out of it, when she knocked on the door. His was the only semen collected with the rape kit. No one else was seen entering or leaving the premises.”
“Maybe she injured herself.”
That was what Ava had been afraid he’d say. And, after talking to Maria Sanchez, she was more than a little worried that he could be right.
Damn, she didn’t want an ambiguous case, a case that would force her to act on mere guesses. Those cases could haunt you for a lifetime….
7
“Surprise!”
As Kalyna’s sister opened the door, her eyes went wide. “Kalyna!” she screamed. “What are you doing in Arizona?”
Kalyna dropped her luggage so she could return her hug. I came for a visit.”
“Mom and Dad didn’t say a word about it!”
“I didn’t tell them. Where are they?”
“The hearse has been running a bit rough. They took it over to the garage to have it checked out.”
“Mom rode in the hearse?” Normally Norma wouldn’t go near it, not since her own child had drowned at two and been transported in a similar vehicle. She avoided anything to do with her husband’s business.
“No, Mom followed Dad over in the Oldsmobile,” Tati clarified. “The garage is closed. They’re leaving it there and dropping the keys in the slot.”
“Oh, right.” Relieved to find her adoptive parents gone, Kalyna breathed a little easier. She’d have to face them eventually, but this would give her time to settle in before she had to answer their questions.
“How long can you stay?” Tati asked.
“I’ll be here tomorrow and Saturday.” As Kalyna dragged her bags into the foyer, she appraised the inside of the Victorian her father had bought when they moved to Mesa. It had once been a restaurant, but the conversion was a good one. The viewing rooms were in front; the embalming stations and the kitchen were in back. The walk-in cooler, where the corpses were stored until they could be embalmed, was downstairs next to the service elevator, along with the room she’d always shared with Tati. Her parents lived upstairs.
“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” she said. Even the selection of urns in the front parlor, and the caskets on display, were largely the same.
“Business has been slow,” Tati admitted.
“Anderson Brothers Mortuary undercutting your prices again?”
“Yep.”
“They can’t do hair and makeup nearly as well as we can. They never could. Their stiffs look like…well, stiffs,” she said, laughing at her own joke.
“I’m not as talented as you were, but…1 do my best. Anyway, I thought you were out of leave. I thought you used it all to go to Santa Cruz with those guys you met last month.”
“I did, but something came up.”
“What?” Tati watched as Kalyna fell onto the settee reserved for clients.
“You’re not supposed to sit on that,” she cautioned. “You know Mom and Dad won’t like it.”
“They’re not even here.” Kalyna propped up her feet, too, exploiting her new status as the world-wise wanderer. She’d broken free while her sister remained firmly under her parents’ rule.
Tati frowned. “Why can’t we just go in back?”
“Because we’re as important as anyone else. Sit down.” Kalyna waved at the one chair that was a real antique instead of a replica. “You work hard around here—a heck of a lot harder than Mom. Don’t you think you’ve earned the right to sit in front if you want?”
Tatiana wasn’t the type to
argue. She perched on the edge of the chair Kalyna had indicated but looked uncomfortable. “Tell me what made it so you could come home,” she said.
Eagerly anticipating her sister’s horrified reaction, Kalyna lifted her chin. “I was raped.”
The horror she’d expected to see didn’t register on Tati’s face. Tati didn’t even seem surprised. “No, you weren’t.”
Her sister’s skepticism caused a flash of irritation, but Kalyna tried to shrug it off. She was free of the air force for a few days—and the fake weeping and tortured expressions she’d had to conjure up since June 6. Why let this get her down? Who cared what Tati thought? “It’s true.” Planning to leave it at that, she leaned back and relaxed, but when her sister didn’t respond, she couldn’t help adding, “He beat me up and everything.”
Tati peered at her more closely. “You look okay to me.”
“Because it’s been a few weeks, stupid! I didn’t come home right away.”
“That’s why they let you out of the air force? Because you were raped?”
“They didn’t ‘let me out.’ My master sergeant wouldn’t grant leave and he should have, so I left.”
Tati’s voice finally showed concern, but not the kind Kalyna had been hoping to elicit. “That means you’re AWOL!”
“So? They can’t expect me to stick around after such a horrific ordeal.” She hadn’t given even Ogitani the chance to object to her departure. The prosecutor wanted Kalyna available at all times. But Kalyna had already spent hours and hours with her and, separately, with Ava, chronicling every detail of the supposed rape, and the constant pretending was growing tedious. She needed a break. She was afraid she might slip up under such intense questioning. Why not relax in Arizona?
“Who says they can’t expect it?” Tatiana asked.
“I do! Besides, disappearing for a few days will only prove I was suffering too much to stay.”
“Once you sign on the dotted line, you belong to the air force, Kalyna. They were very clear about that.”
“The air force doesn’t own you. I have more freedom there than I did here. At least I get to go out at night.” She flipped her hair. “Anyway, I’m not worried. It’s not a desertion unless I’m gone longer than thirty days.”
