Trust No One

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Irene watched Grace closely. “Are you okay?”

  Grace took a breath and let it out with control. “Yes.”

  “Well?” Devlin prompted.

  “Yes,” Grace said. “It’s the same brand that I saw in Sprague’s bedroom and in Millicent’s kitchen. The same brand of vodka that the stalker left in my refrigerator.”

  “She’s right,” Julius added. “Same green-and-gold label.” He looked at Devlin. “We are not talking coincidence, Dev.”

  “I agree,” Devlin said. “But just so you know, as of this evening the Seattle authorities are still convinced that Millicent Chartwell tried to commit suicide or accidentally overdosed. They have found no evidence of foul play, and Millicent is still unconscious so no one has been able to question her.”

  “Someone tried to murder her,” Grace said. “I know it.”

  “We need to find something else,” Julius said.

  “Not much to go on here except the bottle,” Devlin said. “Both murders and the possible attempt on Millicent’s life were carried out in different ways. Mrs. Trager was beaten to death. Witherspoon was shot. Millicent’s situation was made to look like an overdose.”

  Irene studied Grace. “You said you got an email from Millicent this morning but the authorities think she was unconscious hours before you got to her apartment?”

  “Yes,” Grace said. “When I talked to the police I pointed out that the email was out of character for her but the consensus is that it was Millicent’s way of saying good-bye to me. She didn’t have any close family and no serious relationships. But she liked me. At least, I think she did. Damn. How can I even be sure of that? Obviously I didn’t know her well at all.”

  “Speaking of relationships,” Julius said, “one of her neighbors said Millicent had a male visitor last night—possibly two male visitors. Or one who left and returned an hour later.”

  “I told you, Millicent was not averse to the stray bar pickup,” Grace said. “She liked adventurous sex but she wasn’t stupid about it.”

  They all looked at her. Neither man said a word. Irene cleared her throat.

  “Some people would say that adventurous sex is a working definition of stupid,” Irene said. “Maybe Millicent just took the wrong man home. He left, then came back later and murdered her.”

  “That wouldn’t explain the coincidence of the vodka bottle,” Julius pointed out. He picked up his beer. “Huh.”

  They all looked at him.

  “What?” Devlin asked.

  “The Trager murder was clearly domestic violence,” Julius said. “We are assuming that the motive in Witherspoon’s death and the attempt on Millicent’s life involves money. But there is only one reason why someone would leave the bottles of vodka at the scenes of the crimes.”

  “To implicate me,” Grace said. “Yes, that possibility has not escaped my attention. If the cops ever figure that out—” She broke off and looked at Devlin. “Uh—”

  He gave her a humorless smile. “Right. I’m a cop.”

  “Yes,” she said very politely. “I know.”

  “I am also, believe it or not, your friend,” he added.

  “Absolutely,” Irene said.

  Grace gave Devlin a thin smile. “Uh-huh. Right. Thanks.”

  “Damn, lady, you sure do know how to hold a grudge,” Devlin said.

  “I never hold grudges,” Grace assured him. “They interfere with one’s inner balance.”

  “Good to know,” Devlin said. But there was a spark of amusement in his cop eyes.

  Julius fixed his attention on Devlin. “Who, besides the Cloud Lake Police, would be likely to have access to the information in the Trager file?”

  Devlin shook his head. “No way to tell for sure. It all happened years ago. Before my time here. But anyone who went digging into the records could have found that detail about the bottle. He would have had to look damn hard, though. Like I said, the bottle was entered into evidence but the label was evidently not considered a critical element. At least, no one made a note of it.” He gestured toward the image on the screen. “Take a look. You can hardly make it out due to the—”

  He stopped. No one finished the sentence out loud. But Grace heard it in her head. You can hardly make it out due to the bloodstains.

  “As Devlin just told you, he wasn’t here at the time,” Irene said, interrupting quickly. “It was a huge story locally, of course. Everyone in town knew about the murder and that Grace had used a broken liquor bottle to defend herself. However, I seriously doubt that anyone outside the police would have been aware of the label. I certainly don’t remember it and I was paying close attention because my best friend had nearly been murdered.”

  “So someone went looking for details of the case,” Julius said. He leaned back in his chair and straightened his legs under the table. “There seem to be a lot of pieces here.”

  “The two thugs who tried to mug you in the parking garage at your condo,” Devlin said. “What was that about?”

  “Could have been a random thing,” Irene ventured.

  “No,” Julius said. “It wasn’t random.”

  “Someone was trying to frighten you off, Julius.” Grace turned abruptly in her chair to look at him. “They were trying to scare you away from me. They intended to put you in the hospital—maybe worse. You’re too close to me—practically a bodyguard.”

  They all looked at her.

  “She’s right,” Devlin said. “Someone wants you out of the picture, Julius. It’s the only explanation that fits. I know you’re keeping company with Grace now but I ordered extra patrols on this street for the next few nights.”

  “Thanks,” Julius said.

  Thirty-Seven

  She felt Julius leave the bed shortly before dawn. When she turned her head on the pillow she saw him standing at the window looking out over the lake. She pushed the covers aside, got up and went to join him.

  “You’re planning something,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Mentally she braced herself for what she knew was coming. “I can tell that you’re working on a strategy.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close against his side.

  “I hate to ask this,” he said, “but would you be willing to walk me through the crime scene at the Cloud Lake Inn?”

  “Somehow I just knew you were going to suggest that we take a look at the place where it all happened.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “But I think it’s something I need to do.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m willing to do it but I doubt that there is anything left to find after all this time. I told you, the place has been abandoned for years. Between the kids who have used it for parties and the transients who have camped out there, any evidence that might have been left at the scene will have disappeared by now.”

  “I just want to see it for myself. I need to figure out what we’re missing.”

  “All right,” she said. “The sun will be coming up soon. Let’s do it this morning.”

  Julius turned her in his arms and drew her close.

  “I hate to put you through this,” he said. “I know it won’t be easy for you.”

  “Going back into that place can’t possibly be any worse than wondering why someone is murdering and attempting to murder people I know and leaving those bottles of vodka at the scenes.”

  “When morning comes, we’ll go to the inn.”

  “Okay.” She looked out the window. Dawn was on the way but it would be a while before real daylight appeared. Nevertheless, she knew she would not be able to go back to sleep, not now that she knew what lay ahead. “There’s not much point going back to bed. I’ll go take a shower and get dressed.”

  “That’s a plan.” Julius cupped her face in his hands. “But I’ve got a better one.”

  His kiss
was all slow-burn seduction and aching need. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the embrace. He picked her up, carried her across the room and put her down on the rumpled bed.

  He straightened long enough to strip off his briefs and then he got in beside her. He leaned over her, caging her with his arms. He brushed his mouth across hers.

  The sweet, hot tension built deep inside her. She reached up to touch the side of his face with her fingertips. He turned his head and kissed her palm.

  “Julius,” she said.

  She felt his teeth lightly graze her throat and then he began to work his way down her body. He lingered over her. By the time his mouth reached her breasts, she was twisting beneath his weight. When he reached her belly she sank her nails into his shoulders.

  “Julius.”

  She almost screamed when his tongue touched the inside of her thighs. She did scream when he found her tight, full core. Her release flashed and sparked through her.

  Before it was over he shifted. He rolled onto his back and pulled her down on top of him.

  And soon it was his low, rumbling growl of satisfaction that echoed in the bedroom.

  Thirty-Eight

  This place was a magnet for teenagers back in the day,” Grace said. “But not so much anymore. The local kids have found other places to party.”

  They were standing on the path in front of the old asylum. Julius had a small box of tools in one hand. Grace was surprised at her own inner calm. She felt remarkably steady and absolutely determined. There was still the possibility that the sense of claustrophobia and an accompanying anxiety attack would strike when they entered the boarded-up building. But for now Julius’s belief that returning to the scene would provide some answers had a strengthening effect on her resolve.

  It would do no good for him to go inside on his own, she told herself. He needed her to give him the visuals. She could do this.

  It had stopped raining but the trees still dripped and the surface of the lake mirrored the steel-gray sky. There was another storm on the way.

  “I can see why a series of owners tried to turn the asylum into an inn.” Julius studied the front of the decaying structure. “Good bones, as they say. Classic Victorian architecture.”

  “It dates from an era when people believed that the hospital buildings designed for patients with mental health issues should be part of the cure,” Grace explained. “The theory was that tall windows, high ceilings and tranquil landscaping would lift the spirits and soothe the nerves.”

  “Not a bad theory, as theories go. Probably should have built the hospital someplace where there’s more sunlight, though.”

  “Yes,” she said. “It is very dark at this end of the lake because of the woods and the hillside.” She looked at him. “How do you want to do this?”

  Julius considered briefly. “What made you go inside that day?”

  “Sheer teenage curiosity. I was on my way to visit Irene that afternoon. I took the lake path, as usual. When I got to this place I stopped to take a look around inside.”

  “Was that usual, too?”

  “I didn’t always stop,” she assured him. “But there were rumors that some of the A-list kids had held a party in the asylum that week. Sex and drugs were assumed to have been involved. The question of which A-list girl was sleeping with which A-list boy was always a hot topic. I decided to take a look to see if any clues had been left behind. When I saw that the plywood on one of the side doors had been removed, I knew I was onto something. So, I went inside.”

  “Which door?”

  “That one.” She pointed toward the sheet of plywood that covered the door. “It’s boarded up now.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Julius led the way alongside the building. When he reached the boarded-up door he stopped and set down the toolbox. She watched him open the box and remove a crowbar.

  It didn’t take long to pry off the sheet of plywood. Julius set it aside. Grace moved to stand beside him. Together they looked into the deep gloom of what had once been a large kitchen. The door sagged on rusty hinges. All of the old appliances had long since disappeared. The walls were battered and worn.

  Julius took two flashlights out of the toolbox. He handed one to Grace.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  He looked concerned and serious, she realized. But she could see that he did not expect her to lose her nerve. The knowledge that he had faith in her fortitude strengthened her resolve.

  “Yes,” she said.

  She switched on her flashlight and moved into the kitchen.

  “All right, you entered here to see if you could find any remnants of the party,” Julius said. “Tell me what happened next.”

  “I walked through the kitchen and into the hall. I remember my footsteps echoed.”

  She retraced the path she had taken that day. The chill of dark memory and old nightmares raised goose bumps but she kept going. Julius followed close behind.

  The basement door was shut. She stopped in front of it.

  “I heard thumping sounds,” she said.

  “Go on,” Julius said.

  “Something about the thumping sounded urgent—frantic. I opened the door.”

  “It wasn’t locked?”

  “No, I suppose there was no way for Trager to lock it, that day. But I don’t think he was worried that anyone would go into the basement. He knew the boy couldn’t escape because he was bound hand and foot with duct tape. Mark’s mouth was taped shut, too. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the poor kid at the bottom of the stairs. I thought some bully had left him there.”

  “How did he get your attention?”

  “He heard me come into the house. He couldn’t scream for help but he used his feet to kick a wooden box that was on the floor. He kept kicking the box until I opened the door.”

  “Smart kid.”

  “Yes. He told me later that he made the noise because he could tell my footsteps were different from Trager’s.”

  “Did you know Mark?”

  “No. His family lived on the other side of town, next door to the Tragers, as it turned out.”

  “Let’s go down and take a look,” Julius said.

  I can do this, Grace thought.

  She switched on her flashlight and started down the stairs. When she reached the bottom she stopped and looked around.

  “I didn’t see the body at first. I got Mark out of the tape and he started crying. He clung to me and wouldn’t let go. At that point I was still thinking that it was the work of a local bully. But Mark kept saying Mrs. Trager is hurt. Mrs. Trager is hurt. I saw what I thought was a sleeping bag. It turned out to be Mrs. Trager’s body wrapped in plastic.”

  “Did Mark understand that Trager had murdered Mrs. Trager?”

  “Not exactly. He told me that Mr. Trager had hurt Mrs. Trager and that now she was asleep and wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know much about domestic abuse in those days. I’d heard the term but I didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t something I’d ever had to contend with, thank heavens.”

  “Where was the body?” Julius asked.

  The calm, deliberate way he spoke helped her focus.

  “Over there.” She walked slowly across the space and stopped again, remembering. “When I got close I could see Mrs. Trager’s face through the layers of plastic wrap. Her eyes were open. I will never forget what she looked like. It finally dawned on me that I had stumbled into a murder scene. I started to tell Mark that we had to get out of the house and get help. That’s when we heard it.”

  Julius aimed his flashlight into the shadows. “What did you hear?”

  “A truck engine in the yard out front. I told Mark that was a good sign. It meant there was an adult who could help us. But Mark was suddenly paralyzed with fear. He recognized the sound of the truck, you
see.”

  “What happened?”

  “He said it was Mr. Trager coming back and that he was going to hurt both of us just like he hurt Mrs. Trager. The kid was so calm about it. I think he was beyond crying at that point. After all, there was a monster coming for him. What could you do when facing a monster?”

  “Where was the vodka bottle?” Julius asked.

  “Next to the body. I grabbed it because there was nothing else around to use as a weapon.”

  “Where did you and the boy hide?”

  “Over there, under the stairs.”

  Grace made herself cross the damp concrete floor to the dark shadows alongside the stairs. “I told Mark that we would get away but that for now he must not make a sound. I told him that when I said run, he was to head straight up the stairs and get out of the house as fast as he could and keep going until he found an adult.”

  “He did what you told him?”

  “Yes. He was so scared I think he would have obeyed any adult in that moment. It took Trager a few seconds to realize that Mark wasn’t where he had left him. Trager evidently assumed the kid was huddling in some corner of the basement and started to search the place with his flashlight. I hauled Mark out of the shadows and told him to go. He dashed up the stairs. I tried to follow him but Trager caught hold of my jacket. I smashed the bottle against the railing and slashed at Trager’s face with the broken glass.”

  “Good girl,” Julius said quietly.

  “There was suddenly blood everywhere. It was raining blood.”

  Julius said nothing but he came to stand beside her. He put one arm around her shoulders.

  Breathe.

  She steadied herself. “Trager screamed when I cut him. He let go of my jacket and toppled backward. I kept going up the stairs. When I reached the top Mark was already outside, running along the lakeside path. I caught up with him. The nearest lakefront houses were empty. They were summer homes in those days and this all happened in winter. My mom and sister weren’t at home that day but Mrs. Gilroy was.”

  “She’s the one who called the police?”