by Kelly Irvin
“I’ll take care of it. Trevor will be a basket case when he hears. He’ll be the one needing help and he’ll want your mother to provide it.”
“She should be landing in a couple of hours. Tell her I’ll be home as soon as I can. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“You can tell her yourself when you get here.” Rick leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him, wanting to hang on to his familiar scent. He tugged her arms away, smiling. “I’ve got this under control. I promise. You’ll be fine.”
His expression turning cool, Rick glanced at King. “You’re familiar with what my firm does, right?”
“Ambulance chasers, sure.”
“You know that if you step out of line in any way, we’ll be all over the department and the city of San Antonio.”
“Threats are unnecessary.”
“Just making sure we’re clear.”
“Clear. Let’s get this over with.” King opened the door. “I’ll go first, Miss Fischer. You’re welcome to hang close if you’ve suddenly developed an aversion to the spotlight.”
“I have nothing to hide. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
A man with a jacket that read Medical Examiner on it shoved through the study door, then turned to hold it open. He waved at King. “Hey, Matt. How’s it going? We’re ready to move the body.”
“No problem, Tito.”
King glanced from Nina to Rick, then moved to talk to the ME, his back to them so Nina had to strain to hear the exchange. The only words she caught were autopsy and soon as possible. Rick stood next to her, looking for all the world as if he were waiting for a taxi. “Don’t you want to know what they’re talking about?”
“Tito Chavez usually sends his investigators, but this will be a high-profile case. I imagine they’re discussing when he’ll do the autopsy. Your man King will want to be there. They’ll move fast on this one. Lots of pressure from the powers that be to find the perpetrator and close the book on this.”
Nina had never met Chavez in person, but she’d heard about him when she worked at the paper. He was well respected in the law enforcement community. King, she’d never heard of before. “He’s not my man.”
King turned as if he’d heard his name. “Sorry about that.” He moved into her space, forcing them both back along the wall as the ME and another man pushed a gurney toward them. “Let these folks do their thing first. We’ll follow them out.”
They’d covered Dad’s body with a white sheet, but his bare feet stuck out the end. Someone should tug the sheet down and cover them. She put her hand out and Rick tugged her back. Her stomach roiled. Acid burned her throat, and she put her hand to her mouth. Purple dots danced in front of her eyes.
This would be Geoffrey Fischer’s last trip from the home where he lived as a child, where he courted his wife, and where he brought her home as a newlywed. This home where he raised his children and pursued his career as an attorney and judge. He would never grace these doors again.
Nina corralled tears.
“Stiff upper lip, Nina. Fischers don’t cry in front of others. We lick our wounds in private.”
Yes, Daddy, I know.
“Sorry about that.” King did sound sorry. “Bad timing.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.” Her voice sounded strained in her own ears.
Rick wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Hang in there, babe.”
Babe? He’d never called her names like that before. Why now? Because, like most men, he didn’t know how to handle a woman in crisis? She wouldn’t succumb to vapors or start wailing like a banshee. He reeked of discomfort but seemed determined. He was trying. She gave him a sterling score on effort. “See you on the flip side.”
His smile seemed forced. “Yep. Don’t worry about a thing. Gotcha covered.”
He held back, while she followed King through the door and out onto the porch behind the gurney. A chorus of voices hurled questions at Dr. Chavez and then at King. And at her.
“Nina Fischer, did you kill your father?”
A ludicrous question. At least the reporter hadn’t asked her how she felt about her father’s death.
“Dr. Chavez, do you have the time of death?” Melanie’s voice rose above the clamor of the other reporters. “What’s the cause of death?”
The medical examiner didn’t respond. Nina supposed no one really expected him to make a statement to the media. That only happened on TV. He would do an autopsy and report his findings to the appropriate authorities. The next time anyone heard from him or his staff would be in a court of law.
It didn’t matter. All cameras swung toward her. Aaron’s included. He’s doing his job. He’s doing his job. To show the viewers the story. Without video, TV becomes radio.
She would be a suspect and that made this one juicy story. The viewers would love it. A judge the victim of homicide at the hands of a daughter he rescued from foster care, brought into his own house, and raised as his own out of the goodness of his heart. The story would come out. How Geoffrey Fischer had taken pity on the poor, abandoned daughters of his drug-addicted sister.
No good deed went unpunished. That’s what they would say.
6
At least it wasn’t the perp walk of shame. Nina kept her head up as she trudged from the interview room ahead of Fred Teeter, her new attorney. After four hours of interrogation, she needed a shower. A long shower to scrub the smell of that room off her and the remnants of their suspicion. And Dad’s blood.
It had been forty-eight hours since she’d last slept. At Teeter’s insistence, the police were releasing her. The fact that the GSR test had come back negative didn’t seem to faze Detective King. He suggested she might have cleaned up before calling 911. A stretch, Mr. Teeter argued, his little goatee bobbing up and down.
No one mentioned that her lawyer smelled like he’d made a stop at El Tropicano bar on his way to HQ. If they knew whose prints were on the gun, they weren’t saying. King and Cavazos had taken turns voicing the cliché heard in thousands of movies. “Don’t leave town.”
Where would she go? Into hiding? Mexico? Canada? She was innocent. Innocent people didn’t flee. They stood and fought. Her dad had believed in this country’s legal system. He dedicated his life to it. She had to believe what he believed. She stumbled into the lobby, head down, focused on making it to Teeter’s car before her legs gave out.
“Nina!”
Jan bounded across the lobby, hands in the air, her face stained with tears. Feeling a wave of protective love so fierce her heart clamored against her chest, Nina rushed to meet her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you myself.” She wrapped her arms around her little sister, who returned the favor. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Jan’s voice was muffled against Nina’s blouse. “I can’t believe he’s dead. I can’t believe you found him. You must be in shock.”
Nina pulled back. “It’s settled in a little. How did you find out? Why aren’t you at home with Grace? She must be there by now. And poor Brooklyn, how’s she doing? How’s Grace taking it? Why didn’t she come here with you?”
“Whoa, chill, girl. Let’s see, Rick contacted the Girl Scouts office. They sent a staff member out to Camp Mira Sol to tell me. Poor woman. I suspect when she got up this morning she didn’t figure her day would include telling a woman her father had been murdered.”
Jan swiped at her face with a crumpled tissue. “A detective was waiting at the house when I drove up. He asked me to come in to be interviewed. And Brooklyn is fine. I don’t think she really understands, not yet anyway. Mom is . . . Mom. You know how she is. She’s already writing another book in her head. I imagine it’ll have a widow as a main character.”
When she and Jan had moved in with an aunt and uncle they’d never met, since Jan was younger, she’d adapted more quickly. It hadn’t taken long for her to start calling Grace “Mom.” But
Jan wasn’t the oldest. She wasn’t in charge. She didn’t have to find food day after day or a safe place for them to sleep. She didn’t have to try to stay awake to make sure someone didn’t hurt her little sister night after night.
“Mrs. Shelton, if you’ll come with me.”
Nina swiveled. She hadn’t realized King had followed her out to the lobby or that he had been listening to this exchange. What would he think of Grace? “Are you serious? What do you want with Jan? She wasn’t even home at the time.”
“We interview all the family members.” King swept his hand out in a flourish. “I asked Detective Martinez to bring your sister here so we could knock out the interview quickly and let y’all get home to your mother. It’s just a question of thoroughness. We’ll wait until tomorrow to talk to your mother, give her a chance to absorb it all.”
Of course, thoroughness. Like the endless parade of questions he’d asked her repeatedly, trying to get her to trip herself up. She didn’t kill her father, and she had no idea who did. Neither did her sister or her mother. “How considerate of you.”
She turned back to Jan. Dressed in shorts, a Carrie Underwood rodeo concert T-shirt, and red cowboy boots, her sister looked much younger than her twenty-six years. Humidity made Jan’s short, dark hair a fuzz ball while it turned Nina’s long, blonde hair into a limp mess. She wore no makeup, yet her blue eyes were huge. She barely reached Nina’s shoulder and she had curves in all the places Nina had always wanted. No one would’ve guessed they were sisters. Half sisters, really. But sisters in every way that counted. “This is Fred Teeter, my attorney. Do you want him to go with you?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t represent you both.” Teeter smoothed stumpy fingers over his shiny, bald pate. “I can make some recommendations.”
“I don’t need representation. I wasn’t even in town.” Jan jerked her thumb toward King. “I’ll be out in two shakes. Do me a favor. Go home and rescue Brook from Rick and Mom’s clutches. Mom’s feeling clingy. I don’t blame her, but it’s starting to freak Brook out.”
“Rick is still at the house?”
“Yep. He finally got hold of Trevor. He’s in Dallas at some sort of philosophy professor conference. He’ll get back as soon as he can, but he drove. Mom is already trying to make arrangements and let everyone know. Rick is standing around, trying to look like he’s helping.”
“Like he’d have a clue.”
“Exactly.”
“Everyone is falling apart except you two. Interesting.” King didn’t seem the least bit impatient. In fact, he seemed far too interested in their conversation. “I guess that comes from fending for yourselves from such a young age.”
Nina chose not to respond. She’d answered all the questions she could answer for one day. Jan shrugged. “We can take care of ourselves. Where’s the interview room?”
“This way.” He jerked a thumb toward a door. “We’ll get her a ride home, Nina. Don’t worry about her.”
“I’ll get my own ride.”
That was Jan. The one person Nina no longer had to worry about. Until Jan boarded a plane and headed back overseas in two weeks. Short and with all the attributes that made men pay attention to her and Dad sorry he hadn’t locked her in her room in high school, she had enough vinegar to make her the perfect sergeant to get a platoon of men to slog five miles through mud and rain up a mountain in Afghanistan’s treacherous terrain.
And enough gumption to become a military-trained sniper.
Jan jerked her head toward the doors. “I’ll be with you in a second, Detective.”
Did King know about Jan’s prowess with firearms? He seemed to know everything else, right down to the exact date they’d been jerked from the last of a series of progressively worse foster-care homes and flown first class to San Antonio, where her uncle had tucked them into a silver Lexus and taken them to their new home.
By unspoken consent they moved away from King’s big ears and eagle eyes. Jan squeezed Nina’s hand and leaned close. “Take care of Brooklyn for me, okay? If Will shows up on Skype, don’t mention this to him. He has enough on his mind. I’ll tell him when I get back.”
“Don’t worry about anything. Just get back to the house as soon as you can.”
“Aaron’s out there.”
Nina tugged her hand free. “Working or waiting for me?”
Jan wrinkled her cute, freckled, upturned nose. A nose Nina always wanted. It surely came from Jan’s father. They used to lie awake at night and make up stories about their dads, trying to outdo each other with their attributes and their occupations, making the unknown into the super heroic. Batman’s brother. Superman’s son. It seemed like a very long time ago.
“I got the impression he’s waiting for you.”
“He should keep his distance. He has a story to shoot.”
“Aaron’s a professional. He knows where to draw the line. Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re way more important to him than his job. Let him take you home.”
Nina glanced up at Mr. Teeter, who waited patiently in his old-fashioned blue-and-white-striped seersucker suit, his expression neutral, as if he couldn’t hear any of this conversation. “I have a ride.”
“Aaron needs to help.”
“It’s hard. He needs to do his job, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t stink that his video is being used to tell the whole world about our tragedy.”
“Just the San Antonio TV market. This isn’t New York.”
Nina couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes. “Funny.”
“Let him help you.”
“Why?”
Jan patted her arm. “Because it doesn’t cost you anything and the man has waited patiently for you for about a hundred years.”
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about King.”
“I’ll make mincemeat out of that guy.” Shoulders back, chin up, her military training apparent in every step, her sister marched over to King and craned her neck to stare up at him. “You’re too cute to be a cop, you know. I always tell my husband he’s too cute to be an MP, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to arrest me a couple of times a year.”
“I can see why he might be tempted.” King held the door for her. “Let’s see if we can find a reason to get it done once and for all.”
“Be nice to her,” Nina called after King.
He let go of the door. “I’d be more worried about watching my own back.”
Again, he left her no time for a retort.
Nina blew out air and shoved through the doors into brilliant sunshine. At some point the clouds had cleared. A fierce sun beat down on her head. It felt good after the chilled air of the interview room with its dark windows and signs that read interviews may be videotaped.
Shielding her eyes with her hand, she picked up her pace, eager to get home to Brooklyn and her mother. Jan might not have patience for Grace’s eccentricities, but Nina understood them. She had a few of her own. Grace had a sensitive heart. It made her creative and the kind of mother who sewed costumes for family plays and let them build castles in the living room with boxes and chairs and blankets, and make mud pies in her fancy kitchen. She’d given them a household with a father and a mother who worked together to make a family—the first they’d ever had.
Grace encouraged them to write down their stories and paint pictures of the tent city, the last place they’d seen their real mother—their biological mother. Grace Fischer had been their real mother for the last eighteen years. She’d given Nina her first camera and challenged her to tell stories with her pictures. She’d given her a way to be who she really was.
Jan was more like Geoffrey. Which meant they mixed like oil and water. When she’d gotten pregnant at nineteen, it had been the scandal of the century in Dad’s eyes. Like mother like daughter after all he’d done to give her a different life than the one her mother chose. Jan further horrified him by being happy about it, marrying the guy, and joining the Army six months after Brooklyn’s birth. Ge
offrey never really forgave her. Still, he insisted they live in his house so his grandchild had a stable home life.
Jan agreed because she wanted what was best for her child.
An uneasy truce that had lasted Brooklyn’s entire life.
“Nina, over here.”
Aaron strode toward her with all the grace—and power—of a Dallas Cowboys linebacker. Her shoulders relaxed. “What are you doing here? You should be working.”
“I was supposed to be off today. I took care of business and headed here.”
The business of editing video of her father’s body being loaded into the ME’s van.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I’m here to drive you home.”
Nina pointed at Fred, who hovered over her like a six-foot, pale, white angel in last year’s three-piece blue seersucker suit. “Meet Fred Teeter. My lawyer.”
Aaron shook the man’s hand. “Do you need her for anything else right now?”
“No. We’ll set up an appointment.” He had the tremulous voice of a man past his retirement date. “After Miss Fischer gets some sleep.”
“Melanie’s been doing some digging.” Aaron turned back to her. “Let me take you home. We’ll meet her later after you’ve had a chance to decompress.”
“I’m sure she wants to have another angle on her story for the ten o’clock newscast.”
“No. She’s off duty now. Like me. There’s something I need to tell you. Before you hear it someplace else.”
“What?”
“Melanie made the rounds at the courthouse this afternoon with another photog. Getting sound bites about your dad’s career—you know, a retrospective sidebar to the main story. Word has it your mom filed for a divorce last week.”
7
The circus had left town. Nina raised her head from where she’d rested it on the SUV window and stared. Most of the media trucks were gone, headed back to file stories for the five and six o’clock shows. Big news for an average Tuesday. The house appeared no different than it had the day before when no one had expired in a violent manner within its historic walls.
