The color drained from Len’s face. He grabbed the photos from Diana and started shuffling through them. “Where’d you get these? Did Roy have them?”
Diana moved closer to Jeremy. “Go out back,” she told him. “Check on Digger.”
Jeremy didn’t move.
“Answer me!” Len yelled, his face inches from Diana’s. “Where did these photos come from?”
“Go on,” she urged Jeremy, giving him a gentle shove. “Get outside.”
Len stepped between them, grabbed Diana by the shoulders and shook her, knocking the bottle of syrup to the floor in the process. “Who else has copies?”
Jeremy tugged ferociously at Len’s belt. “Leave my mom alone.”
Len shook him off. “Stay out of this, kid.”
Diana tried to pull free but Len’s grip tightened. She could feel his fingers digging deep into her flesh. He was half a foot taller than she and many pounds heavier. The more she struggled, the more he clamped down.
Jeremy came at him again, pounding his fists against Len’s leg. “Let go,” he yelled. “Stop hurting her.”
Diana’s fury raged. When Len eased his hold of her to fend off Jeremy, Diana made a grab for the phone. Len knocked it from her hand.
“You can’t get away with this,” she screamed. “I won’t let you.”
“Shut up, Diana. Just shut the fuck up.”
Len shoved her hard. She hit the granite countertop square on her spine with such force it took a moment to catch her breath.
Jeremy came at Len again, arms flying. Len smacked Jeremy hard across the face and Jeremy fell, his face bloodied, his breathing labored.
Diana shrieked.
Len slapped her. “Keep your mouth shut you stupid bitch.”
Diana’s face stung and her eyes teared up. But it was seeing Jeremy, his face smeared with blood and his eyes full of fear, that sent her over the edge. She began biting and scratching. She barely drew blood. Len was bigger and stronger. She tried to knee him in the groin, but missed.
Out of the blue, his fist came at her head from the side, and connected. A solid punch the likes of which Diana had never imagined. Her vision blurred and she lost her balance. She tried holding onto the counter, but Len hit her again. And then again. One eye was already swollen shut and she tasted blood. It was like being pummeled by ocean waves, one after the other. She didn’t even have a chance to grab a breath.
Len came down on the top of her head with both fists. Diana fell, striking her head on the granite as she went down.
She felt a sharp pain, and then nothing.
Chapter 39
Chloe pushed her grocery cart down one of the many aisles of produce at the Berkeley Bowl market , overwhelmed by the choices around her. She’d never seen a market like this. So big, with so many different kinds of fruits and vegetables.
Diana had been very specific about the kind of apples she wanted— six Fuji and three Pink Lady. Good thing, since there must have been thirty types of apples to choose from. Maybe more. And she wanted a pineapple, but there, she hadn’t been more specific. Chloe counted nine different types of pineapple. How was she supposed to know which one to get? She’d always thought a pineapple was a pineapple, just like a lemon was a lemon, although glancing over now at the bins of lemons, Chloe realized she’d been wrong about lemons, too
She wondered fleetingly if this errand was some sort of test. It was certainly a change from Diana’s previous “get milk and bread and whatever cheese looks good” sort of list.
And she had sent Chloe all over town to a handful of specific markets, which she’d not done before. The list reminded Chloe of the time she’d been on a scavenger hunt, at Abigail Tilson’s twelfth birthday party.
She didn’t mind chasing all over town for Diana, but she suspected Diana’s real motivation was to get Chloe out of the house. She wished Diana had been more up-front about it and simply told her to skedaddle. That’s what Chloe’s mother used to do. “I’m expecting company,” her mother would say when she wanted time alone with one of her men. “So skedaddle. Make yourself scarce.”
Usually Chloe never made it farther than the tool shed in the backyard or the curb at the end of the block. Where was she supposed to go? It wasn’t like they ever stayed any place long enough for Chloe to make friends. They moved so often she’d lost count of the places they’d lived. Four months here, six months there. Each time things were fine until her mother got behind on the rent, and then they’d move again.
And now she wondered if she might be on the verge of doing the same thing to her own child. What kind of fantasy world had she been in to think she’d be a good parent? She was a hard worker, but at minimum wage even hard work wouldn’t get her very far. And if she was at work all day, who’d care for her baby?
Assuming they even let her keep the baby when she got out of jail.
If she got out.
She absolutely had to tell Diana about her role in Roy’s murder. If she didn’t, Weasel-face would, and he might hurt Jeremy first. Still, Chloe’s stomach turned somersaults every time she thought about what she had to do.
She had been afraid to make her confession last night once she saw that Diana was already falling apart. Afraid, but relieved to have an excuse to put it off until morning. She was going to have to do it this afternoon, though. No matter what. Weasel-face’s deadline was just about up.
Chloe again turned her attention back to the pineapples. Hawaiian Gold, Terra Gold from Costa Rica, or a Mexican Coastal—what did it matter? Diana wasn’t going to forgive Chloe for what she’d done, no matter which pineapple Chloe selected.
*****
With her list of errands completed and the car full of her purchases, Chloe pulled into the driveway. The news crews were gone, which was good. She’d hated having to walk past them, each time desperately afraid that one of the reporters would recognize her as Roy’s killer. She hit the garage door opener to pull in, but nothing happened. She punched it again, muttered under her breath. The stupid thing probably needed new batteries. She’d have to haul all the bags up the front steps.
And then Chloe laughed at herself. She sounded like a spoiled teenager. Until coming to work for Diana she’d never even had use of a car, much less a garage and an automatic door opener.
She carried the bags to the top of the stairs and then into the kitchen. It took her five trips. All the while Digger was barking like crazy at the back door, wanting in. There was no sign of Diana or Jeremy. No note either, which was odd. And the kitchen was a real mess. Eggs had splashed on counter and dried, and an open bottle of syrup lay on the floor along with a fork. The loaf of bread was out on the counter, along with the carton of orange juice.
Was this a test also? Fine. She let Digger in, put away the groceries, and set about cleaning up the kitchen. She’d get it so clean and sparkling, Diana would tell Chloe she’d never seen it look so good.
All the while Chloe was aware of a low hum, like an engine or a car idling. She would have assumed it was from the news vans but they were gone. Maybe a delivery truck or a work crew? She looked out the window, at the street, but didn’t see any unusual vehicles. So she went back to scrubbing syrup off the floor, which was harder than it should have been because Digger wouldn’t leave her alone. He kept nudging her, sitting at attention, and then whimpering.
“I don’t have time to play with you right now,” she told him.
Where was everybody? Had there been an emergency? Maybe Jeremy had fallen and cut himself.
Or, Chloe thought with alarm, what if Weasel-face had come by? He said he’d give her until tomorrow to get the money, but maybe he’d become impatient. Her knees felt weak. She should have told Diana right away. Warned her that Jeremy might be in danger.
She couldn’t stand the uncertainty. Where had they gone?
Finally, she decided to check the garage to see if the car was still there.
She went out the back door and through the open breezeway to
the garage.
The minute she opened the side door, she was engulfed in a cloud of dark smoke. She choked and stepped back into the fresh air. Almost instantly, flames erupted near the rear of Diana’s Lexus, which was still idling in the closed up garage. The source of the engine noise Chloe had noticed earlier.
Chloe hit the automated garage door opener on the wall but nothing happened. The problem had to be with the door itself rather than the remote. The only light filtering into the garage, and the only fresh air, came from the narrow garden door she’d opened. With the smoke so thick, it was hard to see. Holding her breath, she felt her way to the driver’s side and tried the door. Locked. She tried the back door, then the passenger door. All locked. Through the windows she could make out Diana’s form slumped in the driver’s seat and a dark heap she assumed was Jeremy sprawled in the back.
Chloe pounded on the window, screamed their names.
The fresh air had fanned the flames and the fire was bigger now. Her lungs hurt and her eyes stung. She felt along the wall until found something heavy, a shovel from the feel of it. She took a swing at the passenger side window. The shovel bounced of the glass. She swung again, harder. With the same result.
She turned, ran inside, and frantically punched 9-1-1 into the phone. She gave the address first, she’d learned that much in eighth-grade safety class. And she remembered saying the words fire, engine running, and two people locked in a car. She thought she made a point to say that one of them was a child. It seemed like that was important and might get help there faster.
Chloe knew she sounded hysterical. She was hysterical, although she was trying hard to remain calm enough to answer the dispatcher’s question. All the time in the back of her mind she was praying. Please let them be alive. Please let them be okay. And imagining the engine exploding, blowing the car and its occupants to smithereens.
The dispatcher was still talking, urging Chloe to stay calm. How could she stay calm? She had to do something. She dropped the phone and ran back outside. Neighbors had shown up. They were gathered in cluster, except for a man who’d unreeled the garden hose. “Where’s the fire?” he asked.
“In the garage,” Chloe screamed. “There are people inside. In the car.”
The man dropped the hose and tugged on the garage door. Another man came to help him, and they managed to lift the door.
Chloe started to dart forward. Maybe she could find a hammer.
The widow from next door held her back. “You can’t go in there,” she said. “It’s too dangerous.”
Chloe was struggling to get past her when she heard the wail of sirens. She was so relieved she turned to the older woman and fell into her arms, sobbing like a crazy person.
She suddenly understood why Diana had wanted her out of the house for so long.
So she could kill herself and take Jeremy with her.
Chapter 40
Joel was in the rental car heading to the Alameda County district attorney’s office when his cell phone rang. He knew it was illegal in California to answer it while driving, but what was he supposed to do, miss a hot tip on a breaking news story?
“Joel Richards,” he said by way of greeting, and then felt a tingle of pleasure when he recognized Chloe’s voice on the other end. But his initial delight gave way to confusion, and then dismay. Chloe was babbling. She sounded hysterical. She kept apologizing for calling him, saying she didn’t know who else to call, and that it was terrible, whatever “it” was.
“Calm down,” Joel told her. “Take a deep breath and start at the beginning.”
He heard a shallow intake of air and then more sobbing. “They were in the car. Diana and Jeremy. I tried, I really did, but I’m afraid they might die.”
“There was an accident?” Joel wasn’t following.
“A fire,” Chloe said.
“The car caught on fire?”
“Not the car. The garage.”
Joel gave up. “Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she’d managed to summon help. “Which hospital?”
“Summit.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Not me.” She sounded angry that he didn’t get it. “Diana and Jeremy.”
The conversation was going nowhere. “Hang on,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”
He pulled over to the curb to Google directions to the hospital. He might push the limits of the law a little by talking on his cell phone while driving, but he wasn’t stupid enough to search the web, too.
*****
Joel found Chloe in the waiting room near emergency intake. Her clothes were smudged and grimy, her hair disheveled. Her right hand was swathed in a cotton bandage. When she spotted him, she ran into his arms like it was something she did every day. Joel was surprised at how right it felt.
“Tell me what happened,” he said after a moment.
She stepped back, and began talking before she’d even taken a breath. “Diana sent me off to do errands and when I got home, no one was around. I went to the garage to see if the car was gone. There was smoke everywhere. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. The car’s engine was running. The air smelled like exhaust and horrible burning stuff.” She started crying again. “I couldn’t get them out.”
“They’re alive, though. Right?” Joel was guessing, but they’d been brought to the hospital, which was better than the morgue.
Chloe sniffled and nodded. “There’s some lung damage, though. At least I think that’s what the doctor said. And I don’t know what else. Allison is talking to him now.”
“What started the fire? And why were they in the car?” Joel’s instinct as a reporter was to get a clear sense of the event, and he was having a hard time understanding the bigger picture.
“I think,” Chloe said, her voice so soft it was barely more than a whisper, “that Diana tried to kill herself.”
“Good God, how terrible. Why? She wasn’t the one who did wrong, it was her husband.” But hadn’t Brian’s dad killed himself out of shame for something his son had done? The tragic parallel wasn’t lost on Joel.
“She was upset. Crazy upset. Or maybe . . . if she didn’t try to kill herself . . .” Chloe looked at Joel with anguish. “I’ve done something really, really horrible.”
A plump, middle-aged woman with light brown hair came over to them. Chloe turned to her. “Allison, how are they? What did the doctor say?”
“He wouldn’t commit one way or the other. Lung damage, brain damage—he threw out a lot of words without saying much. Good thing you found them when you did, though.” She paused and regarded Chloe with narrowed eyes. “Diana has abrasions on her face that have the doctor puzzled. They didn’t come from the fire or the carbon monoxide. Did you and she have a fight this morning?”
“What? No. Of course not. You think—”
“Just asking. I’m sure the police will want to ask you, also.”
“Why would I want to hurt Diana? I tried to save them!”
The woman, Allison, held up a hand, but her expression remained skeptical. “It’s an obvious question, Chloe. Don’t take it so personally.”
Joel felt himself bristle on Chloe’s behalf. How could anyone not take such a comment personally? But instead of standing up for herself, Chloe seemed to shrink.
“Anyway,” Allison said, “we can pray that they’ll both be fine. I’m going to head home for a bit, but I’ll be back later to see how they’re faring. And the doctor has my number. I take it you’ve already given a statement to the police at the scene?”
Chloe nodded. “And again to someone else at the hospital.”
“Good. I left a message for Len. I don’t know why he’s not picking up. But he called me after he dropped Jeremy off at home and everything seemed fine then.”
So that’s who Allison was, Joel realized. Len Phillips’s fiancé. Joel was dying to ask her a whole host of questions, but he knew this was not the time.
After Allison had left, Joel put his hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do here right now. Why don’t I take you home so you can get cleaned up, and then we’ll get some lunch.”
She looked down at her sooty jeans and shirt and seemed surprised to find that they were, in fact, dirty. “Yeah, I guess I’d better get some clean clothes. But no lunch. There’s something the police need to know.”
Chapter 41
Chloe’s stomach was in knots and she felt queasy. She wished now that she’d listened to Joel and eaten lunch. But she’d wanted to talk to the police and get her confession over with before she lost her nerve. She’d thought it would go quickly—she’d tell them about her role in Roy’s murder and about Weasel-face’s threats, and they’d cart her off to jail. Her stomach might still hurt, but at least the confession would be behind her.
Instead, she and Joel had been hanging around the station now for almost an hour, waiting to talk to someone.
“Can’t you ask them to call you?” he asked.
“No, I need to do it in person.”
Finally, the uniformed officer at reception told her that Sergeant Crandall would see her, and directed her to a room down the hall. Joel came with her, without being asked. She was happy to have moral support, although she knew he’d be disgusted with her when he heard what she had to say.
Sergeant Crandall was a middle-aged black man with a frosting of gray in his closely cropped hair. Chloe thought she recognized him as one of the officers who’d responded to the fire, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered very little but the smell of smoke and the choking panic she’d felt.
He half stood as she entered the room and beckoned her over with a wave, although his was the only one of the half a dozen desks occupied. “Chloe Henderson? I’ve been trying to track you down.”
Her heart jumped into overdrive. They’d been looking for her?
“Diana might not have tried to kill herself and Jeremy,” Chloe said quickly, wanting to get the words out before they started interrogating her. “What I—”
Lying With Strangers Page 28
