“Did you act alone?”
“Yes, completely alone.”
“You’re saying your daughter, Delia, knew nothing about what you had done.”
“You think I had something to do with that?” Delia shrieked, her eyes wide, shooting a questioning look at Colin.
“That’s right. She had nothing to do with it. It was all me,” Jerry replied on the video.
Isabel paused the video play.
“Is that the gun?” Delia asked, casting a glance at the bagged weapon that lay on the table.
“Yes. That’s the gun that was used to murder Evan Parker.” Colin leaned forward in his chair, studying her face. “And you just heard your father confess to doing it.”
“You aren’t going to charge him, are you?” Delia’s eyes widened as her hand slapped the table in Colin’s direction. “He’ll be dead long before he comes to trial. He’s given his life to the FBI, sacrificed his own family for this country.”
“You want us to believe you don’t know anything about this, Delia?” Emily snapped, then looked sheepishly toward her lap. “Sorry,” she whispered to Colin.
“Of course I don’t, Emily. Don’t be ridiculous!”
“I have a file here with the results from the lab.” Colin patted the folder as he said it.
Delia sucked in a gasping breath and her eyes flickered in surprise for a moment. She quickly regained her composure and calmly folded her hands on the table in front of her, meeting Colin’s gaze with a steely one of her own.
“The fingerprint results came back on the gun—because it sat in the river mud for a year and began to rust, no usable prints could be taken from it.”
Emily noticed a faint look of relief in Delia’s eyes.
“However,” Colin continued, “there was one bullet left in the gun and it had a well-defined thumbprint on it that belonged to Ricardo.”
“You think my late husband killed Evan?”
“We considered it, but no,” Colin said. “Your father insists he did it. He says he’s dying and he wants to clear his conscience. So I believe what happened is that Ricardo had loaded the bullets in the gun at some point, but who knows when that might have been. It could have been months or years before. I don’t believe he’s the one who pulled the trigger.”
“Why not?” Delia asked.
“Because Evan was investigating him,” Colin explained. “If Ricardo knew Evan was onto him and came to his office to kill him, to cover up what Evan had discovered he’d been doing, it doesn’t make sense Evan would ever have trusted him enough to turn his back on the man. No, it had to be someone he felt comfortable with. Your father said he met with Evan under the guise of hiring him to do some work for him.”
“Please don’t arrest my dad. I don’t have him for much longer. You’ve seen how sick he is—he’ll die before he even steps foot in a courthouse.” Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she pleaded for her father’s life. “He must have been out of his mind with grief when he pulled the trigger. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Delia, this file has something else very interesting in it.” Colin picked up the folder and shook it at her as he said it.
She dug a packet of tissues out of her purse and carefully dabbed at her eyes. “What else?”
“The lab found a small piece of flesh stuck in the hammer of the gun. Fortunately, it did not degrade too much in the water because it was encased in the gun.”
“What does that mean?” Delia’s eyes narrowed and a small frown line formed between her perfectly plucked brows.
“When an inexperienced shooter fires a gun, they’re not used to the kickback. The gun grabs a tiny piece of skin from the wenis.”
“What’s a wenis?” Emily questioned. Just as quickly, her hand flew over her mouth as she glanced at Colin, who shot her a disapproving glance.
“Some call it a thenar space, that area between your thumb and your index finger.” Isabel held her hand up and pointed to the area.
“Why are you droning on about something I couldn’t care less about? My dad already confessed.”
“With all his years in the FBI, he wouldn’t have let that happen to him.” Colin threw the folder on the table with a smack.
Delia jumped at the sharp noise.
“But you’re not used to shooting a gun, Delia.” Emily scooted forward in her chair and rested her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together, consciously avoiding eye contact with Colin. “What if I told you the DNA test shows those skin cells belong to you.” She knew the test wasn’t back yet, but she hoped to bluff Delia into thinking it was.
Delia bolted from her chair. “I didn’t do it!” she hollered. “My father already told you he did it. Why are you trying to pin this on me? Do I need to call a lawyer?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Isabel said. “I forgot to show you the rest of the video.” She pushed the play button again.
On the video, Isabel could be heard explaining to Jerry that the fingerprint on the bullet belonged to Ricardo Vega.
Delia watched intently, sitting absolutely still with her gaze riveted to the computer screen.
“Ricardo? Then I take it back.” Jerry squirmed in his bed. “If the print is Ricardo’s, you know I couldn’t have done it. That no-good son-in-law of mine, so he was the one that killed David. Must’ve been because he found out the guy was investigating him. Ricardo obviously didn’t want him to spill the beans to Delia about what he was up to.”
“Yes, must’ve been, but Jerry…why did you say you did it if you knew you didn’t?” Isabel could be heard to ask.
“I only said I did it to cover for Delia—I figured she must have done it. I don’t have much time left, but she has her whole life ahead of her.”
All eyes were on Delia as she sat in frozen silence for a moment, her gaze still focused on the computer screen.
“I’m not saying another word. I want my lawyer,” Delia demanded.
“Now, I know you’re not talking about my husband, Alex,” Isabel snapped. “He defended you once, but he’s not taking this case, lady.”
“They can get you a nice public defender, if you like,” Emily offered.
“I’m fully capable of hiring my own attorney, thank you.”
“Delia, you have the right to remain silent…” Colin went on and read her Miranda rights.
“Am I under arrest?” she interrupted.
“If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them?”
“Yes, but—”
“Delia, I want some answers! You can clam up until your lawyer arrives, that’s your right. Or you can waive your right to an attorney and make a full confession,” Colin said, rising from his seat and coming to rest next to her on the edge of the table.
“Now, why would I do that?” Delia asked, looking up at him.
“Because we have you dead to rights with the DNA evidence proving you were the last person to fire that gun,” Emily pointed out.
“Emily, please, let me handle this.” Colin turned back to Delia. “You can choose to remain silent, but you need to know that we already have the ballistics matching this gun to the bullet that killed Evan. Hard evidence doesn’t lie.”
Delia sat silently staring at Colin.
“If you want to go to trial, make no mistake, the DA will also charge your father with aiding and abetting. With the proof we have, your father’s last weeks or months will be miserably spent in jail awaiting trial and you’ll be given the death penalty for sure.”
Delia dabbed at her eyes again and shook her head slowly. Her lips moved, but no words came out.
“I’ve already spoken to the District Attorney’s office about this,” Colin went on. He pushed off from the table and went back to his seat. “If you decide to plead guilty to second-degree murder, they’ll consider taking the death penalty off the table and not charging your father. He can live out his last days in peace.”
Delia looked directly at Colin for an extended moment, her face as set as stone, likely processing what he just offered to her. She glanced at Emily, then back to Colin, pulling in a deep breath.
“Yes, I did it.” Her normally strong and commanding voice was shaky. “I killed Evan Parker.”
Instantly, Colin was on his feet, stepping behind the suspect’s chair. “Delia McCall, you are under arrest for the murder of Evan Parker, also known as David Gerard. Please stand up and put your hands behind your back.”
She rose slowly, her head down, and Colin clamped the handcuffs on her delicate wrists.
“Why, Delia? Why?” Emily demanded, shooting out of her chair, which flew back from the force. Her eyes welled with tears as she stared across the table, thinking of Evan, his life—their life together—cut short by this woman.
“He deserved it for killing my little sister! Everyone keeps saying she was caught in the crossfire, but Dad found out from a CIA buddy that it was really Evan’s gun that shot her.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Evan killed Natalia?”
Isabel stood and placed a protective hand on Emily’s shoulder, silently urging her to sit back down. “Actually, Delia, that’s not the whole story.”
Emily took a seat again at Isabel’s urging.
“I received a call a couple of days ago from one of my CIA contacts. He said the file on the official investigation says your sister had been recruited by a terrorist group in Spain and David Gerard had killed her in self-defense. Apparently, their supposedly chance meeting at a Paris café wasn’t by accident, according to one of the CIA’s in-country assets. Natalia’s assignment had been to get close to him, see if she could learn anything, and then take him out because he was working an operation to expose them.”
“That can’t be.” Delia shook her head, disbelief simmering in her dark eyes. “The CIA is just saying that to cover up what he did—that’s what they do.”
“Well, you’ll have the rest of your life to mull that theory over, Ms. McCall.” Colin grasped her upper arm to take her away.
“Wait!” Emily had one more question.
“What is it?” Colin asked.
“Delia, why did you hire me to investigate your husband? I don’t get it.”
“Remember the night you phoned me, told me you’d found my name and number on a scrap of paper in Evan’s old sweatshirt? I figured hiring you would help me discover if Evan had hidden any other information about me. Keeping you close helped me keep tabs.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“Pretending to be your friend simply made it easier.”
Colin led Delia out of the room and down the hall to booking.
Emily sat speechless, stunned by what Delia had just admitted and what Isabel had recounted. Her eyes filled with tears as visions of her husband’s murder flashed in her mind, much like the recurring nightmares she had endured. Only now she knew the identity of the dark shadowy figure that held the gun.
“I’m so sorry, Em.” Isabel pulled a chair out and sat next to Emily. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“But his letter said he felt responsible.” Emily wiped a few tears with her hand.
“Look at it from his point of view. He had to kill a vibrant young woman he had feelings for. My contact told me the psych evaluation in his file said that something broke in him that day—he was never the same. He blamed himself for not reading her better, not rescuing her from the ones who’d recruited her.”
“So I got the broken version of him?”
“No, Em. I’d say you got the better version. Remember, I worked with the guy. He was all about his operations and the next assignments before Natalia died. After that, he didn’t have the heart for the spy game anymore. He was on his way out of that life when he met you.”
Emily’s lips turned up into a small, grateful smile, her eyes still moist with tears.
“I recall the day he came into the office at Langley and told me about meeting you.” Isabel brushed a stray curl back from Emily’s face. “There was something different about him. He had a spark in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in a very long time.”
“I appreciate you sharing that with me, Is.” Emily put an arm around her friend’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug.
“He really did love you a lot, Em.”
She nodded slightly. “Maybe now I can finally move on without having to keep looking over my shoulder.”
“I’m sure Colin will be glad to hear that.”
CHAPTER 24
The next day, Molly was scheduled to be released from the hospital around noon. Camille let all her friends know and hoped they would help with a small welcome-home party for the girl. Since Camille and Jonathan would be at the hospital most of the morning with Molly, she asked Maggie to handle all the party arrangements.
Happy to help, Maggie took care of the food while Peter decorated the entry and family room with pink and purple balloons and streamers. He strung a big welcome-home sign across the garage doors with a couple of balloons on each side.
With Maggie in charge, the menu would not be up to Camille’s high standards as a chef, but Cam wasn’t there to prepare it. Maggie figured the food should be what Molly liked, so she arranged to have a variety of different pizzas delivered and she bought all the fixings for a help-yourself ice cream sundae bar. As a personal trainer, this was the type of food Maggie usually worked hard to avoid, but this party wasn’t about her. It was all about Molly.
Colin swung by Emily’s house and picked her up. When they arrived at Camille’s, Isabel and Alex were already there, helping to lay out the stack of dishes, glasses, and silverware on one corner of the table where the pizzas would sit.
“Hey, guys,” Emily said with a bright smile as she and Colin breezed into the house. “Everything looks fabulous!” Emily gave Maggie and Isabel a quick squeeze.
Maggie was setting out a variety of toppings for the sundaes along the breakfast bar, leaving room for the multiple selections of ice cream.
“What can we do to help?” Colin asked.
“Hello, Colin.” Peter shook his hand.
“Hey, Andrews,” Alex called out, perched on a stepstool, retrieving a bowl from the top shelf of one of the tall kitchen cabinets. “Glad you could make it.”
“I think we’re just about set, Colin.” Maggie replied to his offer. “Camille called and said they’re on their way from the hospital, and the pizza should be here any minute.”
“Pizza and ice cream. Camille’s not going to like that,” Emily teased.
“It’s not about Camille, it’s about Molly, and y’all know that girl loves her pizza and ice cream.”
“Always has,” Peter added.
“Oh, to be young and able to burn up those calories,” Isabel lamented.
“Too bad some of her friends couldn’t be here,” Emily said.
“Remember, it’s a school day,” Isabel reminded her.
“Not to worry. Camille said her friends are planning somethin’ for her tomorrow night.” Maggie set a bowl of colorful M&Ms on the breakfast bar. “Oh, my. I think I just heard a car door shut.”
The gang moved toward the living room to check. The front door opened and Molly walked through first.
“Molly! You’re home!” Maggie gushed, giving her a big hug.
Emily and Isabel took their turns welcoming her home, as well, and greeting Camille and Jonathan. Alex and Colin both shook Jonathan’s hand.
Peter stepped up and pulled his niece into a warm bear hug. “Glad to see you home, pip-squeak.”
The doorbell rang and Maggie rushed to answer it. Standing there, with a stack of pizza boxes, was the delivery man.
“That’ll be eighty-six dollars and twenty-eight cents.”
Maggie dug in her pocket for the money. Peter stepped up behind her. “Let me get that, Maggie.” He handed the man two fifty dollar bills and took the pizzas from him. “Keep the change.”
“You didn�
�t need to do that.” Maggie smiled as she tucked the cash back in her pocket.
“It was my pleasure. Besides, Molly’s my favorite niece. What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t take care of her?”
“Y’all did take care of her, Peter. Y’all saved her life.”
“No, not me alone. It was a joint effort.” He turned sharply, balancing the stack of boxes, and headed back toward the kitchen. “We’d better get these pizzas eaten before they get cold.”
Maggie followed Peter into the open kitchen where he set the stack on the counter. She and Camille took care of setting them out on the table in the dining area. The rest of the gang had congregated in the family room.
“Pizza’s ready! Dig in!” Camille announced.
“Molly, you go first,” Peter suggested.
Eventually, they all filled their plates and settled in to easy conversation. Before they were ready to bring the ice cream out, Isabel and Emily collected everyone’s plates and took them to the kitchen.
“Em, I’m glad we have a minute away from everyone else.”
“Why’s that?”
“I spoke to Special Agent Ellis this morning and he told me some things he learned from the lead interrogator about the Jade Thai Spa and the ring of sex traffickers.”
Emily’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What?”
“Apparently, according to Ratana—that awful woman who ran the spa—Molly was scheduled to be transported and sold the next day. A rich businessman from Thailand was supposed to fly in on a private jet and Molly would have been whisked out of the country. A young, fair-skinned beauty, especially a redhead, would bring a high price.”
“Oh, Isabel. I can’t even imagine how horrific that would have been.”
“It was unclear whether the businessman wanted her for himself or if he had plans to sell her to someone else on the open market. He would have gotten a lot of money for her, I’m sure.”
Emily rubbed a hand over her stomach. “Oh, Is, I feel sick at the thought.”
“Let’s just be grateful we were able to rescue Molly.”
Emily peeked over the breakfast bar and into family room, watching Molly smiling and laughing as she talked with Peter and Maggie. She was thankful Molly was safe now, and glad they were able to rescue the other girls in that house, but a nauseating feeling continued to roil in her gut.
3 The Chain of Lies Page 21
