Vindication: Of Demons & Stones: Tri-Stone Trilogy, Book Three

by Anne L. Parks

  Irwin holds the cigarette between his fingers, ash falling to the floor, and points at me. "The woman who made me the offer has a definite hate on for you—bitched that you got everything when she worked so hard. Whined that it wasn't fair that you got the richest man in the world who was not only in love with you, but completely devoted to you." Narrowing his eyes, he leaned a little closer. "Guess you got what she wanted."

  I look at Jake, hoping he knows where to go from here, because all I had running through my head was actual murder of the man in front of me, and how long it would take someone to find his body buried on his one acre plot. Dramatic—yes. But I'm not in a rational place at the moment. I know I need to get out of here, though, before I say or do something I will regret.

  Jake stands. "Okay, Mr. Irwin, thank you for your cooperation. I'm going to need you to stay put in case we have more questions for you." He gestures toward the door, and looks at me. "Mrs. Stone, after you."

  I'm trusting that Jake's formality with me is some type of rouse, because there is no way Irwin is going to stay put after he admitted to accepting a bribe and tampering with a jury.

  Once we are in the SUV, I turn to Jake, but he is pushing buttons on his phone.

  "It's Jake. I need surveillance on a guy. The name is Russell Irwin. He needs to stay in is home until I give the all clear. If he steps outside to smoke, take a piss, or let the wind blow through his hair—I want to know about it." Jake give the person on the other end of the call Irwin's address, along with a description of the vehicles he owns, and ends the call. "He'll be here in about five minutes. We'll drive to the road and wait until he gets here."

  "Then what?" I ask. It crosses my mind to ask who the guy is that's coming to watch Irwin, but I don't really want to know. And I don't care, as long as he keeps Irwin from leaving before we can get an official confession out of him.

  "We need to find the other two jurors—and the person who is making deals on behalf of Sysco," Jake says.

  "If it is John," I reply.

  "Only one way to find out, and that's to find the brunette. Who would Sysco use to do his bidding?"

  The person would have to hate Alex. "With Alex's background dumping women after having sex with them on the first date, that list could be extensive."

  Jake nods, and then slides his gaze over to mine. "But, there's only one woman that has actually lashed out at both you and Alex."

  Of course, the woman who tried to break us up by convincing me that Alex was having an affair with her. "Rebekah."

  A black car with darkened windows pulls into the driveway. Jake waves his hand as the vehicle passes us. This must be the person sent to watch Irwin.

  I shift in my seat to face Jake. "You know, last year, when I met with John at the State hospital, he told me he had someone on the outside helping him. Whoever it was looked like me and was showing up places I had never been to, and saying she was me. It could have been Rebekah."

  "Except Rebekah is blonde."

  "She could've been wearing a wig."

  Jake raises his eyebrows, and puts the SUV into gear. "Let's see what Rebekah wants to confess," he says, as he pulls onto the road and heads into town.

  I hope she's willing to talk her way right into a jail cell while freeing Alex from his.

  Thirty-Seven

  Rebekah lives on the tenth floor of a building owned by Alex's company. I don't know if Alex even realizes it, and I don't care at this point. I'm sure her being is here is either a remnant of the business relationship they had before he met me, or her lame attempt to stay in his life anyway she can.

  She answers the door dressed in a pink satin robe. Her hair is a mess, and I wonder if that is just from sleep or extracurricular activities in bed.

  "What do you want?" She asks, her eyes narrowing on me, and her lips curled into a smug smile.

  Jake takes a half step into her apartment. "We need to ask you some questions, Rebekah. Can we come in, or would you like us to make a scene out here in the hallway for all your neighbors to hear?"

  Sighing, she steps back and opens the door for us.

  "Kylie, you look like shit. Not sleeping well?"

  She's enjoying my pain, as she always does. I really hate this bitch.

  "How long did you and John plan to frame Alex for murdering his father?" I blurt out. Smooth, Kylie. Not your best timing.

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  A door opens behind me, and Rebekah's eyes widen.

  "Hey, Bek?" a male voice asks. "Do you know if I left my belt—"

  I turn and stare at the man walking from the bedroom. He's wearing jeans, but no shirt. He looks up, and comes to an abrupt halt as our eyes meet.

  Reyes.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" Reyes asks, his eyes flaming with heated rage.

  "Putting one and one together and coming up with how Alex was convicted," I say, pointing to the two of them. "How long have you two been working together? Does it go back before you were trying to make me look as though I had lost my mind? Or did you hook up while colluding with John to railroad Alex into prison?"

  "What are you talking about?" Reyes asks, his eyebrows drawn together tight enough to produce deep creases in his forehead. If he's acting about not knowing what's going on, he should be up for an Oscar.

  Rebekah looks away from me, and is massacring her bottom lip with her teeth.

  "You don't look all that surprised by my allegations, Rebekah," I say. "You impersonated me all over town last year, didn't you?"

  Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes. "Yes."

  Reyes whips his head around to stare at her, his eyes wide. "What the fuck?"

  A breath that has been trapped in a deep, dark cavity in my lungs, is finally freed after months of feeling as if no one really believed I hadn't gone over the edge just a little bit while Alex and I were apart six months earlier.

  Rebekah turns to Reyes, her chin trembling. "John got to me—he told me he would hurt me if I didn't help him."

  My heart beat races, the blood pounding in my ears. "Bullshit. He told you that if I was out of the way, you'd have a clear shot at getting together with Alex."

  Her cheeks flame bright red, and she wraps her arms around her waist. "At first—yes—but then I changed my mind and wanted to back out."

  "Why?" Jake asks.

  Rebekah takes a step towards Reyes, and reaches for his hand. "I met you," she says directly to him. "I decided this is where I want to be, with you."

  Reyes drops her hand, nostrils flaring, and bare's his teeth. "And you didn't think you should tell me what was going on? Kylie could have been killed."

  "I'm sorry. Things were going so well, and I didn't want to screw it up with—"

  "The truth?" I interject.

  Rebekah cuts her eyes to me, her gaze hard. "If you must know, I was tired of you coming in between what I want. First Alex, and I knew you had Chris wrapped around your little finger. Besides, everything worked out. John's plan was found out, and you and Alex got back together." She places her hand on Reyes's chest, but he brushes it away, and her hand falls to her side. "I was going to come clean on New Year's Eve, but then you called and said Alex had proposed to Kylie. I thought it was over and we could both move on and be happy."

  "Except John and James escaped, I was kidnapped, and Alex was framed for murder. Why didn't you come forward when Alex was arrested—or at anytime during the trial?" I ask, my body trembles and my hands ball into fists.

  "I thought you were a better attorney and could get him exonerated."

  My fist comes up and lands on her jaw with a crack. Rebekah falls backwards, and cries out in pain. I take a step towards her, ready to knock the crap out of her, but Reyes steps in between us. Jake wraps his hand loosely around my upper arm, and encourages me to take a step back.

  "Let's all just calm down, "Reyes says, and glances at me. "How can you be sure Alex was framed? Do you have new evidence?"

  I want to
explain, but my hand is throbbing, and the pain is shooting up my arm. Damn, that hurts!

  "One of the jurors confessed to jury tampering," Jake says. "We believe there are at least two others, as well."

  "Oh, holy shit." Reyes walks into the kitchen and opens the freezer. He tosses an ice pack to Jake, who places it on my red knuckles.

  "Russell Irwin says a woman contacted him and offered him one hundred thousand dollars to convince the other jurors to convict Alex," I say, and wince at the mingling of pain from the cold ice, and the hot swelling in my hand.

  Reyes drags his hand down his face. "And you thought it was Rebekah that met with Irwin?"

  "Irwin said the woman was upset that I got what she wanted." I stare at Rebekah, ready to go after the bitch again, even if it means I break every bone in my hand.

  Rebekah is gingerly nursing her jaw where my punch landed. "It wasn't me—I swear."

  "And why the hell would I believe anything that comes from your lying, scheming mouth?"

  Reyes is shaking his head. "It couldn't have been her. We went out of town for the weekend—left as soon as the jury was seated."

  If it wasn't Rebekah, then who the hell was it?

  My mind races through the conversation with Irwin. "Irwin said he met the woman at a coffee shop in town." I glance at Jake for confirmation.

  He nods. "Yeah, the Coffee Bean."

  "Which is in the lobby of the Rowe Hotel." I bristle as the picture comes a little more in focus. "We need to see if there is security footage of the coffee shop during the weekend before the trial started."

  "I have a contact there," Reyes says. "What about Irwin? Where is he?"

  "At his house," Jake says. "I have someone watching him.

  Reyes pull this cell phone out of his pocket. "I'll get some uniforms over there."

  I toss the ice pack on the floor next to Rebekah, and watch her jump. Juvenile, maybe, but it provides me with a little bit of satisfaction to see her afraid of me. "Let's get to the Rowe and pray they haven't erased any video they might have."

  * * *

  Jake, Reyes, and I stand behind the young hotel security guard, Fitz, as he cues up the video on one of the twelve screens on the wall in front of us.

  "You're lucky," Fitz says. "Another couple of weeks, and this would have been gone."

  I send up a quick prayer to the heavens that we made it on time.

  The black and white video begins playing. People are coming in and out of the coffee shop from two doors—one from the hotel lobby, the other for the general public's use that leads to the street. Jake confirmed with Irwin that he met with the mystery woman on Saturday afternoon at three in the afternoon. Fitz fast forwards the video to the date, and stops about thirty minutes before the meeting time, in case the woman arrived early. There is no way of knowing if the woman is a guest at the hotel, or coming in off the street like Irwin.

  So many people mill in and out of the shop. I try to focus on the faces of all the women to see if I recognize anyone, but so far, no one looks familiar. At the 3:06 mark, Irwin walks in, buys a coffee, and sits at a table facing the camera. I let out a long breath. He couldn't've turned the other way so we could get a shot of the woman when she sits down?

  Within a couple of minutes, a woman approaches the table, her back to the camera. There is no sound with the video, so I can't make out what they're saying to each other. Not that it matters, if there was sound, it's doubtful we would hear their conversation over all the other noise in the shop. The woman puts her hand out to Irwin, and he takes it. I can't place the woman without seeing her face, but something about the way she holds her head, her posture, and how she shook hands with Irwin reeks of familiarity. I can't completely rule out Rebekah—despite Reyes providing her an alibi.

  The woman takes the seat across from Irwin, and the two talk for about twenty minutes. The conversation looks pleasant enough. Irwin never looks angry, or overly happy, either. If I didn't know what the conversation actually entailed, I would think it was two friends catching up. Not a diabolical plan to ensure my husband's conviction.

  I watch Irwin nod, stand, and walk past the woman, tossing his cup into the trash as he leaves the coffee shop. Taking a half step closer to the screen, I inhale deeply, waiting for the woman to hopefully turn around so we can get any sort of glimpse of her face. As if on cue, the woman rises from her seat, and turns to look after Irwin—her face in clear focus of the camera.

  "Pause it there," Jake tells Fitz, who stops the video. The image wavers just slightly, but there is no mistaking the face on the screen.

  "You're going to need to save this footage," Reyes says. "I'll get a warrant here as soon as possible. Until then, don't erase it, don't talk about it, and don't show it to anyone else unless they are detectives or from the district attorney's office. Can you send me a still of the woman's face?"

  Fitz nods his head. "Yes, sir." He presses some keys on the keyboard, and Reyes's phone beeps.

  Reyes faces Jake and me. "I'll send this to Irwin and confirm this is her. Do you know who the woman is?"

  A cold shiver runs the length of my spine, quickly turning to a spiking fever of rage that zaps every nerve in my body. I glance at Jake. "Yeah, I know who she is." I turn on my heel and walk out of the room.

  Time to make the bitch pay.

  * * *

  Reyes and Jake catch up with me as I walk up to the front desk and pick up the house phone. I ask to be connected to one of the guests, and the operator cheerfully puts my call through. The phone is picked up on the first ring.

  "Mom?" Bile rises in my throat as I choke on the endearment that I swore I would never again use with this woman. I close my eyes, and force my voice to sound pleasant. Well, pleasant may be a stretch, but less furious than I feel. "I need to see you."

  Silence greets me. Fuck, she knows something's up. I have to play this cool—I have to make her believe I need her now that Alex is in prison, and I'm all alone.

  "Of course," she says, her voice laced with concern that doesn't exist. "Do you want me to come out to the house?"

  "No, I'm here at the hotel. Can I come up?"

  She gives me the room number, and I hang up the phone. Jake, Reyes, and I load onto the elevator. Angelina's room is at the end of the hallway. Jake and Reyes stand against the wall, out of sight, while I knock on the door.

  Angelina is wearing cream slacks, a cream, top, and a wispy cover that flows to her knees. Her hair and makeup are perfect, as usual, and I wonder how I share any genes with this woman. We are polar opposites of each other.

  She steps back from the door. "Sweetheart," she gives me an awkward, stiff one-armed hug that is not the least bit motherly. "Come in."

  She leads the way into a sitting room with a couch, chair and television. A door just beyond must be the bedroom. Hot lava has replaced the blood scorching through my veins. All of this is probably being paid for by John.

  I leave the door open, and step farther inside to allow for Jake and Reyes to be able to come inside. The gentle click tells me the door is closed. Angelina turns to face me, a bright—albeit completely fake—smile plastered across her face. Her eyes bulge and her smile falters as she takes in Jake and Reyes standing behind me.

  "Mother, this is Sergeant Reyes, he's an investigator with the district attorney's office." I turn my head toward Reyes, without moving my eyes from the woman in front of me. "Sergeant, this is Angelina Tate Delaney, the woman from the video."

  "What video?" The words tumble from Angelina's mouth in a rush. "What are you talking about?"

  Reyes steps around me, and clears his throat. "Ms. Delaney, I need to ask you some questions about your involvement with a man named Russell Irwin."

  The blood drains from her face. She brings her hand to her neck, and scowls. "I—don't know anyone by that name."

  "You didn't meet with Mr. Irwin in the hotel coffee shop about two weeks ago?" Reyes asks.

  She waves her hand in the air, dismissing
the accusation. "No, I've never even been in that coffee shop."

  Reyes strokes his chin. "The video shows otherwise, Ms. Delaney."

  She scowls, but then her eyes light up. "Oh, that's right, I forgot," she says, the corners of her mouth tipping up slightly. "I did go into the coffee shop. I briefly exchanged pleasantries with a man…that must have been the gentleman you are referring to. I am approached by men often, who wish to speak to me. If I committed everyone one of them to memory, there would not be much room for much else in my brain."

  I can't help rolling my eyes. The arrogance of this woman is astounding, even in the face of damning evidence.

  "Mr. Irwin claims you offered him a bribe, is that true?"

  She shakes her head a little too forcefully, the thin veil of false confusion slipping a bit. "I had no idea he was a juror on my son-in-law's case."

  Gotcha!

  "I never mentioned Mr. Irwin was a juror, Ms. Delaney," Reyes says.

  I ball my hands into fists at my side. The audacity of her to call Alex her son-in-law. "I know you did this. The jurors you bribed are all prepared to testify you paid them to convict Alex." I'm lying out my ass, but I don't care. I need her to confess in front of Reyes before she clams up. "I just don't understand why you did it?"

  She narrows her eyes, her nostrils flaring. "You want to know why? Because you got the life I was supposed to have. I tried to mend fences with you, but you turned me away—had me tossed out of your home and your life as if I was trash. You made it very clear you didn't need me. You only needed Alex."

  "But if Alex was out of the picture, you could weasel your way in by being the supportive mommy—and I would be so distraught I'd welcome you back with open arms. Then you'd have access to my home, my husband's money—" I glare at her, and wait for her to deny any of what I'm accusing her of doing. Not one word falls from her lips. "How did you manage to bankroll all the blood money you paid out?"

  Angelina takes a deep breath and lifts her chin, regaining a calmer composure. "Not my money. Someone else wanted to see Alex out of the picture even more than me."