Suspect Lover

by Stephanie Doyle

  When this was over, she could decide if there was hope.

  “She got sick,” he continued. “Breast cancer, but she let it go unchecked. By the time they diagnosed it, it had spread. We didn’t have any money for doctors or hospitals, nowhere near enough for the type of care she needed. I was out of my mind with worry and guilt. Not her, though. She just seemed to accept it. Told me everything would be okay. I was seventeen, mostly raised, smart. She told me I had a chance to be something. But I wasn’t ready to let go.”

  “No one ever is. Not when it’s their mother.”

  “She was so young,” Dominic insisted. “Too young to die. I worked three part-time jobs, but that just paid the rent and bought food. Medicine was out of the question. It was either go to him or rob a bank.”

  “He didn’t help you.”

  “He told me he barely remembered her. I stood there looking at this man who was supposed to be my father, a man my mother was in love with when I was conceived, and he didn’t even know who I was. The irony is I look like him. I have my mother’s coloring, but his nose, his eyes, his chin. It sickened me, knowing I could look like someone I hated so much.”

  “Is that when it happened?”

  “No. I left and went back home and held my mother’s hand for the next few months while she died at home.”

  She wanted to reach out to him, but he stood and moved away from her. His arms crossed over his chest and the Do Not Touch sign was back up. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You would have liked her,” he said over his shoulder. “She was sweet. Very relaxed about life in general. I knew it hurt her to lose him, but she carried that pain around with her like a badge of honor.”

  “That you could see that in her must mean you were very observant. I’m still trying to imagine the little boy. I bet you were serious.”

  “I was,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “I can imagine,” she chuckled.

  “Not like now,” he corrected. “But I didn’t let go, have fun as easily as the rest of the other boys. I suppose it’s my nature. But the control, mastering my emotions, my anger, my rage, that all came from prison.”

  Her smile gone, she pressed. “Finish it.”

  “After she died I bounced around. I was in L.A. At some bar with a bunch of guys, boys really, but we thought we were bad. We hated the world and the world hated us. It was how I felt about life. I was boozed up and in more pain than I knew what to do with. Then he walked in. Total coincidence. And really bad timing. I told him he killed her. I told him it was his fault. But really it wasn’t. I should have worked harder to get her to see a doctor or found some way to get my hands on more money. I could have saved her.”

  “You couldn’t have.” This time, Caroline ignored the warning signs and stood to walk toward him. She didn’t touch him, but she left little space between their bodies. “At least let that go. After all these years, please know that you couldn’t have stopped what was happening to her body. Not without her help. It sounds like she didn’t want to fight.”

  “She didn’t,” Dominic said. “But why? Why not at least try to live? For me.”

  “I can’t answer that. Neither can you. But you’re walking around with twenty-year-old guilt. It must be heavy. Let it go.”

  He ran his hands over his face and inhaled. “I picked the fight. We took it outside and I whaled into him with every ounce of strength I had in my fists. I spilled my anger all over him until the cops showed up and dragged me off his unconscious body.” He paused and took a step away from her. “You need to know that, Caroline. What’s living inside of me. I didn’t even know I was capable of it until then. I had never felt that kind of rage before. But that night I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t see past it. I was out of control.”

  “You were also drinking.”

  Dominic shook off her excuse. “That was the least of my problems. If anything it helped. Being drunk, I couldn’t see clearly enough to land all of my punches. It was probably the only thing that saved his life, and mine for that matter.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. I guess they took him to a hospital. They took me to jail. Then a lawyer came in to tell me that the man I had attacked was pressing charges. I explained that he was my father, but that didn’t seem to matter. Turns out it’s not exactly legal to beat up your biological father. They gave me a public defender and the next thing I remember was the judge’s gavel hitting the table sentencing me to eighteen months.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. He’d been a boy. An angry boy who had lost his mother. She wanted to rail at the injustice. She wanted to find his father and hurt him again. But that was done and if there was one thing she was certain of in life, it was that you had to look forward. It had taken her a long time to get there after her parents had died, but she was finally making steps.

  “That’s it, then. So what happens next?”

  Dominic looked at her. “Next?”

  “Next. You told me why you left. You told me why you went to jail. You told me you didn’t kill Denny and I believe you. That means that someone else did. I’m guessing you have your theories. For that matter, I have some, too. Lucky for you, you married a mystery writer.”

  “This isn’t a story in one of your books.”

  “I’m not suggesting it is. Nor do I want to play the role of amateur detective. The first thing we need to do when we get back to San Jose is call the police.”

  “No,” he said sharply.

  “Dominic what choice do you have? You’re innocent. I know it. Your sister knows it. They’ll find out who did this and in the meantime you’ll…”

  “I’ll be in jail,” he growled. “I don’t think you understood what I was trying to tell you before. I can’t go back.”

  “But it’s temporary,” she reasoned.

  “This isn’t a question of not wanting to,” he tried to tell her. “I. Can’t. Go. Back.”

  “So that’s it?” she asked, frustrated. “We forget all of this and leave. A life on the run. You and me on a beach in Mexico living under an assumed name.”

  He didn’t answer. As the seconds ticked by and his grim expression didn’t change, she finally understood. For as much as he’d hurt her already, it was still a surprise each time. Like he’d just kicked her out of bed again. The disappointment she felt was numbing and she was transported back to last night standing on her doorstep, weary to the bone with no hope for a happy ending. “You never had any intention of taking me with you.”

  “I needed to get you out of California. I needed you to be safe.”

  “Why?” she pushed. “Why did you care?”

  If it was possible his eyes darkened even further. “You need me to answer that?”

  Caroline thought about it. “Yes. I do. A few minutes ago you said you would follow me to the ends of the earth, but now you’re disappearing again. You’re always leaving me, pushing me away. Somehow. Do you really care about me?”

  He moved but she stepped back out of his reach. “Caroline.”

  “What?” she barked even as she took more paces back. “You want me to believe something else? Then tell me.”

  Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not leaving to go to Mexico. I need to go back to California. I need to find out who did this. I need to know if Denny’s program is out there somewhere. I told you in the wrong hands it could be dangerous.”

  She had to force herself not to roll her eyes. “Don’t give me the dangerous software program bull. Fine. If you don’t want to go to the police, then-”

  “I can’t go!” He shouted so loudly he startled her. It wasn’t the first time he’d raised his voice, but this was different. She could see the veins standing out along his neck. Suddenly the image of him standing over his father and beating him senseless wasn’t so hard to imagine.

  It was as if she flipped some switch in him. The control he exercised over every gesture was gone. His arms spread out and then his
fist slammed into his bare chest.

  “This isn’t some game with me. Prison took everything out of me, can you understand that? No, you can’t! You were shut up here in your little ivory tower writing your stories having control over your characters’ actions and emotions. I had no control. None!”

  His breathing was ragged and Caroline found herself torn between the desire to go to him or run away.

  “Every minute of every day was out of my control. Every second spent watching my back, my front. I used every instinct that I had ever been born with to survive. Everyone was the enemy inside. For seventeen months and twenty days, I was nothing. I couldn’t pick and choose the feelings I wanted to keep in there. I couldn’t stop the fear and the madness but keep everything else. All of it had to go. All of it. You said I was cold. You’re right. So I’m not going to the police. And I’m not going back to prison. But I have to find out what happened to Denny. I have no choice.”

  “Then let me go with you,” she said quietly.

  Her soft whisper took him off guard and immediately he checked himself. He’d shouted at her again. She’d done nothing but want an answer and he’d screamed at her like a man out of control.

  “I’m sorry I yelled.”

  “I don’t want your apology. I want to go with you. I want to help you do whatever it is you need to do.”

  “I just got you out of there. You think I’m going to let you go back?”

  Dominic let his head drop forward. Didn’t she understand? Didn’t she get that all of this was made worse by knowing what he put her through? He had taken her away from her sanctuary, had dragged her across the country on the promise of a family. It wasn’t until he began to fear what she made him feel that he knew he was never going to be able to give her what she wanted.

  She got too close. She pushed too hard. The night Denny died, he sat at his office desk and calculated exactly how long it would take to divorce her. To make her leave so he wouldn’t have to hear her say at some unknown point in the future that she didn’t love him anymore.

  Then he’d left her in the presence of a killer. He had no choice but still it slashed a new wound in him. Did the murderer go to the house? Did the two of them communicate? The questions had driven Dominic crazy as he waited.

  But that was all over. She was here. Safe. She believed him. Maybe she would stop loving him. Maybe she would even learn to hate him, but he couldn’t risk her getting hurt. No matter how hard it was to leave her. He would.

  Caroline spun on her heel and started down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” he questioned as he followed her.

  “I’m going to let Munch out in the backyard. And then I’m going to call the airlines and book a ticket.”

  Shit.

  “Caroline!” She was in the kitchen when he caught up to her. A grateful Munch was quickly doing her business in the small patch of grass beyond the sliding glass door.

  Caroline reached for the portable that hung on the wall, but he stopped her, holding her hand against the receiver. “You cancelled the service.”

  “I’ll use my cell.”

  “You won’t. I won’t allow it,” he said between gritted teeth. She was really starting to piss him off.

  “Last time I checked, I was a grown woman,” she hissed back at him. “And the very last time I checked, our marriage wasn’t legal, so even if you thought you had some control over me in that department, you’re wrong.”

  He squeezed the hand under his, not hard, but enough to make his frustration known. “Can’t you accept that I want to keep you safe?”

  “I can. Can you accept that I want to go to California to help you resolve this? That I care about you, as difficult as you’re making that right now, and that I don’t want to see you hurt, either.”

  He paused trying to find some other answer, but there was none. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really. If you leave, I’ll just follow you.” She jerked her hand out his grasp.

  “You’re stubborn,” he accused her.

  She nodded. “I was sort of keeping that under wraps until you got to know me better. My gut says we stay together. I figure since I’ve been doing nothing but listening to it for weeks now, I might as well keep on going.”

  “Look where that got you,” he said humorlessly.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said knowing that he probably wasn’t done doing it.

  “Another thing we agree on. I don’t want you to hurt me, either.”

  Chapter 13

  “What about Anne?”

  They were cruising on an endless highway that Caroline was certain stretched across the universe. Dominic had decided driving was safer than booking a flight in case the police were monitoring airline travel. Plus the three or four days it would take them to get back to California would give them time to think and plan. Caroline’s BMW had still been in her garage. Jump-starting the battery was all it took for them to be on their way.

  Of course Munch had to be left behind at a neighbor of Caroline’s. The dog obviously hadn’t been happy, but at least there she was guaranteed steady meals and two young boys who were over the moon to be babysitting a dog. Still, she couldn’t help but sympathize. She knew exactly how Munch felt.

  Dominic didn’t respond to her question, but a shrug of his shoulder said he didn’t plan to explain himself again.

  “Why are you so certain it’s Steven?”

  Steven had been Dominic’s prime suspect from the get-go. She knew his reasons. As the last partner standing he had a lot to gain, he was the only other person besides Serena who had access to the financial records, and he’d been under pressure from his father-in-law to make good on the loan he’d been given. Maybe he felt that with Denny’s new product, the whole pie was better than a piece.

  “Why are you fighting the idea that it could be him?”

  “Because I like him,” she answered truthfully. “I would rather it be Anne or Russell. Or someone else entirely. A surprise character at the last second. An old enemy of Denny’s from prison. A homicidal maniac who the police have already arrested.”

  “It doesn’t work like that in your books,” Dominic said. “There is always a reason. Murder like this, the setup, it isn’t easy. It’s thoughtful. Someone has to have a lot to gain to take the risk.”

  “How do you know how it works in my books?” Caroline cast a glance at him. His eyes remained fixed on the road but she thought she noted a faint flush in his cheeks. “You read one of them, didn’t you?”

  “You had a lot of copies on your shelves. It was a way to pass the time.”

  “I’m flattered,” she said dryly.

  He gave her a quick glance. “It was good. But it was obvious who the killer was. In the book I read, there was only one bad person among the cast. He had to be the murderer.”

  “I think that’s why I can’t imagine it’s Steven. He doesn’t seem like a bad person. He seems in over his head sometimes, like he’s struggling to catch up with everything-his wife, his father-in-law, you. But I never sensed that he was evil.”

  “And you want to think it’s Anne because you don’t like her.”

  Maybe. Which wasn’t necessarily fair. “She told me what happened between you two.”

  Silence for a beat. Then he asked, “Did she?”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “It’s not something I imagine comes up in polite conversation.”

  “I knew I was right about you two even if you didn’t want to talk about it. I confronted her. She admitted that she made a pass at you. Said since it happened she’s been trying too hard to be your friend, hoping that you would forget.”

  “I forgot the minute it was over.”

  Caroline wondered if Anne would be happy to know that. She didn’t think so. It wasn’t very flattering. But if this was a revenge plot for a spurned advance, why kill Denny? He was an innocent bystander.

  �
��Tell me about the project Denny was working on. You said it was scary. Dangerous. What’s so dangerous about a software program?”

  Watching his profile, she saw him wince, as if being reminded of Denny’s program made him nervous all over again.

  “We’re a software company that encrypts data. I told you what that means.”

  On the first night she met him. “You lock the data, send it over the Internet and then someone opens it with a key.”

  “Yes. Well, Denny wrote a program that acted as a skeleton key. He could open any lock.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We have competitors,” Dominic said. “Other software vendors who write the same kind of programs we do to encrypt data. We were starting to build a reputation in the industry as being more reliable because our competitors’ software was being cracked. People were able to intercept the data over the Internet and decrypt it. And the stories were making news, causing an uproar because businesses are nuts about Internet security. With good reason. Financial transactions are just the tip of the iceberg of what’s out there. Social Security numbers, private medical information.”

  Then it clicked. A skeleton key. “It was Denny wasn’t it? He was doing it.”

  Dominic’s fingers tightened over the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “Yes. In an effort to make our software impenetrable he stumbled upon this program. He targeted a few major corporations. Two back east. One in L.A. Companies that pass personal information on their employees to insurance carriers. He was able to crack their network security and intercept the files. Then he unlocked the data and made it public. He promised me he didn’t do anything with what he found. Just let it be known to both parties who were transmitting the data to one another what happened. The story got leaked to some local press. Anonymous hacker steals Social Security numbers. Was it front page news? No. But imagine you’re a congressman sitting on a committee deciding which company you’re going to trust to encrypt data for the government.”