Cruel Intent

by J. A. Jance

  “Then, last night, when I was loading a stack of wallboard, I saw something in the bed of my truck—a rust-colored stain that looks like blood. If that’s what it is, I have no idea where it came from, but I’m guessing whatever Dave took away with him had blood on it, too. They’re probably running forensics tests on it right this minute. That may be why I’m not already under arrest—they haven’t finished running whatever tests they need to run. But once they do that, it’s game over. That’s why I’m here talking to you now. There’s been a cop on my tail all morning long, following me everywhere I go. I doubt I have much more time.”

  With that, Bryan reached into the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt and withdrew several items—an envelope with Billy Barnes’s name scrawled carelessly across it and what appeared to be two computer thumb drives. He carefully returned the envelope to his pocket, but after placing the two drives on the table, he pushed them in Ali’s direction.

  “I downloaded these from our Web-based backup site,” he explained. “One contains all the files that were on Morgan’s desktop computer as of midnight last night. The other contains all the files on my laptop. I’m sure Dave Holman is trying like crazy to get himself a search warrant for all my property. Once he does that, I have to assume both of those computers are going away. He’ll probably be able to freeze the backup files as well. In the meantime, I want you to keep these for me.”

  “Why?” Ali said. “Surely you must know that Dave Holman is a friend of mine. I’m not going to go against him on something like this.”

  “I still want you to have them,” Bryan insisted. “I’m not asking you to do anything with them. Just hold them for me, for safekeeping, until I decide what’s to be done with them.”

  “Bryan,” Ali said, “if you think what’s on either one of those drives will help your case, you’re far better off giving them to your attorney.”

  “What attorney?” Bryan asked. “You’re forgetting I just had to terminate two full crews of workers. It took every last penny in my checking account to pay them off. And I’ve maxed out my credit cards making a deposit with the funeral director who’s handling Morgan’s services. I don’t have an attorney for the very good reason that I can’t afford one. Period. I’m not going to have any representation at all until the court gets around to appointing someone, and that won’t be until after I’ve been arrested. From the way things are going, help like that could be too late. I need to know that someone is looking at this mess from my side, Ali. Right now it feels like everyone in the world is working against me—everyone but you.”

  As Ali struggled to find a way to reply, she realized that the whining drills inside the house had fallen silent. She saw Bryan’s expression darken. His crew emerged from the house. With lunch boxes in hand, the three men sauntered in the direction of the canopy-covered table. They were followed by the camera crew. This time the cameras weren’t running.

  “Speak of the devil,” Bryan muttered. Rising to his feet, he went to meet them. A few steps from the table, he barred their way.

  “Hey, Bryan,” Billy Barnes said easily. “Good to see you. What’s up?”

  In answer, Bryan removed the envelope from his pocket and handed it over.

  Billy looked puzzled. “What’s this?” he asked.

  “You’re terminated,” Bryan said. “Ryan, you and Gary are still on the job until the wallboarding is done. Understand?”

  “Terminated,” Billy repeated. “Wait a minute. What’s the deal? You’re keeping these yahoos and letting me go? What are you smoking?”

  “Unfiltered Camels,” Bryan returned. “That’s what I’m smoking, but I’ve also been reading the e-mails on Morgan’s computer. Turns out she kept them all—the ones she wrote to somebody named Billy Boy and the ones he wrote back to her several months ago. She didn’t even bother erasing them. Can you imagine that? And here I thought the two of us were friends.” Bryan’s voice dripped with contempt.

  Billy Barnes’s customary bluster faded. “Look, Morgan and me were friends,” he said. “And I can explain. What happened was an accident. I didn’t mean for us to get involved like that, and neither did she. Things just got out of hand.”

  “Things got very out of hand,” Bryan agreed. “Now get the hell out of here, Billy. Everyone in town seems to think I’m capable of murder. Looking at your slimeball face, I’m beginning to think maybe they’re right. I could do the world a huge favor by wiping your ass off it.” Bryan took a single threatening step in Billy’s direction. Fearing blows were about to be exchanged, Ali held her breath, but before the confrontation had a chance to turn physical, Leland Brooks appeared silently out of nowhere and stepped between the two men.

  “Enough,” he said. “You should probably leave now, Mr. Barnes, while you still can.”

  Brandishing his lunch pail, Billy glared back at him. “Nobody tells me what to do, you worthless little fag,” he shot back. “Get out of the way.”

  “Don’t start with me,” Leland advised quietly, holding up a warning hand of his own. “Looks can be quite deceiving. I just might surprise you. Now, I suggest you do as you were told and go.”

  After a moment of bristling silence, Billy backed down. He turned to the other workers, who had melted into the background, putting some welcome distance between themselves and the growing altercation. “Are you two coming with me or not?” Billy asked.

  Gary and Ryan exchanged wary glances, but neither of them made a move.

  “Suit yourselves,” Bryan told them. “It’s up to you. Go or not. Billy’s the one who got terminated, not you. As far as I’m concerned, you guys are still on this job.”

  “Hey, you two, don’t be stupid,” Billy urged. “You heard what the man said. He’s broke. Busted. Tapped out. Once he goes to jail, who’s going to write your checks?”

  “I will,” Ali asserted quietly, moving into the breach. “No matter what happens to Mr. Forester, if you’re still working on my job, I’ll see to it that you get paid. Understand?”

  “You think she’ll pay you directly?” Billy asked. “What BS!”

  “It’s not BS,” Leland said. “If madam says she’ll pay, she will. The woman’s word is her bond. As for you? It’s time for you to leave. Now.”

  Heeding the warning, Billy stalked off without a backward glance. Bryan returned to the table and sank down on one of the benches, while Leland turned back to the two remaining workmen.

  “It might be best if you went somewhere else for your lunch break today,” he said. “I believe Mr. Forester and Mrs. Reynolds require some privacy.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Gary, Ryan, and the two ever present cameramen disappeared into the house without any further discussion.

  “Thank you for backing me up, Leland,” Bryan murmured. “If it hadn’t been for you, I might have decked the guy. Then the cops could have me up on an assault charge along with everything else.”

  “You’re most welcome,” Leland replied. “Think nothing of it. That’s one of my responsibilities around here—dealing with thorny construction issues.” With that, he turned to Ali. “And now, if you don’t mind, madam,” he added, “I’d like to take the key to your other home and go have a look around.”

  “Why?”

  “In case we have to change the venue for Thanksgiving dinner in a matter of days, I should probably reconnoiter the situation—see what you have available. That way I’ll know what equipment, if any, I should get out of storage.”

  Ali knew at once that she had been outmaneuvered. Had Leland pressed her for the key to her house under any other circumstances, she might have been able to tell him no. Not wanting to add to Bryan’s difficulties by making more of a fuss about the Thanksgiving issue, she simply handed over her key.

  “And the alarm system is still out of order?” Leland asked.

  The previous week, the alarm had gone nuts. A technician had stopped by long enough to say that a new motherboard was required. He had yet to return. Ali nodded in
confirmation.

  “Very well, then,” the butler said. He started away, then turned back. “You’re not forgetting your three o’clock, are you?”

  “Which three o’clock?” Ali asked.

  “With Marissa Dvorak.”

  The other possible scholarship winner. Leland was right: With everything else that was going on, she had forgotten.

  “Of course not,” Ali replied. “What makes you think I’d forget that?”

  For a long time after Leland Brooks left them there, Ali and Bryan sat at the table in silence while Bryan lit another cigarette. “Thanks for agreeing to pay my guys,” he said at last. “I don’t know when or how, but I will pay you back.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Ali said.

  “I really appreciate it,” Bryan added. “I understand that you probably don’t want to believe me, either. Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

  Ali glanced down at the two thumb drives, still lying on the table. Then she looked back at Bryan. “So Billy was involved with Morgan?”

  Bryan nodded dejectedly. “Some friend, right?”

  “Is it possible he had something to do with what happened to her?” she asked.

  Bryan shook his head. “I doubt it. The e-mails I found that went back and forth between them were from several months ago. Whatever they had going, I think it was pretty much over, but I may have turned up another clue.”

  “What’s that?”

  He reached into the pocket of his jeans and removed his wallet. From that he took a small piece of paper that he handed over to Ali. On it was a list of numbers—872-GYG, along with a freestanding H that evidently wasn’t part of the number.

  “What’s this?” Ali asked.

  “You don’t know my daughters,” Bryan said softly. “Lindsey is bright as a new penny—fun and engaging. Lacy is different, smart but different. She likes order. She doesn’t like it if things are out of place or if they’re not what she’s used to. She notices things and can remember details that other kids don’t. Numbers especially.”

  Ali studied the paper. “Is that where these numbers came from?” she asked. “From Lacy?”

  Bryan nodded. “She saw a car parked along the road that morning when the bus went past on its way to school. It had never been there, so as far as Lacy was concerned, it shouldn’t have been there at all. That’s why she remembered the license number.”

  “Is the H part of it, too?”

  Bryan shook his head. “That was on the bumper, not the license. So it could have been a rental car—from Hertz, maybe.”

  Ali handed the piece of paper back to Bryan. She remembered Dave mentioning that he intended to have the two girls interviewed by one of the children’s forensics specialists from up in Flagstaff.

  “Did this information come from an interview with one of the child advocates?” Ali asked.

  Bryan shook his head again. “Lacy doesn’t speak to strangers,” he said. “She doesn’t speak to anyone, really, not even me. The only person she actually communicates with is her sister. She told Lindsey about this last night, and Lindsey told me this morning. She said the license was green and white and that it had mountains on it.”

  “So the vehicle is registered in Colorado, then,” Ali concluded. “Have you told Dave Holman? If there was an unidentified vehicle in the vicinity of a homicide, the investigating officers need to know about it.”

  “There’s no way to know for sure if whoever was driving this vehicle had anything to do with what happened to Morgan,” Bryan said. “It could be totally unrelated—something as harmless as a hiker leaving his car parked along the road while he went for a walk.”

  “It could also be a lot more than that,” Ali pointed out. “Dave needs to know about it.”

  Several long seconds passed before Bryan replied. “Here’s the problem,” he said. “If Dave learns about it, he’ll want to question Lacy, and I don’t want him hounding her about anything. My girls have already been traumatized enough—Lacy in particular. Their mother’s dead. Their whole world is in an uproar. How much worse could it be?”

  “Unfortunately, it could be a lot worse,” Ali told him. “What happens if you go to prison for Morgan’s murder? How traumatized will your daughters be then? If there’s even the smallest chance that this license number might lead to the killer, or even to someone who might have seen the killer and could help identify him, then you have an obligation to your daughters and to yourself to let the authorities in on it.”

  Without another word, she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through the phone book until she located Dave’s number. Then she handed the phone over to Bryan.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “That’s Dave’s number. Press send and then talk to him. You can’t sit on this information, Bryan. It’s too important. It could be vital.”

  Bryan stared at the phone in his hand but made no move to use it.

  “Look,” Ali insisted, “you asked me to help you. I’m willing to do that, but not if you’re not willing to help yourself.”

  “All Dave Holman is looking for is an excuse to slap me in jail.”

  “Dave Holman doesn’t screw around,” Ali returned. “He’s a straight shooter. And he’s got kids who aren’t perfect himself. If you ask him to leave Lacy alone, he probably will. But you decide. Either call him and give him the information, or you’re on your own.”

  For a moment her ultimatum hovered between them, then reluctantly, Bryan pressed send.

  “Detective Holman?” he said when Dave answered. “It’s Bryan Forester. I have some information for you. Yes, I know I’m calling on Ali Reynolds’s phone. She insisted that I call.”

  There was a long pause before Bryan spoke again. “It has to do with a vehicle that was spotted in the vicinity of our place the morning my wife died.” After another long pause, Bryan swallowed hard before he replied to Dave’s obvious question. “That would be my daughter Lacy. And no, I don’t have a description, beyond the fact that the car was blue but I have what I believe to be the license number—from Colorado. Yes. I’ll wait.” He turned to Ali and mouthed, “He’s getting a pencil.”

  Several minutes later, Bryan had relayed the information. He closed the phone and handed it back to Ali. “There,” he said. “I hope you’re happy.”

  Ali nodded. “It’s a start,” she said.

  Bryan stood up.

  “Where are you going?” Ali asked.

  “I’ll go into the house and check on progress, then I’ll head back to the hotel. My mother doesn’t do well with Lacy, especially when it comes to mealtimes. Mother thinks Lacy is spoiled. She’s not. She’s just Lacy.”

  He walked away, leaving Ali to wonder if Lacy’s different way of viewing the world might provide the one telling detail that could end up proving her father’s innocence.

  Bryan was still in the house when Ali’s phone rang. She wasn’t surprised to see Dave Holman’s phone number.

  “You had Bryan Forester call me on your phone?” Dave demanded. “Why are you having anything to do with him, Ali? He’s a possible murder suspect, a dangerous man.”

  “Yes,” Ali agreed. “That’s the word on the street. I’m hearing the same thing from all the local hairdressers.”

  “Ali, he’s playing on your sympathies. And this license thing. Where did that come from? It certainly didn’t show up in the CHAP interview.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Ali said. “According to Bryan, Lacy doesn’t talk to anyone but her sister, but are you going to check the lead or not?”

  “Of course I’m going to check it out,” Dave said, sounding exasperated. “But I’m also telling you that it’s in Bryan’s best interest to have us running around in circles and following up on useless leads. It’s what guys like him do. That’s how they think and how they work.”

  “Bryan Forester didn’t kill his wife,” Ali asserted.

  “How do you know?” Dave asked.

  “Because he t
old me.”

  “Right,” Dave said with a mirthless chuckle. “He told you, and you believed him. How does that old George Strait song go? ‘If you’ll buy that, I’ve got some oceanfront property in Arizona.’”

  “But I do believe him,” Ali said.

  Dave backed off. “Look, things were going badly for him. I’m hearing that Morgan wasn’t exactly walking the straight and narrow and that she was fooling around—a lot. I think it’s possible he and Morgan got into some kind of argument, and he lost it. I’m not saying that he didn’t have some real provocation, and I’m not saying it was premeditated. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous and unpredictable. Do yourself a favor, Ali. Do us all a favor. Stay away from him. Don’t get involved.”

  “Sorry, Dave,” she said. “Remember, I was a murder suspect, too—and not all that long ago.” Ali ended the call knowing it was too late for Dave’s warning. She was already involved—very involved.

  Bryan emerged from the house. “Ryan and Gary are close to finishing up with what little wallboard they have left. I told them that when they quit for the day, they should call me. I’ll pay them for whatever hours they’ve worked so far. After today, though, they should plan on taking the rest of the week off. I told them either I’ll give them a call or Mr. Brooks will when it’s time for them to come back.”

  Ali nodded. “That’s fine,” she said.

  “Thanks for all your help,” he said. “The best I can possibly hope for now is that Dave Holman won’t throw me in jail until after the funeral and until after I can make some kind of arrangement for the girls. That’s not asking too much, is it?”

  “I hope not,” Ali said. “When is the funeral?”

  “Day after tomorrow,” Bryan answered. “Friday at ten A.M.”

  What if Dave does have evidence that links Bryan to Morgan’s mrder? Ali wondered. Here was Bryan, hoping he’d be able to be with the twins for their mother’s funeral. But what would happen to them after that, especially if he ended up being tried for murder and going to prison? The idea of those two little girls—the one, especially—having to live with a grandmother who didn’t particularly like them made Ali’s heart ache.