Dead Ringer

by Mary Burton

  White’s lips flattened. ‘I don’t see why you need the names.’

  Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He’d been waiting for that. ‘I can get a warrant and have your tires examined for patches. And I’ll track down and talk to your hunting buddies no matter how long it takes.’

  White shoved a trembling hand through his hair. He swallowed and sank into a nearby chair. ‘I didn’t have a flat.’

  Jacob tensed but said nothing.

  White shoved out a ragged breath. ‘I didn’t have a flat and my friends will tell you I didn’t get there until nearly two. I was at my girlfriend’s house. Her name is Kelly Green.’

  Jacob wrote the name down.

  ‘She’s pregnant. That’s why I stopped by. She’d not been feeling well that day. I didn’t leave her house until eleven.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us about her before?’

  ‘I didn’t want to drag her into this mess.’

  ‘Is Kelly the reason you and Jackie fought at Christmas?’ Zack asked.

  ‘Yes. I begged Jackie to give me a divorce. Our marriage had been a sham since our disastrous honeymoon. Kelly wanted to be married by the time the baby was born. We were running out of time.’

  ‘Jackie didn’t agree,’ Jacob said.

  ‘No. She said divorce wasn’t an option. She refused to be a real wife but she wouldn’t let me go. Said marriage was a sacrament. For better or for worse. How the hell was I supposed to know she’d be frigid as ice?’

  ‘Did she ever see a therapist?’ Jacob asked.

  ‘Yeah. Finally after months of expensive sessions she told me that hypnosis revealed she’d been molested as a kid.’

  ‘Do you have the doctor’s name?’

  ‘Thompson, I think.’

  Jacob’s jaw tightened. ‘Who molested her?’

  ‘She said she couldn’t remember. But I knew she did. She wouldn’t tell me.’

  He couldn’t decide if White was telling the truth or spinning another lie. ‘I’m going to need Kelly Green’s phone number. Also the full name of Jackie’s therapist.’ Jacob handed a piece of paper and a pen to White.

  White’s hand trembled as he wrote. ‘I didn’t kill Jackie.’

  Jacob recited the Miranda rights to White.

  ‘Why the hell should I need to be read rights?’ White bellowed. ‘I didn’t do it.

  ‘Get an attorney, Mr White.’

  Kendall had a break in the Jackie White murder story. Phil White had called her and agreed to talk to her.

  Still she was in a foul mood when she arrived at the news station just after eleven. She’d taken extra care with her appearance today. She’d chosen the dark wrap dress, black boots, and silver necklace. She’d swept her hair into a French twist and applied her makeup with extra care, ensuring there was no hint of the dark circles under her eyes.

  The dream stalked her several times a night now and she was more and more convinced that it was a clue to her past.

  The increased frequency of the dream had to be linked to the visit to the adoption agency. Since the meeting more and more questions about her birth mother plagued her. Had her birth mother struggled with the decision to give her up, as Nicole was now struggling? Or had she tossed her away without a second thought?

  When Kendall was a teenager, she’d secretly conjured daydreams about the unknown woman who’d given her away. In one scenario her birth mother was homeless and unable to keep her. In another she was a rich movie star who’d been forced to relinquish her by manipulative managers. No matter what the scenario, the primary theme remained the same. Her birth mother had not wanted to give Kendall up.

  ‘So why not just search, you coward?’ she mumbled. ‘Put an end to the questions. That’s what you do.’

  She knew the answer. Fear kept her from searching. She was afraid of what she would find.

  ‘Get a grip, Kendall. Today is what counts. Jackie White’s story is what counts.’

  ‘Talking to yourself is supposed to be a sign that you’re insane.’ Mike had poked his head around the corner of her office.

  She straightened, embarrassed she’d been caught mumbling to herself. ‘I’ve been called worse. Are you ready to go?’

  He bowed. ‘Ready and willing. Where to?’

  ‘Jackie White’s husband called. He wants to talk to me.’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Despite her sour mood, Mike made her smile. Nothing ruffled the guy.

  A half hour later Kendall and Mike were climbing the steps to Phil White’s town house. Kendall knocked on the door.

  Almost immediately, the door snapped open to a man dressed in a gray suit, a white shirt, and a pink striped tie. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m Kendall Shaw with Channel Ten News. I’d like to talk to Phil White about his wife’s death.’

  The suit frowned. ‘He’s not talking to reporters.’

  She didn’t back down. ‘And you are?’

  ‘His attorney.’

  Ah, there was a detail worth noting. ‘Mr White called me.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. He’s not talking to the media.’

  He moved to close the door but she stepped forward and blocked the threshold with her foot. ‘If he has a story to tell, then I’m the one who should tell it.’

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘I want to talk to her.’ The male voice came from inside the town house. The man whom she’d only glimpsed the other day approached her. He had dark circles under his eyes and two days’ growth of beard.

  ‘Phil White,’ Kendall said, now ignoring the suit.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Did you kill your wife?’

  Bloodshot eyes studied her. ‘No, I did not.’

  The urgency in his voice struck a cord in her, but she was careful not to be drawn in. She’d interviewed some charming killers in her time. ‘Then let me say how sorry I was to hear about your wife’s death.’

  White seemed to be mollified by the comment. ‘Thanks.’

  She didn’t budge from the doorjamb. She wanted this interview. ‘I’d like to talk to you about Jackie. I want to hear your side of the story.’

  The suit frowned. ‘Phil, it’s not a good idea to talk to the press. You need to keep a low profile right now.’

  White shook his head. ‘If I don’t talk to the press, then no one is going to know what I’m thinking and feeling.’

  ‘They don’t need to know,’ the suit said. ‘As long as the judge knows.’

  White set his jaw and considered the advice. ‘No, Harvey, if the police have their way I’ll be railroaded to prison.’

  Excitement burned in Kendall. The cops had to warn White of his rights so he wouldn’t incriminate himself, but she didn’t have such restrictions. ‘Then tell me what’s going on.’

  The suit tried to close the door one last time and change White’s mind.

  Kendall kept her foot planted on the threshold. ‘Talk to me, Mr White,’ she coaxed.

  White nudged his attorney aside and opened the door wide for her. She stepped into the town house, letting her gaze absorb details.

  ‘You kinda remind me of Jackie,’ White said. ‘Not like she is now but back when she and I met.’

  The comparison didn’t sit well but she managed a smile nonetheless. ‘I’m not sure what to say about that.’

  White shrugged. ‘Nothing to say. Just an observation.’

  The camera pans across the icy James River.

  In a voice-over, Kendall Shaw begins to speak. ‘Last Tuesday, construction crews discovered the body of Jackie White not a hundred yards from where I’m standing. Investigators have not named a suspect in the case. And Jackie White’s husband is desperate to find her killer.’

  The camera cuts to White sitting in his living room. He is holding his and Jackie’s wedding picture. They are somewhere tropical. White is wearing a grin. Jackie is beaming.

  ‘We honeymooned in Hawaii,’ says Phil White. ‘She’d never been on a plane and I wanted to do something special
for her. So I surprised her with a trip to Hawaii.’

  Phil White turns away from the picture. Tears glisten in his eyes as he stares into the camera. ‘It was a magical time. She was one of the best people I ever knew. Kind, loving. I don’t know who could have done this to her.’

  There is a quick shot of Jacob Warwick and Zack Kier getting into their car. ‘Police aren’t releasing details and refused all requests for interviews. But sources close to the case say that Phil White is a person of interest.’

  ‘It’s easy to point the finger at me,’ White says. ‘The husband is always the first to be suspected. But I didn’t do it. And the longer the police focus on me, the longer the real killer will be free.’

  Jacob couldn’t listen to any more of the broadcast. He hit PAUSE and turned to face Sergeant David Ayden in the conference room. ‘She makes it sound like a damn witch hunt.’

  Ayden sipped his soda and then grimaced at the flat taste. ‘It’s all about the story with her. Ratings are king in her business. What I want to know is how did she find out about the victim’s identity?’

  None of the photos White displayed for the interview had been visible when Jacob and Zack had spoken to him. The whole scene was staged. ‘I don’t know,’ Jacob said.

  ‘And he plays the grieving husband.’ Disgust dripped from Ayden’s words. ‘With a pregnant girlfriend itching to get married on the sidelines. Wonder why Ms Shaw didn’t mention that?’

  Just last night when Jacob had seen Kendall in the elevator all pretense had been dropped. It was just the two of them, and for a moment each had been able to get a glimpse of the other.

  And he’d liked what he’d seen in Kendall. She had tremendous spirit and courage. He’d felt a connection with her. But in a few seconds she’d managed to irritate the shit out of him again.

  ‘How the hell did she get that interview with White?’ Ayden asked again.

  ‘From what I understand, he called her,’ Jacob said.

  Ayden frowned. ‘There’ll be hell to pay when I find out who leaked the information.’

  ‘I’ve asked around. Everyone swears they didn’t talk.’ Jacob would be damn sure to keep his distance from Kendall.

  ‘What about White’s story?’ Ayden said.

  ‘His girlfriend backs him up. Says she was with him until eleven P.M. on Friday. She’s also got two neighbors who’ll swear to the same.’ He recalled the facts he now knew so well. ‘Phil White’s cell phone records haven’t revealed anything unusual. Bank records were clean and showed no large cash withdrawals.’

  ‘So there’s nothing to link White to the case except circumstantial evidence?’

  ‘So far. Jackie White was seeing a therapist. Dr Herman Thompson. He’s on vacation. Won’t be back until Monday. He might be able to give us some insight into his patient.’

  ‘Have you tracked down Jackie White’s parents?’ Ayden asked.

  ‘They passed away fifteen years ago. They were older and she has no other relatives.’

  ‘What else do you have?’

  ‘Tess has returned to the crime scene twice. She and a dozen uniformed officers have walked the area several more times and have gone over the terrain inch by inch. But nothing new has been found.’

  Ayden rested his hands on his hips. ‘Who the hell else would have the motive for killing Jackie White? She was a damn saint by all accounts.’

  ‘There’s another angle that’s been eating at me.’ Jacob nodded toward the image on the television screen. ‘Jackie White resembles Kendall Shaw.’

  Ayden looked skeptical. ‘That’s one hell of a long shot.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But I’d like to poke around and see if Kendall has had any unwanted attention lately. Maybe whoever tipped her off is behind the killings. She has a knack for pissing people off.’

  ‘True. But the look-alike connection is far-fetched.’

  ‘Doesn’t hurt to ask the questions.’

  ‘Fine. Tread carefully or she just might turn this angle into her next story.’

  It was past ten when Kendall climbed the back stairs of her house, more exhausted than usual. Normally, stories like this left her jazzed, but not this time. White’s comment this morning still bothered her. You kinda remind me of Jackie.

  The offhand comment had been a brutal reminder that she didn’t know anything about her past. She had no idea where she came from. She could have relatives living next door and she’d never know it.

  She opened the door slowly, unsure if there’d be drop cloths or debris from the renovation. She flipped on the lights. What she found was a neatly swept foyer, sawhorses butted against the walls, and a precisely arranged set of tools in a nicked red toolbox. Todd was as good as her architect had said.

  Her footsteps echoed as she walked into the kitchen. The cabinets had been stripped off the walls. All the appliances had been removed except for the refrigerator, which had been angled away from the wall but was still plugged in. The microwave was set up on a makeshift table made of plywood and sawhorses. ‘Bless you, Todd.’

  Nicole’s footsteps sounded on the steps as she descended from the second floor. She appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders and she wore a blue robe tied loosely over her protruded belly. Fuzzy slippers peaked out from the hem. Her face looked pale.

  ‘I was wondering where you were,’ Nicole said.

  Kendall shrugged off her coat and hung it in the kitchen closet. ‘Why aren’t you asleep?’

  ‘Just can’t get comfortable. The baby’s doing a dance on my bladder.’

  Kendall was accustomed to tossing her purse onto her mother’s old kitchen table but it was gone. She felt a jolt of panic. ‘What did Todd do with the table?’

  ‘Basement.’

  ‘Good.’ Relieved, she put her purse in the hall closet and made a mental note to remember it was there. ‘So did Todd put in a full day?’

  ‘I saw him late this afternoon. He was cleaning things up for the day. Seems like a nice guy.’

  Kendall placed her hands in the small of her back and stretched. The tight muscles eased and the tension was released. ‘Let’s hope he continues to work hard. I’d hate to see him lose steam and give up on us.’

  Nicole absently rubbed her tummy. ‘You always do that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Expect people to quit on you?’

  That hit a nerve. ‘Not people. Contractors. There’s a difference.’

  Nicole lifted a brow. ‘If you say so.’

  Kendall didn’t like the direction of the conversation. ‘So why are you really up?’

  ‘I’ve been going through the adoptive family profiles. I just gave up about a half hour ago. I’ve read them so much my eyes are crossing. I think I’m driving Carnie nuts.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Asking her a million questions. The woman has the patience of Job.’

  Kendall followed Nicole into the living room. On the coffee table was a large three-ringed binder stuffed full of pages. She felt an odd tightening in her chest. ‘Those the families?’

  ‘Hmmm. There are dozens in there and they all really want a baby.’

  They sat on the couch. Kendall flipped through the pages. Each page came with basic stats: ages, years married, children, jobs, etc. Along with the pictures of the couples were photos of their houses, their family pets, and their children – anything that would entice an adoptive mother to choose them.

  She wondered if an adoption agency had carried a similar profile on Irene and Henry Shaw. Had her birth mother filed through the pages of a book like this and chosen them?

  She was careful to keep emotion out of her voice. ‘See anyone you like?’

  ‘They all seem great. But it’s all overwhelming.’ Her eyes widened and she pressed her hand to her belly. ‘This kid never rests. Sometimes I think she senses my stress.’

  Kendall turned one of the pages to the profile featuring a thirty-something couple wi
th bright smiles. With their golden retriever, they stood in front of a gray clapboard house. The leaves were green and daffodils filled the flower beds. ‘I’ve heard babies do sense their mother’s emotions.’

  ‘I hope not. She shouldn’t have to worry. That’s my job.’ She rubbed a protective hand on her belly.

  ‘You don’t have to opt for adoption right away.’ Kendall wasn’t sure where the comment came from.

  Nicole frowned. ‘Carnie said that as well. But I’m so afraid I won’t love her. I’m scared I’ll see Richard and I’ll end up hating the baby. That would be the greatest tragedy of all.’ She glanced at the ‘Waiting Family’ profile. ‘And they want a baby so much.’

  Kendall closed the book. Not telling Nicole about her own adoption suddenly felt selfish. ‘There’s something you don’t know about me. In fact, I don’t think anyone does.’ Disloyalty, nerves, and a need to talk all collided in her mind. No doubt White’s comment was fueling some of this. You kinda remind me of Jackie.

  Nicole lifted a brow. ‘What? Are you an international arms dealer?’

  A smile tugged at the edge of her lips but she felt no mirth. ‘I’m adopted.’

  Nicole’s mouth dropped open and her cheeks reddened as if she’d bumped into a china display and nearly knocked it over. ‘Wow. You never said a word about that.’

  It felt good to say the words. ‘My mom, my adoptive mom, never wanted me to talk about it. She always treated it like a big secret.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’ She relaxed back against the cushions. ‘I guess it was just a sign of the times. People weren’t that open about it twenty-five years ago.’

  Nicole’s gaze sharpened. ‘Still, not to tell anyone. You’re so open about most things.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I learned from an early age not to talk about it. Like telling was somehow bad. I tried to ask Mom and Dad about it a couple of times. Mom avoided the topic and her eyes got all hurt looking and Dad said it was best to leave well enough alone.’ Kendall had trouble holding Nicole’s gaze.

  Nicole looked baffled. ‘I’ve never known you to let an unanswered question go.’

  ‘This is the only one I ever have. I guess I loved them so much I didn’t want to disappoint them. So I dropped it.’