Price of Innocence

by Patricia McLinn

  “No.”

  “Because it could contribute to how much he resents you.”

  “He doesn’t—”

  “He talked about it being remarkable for you to be smart, considering how young and pretty you are. Sometimes with the slant that your lack of maturity—”

  “Lack of—?”

  “—should be overlooked because what else could be expected of someone young and pretty.”

  “He has never— You misunderstood. Or put your own interpretation on innocent comments because all you see is the darkest—”

  “Carl Arbendroth.”

  “Haven’t we gone over Carl enough—”

  “York told us about Carl Arbendroth. Raised him as further proof of your poor judgment.”

  That knocked her back. Not permanently. But definitely a timeout when her honesty bubbled up past her cloak of optimism.

  “Hendrickson worries about me. Needlessly, but he does. Some men do take that attitude. You should understand that.” Ah, some claws showing. “He never thought Carl was a good match for me. That’s all.”

  He waited. So did she. She wasn’t going to succumb to that ploy, using silence to press weight against the interview subject’s nerves until breathing pressed and muscles jumped.

  “He didn’t like Arbendroth being with you, because Arbendroth occupied the edge of the spotlight Hendrickson York previously claimed.”

  “That’s—”

  “And he didn’t like Arbendroth stalking you, because it distracted you, putting more work on him than he liked.”

  “Carl didn’t stalk—”

  “Want to read the legal definition? Why didn’t you tell me — us when we asked if there was anyone we should look into?”

  “Because you shouldn’t look into him. He’s a perfectly normal—”

  “A woman who resembled you, wearing your clothes, is shot in your house and your ex — who had access to a key to your place — was stalking you. Doesn’t get much more relevant. Are you trying to impede this investigation, Ms. Chancellor?”

  “You’re trying to bully me.”

  “This is a murder investigation. I’m treating you as a witness, as a potential intended victim, and as someone deeply involved with the crime.”

  “You make it sound like I’m a suspect.”

  “When you said you decided to go to the North Carolina cabin after you thought it through, did anybody help you think it through? Did you talk to anybody about it?”

  “Well, Bethany, I guess, when she urged me to go. And Adam Delattre and Celeste a bit, though only in general terms. They didn’t know who had offered the use of a different cabin or where it was, but they talked about a new environment.”

  “How about Hendrickson York?”

  “No. Not… not until I decided not to accept his offer of his cabin.” Clearly anticipating his next question, she quickly said, “He totally understood. Like I told you before.”

  She could do without understanding like that, if she only recognized it. Maybe she was starting to. Maybe.

  But that was beside the point. What mattered was Hendrickson York could have heard it from the others well before Jamie told him. Could have put bits and pieces together, with information on Bethany Usher’s background pointing toward North Carolina. Could even have gotten the information from Bethany Usher herself.

  Could she have been killed to keep her from giving away Jamie’s whereabouts?

  No. He was more tired than he thought. That only made sense if something happened to Jamie while she was in North Carolina.

  “Let’s talk about Bethany Usher and your keys. You said garage and the car only.”

  “That’s right. I don’t know how she could have gotten in the house. She’s never even had my keys in her ha—” She broke off.

  “What did you remember, Jamie?”

  “The week before I left. I was working late, trying to get ready to go. My car was in the shop for routine stuff. Bethany offered to go get it for me before the place closed. I hadn’t given her the key to the car yet and I gave her all my keys — house, car, everything.”

  “Well, that answers that question,” Maggie said. “But don’t beat yourself up too much, Jamie. If she was a pro, she wouldn’t have had trouble getting your key. Even an amateur could’ve walked into your office and taken it out of your bag a dozen times a day.”

  “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

  * * * *

  Danolin came into the break room, but did not head for the coffee.

  “Landis. Forensics is coming up with some weird results.”

  “Weird?”

  “They’ve got prints from the house that match prints from the victim’s office once they eliminated the other people in and out of there. In other words, Jamison Chancellor’s prints.”

  “What’s weird about—?”

  “Wait. They also have prints overlapping those prints. Around the house, especially where things were taken. Also in the car — driver’s seat. Blurred on the inside of the front door knob, as if a gloved hand overlapped them. Like the killer leaving.”

  Landis held silent.

  “I’d ordinarily run these new prints through IAFIS next.”

  What were the chances Bethany Usher wouldn’t come up on the national fingerprint system as belonging to those prints?

  If Usher were identified as the victim, that would end of keeping Jamison Chancellor being alive from being known around the department. How long after would it leak to that damned podcaster?

  “Hold off on that, Danny.”

  “My Spidey sense is telling me the DNA report won’t come back to Jamison Chancellor.”

  “Don’t ask.”

  Danolin swore under his breath, wonder mixed with worry. “I can take retirement any time, but you…”

  “I know. Just give me a little time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Maggie nudged Belichek. “Go to the department. I know you want to. Jamie and I will be fine here. I’ll look after her.”

  Jamie jerked up to standing. “Look after me? I’m not a child. And I don’t need people thinking they know what I need or trying to run interference or wrapping me in cotton wool.” She gestured at the walls around them as she paced. “Or deciding what’s best for me.

  “Being optimistic doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. Focusing on the good, doesn’t mean I’m not competent,” she glared at Belichek. “Choosing to emphasize the bright side, doesn’t mean I can’t function on my own.”

  “People think she’s a marshmallow,” Maggie said to Belichek. “She’s not. But people do want to take care of her.”

  Jamie gaped at her cousin. “People think—? Like other people, not including you, because you might be the worst offender on the planet—”

  “I know you have a brain, you’re competent. I see—”

  “Then why do you avoid my phone calls? You think I don’t know? You think that as much as Nancy Quinn would go off a cliff for you, even she can’t hide behind your flimsy excuses?”

  “You call about the same thing, over and over. The foundation, the foundation, the foundation.”

  “If I don’t keep asking you, there’d be no chance for you to change your mind about participating in the foundation.”

  “I’m not changing my mind about that, Jamie. Not ever.”

  The corners of Jamie’s mouth drooped.

  “You’re not blackmailing me into it, either.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. Trying to. You have all along. Ever since you started that thing.”

  Belichek leaned back, watching them under lowered lids.

  “What?” Maggie demanded of him.

  Jamie turned, following her cousin’s gaze.

  “Neither of you is going to do what the other one does. Neither of you is going to be what the other one is. You’re different people.”

  “You think, Sherlock?” Maggie’s impatience flared.

  Belichek d
idn’t flinch. “Accept it. So you can both admit you respect the other one. You waste a hell of a lot of time. Both of you.”

  “You mean waste time with your investigation.”

  Did she realize her delivery could sting more than Maggie’s? Maggie’s was a quick, clean strike. Jamie’s planted barbs that sank deep.

  “Can’t afford to waste time with the investigation if we want to keep you alive. Assuming we manage that, then you two can’t afford to waste your living by going on this way.”

  He stood.

  “I’m going into the office for a short time. Both of you stay here. Out of sight. If anything — anything — happens, call me immediately. I can be back in ten minutes, have a squad car here in half of that.”

  He looked from one to the other of them, then walked out.

  * * * *

  Jamie didn’t know how to start.

  But into the silence of Belichek’s departure and the echoing of their long past, Maggie said, “Look. I accept — trying to accept that the foundation gives you what you need. But you’ve got to accept that it isn’t what I need and stop bugging me.

  “I base my judgments on facts and evidence. Not on feelings or intuition or any of that other crap. Because I need to be right. The stakes are too high for me not to be right.”

  She wasn’t talking only about her job. She was talking about Aunt Vivian. About all of it.

  “Only, then I found out that sometimes feelings are true.” The slightest softening of her eyes spoke of J.D. Carson. “What you do with the foundation… It’s not how I function, how I … cope.”

  Jamie’s breath hitched. Maggie talking about coping.

  She expelled the breath, long and slow.

  “I know.”

  Maggie nodded.

  They sat in silence.

  “I… I couldn’t do what you do, Maggie. I respect what you do, but I couldn’t do it.”

  Another nod. Slower. “I couldn’t do what you do, either. And I respect it.”

  Do you? The question came so fast she almost spoke it, holding onto the words by the tip of their tail as they tried to escape.

  She didn’t need Maggie to respect — to approve — what she did. If she had, she’d never have started the foundation, much less continued it through all the difficulties.

  “I respect you.”

  Maggie’s words came as if there’d been no gap, no deep thoughts by Jamie.

  Maybe there hadn’t been.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, I do, Jamie.”

  “Because the foundation’s become a success.”

  “No. Because you did — do — what you believe in. … Even if it does — did — drive me crazy. Maybe because it drove me crazy and you stuck with it.”

  Maggie really felt that way? Jamie couldn’t find words, suddenly exhausted from the buffeting of emotions from the moment she’d walked up the back stairs of her house and saw Rutherford Belichek there in her office and one instinct said run, while another said don’t run, which made her want to run even harder.

  “You do know why you fight against Belichek so hard, don’t you?” It was weird having Maggie follow her thoughts. “Why you’re your usual positive self with Landis’ questions but snap at Bel’s?”

  She did not want to hear this. Did not want to—

  “Because you’re falling—”

  Maggie’s phone rang.

  They both jumped, but Maggie had it on the next ring.

  Fairlington County Police Department News Conference

  In progress:

  Fairlington Leader: … to say about the information that Jamison Chancellor’s medical records are not available because of a fire and that that’s the holdup?

  Public Information Officer Elliott Kepler: I hear your frustration that we don’t yet have a positive identification to give you. I share it. Our detectives share it. But It’s too important to rush the—

  Unidentified Media: Rush?

  PIO Kepler: — identification and get it wrong. Not only for the family and other loved ones of the victim, but for the investigation.

  Making sure that identity is correct and solid is at the core of any investigation.

  When we have that, we will release it to the public through you all. We’re not withholding anything—

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: Oh, but you are. You’re withholding a lot.

  PIO Kepler: For the integrity of the investigation, we will withhold some information. It’s a necessity to find the perpetrator and to give our prosecuting team the best opportunity for a conviction.

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: I don’t mean that routine stuff. I’m talking about on the identification of the victim. You’re withholding basic information.

  PIO Kepler: I don’t know what you think—

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: Not think. Know. I’m saying you are withholding information from us. Or you were. Because I announced on my podcast that was released twenty minutes ago that the Fairlington County Police Department knows something vital about the victim’s identity. You know who the victim isn’t. Because—

  Landis jolted upright, barely avoiding dislodging the earpiece giving him the live feed into the news conference.

  Several heads came up at his abrupt movement.

  “Jenkins, Terrington. Get down to the news conference.”

  “What? Why?”

  Simultaneously, Landis was looking for a phone number. “Go. Get the guy from that Death and Murder podcast—”

  “Death, Murder, Violence? That’s the one I was telling you about. The guy with the leaks about—”

  “Get that little shit — that Oz podcaster and bring him up here. Now. Grab some uniforms on your way. I want him in the interrogation room in two minutes. Go.”

  PIO Kepler: Your information is not—

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: —you know the victim is not Jamison Chancellor.

  Unidentified Media: What do you mean, not Jamison Chancellor.

  Unidentified Media: Kepler, is that true?

  Unidentified Media: Has Jamison Chancellor been ruled out as the victim?

  Unidentified Media: Are you withholding the identity of the victim, Kepler?

  PIO Kepler: That’s not—

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: There’s more. And it’s even better. Because I’m telling my listeners at this very moment on my podcast that the Fairlington County Police Department knows the murder victim is not Jamison Chancellor, and the reason they know that is because they know she’s alive and they have her in custody.

  Landis clicked a listing on his phone. He swore at the offer to leave a message and searched for another one.

  “Danolin, get everything we don’t already have on Bethany Usher as fast as you can. Check criminal records. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Somebody get me Felicia. I want her before they come back from wherever they are north of Baltimore.”

  Unidentified Media: Shouting. (No words discernible.)

  PIO Kepler: (On his cell phone. Inaudible) … right now.

  Fairlington Leader: Is this true, Officer Kepler? Do you know Jamison Chancellor’s alive?

  Two unidentified plainclothes officers and three uniformed officers enter the room.

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: Listen to my podcast — Death, Murder, Violence — if you want to know what’s really happening. It’s available on all major podcast outlets. Review and subscribe, so you’ll get the real news, including what the Fairlington Police Department doesn’t want you to know. Hey! Hey! Police state!

  Officer: Sir, please come with us.

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: No. I don’t have to talk to you.

  PIO Kepler: If you have information about the murder, your duty as a citizen—

  Unidentified plainclothes officer: Bring him upstairs.

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: Freedom of the press! First amendment! You can’t force me to talk!


  Unidentified plain clothes officer: We can ask you questions. And ask your cooperation as a citizen. Kep, you going to wrap this thing up?

  PIO Kepler: That’s all for today. We’ll follow up—

  Unidentified Media: When will you comment on Zeedyk’s assertions? Is Jamison Chancellor alive? Does the department have her in custody?

  Unidentified Media: Where are you taking him?

  Unidentified Media: Hey, I’ve got his podcast on right now. He’s definitely saying Jamison Chancellor is alive.

  ~~ End news conference transcript ~~

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Belichek entered the police department by a door he rarely used.

  Not precisely a backdoor, but one where he would not be looked for.

  Low profile, but not low enough to be accused of skulking.

  He headed up the stairs and down one hall past booking cells that smelled of urine, sweat, fear and stupidity, around a corner and up the back stairwell that led into the bullpen from the opposite direction of the main entry.

  He walked into a firestorm. People were hustling, making calls, and getting instructions from Landis, standing at his desk, hands on hips.

  “Belichek!” Landis’ voice.

  Dropping his voice Belichek said, “I’m going to talk to Palery. There’s no reason—”

  Landis shoved him into an empty glass office and slammed the door.

  “Too late. That scum podcaster just busted up a news conference saying he knows Jamison Chancellor’s alive and he’s already had it on his podcast.”

  “Shit.” Ramifications clicked into his brain. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  He grabbed his phone and hit speed dial.

  “Maggie? I tried her—”

  He cursed again when the call went to voicemail. “Maggie. Word’s out Jamie’s alive. Don’t move. Either of you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He clicked off. “You might as well be there when I tell Palery.”

  “Damn right I’m going to be there.”

  Landis was on his heels when he knocked once, then walked into Palery’s office and closed the door.