“That goes to confirm Jamie Chancellor’s account.” But didn’t rise to the level of gold.
“They went one better. They checked with the Young family that owns the place. They’d never heard of a Bethany Usher. But I’d sent photos of all our folks, the sheriff’s department showed them to the Youngs, and they recognized the one of Bethany Usher.
“It gets better. She worked for them — using a different name — as a nanny for three months about five years ago. They went on a vacation, all their valuables stolen, a couple bank accounts cleared out, their car taken, and—” He looked up from his notes. “—she wore some of the woman’s clothes. Like our victim did with Jamison Chancellor’s clothes. No sign of forced entry. The nanny was gone when they got back, the house was wiped clean by a pro. Not a trace of her since. They never thought at the time to look to see if a key to their cabin had been taken.”
“Give that to the guys doing the records search and—”
“Wait. It gets even better. Seems the nanny used to put up the daughter’s hair. Fancy dress, you know? And she’d hold bobby pins in her mouth and open them with her teeth.”
“Spit DNA,” Landis breathed. “Did they keep the pins?”
“Sure did.” Jenkins grinned. “They took a couple and submitted them to one of the public access genetics companies. Trying to do some of their own sleuthing. No match. But it’s out there.”
“Don’t do anything yet. I want to check with Mags — somebody in the CA’s office on how we can use that. But—”
“Thought you might say that. How do you feel about old-fashioned fingerprints? One of the things she put in the kid’s hair was a tiara — one of those crown things — and she missed it in her wipe down.”
* * * *
“It’s still raining.”
At Jamie’s tone, Belichek looked up from listing the podcasts he wanted them to listen to tomorrow. Not likely anything would come of it, but it would cover that base and keep Jamie occupied.
Maybe it was time to get them all more occupied. And for him to spend less time with Jamie.
He didn’t examine that thought, but said, “You don’t like the rain?”
“Not this kind. When it seems like it will never stop and the clouds will smother you.”
She had her feet on the seat cushion, her arms wrapped around her knees, not watching the TV show she’d selected.
“There were a lot days like this in Seattle when Daddy was dying. He’d gotten a job and we moved there. Then he got sick. They wouldn’t let me see him for a while, then they did. I thought it meant he was getting better. I didn’t know what hospice meant.”
He moved to beside her on the couch, never taking his eyes off her face.
“I’d sit with him on the bed and when I said I was tired of the rain, he said I had sunshine inside me no matter what the weather. That I was his sunshine. All the sunshine he’d ever need. And I needed to be Mom’s sunshine, too. Always.”
She swallowed, tears tracking down her cheeks and into the corners of her mouth.
“After… after he died, I tried to be Mom’s sunshine. I tried. I was so relieved when we moved back here and there were more people to help her and then she met Wes and I wasn’t the only one.
“Except, then Vivian.”
She pulled in a shuddering breath.
“I had to be the sunshine. Somehow. I had to create the sunshine and believe there was something on the other side of my guilt, of my absolute failure to Aunt Vivian, to Maggie, to Ally, to the whole family. And now I know to your grandfather, too.
“I had to make something good from it. Guilt… Guilt wasn’t enough. I had to do something. Create something. I couldn’t undo what I’d done — failed to do — and its evil, evil consequences—” Tears dropped off the ridge of her jaw “—but if I could help bring more good into the world, if I could help balance out what my actions caused…”
“They didn’t cause them.” He pushed the hair back from her face. “You didn’t. You were a kid.”
She looked up at him.
He tasted the salt of her tears before he realized he intended to kiss her.
The salt and the softness and the response.
He kissed the corners of her eye. As he kissed the tears down her cheek, she lifted her face.
Their mouths met, opened, parted, caught.
Her hands touched his face lightly, then offered the warmth of her palms, as he met her tongue. He pressed her back against the cushion.
Oxygen demanded a breath.
With it came reality, sense, regret.
His arms still around her, he righted her, then released her. Not yet able to back away. When she opened her eyes, tears still sheened them.
“Jamie, I’m on this case. It’s unethical.”
“We only kissed, Ford.”
“It’s not all I wanted.”
She raised her eyelids to meet his gaze. “Me, either.”
“You’re a witness.”
“Or a potential suspect?”
“Yes. Either one is unethical and for damned good reasons. Together…”
She straightened, still watching him.
“I’m sure you have good reasons, Detective Belichek. But none of those are the real reasons. But you don’t owe me an explanation.”
She stood.
“I’m very tired. Do you mind leaving now?”
DAY SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Belichek slept a few hours, stared at the ceiling a couple more, then gave it up.
He left the quiet, dark house, raising a hand in silent farewell in the direction of the stairwell. A suggestion of movement might have been a similar response.
He worked almost three hours at his desk going through reports before Landis emerged from the empty glass office, yawning and looking unlike his usual pulled-together self.
Belichek handed him the extra coffee he’d picked up on the way in.
After a couple gulps, Landis said, “See the report on Bethany Usher’s activities?”
“Yup. It’s starting to open doors to more, too. Still don’t have the DNA confirming she’s the victim, but in the meantime, we have quite a trail.”
“Including theft. Our friend up in Maryland who seems to be the first one to have Jamie’s phone? I’m betting he shows up connected to Bethany as we dig deeper. I messaged Felicia Ewer to go back up there and talk to him with that in mind. Also, to make sure jurisdictions up and down the I-95 corridor have the word on the silver, because—”
Belichek’s desk phone rang.
“Homicide. Belichek.… Just a moment.”
He put a hand over the mouthpiece as he held the receiver toward Landis. “It’s for you. The lady shrink.”
“Shit. I blocked her because she wouldn’t quit calling.” He waved away the receiver. “Tell her I’m not here.”
“The hell you’re not—”
Landis leaned over. “I’m not talking to her, Belichek.”
“Why? Did the husband come after you?”
“I could handle that. They’re getting a separation. Legal, filing for divorce.”
“The lady being available has you in a sweat. You’re a sick bastard, Landis.”
“You’re a great one to talk, falling for a woman you thought was dead. Now, tell her you don’t know where I am or when I’ll be back.”
“I’m not lying for you.”
“You don’t have to. I’m going to the locker room for a shower, shave, and change of clothes.” Landis turned smartly around and disappeared from the room.
Belichek mixed a heavy sigh with some curses before speaking into the mouthpiece again. “I thought he was here, but he must have stepped away from his desk. … Sorry, I don’t know when he’ll be back. … You could leave him a voicemail or— … Yeah, I’ll be happy to tell him. Bye.”
He wrote in crisp, legible letters the department psychologist’s crude and final analysis of his partner’s character and morals.
<
br /> Then he placed a call to Nancy Quinn.
* * * *
“You have a problem, Belichek.”
He looked up to Terrington, standing beside his desk, straining for a serious, even concerned look.
Usually, Belichek would say nothing. This time he allowed himself a solemn, “We all have a problem until this murderer is caught,” knowing the sentiment would irk the hell out of Terrington.
“Right. Yeah.” He shifted his weight. “This might help with that. But you’re not going to like it.” That last part clearly cheered him.
“If it gets us closer to the answer, I’ll like it.”
Dissatisfied with a response he couldn’t pick holes in, Terrington dropped papers on the desk, splaying messily.
Credit card records. Belichek prepared to return to his own work. “Thanks.”
“Don’t you want to know what they say?”
“Sure. Going to finish this first, though.”
“I’ll save you time. Jamison Chancellor wasn’t at that cabin.” Terrington tapped the records. “And these prove it.”
* * * *
“That’s it, Zeedyk said.”
A-whatever-her-name-was grumbled, “It’s about time.” She’d been playing him the messages that clogged her phone.
What was she bitching about? He’d had to listen to them, too. Most of them totally useless.
Then he heard a voice he recognized.
He was good at that. One of the many skills he’d honed.
The guy from the night they found the dead body at the Chancellor house.
Mr. Right, Right.
Who’d been right on the scene.
No way was he taking this to the police.
He could try to track down this guy, figure out who he was. But that would take time and wouldn’t do anything for the podcast.
On the other hand, releasing a special podcast could happen really fast. Hell, it would even serve as a warning for Jamison Chancellor.
And the sponsors would eat it up.
* * * *
Jamison Chancellor wasn’t at that cabin.
Belichek’s gut tightened, but didn’t let it show. He turned toward Terrington.
“Other information said she was at the cabin. From the thorough job North Carolina did—”
“Not this time. The other cabin, writing the previous book. Still means she lied. She was at some inn near Berkeley Springs, West Virginia. Not at that cabin in Pennsylvania where she told you she went.”
“Good work, Terrington. Send me a copy of the file.”
Belichek neatened the stack of papers, then focused on his screen again.
He doubted anyone had ever been more disappointed to be told Good work.
Fairlington County Police Department News Conference
Good morning. I’m Fairlington County Police Public Affairs Officer Elliott Kepler. As I said last night, we are keeping you updated as we have information that can be released to you.
We know there is great interest in this situation. This is a fast-evolving investigation. We will attempt to keep you abreast of developments as we can.
This morning, Dr. Yale Huang Porter of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner is here to make a brief statement. After his statement, I will take a few questions. Dr. Porter.
Dr. Yale Huang Porter: The Office of the Chief Medical Examiner’s Northern District has issued a finding. The identity of the victim from the Red Hill Street homicide has been established as Bethany Marie Usher, age thirty-six.
This identification was based on medical records.
Cause of death is gunshot wound. Manner of death is homicide.
That is all the information the Office of the Medical Examiner will be releasing at this time. Good day.
PIO Kepler: Thank you, Dr. Porter.
Fairlington Leader: What about a time of death?
PIO Kepler: We are not releasing that information at this time.
WTOP Radio: Officer Kepler, where is Jamison Chancellor now?
PIO Kepler: We are not releasing that information at this time.
ABC: You said she was cooperating with the investigation. How? What information is she providing?
PIO Kepler: We are not releasing that information at this time.
NBC: We have reports that she was supposed to be off somewhere writing her new book. Can you confirm that?
PIO Kepler: We cannot confirm that at this time.
Fairlington Leader: Did Bethany Usher work for the Sunshine Foundation?
PIO Kepler: We are not releasing that information at this time.
Death, Murder, Violence podcast: We all know she did, even if they won’t say so. Doesn’t sound like you have any information, to release or not.
PIO Kepler: Any more questions?
Death, Murder, Violence podcast: When did the department know Jamison Chancellor was alive and you had a different corpse on your hands in her house?
PIO Kepler: The knowledge that Ms. Chancellor was alive was closely held within the department and strictly on a need-to-know basis for the safety of Ms. Chancellor, as well as the integrity of the investigation.
Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: Closely held? Couldn’t get much more closely held than only Detective Ford Belichek knew.
~~ End news conference transcript ~~
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
He entered his house to a different atmosphere.
Maggie sat on the couch with her laptop, Carson was on one side of the dining room table with his, and Nancy Quinn opposite him, on another.
Barely looking up, Maggie said, “Jamie’s downstairs. Can’t decide if she’s happier about having a phone again or a laptop. She’s sworn she won’t log into any of her accounts or Sunshine accounts, in case someone could use that to locate her, but I said it was okay for her to look at public sites.”
“Thanks, Nancy.” He’d known she could arrange all this, including a phone for Jamie and a workload for Maggie, to ease the tension.
“Don’t thank me. Glad to get some of this backlog off Maggie’s list. It was slowing me down.”
He almost smiled as he started down the stairs, but it was gone by the bottom.
Jamie was in the same spot where he’d held and kissed her last night, though she was far from crying now. She scrolled through her phone with one hand and checked a website on the laptop with the other.
“We’re going to have a problem if you haven’t been honest with me,” he said.
“Honest with you? You know every detail of my life. Yes, I know, you thought I was dead. I understand. But I’ve answered all your questions. If you’re going to accuse me of lying by omission when you’ve already—”
“Intruded on your privacy — got it. But it’s no lie of omission. This is a lie of commission.”
She didn’t ask what lie of commission.
Did that mean there was only one?
Or that she didn’t want to say anything to open a door to his suspecting multiple lies?
He stared at her.
She stared back.
He felt the muscles around his mouth twitching. It took a beat to realize they wanted to form something like a grin.
She wasn’t backing down.
And why the hell he wanted to grin about that was beyond him.
“You weren’t at York’s cabin,” he snapped.
She blinked. “I’ve said that all along.”
“The previous time.”
Her eyes stayed wide, blank.
“You lied about that because you didn’t want me to know how uncomfortable you’d were with Hendrickson York even then.”
“I wasn’t. I just—”
“Bullshit. You are too smart for this. You’re going to nice yourself right into being dead.”
“That’s not what I’m—”
His deeper voice rolled over hers. “Think, Jamie. Not about the strangers and near strangers whose feelings you’re so careful about and think about the feelings of th
e people who truly love you. Your parents, your family, Maggie and Ally, and all the rest of them. What they went through already. You want to put them through that again? This time for good? Think about how you felt when your aunt was killed.”
Something shifted in her eyes. He wouldn’t go as far as thinking he’d persuaded her, but he’d driven in the start of a wedge.
“What happened the last time you used Hendrickson’s cabin?”
“What you said before. He showed up. Unannounced. Unexpected. He tried, he really tried not to interrupt. But he’d tiptoe so … so loudly. And make such a big deal of it, apologizing, and asking if this was a good time, then five minutes later all over again. And… And, yes, I was uncomfortable with him there. But not like what you’re thinking. More like having someone looking over my shoulder all the time. Wanting the best for me, but not knowing when to back off. Until I felt like… I felt like I was suffocating.”
She sucked in a breath, looking at him sideways, as if afraid he’d upbraid her for fighting suffocation.
“And?” he nudged.
“And I left. I went to a nearby inn and holed up in my room for the last week. He was hurt and it took a long time to soothe his feelings. When Bethany offered her cabin — I thought her cabin — it was a way out without risking another interruption. I couldn’t afford the time on this book, not with the management company coming and needing the submission check from the publisher. And, truly, Hendrickson took it better than I expected. You can’t possibly suspect he is capable of—”
“Anyone — anyone — is capable, so everyone is suspected.”
* * * *
“My cousin Jamie raising her voice. You do have a way with women, Belichek,” Maggie said as he reached the front door.
“Afraid I’ll take over your role as sparring partner?”
“Hah. But, don’t worry. We’ll listen to your podcasts. As soon as I go through this filing again—”
“One hour,” Nancy Quinn called from the dining room table. “Then the podcasts. Then some decent food instead of all this takeout.”
Price of Innocence Page 29
