The tears fell so fast they drowned his next words. He flicked them away, mopping his face with the collar of the gown, and took a deep breath. “He asked me what I’d miss about Tenley. I told him her laugh.” Nick let go of his knees and plucked at a thread on the blanket next to him. “He said she was probably better off. That a hot girl who was a lousy piece of ass wouldn’t find a husband before she got too old and fat. I was so mad. So mad I actually couldn’t see. I thought that was just a saying, you know?”
42
“So you hit him?” I forced the words past a heavy lump of disgust.
Piece of ass?
I’d convinced myself on the speed-racer drive back that Richardson was full of horse shit, talking a big game to his dealer about screwing a teenage girl. Tenley Andre was smart. Accomplished. Admired.
Surely . . . surely she wasn’t sleeping with her best friend’s abusive father, for Chrissake.
Nicky shrugged. “I guess. I don’t remember anything until after we got here. But he says I did.” He held up his left hand. “My knuckles say I did.”
I bit down on a Good for you, kid. Encouraging him to go around punching people wasn’t exactly my job. Objectively, there were extenuating circumstances surrounding this particular violent outburst.
The orderly applauded from the doorway, and I smiled at him. “I don’t suppose you could ask someone to send his doctor in?”
He nodded. “Sure thing.” Disappeared.
I turned back to Nicky. “Where’s your mom?”
He glanced at the clock over the door. “Probably passed out on the family room sofa.”
Oh. I started pacing. “Does she drink, too?”
Nicky shook his head. “Pills. When my dad goes off the deep end, she takes pills until she goes to sleep.”
Which meant she stayed asleep.
“Nicky.” I stopped. Flexed my fingers in and out of a fist. The question was shitty all the way around, but I had to ask it anyway. “Was Tenley having an affair with your dad?”
Nick sniffled. Dropped his head back against the pillows. “So, she finally told me last summer that she’d lost her virginity. Said it was an accident, she didn’t really mean to, but the whole thing was over before she had time to say no. The guy was too old for her and I’d be pissed at her, but she had to talk through it with someone.”
I nodded. “You were her best friend.”
“I thought I was, yeah.” He shook his head. “She didn’t tell me it was him. But I didn’t ask, either. Maybe part of me didn’t want to know. She even said it was in the locker room before the last meet of the season.”
“Was your father there that day?”
Nicky nodded. “There was a guy from California there to watch T run. Old friend of the coach. He went to the locker room to give her a ‘pep talk.’”
That was the fifth time the kid had referred to his dad as “the coach.” I found it funny because my teenage self called Chuck McClellan “the governor,” too, and people always said I was “so respectful.”
I wanted to hug this boy. It was like I’d found a kindred spirit.
Focus. “Nicky.” I paused until he looked at me. “Honest truth. Do you think your dad could’ve hurt Tenley?” I held my breath. Jessa was a student at the university. A student Tenley and Nicky both knew. What if she found out about this? Tenley was seventeen. Darren Richardson would do just about anything to protect his reputation, and a statutory rape charge would ding it something fierce.
Shit. I believed that Lenny didn’t have anything to do with anything, because twelve seconds into eavesdropping on his conversation with Erica, I knew he wasn’t smart enough to pull off this sort of cover-up. But what if Zayne Davenport was just a regular-variety entitled teenage asshat instead of the murdering kind?
What if these cases could stop flipping every time I thought we had a good lead?
Nicky’s wide eyes filled with fresh tears. “God, what if he did? What if I could’ve stopped it if I’d just gotten her to talk to me?”
I grabbed his hand, careful not to squeeze the knuckles. “This is not your fault. You hear me?”
He shook his head. “I loved her. I wish I was normal. That I could’ve loved her the way she needed me to, you know? I tried . . . everything.”
“She knows you loved her, Nicky. You did the best you could. It’s all any of us can ever do, isn’t it?”
He sniffled again. “I should’ve done more.” He shook my hand off, slammed his swollen knuckles into the bed rail and pulled in a deep breath. “It wasn’t enough.”
I stepped backward. Searched for words that would stop him from hurting himself.
A rap on the door saved us both.
“Hey there, Nick.” A young man in scrubs stepped in, smiling as he held the door for a woman in sky-high heels, a pencil skirt, a silk blouse, and a lab coat. “This is Dr. Lindgren. She’s got a few questions for you and then we’re going to get you a room, okay?”
Nick didn’t bother to nod. Scrubs guy smiled at me and jerked his head in the direction of the door. I followed him out.
“You’re admitting him?” Thank God. I wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to get home only to find an empty house and sedated mother.
“We’ll keep him for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Just make sure everything’s okay.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I may have more questions for him later.”
“Of course. Such a sad situation. I hear I missed the big commotion with Coach Richardson when I took my break.”
“He put on quite a show.” I gestured to the floor. The red drops from Richardson’s nose gleamed undisturbed under the fluorescent lights, but I couldn’t hear him shouting anymore. “Hopefully a little time alone will calm him down.”
“I saw him getting in a police car on my way in.” An alarm sounded in a nearby room and the doctor turned. “That’s my cue.”
“Thanks for your time.” I eyeballed the orderly’s cart.
Q-tip. Baggie.
I knelt and brushed the cotton swab over the top of the largest blood droplet, then sealed it in the bag and tucked it in my pocket before I turned to wave goodbye to Nick.
“Nicholas, how many—” Dr. Lindgren began, pushing the door to his room shut.
My phone buzzed a text.
Archie: I got a traffic camera that puts Quentin Davenport’s car a block from the bar Jessa went into that night.
I stared at the phone. Touched the baggie in my pocket. For the love of God. Could we chase one goose at a time, please?
Excellent. But hold up. I have a story for you, I typed.
I clicked another screen and texted Graham: I don’t suppose you ever heard from your scientist friend?
Dot bubble. Buzz. Yeah, actually. She got back in town this afternoon. Waiting for samples. I texted Jim, he didn’t answer.
I’ll find him. Send.
I dialed Jim’s cell on my way to the truck, smiling when he picked up as I climbed in.
“You’re working late,” he said by way of hello.
“How much do you love me?” I asked.
“Enough to put my beer down to take this call. Beyond that, it’s dicey. What do you want?”
“I need a favor. A superspeed DNA run.”
“I don’t do DNA.”
“Graham has a lab tech on standby.”
“What do you think you’ve got?” Curiosity laced the words.
“I need what you took from Tenley’s nails and genitals run against a blood sample I just snagged and a couple of DIS files we can send you. And I need them all checked against swabs from Jessa DuGray, too.”
Jim whistled. “No shit? Boy, that’ll be a big collar.”
“You have no idea. Can you help?”
“Why not? Graham’s friend at Travis County, or do I have to pack up samples and take them somewhere?”
“I’ll find out. Be there in ten minutes with the counter-check.”
“I’m waiting.”
Buzz. Yep. She can be there in twenty.
I pecked at the screen with one thumb as I started the truck. They ought to be booking Darren Richardson into county on assault right about now. VERY IMPORTANT that he not bond out until tomorrow.
I backed out of the space. The phone buzzed in the cup holder. Graham: On it.
I pulled in a deep breath. My gut said we had our solution, one way or another. Archie was on the Davenport kid, Richardson was locked up.
Nobody was in immediate danger. Now I just needed to make sure it stayed that way.
43
I screeched to a stop in Jim’s driveway just after nine, grabbed the baggie, and ran to the door whispering a prayer with every step.
Please don’t let him get out.
Richardson might be hard-pressed to hide in Austin, where more than half the city drove past a thirty-foot rendering of his face on the way to work every day—but with a head start, he had the money to avoid law enforcement for longer than I wanted to think about.
Jim met me at the door of the Craftsman postwar bungalow he and his wife had raised four boys in, stepping onto the porch and putting a finger to his lips. “If you wake the dogs, they’ll wake Sheila, and she’s not feeling so hot these days.”
I tipped my head to one side, holding the bag out. “What’s wrong?”
“Cancer.” He spit the word at his slippers.
“Oh, Jim.” My hand flew to my mouth. “What kind?”
“Carcinoma of indeterminate origin.” He shook his head. “Fancy way of saying they can’t find where the hell it came from, only where it’s spreading to. She’s taking some sort of superchemo twice a week. She’s been so sick. And this all started because she thought she had a kidney stone and went to the ER.”
I put a hand on his arm, guilt bubbling in my chest for getting so out of touch with my old friends. I swallowed it. Wishing the past was different does nothing but wreck the present and steal the future. Right then, I was standing there. So right then was what mattered. I squeezed his arm.
“I’ll keep y’all in my prayers, but please let me know if I can do anything.”
He looked up. “There’s a drug trial at Anderson her doctors are trying to get her into. They say it’s her best shot, but there’s a lot of red tape and they’re having trouble. I’ve called everyone I’ve ever so much as shaken hands with, begging, but people keep telling me they don’t have enough pull to help . . .” He let the sentence trail, his eyes filling with tears.
People. People who weren’t my father. Chuck McClellan had enough pull to move mountains, but Jim still didn’t want to ask. I didn’t wait for him to, nodding. “I’ll talk to him.”
The tears spilled over, Jim grabbing my hand and pumping like oil was bound to gush forth. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I—”
I cut him off by pulling him into a hug. “That’s what friends are for. Why didn’t you ask me before now? I’ve seen you twice this week, and it’s not like you don’t have my number.”
“I always got the feeling you wanted to keep your distance from your family. I don’t know the whole story about what happened to your sister, but I heard whispers. I thought it was too big a favor.”
Jesus. I waved a hand. “What the hell do my daddy issues matter next to your Sheila’s life? I’m happy I can help. Or at least try to.”
He hugged me again before he took the baggie. “One Q-tip? You’re not serious.”
“I got lucky to manage that.”
“Are we going to find a match in LDIS?”
“I doubt it. But check it against our victims. And I’ll send you the link for the other profiles.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”
I nodded, squeezing his hand. “Thanks, Jim.”
“Anything you need, kid. For the rest of my days.”
“She’ll be okay. She’s too tough to lose this fight.”
“That’s what I tell myself. Some days it works better than others.” His eyes filled again and he swiped at them. “Sorry.”
“For being human? I’d be offended if you weren’t crying. You two are like a fairytale forever with a Texas twang.”
“Hoping for the happily ever after.”
“I’ll do everything I can to help you find it.” I jogged back down the steps, hoping like hell I could make good on the promise to help. My mother was right about one thing: the governor had a stubborn streak ten miles wide, and he could be a vindictive son of a bitch. I wouldn’t put it past him to refuse to make a three-minute phone call as punishment for what he deemed my poor life choices.
My own stubborn streak had work to do. There weren’t many things anybody loved more than the governor loved his power, but my love for my friends could give him a run for his money.
My phone buzzed. Archie: Call me when you get this.
I started the truck and touched the phone icon next to his name.
“They got a computer match on the audio in the DuGray assault video,” Archie said when he picked up.
The low, even tone meant he was trying to hold himself together. I stopped breathing. “Who?” I managed.
“Bobby Wayne Otis.”
“What?” It burst out so loud I made my own headache worse. “The guy who just confessed to killing the porn dude? That Bobby Wayne Otis?”
“So says the software. I’m on my way to county to have a chat with him.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I said. “They have a new overnight guest I wouldn’t mind chatting with myself. Darren Richardson seems to be the mystery man Tenley was hiding.”
“You’re not . . .” Archie paused. “You know what? Of course you are. I can’t even pretend to be surprised by that tonight. On our way.”
I dropped the phone back into the cup holder, turning away from headquarters and toward the county lockup. Maybe Archie and I could get some answers the old-fashioned way while Graham’s friend worked whatever DNA magic she could.
If I’d been a gambler, I’d have bet the house Darren Richardson wouldn’t love being questioned by Ranger Barbie.
So I’d go do just that.
Walking through the back door at the jail, I handed my ID to the officer on duty and laid my keys and my gunbelt in a tray before I passed through the metal detectors.
“Evening, ma’am.” The fresh-faced second-shift desk officer smiled. “What can we do for you?”
“I’d like to have Darren Richardson brought to an interrogation room, please.”
“Coach Darren Richardson?” His rust-colored eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
I nodded, then tipped my head toward the computer in front of him. “I imagine he’s been here about an hour now.”
“Okay, then.” He started punching keys. Twisted his thin lips to one side.
“What?” My stomach twisted with the kid’s lips.
“I can’t see the whole status because somebody locked it, but I think the coach bonded out about twenty minutes after he got here.”
I shut my eyes. “Locked it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Only command staff can do that.”
“They let him go and locked the computer access.” My voice was flat. “To keep the arrest quiet.”
Too bad they’d probably sentenced his son to the death penalty in the process.
The kid shrugged. “I’m sorry?” He said the words to my retreating back as I spun on my heel, out the door in four long strides.
In the parking lot, I pulled out my phone and clicked up a contact I’d never once had cause to use. Desperate times and all that. Knowing who got Richardson out of jail might give me a road to who was trying to cover up Tenley’s murder.
Three rings. Come on.
“Yes?”
“It’s Faith McClellan. Darren Richardson was booked into county about an hour ago for assaulting an ER nurse at UMC and beating his teenage son. He�
�s already out, and the computer files are restricted from access even by deputies.”
“Someone high up had to have done that.” Pause. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because the last thing he wants is to be all over the TV for this, and you’re the most annoying TV reporter in town. I’m only asking one thing in return. If you find anything, text me at this number.”
“Why should I help you?” Skye’s voice could’ve frozen the third ring of hell.
“Because you want the story worse than you want to be a pain in my ass. And because your ratings stunt with hunting down the porn guy the other night actually got him killed, and me a thousand hours of nightmares. You need to balance your karma.”
She paused. Sighed. “I’d say thank you, but somehow I think this will work to your advantage as much as mine.”
“If I’m right, he’ll be back in jail in a few hours and you’ll have the scoop of the year. Get your story, Skye. Just make sure you don’t get in my way.” I hung up and squashed an urge to wipe the phone with Clorox before I put it in my pocket, moving back toward the truck just as Graham and Archie turned into the lot.
“What gives?” Archie asked, putting the passenger window down as his Crown Vic rolled to a stop.
“He’s gone.” I shook my head.
“Who? Richardson?”
“Yep. And the deputy can’t even see how or who was responsible.”
Graham slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. “I called three different guys who swore on their mothers they’d make sure he spent the night.”
“Money and power play a whole lot bigger game in this city than we like to think,” Archie said. “I’d wager your friends are no match for the coach’s.”
“That’s okay. I just sicced Skye Morrow on the whole lot of them,” I said, patting myself on the back when Archie turned with a slack jaw.
“Way to play hardball, kiddo,” he said. “And I know how hard it was for you to make that call.”
“Some things are more important than personal feelings,” I said, watching Archie kick the door open. “You really think Otis is going to talk?”
Fear No Truth Page 25
