Kate pulled alongside, and Lucy brought me up to date as we traded cars.
“Kate interviewed Peggy Martin and says we’ve got some problems. I’ll let her fill you in.”
“What about Ellen Koch and Adam?”
“Nobody answered their door. Adam’s pickup truck wasn’t there, but that doesn’t mean the house was empty. I’m going to go back and wait for someone to show up.”
“What about Kate? She’ll want to talk to them, probably on video.”
“We’ve got to catch up to them first. Besides, we can’t run this case around Kate’s schedule.”
“You’re right.”
I got into Kate’s rental, a flurry of tremors rippling from my waist to my neck.
“I talked to Ethan. He’s probably with Roni by now,” she said.
“Thanks. Lucy says you have some problems with Peggy Martin.”
“I don’t have problems; Peggy does. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You’re in no shape. I’m taking you home.”
I waved her off. “Not yet. We have to find the Martin kids. The longer it takes, the less chance we find them alive.”
“How are you going to do that? At the moment, you can’t walk or chew gum.”
“I just need some down time, an hour or so. If I go home, Joy will handcuff me to my easy chair.”
“Where then?”
“Somewhere quiet where I can watch your interview with Peggy Martin and you can tell me all about her problems.”
She gave me a long look and a longer sigh. “You know the brain registers negative comments much more strongly than positive comments. That’s why it takes five compliments to make up for one shot below the belt.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“That this is really hard for me, but I know just the place.”
“Where?”
“My hotel room.”
My track record with women made me more of a survivor than an expert. I’d managed to screw up my marriage to Joy and scuttle my relationship with Kate. After digging out from the debris, Joy and I were building something that was fragile and undefined but vital. And now, my ex-girlfriend, who was mad enough at me this morning to spit, was escorting me to her hotel room for some quiet time. Who said God doesn’t have a sense of humor? I closed my eyes, pretending that I’d been blindfolded and taken hostage.
“Perfect.”
Kate was staying at the Raphael on the Plaza, a Spanish Renaissance Revival-style boutique hotel built in the 1920s as an apartment building. A sign next to the elevators offering a special Romantic Getaway Package stopped me in my tracks. I looked at her.
“I don’t know about this,” I said.
“That’s what I say everyday when I wake up. I’ve got video, and Joy’s got handcuffs. Your choice.”
My legs buckled, making the choice for me. Kate grabbed my arm, keeping me on my feet as the elevator door opened and we stepped inside. Her suite had a bedroom with a king-size bed and a separate living room. She led me into the bedroom, pulled the spread and blankets back, and pointed at the mattress.
“Lie down,” she said.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I’ve got work to do. Get in bed, close your eyes, and don’t come out for an hour, or I’ll call Joy and tell her where you are. And take off your shoes.”
Chapter Thirty-three
I woke to raised voices coming from the other side of the bedroom door, several people arguing, though I was too foggy to catch who was mad at whom and why. As my head cleared, I heard Kate say something about a video, to which Lucy answered they couldn’t wait. Simon Alexander interrupted her, saying he needed more time, and Ethan Bonner complained that his hands were tied until he could get in front of a judge. Someone’s cell phone rang, and they got quiet before I could figure out who was on first.
Propped on an elbow, I blinked at the digital clock on the nightstand. I’d been asleep for three hours, long enough to stifle the gremlins living inside my body. My cell phone was next to the clock, a pulsating red light announcing that someone had left me a message. I picked it up. The ringer was on silent.
It took me a moment to remember that my phone had been in my pants pocket when I fell asleep. I was still wearing my pants, which meant that Kate must have heard the phone ring, taken it out of my pocket, and turned the ringer off. I had been in worse shape than I had thought if she’d been in my pants and I never knew it.
I swung my legs onto the floor, turned on the lamp next to the bed, and opened my phone. There were three voice messages, all of them from Joy, matching the three text messages she’d also sent, each a variation on the same theme. Where are you?
I’d learned a few things over the years: sometimes, there’s no way to answer a question without lying or committing suicide; there are no secrets; and being innocent won’t help if you look guilty. All of these things made my return call to Joy a midnight stroll in a minefield.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s been a rugged day, but I’m fine.”
“You’ve been gone so long, and I know how hard that is on you. I got worried when you didn’t answer your phone.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been crazy, but everything is okay.”
“What happened?”
“Roni Chase was picked up for questioning in Frank Crenshaw’s murder. A gun she owned turned out to be the murder weapon. I’m about to go into a meeting with her lawyer.”
“Are you at the jail?”
I knew where this was going, and there was nothing I could do to avoid it except make it worse by forcing her to drag it out of me.
“We’re at the Raphael Hotel. I’m with Lucy, Simon, and Roni’s lawyer, Ethan Bonner, and his jury consultant.”
“Jury consultant?” The pitch in her voice changed from concern for me to concern about me. “Who?”
“Kate Scranton.”
No woman wants to hear that her man is at a hotel with another woman he used to sleep with, no matter how many other people are there with him. The other woman part is bad enough, but the hotel part lights a fast- burning fuse.
“Are you in her room?”
“Yes. We’re all here.”
She hesitated, both of us knowing what was coming next.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“I needed some down time so I took a nap.”
“In Kate Scranton’s hotel room?”
“Yeah. It’s okay. It’s not like that. I promise.”
She sniffed, her brittle voice turning the phone cold in my hand. “Will you be coming home?”
“As soon as I can.”
“No hurry. Tell Lucy and Simon I said hello.”
That was the end of the conversation and the beginning of a fight we hadn’t had since we were married and Joy was certain I was having an affair with Kate. It wasn’t true then, at least not in the physical sense, though I’d later learned that was a distinction without much of a difference.
And it wasn’t true now, even if I had to admit that my feelings for Kate were percolating again. I’d promised
