Obviously spread by someone with an agenda-Derek Bennett, no doubt, since he was the one with something to gain by driving a wedge between Aspen and Christina.
“That means he knows what we’re up to,” Aspen said.
“Agreed. But how much? And how does he know?”
Aspen had no idea.
Unless he had a camera in his office, or something like that.
Then she changed subjects.
She told Christina about her meeting yesterday with Sarah Ringer at CU, who reported that her sister Rachel had been sexually attacked in her office.
“I know in my heart that Derek Bennett was the one who did it,” Aspen said. “My guess is that he threatened her life to keep her quiet.”
Christina frowned.
“Agreed,” she said. “But it will be impossible to prove it, now that Rachel’s dead and we no longer have her testimony.”
“Fine. We get him for her murder, then.”
Later that morning, Aspen shut her office door, dialed Teffinger, and told him everything she knew, including her theory that Derek Bennett sexually assaulted Rachel one night in her office. And then later cut her head off when she started to leave the firm, just to be absolutely sure that she didn’t change her mind about going to the police.
Teffinger asked her a lot of questions.
He was all over the board as if struggling with a way to fit it into a bigger picture.
He was almost about to hang up when he said, “What about the BMWs?”
“Oh, right, I almost forgot. Derek Bennett definitely has one of them, the one with Colorado plate number BMW 4.”
“Hold on, I’m writing it down…”
“By the way,” she added. “You can’t tell anybody about any of this.”
80
DAY TWELVE-SEPTEMBER 16
FRIDAY MORNING
Draven slowly muscled his way out of bed, the victim of too much alcohol last night. At first he couldn’t get his bearings, then recognized the farmhouse. Gretchen was already awake and making noise in the kitchen.
He couldn’t remember his mouth ever being this dry. He drank a full glass of water, then another.
It tasted like crap.
But already his tongue didn’t feel quite so much like sandpaper.
He took a hot shower and then Gretchen filled his stomach with pancakes and coffee, after which he started to feel like a human being again.
To top it off, she led him into the bedroom and gave him a really deep blowjob.
Yesterday had been a bitch, but someone must like him because everything turned out okay in the end. He managed to catch the woman, Mia Avila, before she made it down to Highway 119. Then he dragged her ass back to the cabin, beat the shit out of her and tied her to the bed.
With some effort, he finally managed to pry the hood of the car up and got the radiator filled with water. Then he put the bitch in the trunk, drove her to the farmhouse, pumped her full of drugs, and chained her securely in the cab of the tow truck in the barn.
He limped the Nissan back to Avis, explained what had happened, and learned that the damage was covered under rental insurance that they’d tacked on without him knowing it. He rented another car, this time a green VW Jetta, and picked Gretchen up downtown as if nothing had happened.
He’d celebrated by getting drunk with Gretchen last night.
She didn’t know they were celebrating.
She thought they were just having a good time.
That was yesterday. Now, today, he had all that behind him and was the owner of a happy gut and an even happier dick.
“So what’s the plan?” Gretchen asked.
He smiled and slapped her ass.
“Get in the car and you’ll find out.”
She wrestled him to the floor and pinned his arms above his head. “Why? Where we going?”
“Nowhere, if you don’t get off.”
“Not till you tell me.”
“Someplace you’re going to like.”
She rubbed her crotch on his chin.
“I’m already someplace I like.”
They took Highway 93 south into downtown Golden, where the air smelled like hops and barley. Draven found a liquor store-one with a sign in the window that said No Fresher Coors Sold Anywhere-and bought enough Jack to get them through the next few days. Then they took Old Golden Road east and ended up at a Lexus dealership across the street from the Colorado Mills Mall.
“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked as they pulled in.
Draven put a confused look on his face.
“I don’t know, but as long as we’re here why don’t we have a look around?”
He wore tattered jeans and a black muscle shirt that showed off his tattoo. Throw in the ponytail and the scar and he looked like the last person on the face of the earth who would want, or could afford, a Lexus. He chatted it up with the salesman and the manager, took a long test drive, and waited for a derogatory insinuation that he couldn’t afford it.
When he didn’t get it, he closed the deal, titled the car in Gretchen’s name, had funds wired in from one of his California bank accounts, and then strolled outside with his woman to drink coffee and wait while the dealership detailed the vehicle and gave it a final prep.
Gretchen’s face made it all worthwhile.
No one had ever done anything like this for her before.
Not once in her whole life.
Not even close.
“God are you going to get some sex tonight,” she said. “Be warned.” Then she hugged him tight and cried. He ran his fingers through her hair.
“I love you,” she said. “And not just because of the car.”
She kept her eyes down, as if afraid she might see a reaction on his face that she didn’t want to see.
He looked into her eyes.
“Me too,” he said.
“Really?”
He nodded. “I think I have from the start, to tell you the truth.”
She buried her head in his chest.
“Of course, I did have a second thought when you bashed that guy’s head in with a rock. But that was only for a moment.”
She punched him on the arm and said, “Not funny.” Then she looked into his eyes and said, “Till death do us part?”
He squeezed her.
“Sounds good to me.”
