Deceit

Dan’s head came up. “Tony Whistman?” He paused. “This is Dan Marlahn, district attorney for San Benito County. I need to talk to you about Melissa Harkoff…”

My nerves jittered and bounced—and just like that, some internal fuse blew. My mind dulled. I listened to Dan’s conversation with Tony as if he spoke from the opposite end of a long tunnel. Dan warned Tony that any help he gave Melissa in fleeing would be against the law, and Dan would personally come down hard on him. “Again, Tony, understand that if she cooperates with us as a witness in this case, we will protect her and keep her safe. And free. If she doesn’t, she’ll face jail time herself. If you care for her, you’ll do the right thing by contacting us the minute she calls you.”

My eyes closed. Dan’s voice faded. My head lowered…

I jerked up. My eyes blinked open, struggling to focus.

Dan was eyeing me, his phone on the counter. “He claimed she hasn’t called.”

I pulled in a deep breath, straightened in the chair. “Think he’s lying?”

“Don’t know.” He sighed. “We need to get you down to the station so they can take your statement.”

I nodded. “You got something to eat first? I need some energy.”

“Yeah, sure.” Distracted, his mind clearly running a mile a minute, Dan pulled out some lunch meat and cheese. I scarfed it down and drank two glasses of water. Then a craving for Jelly Bellies hit. When this night was over, I was going on a serious binge.

Perry stomped in as I was eating, thoroughly frustrated. “No go.” He leaned against a counter and frowned at the floor. A ticker tape of emotions scrolled across his features.

Dan made another phone call to police with three more requests. First, to alert hospital emergency room personnel in the San Jose area to contact them if a man came in with a bullet wound in the leg. Second, to tow in my car so a forensics team could go through it for fingerprints and other evidence, as well as checking for any hidden devices such as a GPS unit.

Great. Now I’d lost my car to police. No telling how long it would take to get it back.

Third, Dan sent an officer to run down a judge for a court order for Melissa’s cell phone records.

“On a Sunday night?” I asked when he hung up. “Aren’t you pushing it with some judge?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I need to get the process started. Once I get that order, it’ll still take me maybe twenty-four hours to get the records—and that’s if I keep after the cell phone company. Those guys are overwhelmed with requests. They’d take days if I let ’em.”

Perry looked up. “You’ll track her via cell phone towers?”

“Yeah. She makes a call, we’ll be able to locate her.”

I left the kitchen to visit the bathroom. As I washed my hands I stared at myself in the mirror. Bags under my eyes, my mouth pulled down with tiredness. I looked like a truck hit me.

The night stretched out, long and unknowable.

Sadness bubbled up within me. I leaned over the sink, hands supporting me on either side. Forget finding Melissa, forget bringing Baxter to justice. Forget even skip tracing. I just wanted to crawl into a cave and hide. And sleep.

Dear God, please help me. I don’t turn to you enough. But I really need you right now.

Guilt surfaced as soon as the prayer wafted heavenward. Melissa’s cutting words rang in my ears. “The only difference between you and Linda and Baxter and me is I don’t claim to be a Christian.”

In the living room I pulled my cell from my purse and called Dineen.

“Where have you been?” My sister’s voice thickened with sleep and worry.

“I’m fine. Safe. I’m…working on things. I’ll call you later.”

Perry and Dan joined me. Perry handed me my notebook. I would have left it in Dan’s kitchen. The DA held the plastic bag containing the gun he’d taken from Melissa. “I’ll lead you to the San Jose station in my own car,” he said. “I want to be there for your statement, Joanne.”

“San Jose?”

“The break-in and shooting took place in their jurisdiction.”

Oh. Right.

During the drive, I leaned back against the headrest in Perry’s passenger seat and closed my eyes. The lyrics to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” sludged through my brain.

“I have a theory,” Perry said. “About why Baxter’s suddenly gunning for Melissa after all these years.”

“Mm. Why’s that?”

“I think she’s blackmailing him.”

My eyes pried open. “Now? After six years?”

“After his second wife died in an ‘accident.’”

I stared at the darkened road, the scenario sifting down inside me.

“But she didn’t even know Cherisse had died.”

“You sure about that?”

I thought back to when Melissa and I had first come face-to-face. “She acted like she didn’t know.”

“If she’s blackmailing him, she surely wouldn’t want you to know.”

But then she’d lied to me. Or at least kept important information from me. And she wasn’t just a victim…

Deep inside I sensed Perry was right. But I didn’t want to believe it. If Melissa was blackmailing Baxter, what would that do to her testimony against him?

“Perry.” I closed my eyes again. “You’ve just doubled my need for a Jelly Belly hit.”

At the station, Dan and I gathered in a cramped interrogation room with Officer Harvey Slater, a blond-haired man in his midforties. The room held a single worn table and three chairs. Intimidating and overly hot, permeated with the smell of sweat. Perry cooled his heels in a waiting area. With tape and video running, I related my sordid tale—again—this time starting with my accusations toward Chief Eddington, which ended up in the Vonita weekly paper. Officer Slater and Dan questioned me like pros, dredging up details I’d forgotten to include.

As I spoke, my mind turned toward Melissa. Where was she right now? She couldn’t have wandered far into the night. She would need help. Someone had to come pick her up.

Tony? A girlfriend?

“Obviously Melissa can’t be trusted,” I said at the end of the interview. “What if she doesn’t even know where Linda is buried?”

Although if she didn’t know, why was Baxter after her?

Unless it wasn’t Baxter at all.

My head hurt.

Dan shrugged. “Once we pick her up we’ll find out soon enough what she does and doesn’t know. And we will pick her up. Once we get her cell records, all she’s got to do is use that phone.”

I pictured Melissa in Perry’s car, urging me to tell her how to disappear. How much did she know already? “She may be smart enough to know she has to stop using it.”

Dan stood up. “No matter what she knows—we know more. We’ll get her.”

When? Next week? Next month? A year from now? In the meantime, how was I supposed to live? Someone had followed me. Tried to kill me.

My watch read 1:45 a.m.

At the entrance to the station Dan and I met up with Perry. Dan placed his hand on my arm. “Joanne, thank you for all you’ve done. I know you’re exhausted. Go get some sleep. I’ll keep you informed.”

I stared at him. “Sleep where?” I’d done all this for justice, for the police, and now Dan was just turning me loose? “I can’t feel safe in my house. It doesn’t even have an alarm. And I’m not about to lead any trouble to my sister’s home.”

The district attorney inclined his head. “I can put an officer on you. Not sure how long we can keep it up, but hopefully it won’t have to be for long.”

I understood just how much Dan was offering. Personal protection cost money—dollars the county didn’t have.