Deceit

“No need.” Perry held up a hand. “She can sleep in my guestroom. I’ll watch her. I’ve got a gun.”

Dan managed a wry smile. “Legal?”

“No worries.”

I shook my head. “Perry, I—”

He put warm fingers against my lips. “Hush, Joanne.”

“But—”

“Hey, Dan.” Officer Slater appeared around the corner, phone in his hand. “I got a Mountain View officer on the line, calling from El Camino Hospital. He just brought some guy into the emergency room with a bullet in his thigh.”

I gasped, all thoughts of sleeping at Perry’s house falling away.

“All right.” Dan took the phone from Slater. “Hi, District Attorney Dan Marlahn here. How bad’s the wound? I don’t want him walking out of there.”

He listened.

“What does he say happened?”

Perry and I looked at each other. Self-inflicted, he mouthed. Accident.

“Does it look self-inflicted?”

Perry smiled.

“Okay. Stay with him. Do not let him leave. I’ll send somebody to get him. And make sure the doctor gives you the bullet.” Dan hurried to the counter, mouthing to the officer behind it for pen and paper. “What’s the guy’s name?” He wrote, asked a few more questions, and wrote some more. “Great. Thanks.”

Dan handed the paper to the officer. “Run this guy for me.” He gave the phone back to Officer Slater. “We got lucky. This officer, Miles, makes a routine stop for speeding, runs the guy’s name, and finds a slew of unpaid moving violations, plus priors. Guy’s name is Edgar Trovky, from San Jose. Then Miles notices Trovky’s leg bleeding through a bandage. Guy gives some cockamamie story about shooting himself accidentally and how he’s scared of hospitals and doesn’t want to go. Miles doesn’t buy it. He takes Trovky into custody for the unpaids, first stop—emergency room. Then he hears a boatload from the emergency doc about being on the lookout for a guy with a bullet in his thigh.” Dan shook his head. “Sometimes the stars just align right.”

Slater smiled. “Trovky.” He thought a minute. “I think there was a Trovky on some burglary awhile back.”

Dan grunted. “Can you go get this guy? I want to be present for his questioning. The bullet missed anything major. They’ll get it out pretty quickly.”

“Yeah, I’ll go.” Slater gestured with his chin toward the other officer. “I’ll just wait for the rap sheet.”

Officer Slater turned out to be right. Edgar Trovky’s priors included jail time for a burglary, plus a couple of assaults. Age forty-eight. Six feet in height and 180 pounds.

The right build for Hooded Man.

“Let me stay,” I blurted to Dan. “I want to hear the interview.”

“I can’t let you in the room.”

“Don’t they have one of those rooms here where I can listen from somewhere else? Watch through a one- way window?” I knew I was pushing, but I didn’t care. No way could I just pack it in for the night now. “Maybe I’ll think of something for you to ask him, based on what he says. Some detail I forgot to tell you.”

Maybe my mind would turn to total mush, and I wouldn’t think of a thing. Maybe this wasn’t even our man.

The district attorney surveyed me.

“Come on, Dan.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

FORTY EIGHT

AUGUST 2004

The hours after dinner dragged on like they would never end. Melissa’s nerves sizzled as she waited for Baxter to get Linda out of the house. But as 7:00 turned into 8:00, and 8:00 to 9:00, with Baxter watching a movie in the den, it became clear he wasn’t going to do anything. Frustrated to the core, Melissa couldn’t stand to look at either Linda or Baxter. She retreated into her bedroom to watch TV. The previous month on one of their shopping sprees, Linda had bought her a flat screen television and her own VCR. Came in handy when she wanted to be by herself.

At 9:30 Melissa went down to the kitchen, telling herself she wanted a soda. She slowed as she passed the den, eyeing the backs of Linda’s and Baxter’s heads. They sat on opposite ends of the couch. How romantic. Melissa wondered if there was an ounce of love left in their marriage.

She opened a cabinet in the kitchen and shut it hard, scooted a chair in closer to the table. Made just enough noise to announce her presence to the adjoining room. As she was pulling a can out of the refrigerator, Baxter wandered in. Melissa caught his eye and raised her shoulders in a silent, “Well?” He walked to a cabinet and took out a glass. Stuck it under the freezer’s outer compartment and pushed a button. As ice clinked into the glass he whispered, “Go to bed. I’ll come to you.”

Melissa pulled her head back, eyes widening.

Baxter pushed the button for water and waited until the glass filled. Without another word, without even looking at Melissa, he left the kitchen.

What was he thinking? Coming to her room at night was crazy. What if Linda woke up? What if she found them together? If Baxter thought his wife would keep quiet about a thing like that, he was too full of himself. Linda was on the edge already. No telling what she’d do. Only sheer stupidity on her part kept her from seeing what was going on under her nose already. Or maybe Linda did sense it on some level but couldn’t bear to see. She could only deny. What was one more coat of polish over her rusting life?

Melissa leaned against the counter, head down, her soda forgotten. This train she’d boarded was picking up too much speed. It just might jump the tracks. Then where would she be?

At the same time, the very thought of being with Baxter tonight—with Linda in the house—left her breathless. Just proved how much Baxter wanted her. How much stronger in this triangle she was becoming.

Linda deserved whatever she got.

Melissa picked up the can of soda and headed for her bedroom.

There she took a shower. Put on a pair of pink silk shorty pajamas. She slipped into bed, turned out the lights. Turned the TV on low…and waited.

Ten o’clock ticked to 10:30. Melissa’s eyes focused on the television, seeing nothing. She thought of her future. Maybe she could take a bunch of correspondence courses and get out of high school a year early. Go straight into studying for her real estate license. She could be an agent by eighteen. Make her first million by twenty.

“You’ll never be nuthin’ but trailer trash.” Her mother’s voice sneered through Melissa’s head.

Yeah, right. Just where was her mother now? And where was Melissa? She ran a hand over her satiny sheets. Living in more luxury than her ignorant mother could have ever dreamed of, that’s where.

The clock read 11:00. About the time Baxter and Linda went to bed.

At midnight Melissa rose for a glass of water. By the light of the television screen, she made her way to the bathroom. She could not begin to think of sleep.

At 12:30 Melissa was sitting straight up in bed, limbs tense. If Baxter didn’t show up she would really let him have it tomorrow. She traced circles on her bedcovers, flipped through TV channels just like Baxter would do. Throwing down the remote, she jumped from bed and paced. On one pass by her desk chair she stopped, toying with the idea of dragging it over to the heater vent in the ceiling to listen. But if Baxter showed up at the wrong moment…

She flung herself back into pacing.

Twelve-forty-five.