Deceit

“Nope.”

“Where were you this evening from six o’clock on?”

In his house, alone, Trovky replied. He’d been sleeping. Then cleaned his gun.

Perry and I exchanged a glance. No alibi.

Out of the blue I began to shake.

Maybe it was my thorough exhaustion, maybe frustration. Throw in my roiling anger at the lies and hypocrisy of Baxter Jack-son. He’d gotten away with Linda’s murder for six years. Despite all I’d tried, he just might win. If this man didn’t crack—if he was the right man at all—and we didn’t find Melissa, Baxter would keep right on living as king of Vonita, head elder at my church. The thought made me want to throw up.

Perry reached for my shoulder and steadied me. Without that I may have fallen out of my chair. “You okay?”

I managed a wan smile. Patted his hand. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“You need sleep.”

“I need justice.”

Dan and Slater went over Trovky’s story as to his whereabouts three times. The man wouldn’t budge.

Perry scooted his chair next to mine. I leaned against him. My head weighed a thousand pounds.

Slater leaned forward. “You know Melissa Harkoff?”

“No.”

“How about Baxter Jackson?”

“Never heard of him.”

“Think hard.”

“I don’t know them!”

“Where were you last night between eight thirty and nine o’clock?”

“At home. Alone.” In his anger, Trovky’s voice was lowering, turning rougher.

“You sure are home alone a lot.”

Trovky lifted a shoulder.

“You know Joanne Weeks?”

“No.”

Hooded Man.

An invisible hand pulled me out of my chair. I headed for the door.

“Joanne.” Perry rose. “What are you doing?”

“That’s him. That’s his voice.”

I strode out of the room, knocked on the interrogation door. Stood aside before it opened so Trovky couldn’t see me. Dan came out, closed the door behind him.

“It’s him. I know the voice.”

I wanted to shout. I wanted to hit something.

“You sure?”

“Can you make him show you his left hip? That’s where my car nicked him. It should be bruised.” Trovky hadn’t favored that hip when he walked in. He’d had too much of a limp on his right leg.

“Okay.”

“Let me go back in with you.”

“No, Joanne.”

“I’ll question him. I’ll make him talk.”

“Slater knows what he’s doing. If this is your man, we’ll get there.”

“It’s him!”

“Okay, Joanne! Now go sit down.”

Perry appeared and started to pull me away. I tried to shake him off. He pulled harder. Dan slipped back into the room.

“Perry, leave me alone.”

“Joanne, you want to ruin this now? Let them do their job.”

“They’re not doing it fast enough!” My voice rose.

“Be quiet.”

“I just want—”

“Joanne.” Perry yanked me away from the interrogation room.

“I just want—”

“Jo-anne.”

He pulled me into our area and closed the door. I smacked his hand away from my arm. Rage boiled up within me. This wasn’t working. Trovky would lie his way out of this. Baxter would walk.

Linda, why didn’t you talk to me?

My eyes burned. I fell into my chair.

Just like that the anger blitzed away, replaced with utter exhaustion. My head lowered. “I’m sorry. I just want people to stop lying.”

Perry sat down and pulled me into his arms. His chin rested on top of my head. “I know, Joanne. I know.”

FIFTY

At 3:45 a.m. Edgar Trovky cracked.

The ironic part? Officer Slater lied in order to break him.

Slater had taken the two evidence bags out of the interrogation room, telling Trovky someone would be running a firing test on them right away. Later he left again and returned with “the results”: the gun and bullet matched.

“You’re looking at some heavy-duty time here.” Slater tapped his fingers against the table in slow metronome. “But we know this wasn’t your idea. We can make you a deal. You tell us what you know about Baxter Jackson, and we’ll go easy on you.”

Trovky stared at the floor. “I can’t go back to jail for years, man. My girlfriend’s pregnant.”

“So talk to us.”

Trovky’s eyes bounced from Slater to Dan and back. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Slater gestured toward Dan. “The DA’s sitting right here. He calls the shots.”

Trovky thought it over. Then talked.

Melissa was blackmailing Baxter.

No. My mouth opened. I exchanged a long look with Perry.

In response to the blackmail, Trovky said, Baxter schemed to have Melissa killed before his payment deadline. That’s where Trovky came in, as of last Thursday. He’d contacted Trovky through a common acquaintance—a construction worker out of a job and eager to make a fast $1,000 for the introduction.

Tony Whistman’s words surfaced in my brain: “She got all weird on me and took off three days ago.” After Melissa first contacted Baxter, she must have been paranoid he’d try to hunt her down— scared enough to leave the place she’d lived in for the last few months and lie low in someone else’s house.

“Was that you in the mask and hooded jacket that stopped Joanne Weeks on the road?” Slater asked.

“She hit me with that 4Runner. You should arrest her.”

“What about at her house later that evening? You again?”

“Baxter wanted a GPS on her car.”

“You put one on her 4Runner?”

“So I could know where she was.”

“Where’s that GPS now?”

“After they got away from the hotel, Baxter told me to take it off and get out of there. I threw it in a dumpster. Soon after that the cop stopped me.”

Just to hear the GPS had been on my car. And that this murderer was waiting