Deceit

FIFTY-THREE

Perched on the edge of my seat, I watched Edgar Trovky pull the cell phone from his ear and punch off the call. The phone was wired up to a recording device that had captured every word. He set the phone on the table with a clack. Leaned back in his chair. “Happy now?”

Dan nodded. “I’m happy.”

Slater regarded Trovky, his head tilted. “You did good.”

Trovky snorted. “Give me a dog biscuit.”

My watch read 5:35.

My body felt numb. Coated inside with cold oil.

Perry gripped my hand. “You did it, Joanne. They’ve got enough to bring Baxter in now.”

I did it? I’d sat here for the last few hours feeling absolutely helpless.

Perry shook his head as if reading my thoughts. He leaned close to me. I could see golden flecks in his eyes. How had I never seen them before? “If you hadn’t chased down Melissa, if you hadn’t thought quick on your feet and taken her to the DA, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

I held his gaze, then slowly, solemnly nodded. “You helped. We did it together.”

Relief and satisfaction, grief and a fulfilled sense of justice swept through me. My head lowered. I wanted to cry.

But I wasn’t done yet.

An officer took Trovky away to jail. While Dan made a phone call to Chief Eddington, Perry and I stood like immovable boulders in the hallway. Slater told us to go home—again. It was over.

It wasn’t over.

At 6:15 Dan faced Perry and me, hands on his hips. He’d just gotten off the phone with Chief Eddington. Dan and Slater would meet the chief at the small Vonita station, then drive to Baxter Jackson’s house, each man in his own car. More police vehicles would follow, carrying a team to search Baxter’s house. Slater’s vehicle would transport Baxter to the San Jose jail. Dan wanted to be present at the arrest and as Baxter was brought in for questioning. When Baxter learned that his man had squealed, their call had been recorded, and police would be present to intercept Melissa at the drop-off point, maybe, just maybe he’d break.

More likely he’d call an attorney faster than I could reach for a Jelly Belly bag.

“Bet I know why you’re still here.” Dan looked from Perry to me.

I gave him a slow blink. I knew I looked dead on my feet. No matter, I’d push through. “One more car’s not going to hurt anything.”

“Chief Eddington wouldn’t like it.”

“I don’t care what Chief Eddington likes.”

“Joanne, this is just pure revenge now.”

I pulled back my head. “No, Dan. It’s pure justice. For my best friend.”

They’d almost delayed picking up Baxter. Slater and Dan had discussed the pros and cons of allowing him to make the money drop-off first. They didn’t want word of his arrest to somehow reach Melissa. If she didn’t visit the drop-off site, she’d be harder to locate, and they’d have to hope she used her cell phone. But they couldn’t trust that Baxter wouldn’t take matters into his own hands and come after either me or Melissa. In the end Dan and Slater decided a quiet, early morning arrest would be the best choice. Chief Eddington would keep a lid on it as long as possible, giving them a chance to pick up Melissa.

Five minutes after my conversation with Dan, Perry and I headed out in the caravan toward Vonita. My 4Runner would be kept by police as evidence. No telling when I would get it back.

Small price to pay.

My head lolled as Perry drove his SUV away from the San Jose station. “I’m sorry you got pulled into this, Perry.” My mouth felt like mush.

“You kiddin’? I got to rescue two women from a killer and kick in a door, all in one night.”

I lay back against the headrest. “And you figured out the blackmail part.”

He stopped at a red light. “I’m good.”

“You and your detective novels.”

Perry turned his head and gave me a long, slow smile. “They filled the spaces.”

Filled—past tense. I held his meaningful gaze until my courage failed—and I looked away.

We rode the rest of the way in thrumming silence.

At the Vonita station Dan and Slater got out of their cars to greet Eddington. The chief looked none too happy. I wanted to scream and dance. I wanted to fall over and sleep.

Chief Eddington glanced at Perry’s car, then pointedly ignored us. My presence surely prickled him, but he would never show it.

We hit the Jackson driveway at 7:15. Two more vehicles, carrying the officers who would search Baxter’s house, had joined the procession.

A realization struck me. How few times I’d gone up that drive. Linda had always come to my house, even during the day when Baxter was at work. As if she needed to step out of her life to be with me. Perhaps within her own unhappy walls she knew in my presence her mask would have slipped.

Perry and I were last in the lineup. As the circular drive swept up toward the porch, Perry hung back. We didn’t need to be that close. Just close enough. Dan, Slater, and the chief stopped near the steps, the two other cars behind them. All three got out of their cars. Dan stayed by his while Slater and the chief mounted the stairs to the grand porch. Slater rang the bell.

An eternal, heart-stopping moment followed. Had Baxter somehow known we were coming and slipped away?

The front door opened. Baxter appeared, hand on the doorknob.

A rush of air escaped my mouth. I leaned forward, clutching the dashboard, and riveted my eyes upon him.

Baxter Jackson looked nothing like the king of Vonita now. Nothing like the respected head elder at church. His clothes were rumpled, his usually perfect hair out of place. Lines etched his face, as if he hadn’t slept.

Slater spoke. I couldn’t hear the words, but I knew he was informing Baxter of his arrest.

Baxter’s face turned wooden. He looked from his old friend Chief Eddington to Officer Slater. His hand slipped from the door, fell to hang limply at his side.

Slater took hold of Baxter’s arm and nudged him outside. Then turned him around and snapped cuffs on him.

In my mind I saw Linda lowering her shirt. “I didn’t get those bruises by running into a door.”

My hand fumbled for the car door. I opened it.

As they escorted Baxter down his own steps to Slater’s waiting car, I got out of Perry’s SUV and moved to stand by the hood. Arms folded. Like a soldier. Watching.

Baxter caught my movement. His head turned toward me. For a blazing moment our eyes met.

His head jerked away, his mouth twisting.

The last six years rushed over me. In that split second they were all worth it—every day I’d pounded walls because of Baxter, every minute I’d suffered. His expression said, You win, Joanne. I lose. And I’ll hate you to my dying day for it.

Good, Baxter. That’s just fine by me.

Slater put Baxter in his back seat. Shut the door.

The evidence team entered Baxter’s house.

I didn’t move until the three vehicles circled around the gracious driveway and turned onto the street, headed for the police station.