anguish.
Walking over to her, he put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
She sat up, leaning back into his hands as he rubbed her tense shoulders. “She’s believed Lorraine’s lies about so many things-I don’t know where to begin to set her straight. I lost her long ago and I didn’t even see it. I was in over my head and didn’t know it. I wish to God I could take back some of the things I said.” Her voice cracked and she bit her bottom lip.
“Quin’s smart. She just needs to think it through.”
“She thinks I’ve been lying to her about important information. Like her father.” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. She’s resented every decision I’ve made.”
Duke wished he could do something, but this was between Nora and Quin. All he could do was stand with her.
“Did Jayne have anything for you on the security tapes from Butcher-Payne?” she asked him.
“I know how they messed with the video. Actually quite smart. They brought in a computer that directed a completely different feed into the digital recording, essentially recording blanks over the actual images. I think that’s how they corrupted Russ Larkin’s computer as well. It’s impossible to get the true recording, but I’m glad Jayne figured out how they did it. My security system had a fatal flaw, now I can fix it.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said.
He spun her around in the chair, his face inches from hers. Her big round eyes were filled with heartache. “And it’s not your fault that Quin is having problems accepting the truth.”
He heard a rattle on his table in the corner. “Your cell phone is vibrating.” He walked over to the table and brought the phone to her.
“Thanks.” It was Lindsey Prince, one of the agents in San Luis Obispo.
“I got news for you,” Lindsey said in a rush. “First, a photo of Maggie O’Dell from high school. We’re at Kinko’s now, scanning it in, and will email it pronto.”
“Terrific. Send it to both me and ASAC Hooper. He’ll need it for the APB and I’ll distribute it to my team.”
“There’s more. We talked to the local sheriff and he knows Maggie O’Dell very well. She was quite the juvenile delinquent. Mostly vandalism and petty crime, and her parents always paid restitution when she was caught. It’s a small town, they didn’t do anything more about it. Except, the sheriff has long suspected that she killed her boyfriend. He just can’t prove it.”
“How?”
“Hemlock.”
“Hemlock?”
“Specifically, water hemlock. But she denied even seeing him that day, no one saw them together, and her father vouched that she had been sleeping most of the afternoon because of a flu bug.”
“Was he lying?”
“The sheriff thought so, but had no physical evidence to tie her to the death. Some people thought the kid accidentally ate the hemlock. Others thought he was killed. His parents received a substantial amount of money from an insurance policy they had on him. But even so the sheriff always suspected Maggie. From the start, her reaction didn’t fit for him. But she didn’t rattle.”
“How did the boyfriend ingest water hemlock?”
“The autopsy was unclear-there were no undigested leaves or roots in his stomach. But the pond nearby had a considerable amount of water hemlock growing near the shore. There have been documented cases of cattle being poisoned from drinking water that had been saturated with the plants. The sheriff, under pressure from the family, closed the case as an accidental poisoning. Because he couldn’t prove murder, there was the possibility of suicide, and the insurance wouldn’t pay on self-termination.”
It fit Maggie O’Dell’s M.O.-there had been no traces of jimsonweed leaves in the Rose College students; the water had leeched the poison from homemade, deadly tea bags.
“And,” Lindsey continued, “the victim was supposed to picnic with another girl that day, but her grandfather died the night before and she left the state. The victim’s mother said that he’d broken up with Maggie weeks before, and wouldn’t have gone to see her.”
“That probably didn’t sit well with Maggie,” Nora said. “Anything on Russell Larkin?”
“He was Maggie’s neighbor, though graduated several years before she started high school. His younger sister was in O’Dell’s class. I want to talk to her next, but she’s on a plane now, flying in from Northwestern for Larkin’s memorial service.”
“Down there?”
“Yes.”
“If you can get to her tonight or tomorrow morning, find out what she knows about Maggie O’Dell.”
“Will do. Watch for the photo.”
Nora hung up and said, “I’m getting a photo of O’Dell.”
Duke watched Nora’s phone. A few seconds later, a message came in. She clicked it.
The photo loaded fairly quickly. In ten seconds, they were staring at a stunning girl with long brown waves of hair and huge, round brown eyes. The shape matched Nora’s, but nothing else resembled her. Nora didn’t know why she was relieved.
Maggie looked a bit familiar. Not just because of the eyes, but …
Duke snapped his fingers. “She was the girl who threw the soda at you on Monday.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
There was a tap on Duke’s door and J.T.’s stellar administrative assistant, Heather, walked in, sharply dressed in a pricey business suit. “We found an apartment,” she said, handing Duke a folder.
Duke opened the thin red folder.
“Heather, you’re incredible.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Do you need anything else?”
“Not right now, but thanks.”
Nora looked at Duke, weary, her fight with Quin draining her.
Duke tried to offer a reassuring gaze. “I had our staff call every apartment building in Placer County starting with those near Rose College. Bingo-I found one. Rented to Margaret Lovitz.”
“How did you find it?”
“I gave Heather a list of likely aliases-O’Dell, Wright, Plummer, Lovitz-and a time frame: rented after June of this year.”
“I’ll call Hooper to get a search warrant.” She stood and smiled. “Thank you. For this-and everything.”
He caressed her cheek. “Anytime,” he said slowly. “For you, anything.”
Maggie bolted upright in bed, panicked. Where was she?
She let out a long, quiet breath and listened. Something had woken her up. Finally, Quin had to be home.
She glanced at Quin’s simple, old-fashioned alarm clock, the kind with the bells on top and a traditional clock face. It was only four in the afternoon. Had she left work early? Why?
Someone was moving around downstairs. Into the kitchen, the creak of the linoleum a slightly different, louder sound than the soft carpeted footfalls. Water running. Turning off. Footsteps again.
Maggie swung her body out of bed, picking up the knife. She wished she hadn’t cut herself so much. Quin was going to see the blood. But that couldn’t be helped.
Now was the time to convince Quin that they should be a team. Just the two of them.
On the stairs, Maggie coughed twice and cleared her throat.
