Jack could tell that he was holding back. “I think you do,” he said, his gaze tightening.
Bennett looked away, then back. “About a month before Emma died, Ellen hired a babysitter so the two of us could go out. When we came home, the babysitter was all upset. She said that Emma asked her to touch her privates. So, like I say, I don’t know for a fact. But I think Merselus killed Emma because she was getting old enough to, you know. .”
“To talk about who was abusing her?” said Jack.
Bennett nodded.
The sick feeling inside Jack was getting worse. But there was anger, too. “Why in the hell did you wait all this time to say something?”
“Ellen said they could pin it on me. You heard those rumors of me being an abuser, some people even saying I was the father of Sydney’s child. Where do you think that shit got started? Ellen and her sick son-of-a-bitch boyfriend could have sunk me.”
“So you let them pin it on your daughter instead?”
“I knew that would never stick.”
“I’m not sure how you could have known that. I was her lawyer, and until I heard Judge Matthews’ clerk say ‘not guilty,’ I thought we were looking at the death penalty.”
“Trust me. I knew Sydney was not going to be convicted.”
“Are you saying it was you who bought off juror number five?”
“No, no. They did. Ellen and Merselus. They let me in on it so I wouldn’t feel the need to save Sydney from the death penalty. The fix was in, so to speak. So I just. . went along. Kept my mouth shut. I shouldn’t have, I know. What Sydney went through is beyond horrible.”
He slumped back into the couch, as if drained, bringing a hand to his face. Then his shoulders heaved, two quick jerks, but he quickly brought the sobbing under control. Jack was certain that if Geoffrey Bennett had been of a constitution any less rich in testosterone, he would have seen a grown man cry.
That, or Sydney wasn’t the only member of the Bennett family who longed to be an actor.
“We need to get this information to Agent Henning right now,” Jack said. “I can try to reach her by phone, but I know I won’t get through. She’ll have to call us back. Meantime, you and I are going to take a ride right now to the FBI field office.”
Bennett nodded slowly, signaling acquiescence as much as agreement, and rose from the couch. Jack led him to the door, showed him out, and locked the door behind them. They stepped down from the landing and onto the sidewalk. Jack was a half step ahead of Bennett when the bushes rustled and a woman’s voice pierced the darkness.
“Stop right there.”
The men stopped, and Jack saw the gun.
“Ellen, no!” shouted Bennett.
“Don’t make a move,” said Mrs. Bennett, “neither one of you.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Merselus stood at the door, listening.
He’d turned off the noisy air conditioner to hear better, and the dark room was becoming an oven. He was too focused to care or even notice. He knew that there were twelve units on each floor in this wing of the complex, all facing the parking lot. An old motor lodge was anything but soundproof and, judging from the direction the sound had traveled, he determined that the police officers had started with apartment 112 at the other end of the wing and were working their way down in order. He’d counted three distinct rounds of knocking so far. By his estimation, they were still at least six units away from apartment 102.
“I need to breathe,” said Sydney.
She was still sitting on the floor near the closet, toward the back of the room, hands bound behind her back and double pillowcases over her head. She sounded so weak and frightened. It was the kind of pleading that would have been a sexual turn-on for Merselus in another setting. Under this kind of pressure, it made him angry beyond control. Merselus hurried across the room, yanked the pillowcases off her head, and dropped to one knee. He grabbed her by the throat so hard that the back of her head slammed against the wall.
“Do you want to end up like Celeste?” he said in a voice that hissed.
Beads of sweat rolled down her face, and wet wisps of hair were matted to her red cheeks and forehead. Her breathing was quick, shallow, and shaky.
“Do you?” he repeated. His tone was even harsher, and his grip tightened, silencing her breathing. Sydney’s eyes bulged with that telltale struggle for air. She shook her head in reply, and Merselus released her throat. She rolled her head back and gasped for more air as Merselus rose from his knee.
“Why,” she started to say, and paused. Then she somehow managed to get out the rest. “Why did you hurt Celeste?”
He dropped to his knee again and grabbed her by the jaw, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Because I thought she was you.”
She stared back at him, frightened and confused. He released her jaw, curious to hear her response.
“You wanted to kill me right there?” she said. “Right outside the jail?”
“Yeah, because you snubbed me.”
“What?”
“You were supposed to throw yourself in my arms when you saw me, remember?”
“I did. By the airplane on the runway.”
“But you didn’t when I found you in the parking lot.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“I was watching Faith Corso on my mobile, and she said you had been released into the crowd. Things were getting dangerous. I went to you. I told you my name. I said let’s go, I’ll take you to the plane.”
“But-”
He grabbed her arm, silencing her. “You looked at me exactly the way you’re looking at me now-like I’m a creep, and like you never heard of anyone by the name Merselus. The second I took your arm,” he said, squeezing tightly to make his point, “you tried to run.”
“But-that wasn’t me.”
“Celeste sure looked like you. And after all I went through to get your cute little ass out of jail, I was not going to be snubbed by some bitch who turns and runs.”
Merselus heard another round of knocking. It sounded like the police were right next door. He quickly tore off a strip of duct tape and covered Sydney’s mouth. Then he went back to his position at the door and listened.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he heard one of the cops say to the neighbor in apartment 103. Then he heard the door close, followed by a pair of approaching footfalls on the sidewalk. Then they stopped.
“Check that out,” the same cop said.
“Looks like blood,” the other cop replied.
The old man’s blood. Merselus hadn’t noticed any on the other side of the threshold, but splatter was always a risk.
Three booming knocks rattled the door. “Miami-Dade Police Department. Open up.”
Andie was on the phone with MDPD Sergeant Jake Malloy. In her other ear she had her SWAT team leader, who was awaiting her confirmation that local police had ceased the door-to-door sweep. Andie was making no headway with Malloy. His response was to share an update that, in his mind, confirmed that MDPD’s plan was working.
“Two of my patrol officers just reported blood outside the door to apartment 102.”
“We know that already,” said Andie. “Our SWAT unit spotted it in the first sweep. But the plan isn’t to walk up and knock on the door. Pull your officers back!”
The crack of four quick gunshots ripped through the night. Andie heard it three ways-her radio communication with SWAT, her cell connection with MDPD, and the echo that reverberated down the black Miami River to the parking lot behind the vacant warehouse where Andie was standing. The next thing she heard came over her cell, a man shouting to MDPD Sergeant Malloy.
“Officer down!”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Jack kept an eye on the pistol in Ellen Bennett’s hands. She seemed to read his mind.
“Yes, I know how to use it,” she said.