"That was Arthur's idea."
"You couldn't tell Arthur he'd picked a therapist who committed a felony to get her own baby because he would find out what you had done. Is that why he hit you tonight? Did you finally tell him?"
"He knew about the birth certificate from the start, except I told him someone else in the office had done it and that I wasn't supposed to know about it. That's why he picked Gina. He was worried Jordan would tell her therapist about the rape and that the therapist would have to report it to the social services people. He said we could use the information about Gina's baby to keep her quiet, but we didn't have to because Jordan didn't tell Gina about Trent."
"Not until just before Gina was killed," Mason said. "By then, Arthur was using the information to pressure Gina on her contract. Did Arthur know about you and David?"
"Not until tonight," she answered, fingering the welt on her face.
"It must have made for interesting dinner conversation when Arthur hired Gina to do the radio show. What a small world it is, he must have told you. I hired Jordan's shrink. Her lawyer is David Evans. Remember him, honey? He's the lawyer that helped us with Jordan's adoption. After all those years, you still had a thing for Evans and you hooked up with him again."
Carol looked away, another silent admission. Mason said, "Things really got complicated when Arthur used the information about Emily to pressure Gina on her contract. Evans couldn't have liked that."
Carol shook her head. "No, he didn't. He told me to get Arthur to back off or he'd tell Arthur about us and about what I had done."
"Some boyfriend," Mason said. "Didn't you know he was screwing Paula Sutton too?"
"I'm not proud of myself," Carol said.
"That's a relief," Mason answered.
"We were afraid Jordan was guilty. Then she confessed and we thought it would be over soon. When Trent was killed, we couldn't imagine who else could have done it."
"Innocence can be inconvenient," Mason said.
"Arthur knew you suspected him and was afraid you would find out about the phone call to Abby Lieberman."
"And you were afraid I would find out about you," Mason said.
Carol said, "After we saw the news last night about Sanctuary and the police said it had nothing to do with Jordan, Arthur knew you would keep pushing until you found out what he'd done."
"So Arthur went to see Paula Sutton to make sure she stayed quiet."
Carol looked at the Mercedes, covering her hand with her heart as the car shook from the struggle inside the trunk. Mason ignored the muffled sounds, keeping the pressure on her. "Why did you go see Evans last night?"
"Gina accused David of stealing from her and from Sanctuary. She fired him and convinced Sanctuary to fire him too. David told me Gina had embezzled the money and he was going to sue Sanctuary if the board didn't reinstate him. Arthur was trying to work it out."
"You told Evans what Arthur had done so Evans could use that against Arthur, level the blackmail playing field," Mason said. "Did Evans tell you to set up the meeting tonight at the radio station so the two of them could make a deal?"
"Yes," Carol said, fresh tears icing her makeup. "The studio is automated on Saturday night. The program ming is all syndicated. No one else would be there."
"The negotiations must not have gone well."
"They started screaming at each other. David threatened Arthur and told him about us. Arthur hit me and accused David of killing Gina to cover up his theft. David had a gun. Then all of this happened," she said, waving her hand.
The Mercedes roared to life, its tires squealing and burning against the polished cement floor as Evans gunned the car into reverse aiming at them. Mason dove out of the car's path as it fishtailed, the rear bumper catapulting Carol against the wall, the Mercedes careening up the drive, the garage door slowly rising, the roof of the car clipping the bottom of the door as Evans swerved into the night.
Carol lay crumpled against the wall, her arms and legs askew like a rag doll, eyes open, lips barely moving, mouthing Mason's name. He leaned over, his ear to her mouth.
"Trent," she managed. "David blamed you. He said he would get even," she added, the soft puff of her last breath dying against Mason's cheek.
Earl Luke called to Mason. "Is it safe to come out now?"
"Not hardly," Mason said.
Chapter 40
Mason sat on the floor, his back against the wall, staring at the spot where Carol Hackett died, Blues, Harry, and Mickey standing in front of him, a protective wedge. Carol's mangled body was gone, but Mason could still see her lying there, another deadly image hung on permanent display in his mental gallery, her last words a blot against his soul. Evans had pushed down the backseat of the Mercedes, climbing over Arthur Hackett, slipping into the front seat. Mason hadn't killed Carol and couldn't have saved her, but that didn't end it. The books didn't balance.
David Evans had killed Gina to get even with her for exposing his theft, and tried to kill Mason to get even with him for Max Coyle's lawsuit, using the passkey Trent Hackett had given him to get into the elevator control room. Trent, Mason realized, must have figured that out and put the screws to Evans. Evans killed Trent, rationalizing that murder as another debt owed to Mason.
Soon after Samantha Greer and her forensic crew arrived, Mason called Abby, telling her what had happened, promising to come over as soon as Samantha let him go. Abby, her voice brittle and sad, said okay, Mason feeling her slipping away, the violence that surrounded him and stained her too much to absorb.
It was nearly one in the morning, cold air pouring down the basement drive from the open door forcing Mason to his feet, the flashing red glare from a squad car parked at the entrance washing the walls. Samantha, combing her hair with her fingers, her eyes hollow with fatigue, her jaw set, was running the show, listening to the latest reports from her people, saving him for the last.
"We missed him at the airport," she said to Mason.
"Evans?"
"No, the tooth fairy," she said. "He dumped the Mer-cedes at one of those private parking lots a couple of miles from the terminal. Security guard was monitoring the police band, heard the APB, and called it in."
"What about Arthur Hackett?" Mason asked.
"Dead," Samantha said. "Evans took a shuttle to Terminal A. A sales clerk ID'd him, said he bought a travel bag and some clothes."
Mason said, "He'd have a better chance of getting through airport security if he had luggage, but I'm still surprised he'd try. He'd be arrested the minute he got off the plane."
"He didn't try," Samantha said. "He took another shuttle to Terminal B and bought a ticket for Oakland, but he never got on the plane. Instead, he rented a car. It was a pretty sloppy effort to cover his trail, but it bought him some time. The rental car has one of those GPS systems, lets us track him by satellite. He just crossed into Iowa, probably heading for Canada. Highway patrol should have him in custody soon."
"What about Jordan?" Mason asked.
"Ortiz says she'll be ready to go by nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Check that," Samantha said, looking at her watch. "Make that nine o'clock this morning."
"Thanks," Mason said.
Samantha shook her head. "Don't thank me, Lou. Just do me a favor. Hang up your spurs. Let somebody else play cowboy. This isn't for you. You're not good enough or lucky enough to keep this up."
Mason breathed deeply, Samantha giving voice to his own fears. "I'm thinking about taking some time off," Mason said.
"Take it with your new. What's her name? Abby?" Mason nodded, knowing that Samantha knew her name. "Yeah, take it with her. Get him out of here," she said to Harry.
Time off with Abby. It was a simple antidote, Mason thought, driving to her loft, windows down, the chill air a brisk reminder he was alive. He'd dived into the dark water again, scraping the bottom before coming out on the other side, weary, not exhilarated. Samantha was right. He had been more lucky than good and luck was too thin a hedge against death, particularly when he had more to lose than ever before.