Ten minutes later, Bailey and I were back in the car and headed for the Biltmore.
“You mind if I put the DA investigators on the house?” I asked.
“May as well. But we both know it won’t work. Lilah will find a way to get that letter, but no way she’s going to show up here, where we can grab her.”
“True,” I agreed. “But what’ve we got to lose?”
Bailey nodded.
The letter was, in part, another ploy to coax Lilah out. And Bailey was right: it wouldn’t work. It would, however, be my chance to leave a “message” for Lilah.
Bailey headed up the on-ramp to the Golden State Freeway. “I wonder if Mom would’ve told anyone about the birth control pills before the acquittal?”
“With her…? Anything’s possible,” I said.
“Do birth control pills cause miscarriage?” Bailey asked.
“They can,” I said. “And if I, who isn’t even thinking about getting pregnant, knows that-”
“Then so would Lilah.”
We rode in silence for a few moments, considering it all.
“So now we know why Lilah couldn’t afford to wait,” Bailey said. “She couldn’t keep forcing miscarriages forever.” She turned onto Grand Avenue and parked in the loading zone.
“Yeah, but there’s one more person I want to talk to.”
I gave Bailey directions to Mike Howell’s office, a small suite in a building just outside downtown. Like me, he always worked late, so now was the best time to catch him.
When he greeted us at the lobby door, I noticed his dirty-blond hair was already starting to recede. But he still looked trim in his slacks and shirtsleeves. He ushered us up the elevator and settled us on the couch in his office. He took the chair across the coffee table from us. “Can I get you anything to drink? No booze at the moment, but I’ve got water and soft drinks.”
Bailey and I gratefully accepted the water.
“So you want to talk about Lilah,” he said.
“I know you can’t say much, but since she got acquitted, and you know I won’t go to the Feds, I thought you might be able to give us a little something.”
“Fire away.”
“We looked into your ‘skinhead did it’ defense,” I said. I raised an eyebrow.
Mike nodded. He looked out the window as he spoke. “Tell you the truth, when Lilah first retained me, just based on what I saw of the prosecution’s case, I went back and forth: she did it, she didn’t do it. It was too tough to call. But when I got into…everything else…” Mike paused, then looked at me. “I don’t think she did it, Rachel.”
My expression must’ve conveyed my skepticism, because he held up a hand.
“You know I’m not one of those true believers who think all their clients are innocent victims of a vindictive prosecution. Ninety-nine percent of the time, my clients are guilty as sin.” He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“You know about Zack forcing her to get pregnant? And that she took birth control pills to miscarry?” Bailey asked.
“Yeah.”
“And you’re sticking with the skinhead story?” I asked.
“No.” Mike looked down at his hands and frowned. “I didn’t like it myself. But Lilah insisted. She wouldn’t let me go after the real killer.”
“And that was?” I asked.
“Her father.”
Bailey and I drove back to the hotel in silence. When we got up to the room, I finally spoke. “Lilah’s either a world-class manipulator, or-”
“It really is the truth.”
There was nothing unusual about a defendant lying to his lawyer about being innocent. Defendants think-with some degree of accuracy-that a lawyer who believes in his client’s innocence will fight a lot harder than one who knows his client is guilty. But I’d never heard of a defendant offering up a straw man and then refusing to let the lawyer use that information at trial. It was a heck of a curveball, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it an incredibly clever ploy to work her lawyer? Or did her father really do it? “What do you think? You believe Daddy might’ve done it?”
She shook her head, looking perplexed. “Before today, I probably would’ve said no. But now? I don’t know.”
I remembered Lilah’s father’s fury when he spoke of Zack and his efforts to get Lilah pregnant. It made him a somewhat plausible suspect. And yet…
I headed for my bedroom. “It’s hard to believe Lilah’d take the fall for her father. I would’ve expected her to throw anyone she could under that bus.”
“Who says Mike is right? Smart as he is, he could just be another Lilah Moonie who can’t believe the pretty girl’s an ax murderer. And like you said, she might be a world-class manipulator. Matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet she is.”
I nodded. “And even if she thought she stood a better chance than her dad of getting the jury to acquit, there’s no telling what a jury will do. Any lawyer knows that.”
Bailey sighed, and we both went to bed. Though I was skeptical of the theory that Lilah’s father had killed Zack, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resolve the question tonight. But I was too keyed up to sleep right away. I wondered what Lilah would make of the letter I’d written to her. I’d deliberately lied-hopefully not enough to be obvious but just enough to get her to pop off and do something stupid. It was the long shot of the century, but it cost me nothing. And I enjoyed the possibility that at the very least, I’d make her worry. A satisfying thought. And a good one to fall asleep on.
87
Lilah waited until she’d gotten back to her condo and locked her bedroom door. Then she took the envelope out of her purse and examined it for signs of tampering. It looked intact. Her mouth twisted in a bitter half smile. She knew it wasn’t respect for her privacy. Her parents just didn’t want to know. She used the nail of her index finger to slice open the envelope and unfolded the letter.
Lilah,
I know why you killed Zack.
You never did find the evidence he hid on the Tran Lee hit-and-run, did you?
And I know he was trying to force you to get pregnant.
The thought of carrying the child of the animal who held you hostage was too much, wasn’t it? And if you had children together, you’d never be free of him. It was a game that would go on forever. So Zack had to die, and you deserved to get away with it. By the way, the ax was a nice touch.
Of course, you wouldn’t have had to deal with any of that if you hadn’t gotten drunk and run over that boy, Tran Lee. So when it comes right down to it, you only have yourself to blame.
Still, I’m willing to offer you a deal.
Plead guilty to aiding and abetting in Simon’s murder, and to Tran Lee’s hit-and-run. You do that, and I’ll let you plead to second-degree murder for Simon’s killing and I’ll agree to a concurrent sentence for Tran’s killing. That’ll give you fifteen years to life for two homicides.
It’s more than fair.
Call me, and I’ll arrange for you to surrender discreetly.
But if I find you first, the deal is off.
Rachel Knight
Lilah barely managed to choke back the scream of rage. Her fault? None of it was her fault! That stupid kid-it was all his fault! She’d done nothing wrong! Lilah’s breath came in ragged spurts as she tore the letter again and again, until the pieces were too small to hold. Then she put them in the sink and burned them.
88
Morning came a little too early, but then, for me, it always did. I wanted to go back to sleep, but the clock said it was already seven thirty a.m.
I dressed for work in slacks and a blazer, put on heels just for a change of pace, and packed my sneakers in a bag. I went out to the living room and found that Bailey’d ordered a devastatingly evil breakfast of French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon and sausage. I lifted the silver cover on my dish. Instead of my usual egg-white extravaganza, there was a plateful of the best-looking pancakes I’d seen in quite a while. And a side of bacon. I tried to act pissed off, but a big smile spread across my face, which undermined the effort considerably.