Jack’s eyes flashed. “I told you he was the one. But you said it didn’t make sense.”
Noah had to take a step back, appalled that his hand had actually closed into a fist. He swallowed back the fury and managed to say nothing at all.
Jack flicked a glance down at Noah’s clenched fist “Where is Girard now?”
“In lockup,” Noah said. “I called the car we had parked in front of his house. They said the Girards appeared to have been in bed. But on the off chance that somehow Axel sneaked out to another car, killed Rachel Ward, then teleported himself home in half the time it should have taken him to drive, I had him picked up.” He turned to look at Abbott. “Eight a.m. meeting?”
“Make it nine. Jack, I expect you to have a new cell phone, forthwith.”
The ME techs came out of Rachel’s house, pushing the gurney that held the body bag. Jack swallowed hard before turning, getting into his car, and driving away.
“I should feel bad about what I said,” Noah murmured, “but I don’t.”
“Jack’s on a bad track,” Abbott said. “You can’t save him from himself. Only he can.”
“First step,” Noah said quietly, then realized he’d said it aloud. He’d never revealed his alcoholism to anyone on the force, never even spoken of it to anyone besides Brock and Trina, until he’d blurted it to Eve. And she hadn’t flinched. Now he turned to his boss, whose expression was not judgmental. Noah sighed. “You know.”
“I’ve always known,” Abbott chided. “I told you, it’s my job to know my staff.”
“Which is why you get paid the medium-sized bucks.”
Abbott’s mouth curved, but his eyes didn’t smile. “Go home and sleep. That’s an order. See you at oh-nine. And tell Eve I said thank you. She almost saved the day.”
From under the carport in an empty For Sale house half a block away, Harvey put down his binoculars. “Webster nearly hit Phelps.” He turned to Dell, who’d just arrived, his car parked down the street from Harvey’s Subaru.
Still observing through his zoom lens, Dell smiled. “A crack in the blue wall.”
Dell’s tone had him frowning. “What do you know, son? What have you done?”
Dell shrugged. “Just gave an already shaky relationship a little push, that’s all.”
Harvey was quiet for a long moment. “Phelps was really late getting here tonight,” he finally said. “You told me the boys were on the move an hour ago.”
“It appears Phelps slept in,” Dell said cheerfully.
Harvey considered the circuitous route Webster had taken, the look of weary panic on the man’s face when he’d stopped at the mailbox store. He’d been racing against a clock for the past hour and here they sat, less than a mile from Phelps’s home.
A shiver ran down his spine. “A woman died here. Tell me that matters to you.”
“What matters to me is that V is dead,” Dell said bitterly. “That matters to me.”
“I know that,” Harvey said softly. “I know that every minute of every day.”
“The men who killed him walk free. Do you know that every minute of every day?”
Harvey leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. “What. Did. You. Do?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” Then Dell gasped when Harvey’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar of his parka and twisted, cutting off his air.
Harvey leaned across the gearshift, furious. “You will tell me. Make no mistake. I am your father. I brought you into this world. I can-”
“Take me out,” Dell sneered, his eyes flashing hate. “You know what? I’m not five years old and peeing my pants in fear of you anymore. V’s not here to take my licks, so I’ll take them myself. So hit me, old man. If you think you can.”
Harvey hesitated, feeling a grudging respect for his younger son, who might have finally grown up. He released him with a shove of disgust. “Just tell me what you did.”
“I’ll get as old as you waiting for these cops to fuck up on camera. So, I decided to take control of the situation. I got us a… Trojan Horse.”
“Make some sense, boy,” Harvey snapped.
“I got someone on the inside, a woman. She’s cuddled up to Phelps, made him think she’s got the hots for him. But she watches him, for us.”
“And tonight? You said Phelps overslept.”
Dell shrugged. “She doctored his whiskey bottle a little bit. Just to make him sleep. Obviously not too much, because he actually showed up this time.”
“He hasn’t shown up other times?”
“He’s missed a few days. His partner’s pretty pissed with him. I figure another few episodes like tonight and they’ll turn on each other like the dogs they are.”
What were you thinking, boy? If Phelps had been awake an hour ago, that woman might have lived. “So how have you known when they were on the move?”
“She keeps Phelps’s phone on vibrate,” Dell said, “and waits for a call.”
“That’s how you knew they were going to the Brisbane woman’s on Sunday. You told me the GPS beeps when they move their cars.”
“It does, but she’s a little extra insurance. Sometimes I sleep through the beep.”
“So instead of telling Phelps, she calls you.”
“Yeah. Then she erases all of Webster’s messages and calls from the incoming log. I guess somebody must have called him again after she left, woke him up.”
“You dumb fuck,” Harvey gritted. “If they check with the phone company, they’ll prove Webster called. Then they’ll be on the alert that somebody is fucking with them.”
“They might. They’re so mad right now, they probably won’t. If they do, it won’t matter, because she says Phelps does it himself half the time. Pretends like he hasn’t gotten Webster’s call, that he has no bars. Guy’s a fuckup. I just sped it up a little.”
“But this time, Phelps didn’t do it himself, and this time a woman died. If they check his phone records, this whore of yours will be the first person they haul in. And if you don’t think you’ll be the first person she implicates, you’re dumber than I thought.”
“She won’t talk and I’m far from dumb. I have it all planned out.”
Harvey stared at his son, wondering how Dell had veered off course. He needed to drag his son back on task. “I’ll let this go, this time. But nobody else better die because of you. That’s not the way to fix this and I’m not going down with you. I’ll stop the whole operation first.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Dell said agreeably. “Gotta go.” He hopped out of the Subaru and into his own vehicle and, stomach churning, Harvey watched him go.
Wednesday, February 24, 5:15 a.m.
Noah disobeyed Abbott’s order to go home, stopping by the holding cell where he found Axel Girard, pacing frantically. Girard looked up, wild-eyed with panic.
“I didn’t do anything. You’re ruining my life.”
“I’m trying to save it. I need to talk to you. Will you stop pacing and listen to me?”
Girard stopped, but his body still vibrated with pent energy. “What do you mean, save it?”
“Another woman was murdered tonight,” Noah said. “A car with plates registered to your wife was seen driving away.”
Girard paled. Blindly he sank to the edge of the cot in his cell. “Why?”
“Damn good question. Why do you think someone would target you? Does anybody hate you? Have you pissed anyone off lately?”
Girard pressed his knuckles to his lips. “No. I get along well with my patients, with my neighbors. I don’t have any enemies. How long will you keep me here?”
“I don’t know. I need to find some connection between you and a killer.”
“Oh God,” Girard said, the panic returning to his eyes. “My wife and boys.”
“The plainclothes detectives are still watching your house. Your family is safe.” Noah left holding, finding Abbott standing in the hall outside, frowning. And waiting.
“I had to talk to him,” Noah said. “Had to find out what he knows.”
“And?”
“He says he doesn’t know anything. I’m inclined to believe him. Well, that he doesn’t know he knows, anyway. He’s a squeaky clean guy who couldn’t have made it from the crime scene back to his house before we had him dragged from his bed.”