“I asked about that.”
“Who did you ask?”
“First Cobb, then Bennett and Watson.”
“And what did they say?”
Hight shook his head. “Julia didn’t know anything. There was nothing she could do to help.”
“She lives close by, doesn’t she?”
“Right around the corner in the blue house. Why?”
Lena didn’t answer the question and moved to the bedside table. The drawer was filled with pads and pens and knickknacks-things that she had seen yesterday when they were searching the house for the gun. But what she was looking for now would probably be hidden in the back-something else that she would have glossed over before seeing the nude photos in the murder book. As she fished through the contents, she spotted the small tube of K-Y jelly behind a deck of playing cards, then returned everything to its place and closed the drawer.
“What about Lily’s cell phone?” she said.
Hight paused a moment, and Lena noticed something in his eyes-a spark, a glint-something that she hadn’t seen before.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shrugged her off. “We looked for that phone everywhere. When Cobb spoke with the service provider and they agreed to help, he told us that he had everything he needed and we could stop.”
“Did he ask you to keep the account open for a while?”
“Just in case somebody used it, but no one ever did. I checked the bill every month. No one used it to make or receive a call. Cobb told us Gant took it and threw it away.”
“But that’s not what came to mind when I asked the question, is it?”
“What does any of this have to do with what happened at the club? When am I gonna get my car back?”
“What were you thinking when I asked about Lily’s cell phone?”
He gave her a long look, his face reddening. “Her account,” he said. “Not the phone, but her account. It’s still open.”
“You call the number,” Lena said quietly. “You listen to her voice.”
Hight steadied himself against the doorjamb. As Lena looked him over, she sensed that she was witnessing something important. Hight keeping his daughter’s cell-phone account open was anything but strange. She knew that most people who had lost a loved one did exactly the same thing. Most people wanted to call the number and listen to the outgoing message. They wanted to hear their loved one’s voice. And they didn’t need the phone to do it-just the account and phone number.
But Tim Hight wasn’t like most people.
She wondered why he was doing it. She wondered if he didn’t see it as some kind of punishment. Or if he wasn’t lost in some sort of psychotic denial.
Her cell phone started vibrating. When she pulled it out of her pocket and saw Vaughan’s name on the touch screen, she slid the lock open with her thumb.
“I’ve got something,” he said. “Where are you?”
She could hear the excitement in his voice. The punch.
“What happened?” she said. “What is it?”
Vaughan covered the mouthpiece. The sound became muffled and she could hear him telling someone to close the door. When he came back on, his voice was quieter.
“I figured out why Cobb called Bennett first. They’ve got a history, Lena. They go way back.”
25
Lily Hight and Jacob Gant.
The girl was sexually active, a willing partner-but there was also a certain kink to it. A kink to Lily. To Gant. To them. One that included nude snapshots and phone sex in a chair by the window every night.
And one that may have included Lily’s father watching them from the darkness … and doing what?
The thought, the depravity, sent chills up Lena’s spine. But even worse, how could Cobb have missed it? And what about Bennett and Watson?
The elevator opened and Lena started down the hall toward Vaughan’s office. Within a few short steps, she became aware of someone shouting and realized that it was Steven Bennett’s voice. Lena picked up her pace and turned the corner. Bennett was inside Vaughan’s office with the door closed, and Vaughan’s assistant wasn’t at her desk. Lena noted the steam from a hot cup of tea by her computer-she must have just left. When she caught a glimpse of the newspaper on the desk, she rolled the chair away and moved in for a closer look.
It was today’s edition of The Los Angeles Times, and by all appearances, two journalists had written an article on the Jacob Gant trial singling out Bennett, Watson, and Higgins as complete incompetents. According to the banner above the headline, this was part one in a series that would run for the next fifteen weeks.
Worse still, the article had been set above the fold on page one and ran through most of the first section of the newspaper. On page three, photographs of Lily Hight, Jacob Gant, and Johnny Bosco were encircled by cutout photos of Bennett, Watson, and Higgins, but also by the chief administrator and commanding officer of the crime lab, Howard Kendrick, a man Lena had only met in passing. Beside the graphic a large arrow pointed to pictures of both Lena and Vaughan, set above the caption: District Attorney Jimmy J. Higgins amp; Company run for cover after serving up a fresh pair of scapegoats, or are they just the latest victims?
Lena dropped the newspaper back on the desk.
If Higgins truly hoped to glue Vaughan’s face to the scandal, it wasn’t going to work. The DA and his proteges had been outed and would be circling the drain for the next fifteen weeks. But far more important to Lena, the series would boost Tim Hight’s reputation as a father who did what he needed to do in killing Gant. Unbeknownst to the journalists, their examination and criticism of the trial would damage her case against Hight and hurt everyone.
Bennett raised his voice and began shouting at Vaughan again. Without hesitating, Lena pushed open the door and walked in on them. Bennett snapped his head at her, his face a deep purple, the veins in his neck jutting out thick as rope.
“Get the fuck out of this room,” he said.
Vaughan banged his fist on the desk. “You need to chill, Bennett. Pull yourself together. No one’s out to get you.”
Bennett rubbed his hand over his scalp and appeared stunned, even crazed. Ignoring Vaughan, he charged across the room and didn’t stop until he was in Lena’s face. It took all her strength of will to hold her ground.
“I knew the two of you would fuck this up,” he said.
Bennett looked like a man who was drowning. He was spitting the words out of his mouth, his lips were quivering, his cheeks dripping with perspiration. She could see the panic in those emerald-green eyes of his-rage mixed with fear.
Snake eyes.
“I knew you’d fuck it up,” he said again. “You’re talking to all the wrong people. You’re asking all the wrong questions. You’re fucking up my life.”
Vaughan looked like he’d had enough and approached from the side. “Nobody’s fucking up your life, Steven. You’re gonna have a heart attack. You’re gonna kill yourself, and it’s not worth it. Get out of my office and calm down.”
Bennett was still ignoring him, still zeroing in on Lena with his tail standing on end. He was easily a foot shorter than her, but meaty and strong. He took a step closer-nose to chin. Lena kept her eyes on him, her voice soft and easy and steady as a train on a new set of tracks.
“What’s next, Bennett? You gonna hit me?”
At first, he acted like he didn’t hear her or didn’t understand what she had just said. But after a few seconds, he mouthed the words “fuck you” at her and took two steps back. Vaughan moved in beside Lena, with Bennett now glaring at both of them.
“Fuck you both,” he said. “Just do your fucking jobs. Just do what you were told to do.”
He stormed out of the office. As he passed the assistant’s desk, he saw the newspaper, crushed it into a ball, and started punching it. Satisfied that the newspaper was dead, or at least mortally wounded, he kicked the desk chair and ripped the phone out of the wall-in a rant and repeating the words “Do your fucking jobs” over and over again through clenched teeth. When he finally caught his breath, he backed away from the desk like a madman and ran down the hall.