Web of Deceit (11 page)

Everyone stares at
Edwin. He never talked to Beth this way before. In fact, none of them have ever
heard Edwin talk to anyone so directly before.

Beth half smiles
and replies, “I love you too.” She snatches her purse up to leave. On her way
out, she overhears Edwin say to Elizabeth in a shaky voice, “I was led by the
Spirit; I couldn’t keep it in if I wanted to.” Edwin’s last statement haunts
something inside Beth. She starts to think about things she usually doesn’t
concern herself with like
death
…

Down in the
parking lot, as Beth fishes for her key fob, she notices Symphony leaning
against the passenger door. “Need a lift?” she asks, already knowing the
answer.

“Yes,” Symphony
says, unexpectedly.

Beth pushes the
unlock button. “Chirp. Chirp
,
” announces the vehicle.

“Hop in,” Beth
says. “Where are you going?” Beth puts on her seat belt.

“With you,”
Symphony replies without hesitation. “I want to help you find the people who
did this to Sarah.”

“We already found
them,”

“Good. Is the
investigation over?”

“I’ll know more
when Elliot contacts me.”

“Where are you
goin’ now?”

“I’m checking out
a lead for another case.”

“OK. I’ll go with
you. And then when Elliot calls, you will know where to find me.”

“You think a lot
of Sarah, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“OK, you can come,
but you’re on the clock. So everything you learn is confidential and,” Beth
reaches into the center console and grabs a towelette. “Wipe off your black
lipstick. We are visiting a jumpy client.”

Symphony rolls her
eyes as she snatches the moist towel.

Beth sighs. 
This
is going to be a long day.

Beth pulls in
front of a large, green, two-story house and parks the car.

“Have you been
here before?” Symphony gets out of the Grand Cherokee and closes the door.

“No.” Beth flings
her purse around her shoulder and pulls her trench coat close. She joins
Symphony as they walk up the broken sidewalk.

“I can get us in
if you want.” Symphony says as they close in on the drab structure’s front
entrance.

“Oh thanks, but
that won’t be necessary. They’re expecting me,” Beth says.
That’s all I
need—to get caught cracking into a safe house.
Beth glances around the
property noticing the barred windows and surveillance cameras. “I don’t think
we could break in anyway. The security is pretty tight.”

Insulted, Symphony
keeps her mouth shut and stands behind Beth on the narrow salted stoop. A taut
moment passes before an imposing woman opens the front door and regards them
through wary eyes.

Beth breaks the
silence. “Hi, I’m here to visit Jade.” She fumbles for the sticky note, “…
McRoy. I believe Sarah Perkins called to tell you I was on my way.”

“Name?” the tall,
graying women in her late forties asks.

“Beth Doyle.”

“Identification?”

Beth reaches in
her purse while the woman gazes past her toward the young, Goth-dressed woman.
“Symphony! How are you, my dear?” Her face brightens.

Ever cool,
Symphony says, “You know, Maggie,” and points at her “Day by Day Man” pin.

“That didn’t work
then, and it won’t work now.” Maggie ignores Symphony’s space bubble and pushes
by Beth, who is still retrieving her driver’s license. She gives Symphony a
firm embrace and asks, “What are you doin’ here?”

“I work for Ms.
Doyle.”

Beth hands two
photo IDs to Maggie on the cramped icy stoop.

“Thank you.”
Maggie glances at Beth’s identification. Handing them back to Beth, she invites
them inside. She advances to a stand near the base of the banister and
retrieves an envelope from a drawer. “Jade won’t be seeing you after all, so
she asked if I’d give this to you.”

Beth takes the
envelope. “Can we reschedule?”

“No.”

“Did she leave?”

“I’m sorry, Ms.
Doyle. I’m not at liberty to say. I was only told to give you the letter and
relay her apologies.”

Beth pulls her
business card out. “Thank you for all your help and please let her know she can
call me day or night.”
Jade is running. This girl really does not want to be
found.

“I’m sorry I can’t
be of more help, Symphony. But, you know the drill. I can’t promise anything.”

“ ‘I can neither
confirm nor deny,’ ” Symphony and Maggie say in unison, mocking the rule.

Beth ponders
Symphony and Maggie’s unexpected history.
Oops, didn’t see that one coming.
Jeez, hope she doesn’t slash my tires for accusing her of wanting to break in.

“You know,
Symphony, the door is always open.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Growing impatient,
Beth says, “We need to get going. You have my card. If she changes her mind
please have her call.”

Beth descends the
steps outside, letting the door close behind her, not bothering to wait for
Symphony. Beth opens the envelope on her way to the Jeep and takes out a
letter. Five newspaper clippings fall out and feather toward the ground. Beth
bends to snatch the aged clippings, but a gust of wind catches them just before
her fingers can close. Miffed, Beth pursues the swirling news items until they
land on the snow bank in front of her Jeep.

Straightening the
clippings and brushing off the wet snow, she starts to read. “Walter Freeman.”
Third
Reich scientist accused of war crimes. Well, that’s unexpected. What does he
have to do with Jade?
She flips through the clippings, studying the
pictures and captions.

Symphony catches
up with Beth.

“I need a
computer,” Beth says. “Get in. We’re going back to the office.” Behind the
wheel and underway a minute later, Beth asks,“You used to work there?”

“Yeah, something
like that.”

“Have you ever met
Jade?”

“I can neither …”

“I get it,” Beth
interrupts. “You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

Symphony smirks
and nods yes.

Beth’s phone
rings. “Hello?”

“Hon, it’s me,”
Elliot says.

“Got anything?”

“Yeah, we’ve found
a waitress’s headpiece from Odell’s in the back of the van.”

“Is it Kelly’s?”

“We’re check’n it
now. Frank recovered hair from the headpiece, and I ran home to get the brush
Kelly used Friday morning. We’re gonna see if it’s a match.”

“Need a ride?”
Beth asks.

“No, Howard found
some tires for the Vette. She’s lookin’ sweeter than ever, if it were
possible.”

“Yeah, I bet. Glad
to hear ‘Baby’s’ better,” Beth says. “Symphony is working on the Freedman case
with me. Jade bolted before we got to her, but she left us an envelope with
some pictures of a dead guy that used to be a Third Reich scientist. His name
was Freeman, without the ‘D.’ That woman’s got some skeletons, and I am going
to feel a lot better when I figure out her beef with Jade. Call me when you get
the results.”

“Will do. I got
this end. Don’t get too close without me there, in case this gets weird. Got
it?”

About to miss the
entrance to her parking lot, Beth swerves hard and juts across the oncoming
traffic, cutting off a middle-aged guy with a goatee in a white Volvo. “’K, see
ya,” Beth flips the phone shut while the agitated man in the Volvo is still
shaking his fist.

“So, what do you
think about cell phones behind the wheel?” Symphony asks with her usual lack of
emotion.

Beth releases her
grip, dropping the phone into her lap. “Hands free only.” She smiles.

While walking into
the Police Department, Elliot dials Frank’s phone.

“Yeah,” Frank
answers.

“Hey man, it’s
Elliot. I got the brush. Where ya at?”

“Upstairs next to
the interrogation room.”

“OK.” Elliot
disconnects the call.

“He got here
quick,” Frank says aloud to himself.

“Yeah, I know,”
Elliot answers from around the corner. “I got my wheels back.” He grins while
pulling the brush out of his pocket.

“I still think
she’s too much power for ya. You’re not responsible enough. You should let me
take her off your hands,” Frank says. “I’ll trade you the mean green machine
straight out.”

“Yeah, as tempting
as that is, I’ll pass.” Elliot tosses the brush in the air to Frank.

Frank snatches it
with one hand. “Your day’s comin’. I see the way you look at Beth. It’s only a
matter of time. Your wild days are soon over.”

“Laugh all you
want. You’ll never see me behind the wheel of a minivan,” Elliot says. “I don’t
care how cool they try to make ’em, it ain’t goin’ to happen.”

With the brush,
Frank points to the chair next to the holding cell. “You stay here in fairy
tale land with Captain Hook.” He gestures to their prisoner. “Tinker Bell and I
are going down to the lab.”

“Keep makin’
jokes, old man, but the reality is your freedom’s gone, and you drive a
minivan,” Elliot says.

“Things change.
You’ll see.” Frank disappears down the steps to the lab.

Elliot approaches
the window of the holding room and narrows his eyes, regarding the prisoner and
biding his time.

The young man
paces back and forth in his Air Jordans, his fingers combing his jet-black
hair. He stops at one end of the cell and presses his fists against the cement
block wall. Without regard, he smashes his right foot into the wall,
admonishing his own stupidity. He continues hobbling, while grimacing with
every other footfall.

“Don’t let him
fool you,” Chip says from across the hall, startling Elliot. “He’s just sorry
he got caught.”

“I don’t know.
Something doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t fit the profile of the average thug.”

“Clean clothes and
a nice haircut only changes the outside. Underneath it all—scum.”

“Chip, urgent call
on line two!” a voice booms through the loud speaker.

Chip goes to the
wall phone and grabs the receiver.

“Officer Riley.
May I help you?”

Elliot is
distracted by Frank’s voice from the stairs.

“I think we got
our boy, Elliot. They need to run the DNA, but from my experience, it looks
like those strands came from the same girl,” Frank says, returning.

Slam!

Chip smashes the
phone receiver against the wall. It shatters and drops to the floor. He grabs
his temples and screams in agony.

Elliot whirls
around. “Chip! What’s wrong?!”

Chip’s unbearable
torment shreds away his last bit of sanity. In a torrent of uncaged
desperation, Chip lunges toward the holding cell and severs the door from its
bolt and hinges with impossible strength. Chip and the door crash against the
opposite wall of the cell.

Elliot and Frank
are stunned.

Recovering first,
Frank starts at a dead run through the empty door frame. “Elliot, snap out of
it. We gotta get Chip down.”

Chip springs to
his feet and unholsters his side arm as Frank’s mass hits him hard from the
side, pinning him against the cell wall. Frank’s hold is relinquished as Chip
brushes him aside with ease. Chip brings his side arm back under control.

Elliot lunges at
Chip from behind, tackling him to the concrete floor, protecting the wide-eyed
prisoner.

Chip’s gun skids
across the floor out of his reach.

Frank bellows into
the hall. “I need something to calm him down! Get Joanna in here!”

Chip pushes Elliot
aside and stands. His eyes are locked on the young, cowering prisoner.

“Get that kid out
of here!” Frank shouts to the officer entering the room. Rushing him from the
front, Frank grabs Chip at the base of his rib cage, locking his arms at his
side and lifting him from the floor.

“No!” Chip yells.
Pain drives his adrenal glands to overload. With the strength of seven men,
Chip breaks Frank’s hold, drops to the floor and pushes Frank away. Chip drops
to a knee, retrieving a second gun from his ankle holster.

“Run!” Elliot
yells at the kid as he and Frank take Chip down together.

Bang!

Chip’s gun
discharges.

“Somebody, knock
him out!” Elliot yells.

“What’s goin’
on?!” A tall brunette rushes into the cell with a syringe.

“Joanna! Thank
God. We don’t know. Chip flipped out.” Elliot uses all his strength to hold
Chip’s arm still.

Joanna quickly
shoots the dose into Chip’s arm. “There ya go.” She tries to calm Chip with her
voice.

Chip’s screams
fade, and his body begins to relax.

“You guys can let
go of him now. He won’t be waking up for a while.”

Elliot pats Frank
on the shoulder. “Need help getting up, old man?”

Frank doesn’t
move.

“Frank?” With no
response from Frank, Elliot rolls him onto his back. Blood is soaking through
Frank’s shirt above the center left side of his chest. “Franks been shot! Get
an ambulance ASAP!”

“They’re on the
way up,” a voice answers from the hall.

Joanna checks for
signs of life. “He’s breathing, Elliot. Stay calm. It will be OK.”

“Come on, Frank.
Don’t get lazy on me. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

In eight minutes
paramedics arrive. “We were told you have a hostile for pickup,” one of them
says.

“Yeah,” Joanna
replies, “but he’ll have to wait. We’ve got a chest wound.” She doesn’t take
her eyes off Frank as she directs the paramedics and maintains the pressure on
the gauze pad covering his wound.

In twelve minutes
the paramedics have Frank stabilized, strapped to a gurney, and loaded into the
ambulance, waiting in front of the police station.

“OK, guys. Get
back to work,” a deep husky voice entering the cell says. “And put this kid in
another holding room.”