Brainstorm (8 page)

“All of the above. No DNA – at least not yet. But you saw
him fleeing the scene.”

“I didn’t actually see him come out of the bank; the bank
was around the corner from where I was standing. His lawyer could say he was
coming from somewhere else, right?”

“And his lawyer
will
say that. But right now they can’t even place him in Rochester on that day. And
you can not only do that, but you saw him running with police in pursuit.”

Jack was so sincere, his eyes so honest, that for the
second time that day, I did something that would help someone else, even though
it would make things worse for me. I went to my closet and pulled down the box
that held the ski mask Danny Stearns had dropped that damnable day.

“I believe the police in Rochester will find the DNA
they’re looking for in here,” I said.

“What is it?” Jack opened the box and saw the black ski mask
crumpled inside. “Where did you get this?”

“Danny dropped it when he bumped into me. I picked it up
off the sidewalk and then didn’t know what to do with it, so when I got back to
the dorm, I stuck it in this box and it’s been there ever since. His DNA will
be in there, right?”

“Audrey, this is what they need, whether or not they find
the money. Between this and your testimony, you’d never have to worry about
running into him again.”

“Take it, then,” I said. “Good riddance to it.”

He pulled out his cell phone. “I can’t take possession of
it. It’s a chain of custody thing, although you’ve had it so long that may be a
moot point.”

“Who are you calling?”

“Sheriff’s Department. They’ll pick it up and contact
Rochester.”

“Tonight? They’ll come here?”

“Yes – and I’m sure it’ll be a relief to have it out of here.”
I smiled and nodded, even though what I was feeling was
not
relief. Not even close.

He explained the circumstances to someone on the other
end of the phone and finally finished the call. “They’ll be here in a couple of
hours. You okay? Let’s sit.” He ushered me toward the sofa. “I’ll get you some
water,” he said. “I’d ask where the kitchen is, but I can see every room from
here.”

I sipped the water and began to feel better. I liked that
Jack seemed worried about me, but figured he would have done the same for
anyone, until he brushed a lock of hair from my forehead and then rested his
hand on the back of the sofa, near me. I felt blood rush to my cheeks, and in
an effort to hide the blush, I looked down and studied my glass of water.

After an unbearable amount of time, he put his hand under
my chin and lifted it up until our eyes met, and he leaned down and kissed me.

“Was that okay to do?” he asked.

“Yes,” I breathed, “could you do it again please?” And
this time it was a
kiss
.

“I’d ask where the bedroom is,” he said, “but, well, you
know.” He carried me as if I weighed nothing and lowered me onto the bed, which
thank God, I had made.

“Is this a good idea?” I asked, between kisses.

He slid his hand up my back and pulled me closer, and
mumbled, “Is this the best time to ask?”

“What about the sheriff’s deputy?” I whispered. “He’s
coming tonight.”

“If I do this right,” he whispered back, “that’ll make
three of us.”

I couldn’t get enough of his muscled arms, broad
shoulders, and sturdy back. His thick wavy hair, compassionate hazel eyes, and
full lips, lent beauty and wonder to an otherwise wholly masculine body, that
spoke to the rigid training needed to live a life of danger. His movements in
bed were focused and slow, and with great purpose: a machine with rhythm. A man
who knew what he wanted, but also knew what I wanted. What I needed.

Later, as we cuddled under a sheet, he reached for my
locket. “Can I see your father’s picture?”

At that moment, I would have said yes to anything.
“Sure,” I said. He pushed the little button on the side of the heart and it
popped open.

“You have his eyes,” he said. “The other side, though, no
photo of your mom?”

I closed the locket and covered it with my hand. “I had
one, but it fell out when I was little,” I lied.

“You could always replace it,” he said. “You must have
another one.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t. Can we change the subject,
please?”

He smiled. “Sure. It’s your locket. Maybe you’ll put
someone else’s picture in the other side someday.” He raised an eyebrow, as if
to say perhaps it would be his.

Instead of getting to lounge in bed, relishing our first
time together, we hopped in the shower (which was fun too), and then got
dressed before our company arrived.

The interview didn’t take long, and I was not nervous at all,
but I attributed that to Jack. After I answered his questions, the sheriff’s
deputy shook hands with me, then with Jack, and left with the box. I was glad
to see it go, even though I knew it would be the reason my life would become
even more complicated than it was now.

Jack started to pick up his things – his keys, his cell –
getting ready to go. “I’m going to stay here tonight,” I said, “I want to sleep
in my own bed.”

“I’m always just a phone call away.” He kissed me
goodbye, and when he went to leave, I pulled him back.

“One more,” I said, and he happily obliged.

Had there ever been a time when I’d felt happier than I
did at this moment? In a celebratory mood, I jammied up and threw a bag of
popcorn into the microwave. I was dating a cop! A man who was putting up with
me so far, and someone who could protect me; keep me safe. One who had already
helped me so much, and had helped Harley as well. I couldn’t believe any harm
would come to her, or to me, with Officer Jack Morey on our side.

I flipped on the news, thinking I wouldn’t need any
medication at all to get to sleep. The first story was a report of a crash, in
which a vehicle had run off the road and sheared off a telephone pole; the
scene was gruesome. A reporter was standing outside, near the scene of the
accident that she said had happened yesterday. I’d turned in early last night
and missed the news.

The reporter continued, “The name of the driver who
perished in the crash, is Miller Crawford, owner of Miller’s Security Systems,
in Watertown and Rochester.”

No! This couldn’t be happening! Miller was dead? I ran into
the bathroom and vomited. Sitting on the floor, with my head spinning, sobs
tore at my body. This was my fault. Had to be. I should never have taken him on
as a client. I knew something could happen to him if I did, and I did it
anyway. What kind of a person was I? Oh, God. Miller was dead.

I fell asleep right there on the bathroom floor, waking
during the night only long enough to drag myself off to bed, where I remained
awake until morning. When I couldn’t lie there any longer, I picked up the
phone and called Dr. Steele. “Can you see me this morning? It’s important.”

“So what’s going on?” Dr. Steele asked, settling herself
into her chair. She crossed her legs, straightened her back, and held a pencil
over her notebook, poised and ready to take notes like a capable secretary.

“Another client,” I said. “This one died.”

Her face went slack, her notebook forgotten. “Oh, my God,
Audrey, when?”

“Two days ago, but I didn’t hear about it until last
night,” I said. “The thing is, I met with him the day he died. We spent an hour
in my office going over his business material. I mean, he was a new client. It
was our introductory meeting, as far as his advertising went.”

“What do you mean, as far as his advertising went?”

“He’d been in my office once before, and we’d had lunch
together before that. He installed one of his security systems at my office.”

“This is most likely just a terrible coincidence,” she
said. “The poor man had an unfortunate accident the day he met with you, and
that’s the beginning and the end of it.”

I shook my head. “No, there can’t be that many
coincidences.” I jumped up. “In fact I shouldn’t even be
here
. Whatever it is, I could be bringing this awfulness to you
just by being here! I have to go.” I grabbed my purse and ran out the door,
leaving Dr. Steele sitting in her chair, apparently unable to think of anything
to say that would make me stay.

Once back in Nelly, I couldn’t control my panic, and knew
I shouldn’t drive. I called Jack, explained what had happened to Miller, and
told him where I was.

“I’ll be right there,” he said. “Hold tight.”

By the time he arrived, I was hugging myself and rocking
back and forth, and I let out a scream when he knocked on my window. I pushed
back my seat and made an ungainly move over the console to the passenger side.
He slid in behind the wheel, checked his watch, and turned on the radio.

“I knew about the crash,” he said, “but I didn’t know the
guy was your client.”

When the news began, the second story reported that
Miller was found to have a drug commonly found in sleeping pills in his blood.
It was assumed, barring any new findings, that he’d fallen asleep at the wheel.
No skid marks were found at the scene, indicating that he had not tried to
brake as his vehicle left the road, and the condition of the van was consistent
with it having hit the pole while Miller’s foot was still on the gas pedal.

“Sleeping pills,” I whispered, “that’s what they said
about Tony. That he had remnants of sleeping pills in his blood.”

“They also said you were the last to see Tony, but we
don’t know that for sure.”

“I think I was the last one to see Miller, though. We had
a meeting in my office that day.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“He had a headache and I gave him two aspirins.”

Jack turned to look at me. “You gave him pills?”

“Yes.
Aspirin
.”

“Where’s the container?”

“It was empty, so I threw it in the trash can.”

“Let’s go,” he said.

When we arrived at the office, Jack asked, “Which can?
Kitchen? Or the one by your desk?”

I pointed to the one next to my desk. He took a pen out
of his pocket and used it to lift out the empty bottle. “Got any plastic bags?”

I went to the kitchenette and pulled one out of a box in
the cupboard. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to have the dust inside analyzed.” He dropped
the bottle into the bag.

“Why?”

“Because,” he said, “once it’s known that you may have been
the last one to see Miller and you gave him pills, the department’s gonna do
this. We might as well do it first.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re telling me that I’m going to
be accused of causing Miller to drive off the road?”

“I’m saying that this is the second of your clients – one
who almost died, and one who did,
 
to
have sleeping pill residue in their blood, and who saw you the same day they
had their accidents. We need to be proactive.”

“Just get rid of the bottle!”

“Can’t do that. You know I can’t.”

“Nobody else was here when Miller was. No one needs to
know he met with me.”

“I’m sure he has an appointment book, or a secretary who
keeps his daily schedules for him. Plus, if you remember, I drove out of your
driveway just as he was driving in.”

“I thought dating you was going to keep me safe,” I said.

“Don’t panic,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to
you. Now come on – are you okay to drive me back to my car?”

I nodded, but in my heart I knew I was in trouble; the
in-my-head kind of trouble.

Jack called the next morning and said we needed to meet.
“You don’t sound right,” I said. “Please don’t tell me something else is
wrong.”

“Are you at the apartment or at the office?”

“Apartment.”

“I’ll be right over. I’ll bring coffee.”

I showered and dressed, wondering what was so urgent that
he felt the need to rush right over. Maybe they’d found Danny Stearns. Or maybe
it wasn’t about him at all. Had they found Ferdy? Oh, God. What if they found
him and he was dead? By the time Jack arrived I’d worked myself into a frenzy;
the last thing I needed was coffee.

Jack walked in and handed me a large cup. “It’s decaf,”
he said. Thankful for that, I took a sip and we sat on the sofa.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Matt St. John spoke to the manager of Mike’s Diner and
confirmed that you and Tony have coffee there most Monday mornings.”

“Right. So?”

“He said that Tony stayed a little longer than usual that
morning; refilled his coffee.”

“And?”

“He knows that Tony had sleeping pill residue in his
blood.”

“
And
?” Jack was
re-capping – leading up to a big something.

“Matt has to look at everything. He’s going to ask you if
you have access to sleeping pills. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“Are you saying that if he finds out I have sleeping
pills, he’ll think I hurt Tony? That’s beyond ludicrous!”

“As the investigating officer, he has to look into every
little thing, and I can’t interfere with that. All I can do is advise you to
tell him the truth. If he gets too personal, tell him you want a lawyer.”

“A
lawye
r?” I
excused myself, and with my anxiety meter about to blow, went into the bedroom
and swallowed one of my happy pills. When I turned around, Jack was standing
there.

“What was that you just took?”

“A pill. I took a friggin’ happy pill, okay?”

“Sure,” he said. “You told me you were on medication. I
get it.”

I began to pace. “No one who knows me would ever think I
would hurt Tony, or anyone else for that matter! He can ask anyone. I would
never do anything so awful. I don’t have it in me. Tony was a client, but he
was also a very good friend.”

“I’m sure he
will
be asking around. People you work with, friends, like that.”

“Oh, that’s just
great
!
I didn’t mean I wanted him to talk to people! The grapevine in advertising is
big enough to choke a horse; I’ll never get another client. If Matt talks to
even one person, I’ll be done!”

Someone knocked on the door. “I’ll get it,” he said, and
then I heard him say, “Matt.”

Matt? Already
?
Butterflies darted through my stomach, then through my chest before making
their way along my extremities. I looked at my arm, half expecting to see wings
rippling under my skin.

“Sorry about this,” said Matt. “I need to talk to
Audrey.”

“Come in, Matt,” I said, and I pointed to a chair. “Have
a seat.” I went to the sofa and waited for him to start.
I have nothing to hide,
I thought
, so let him have a go at me.

Matt looked toward the ceiling and sniffed. “What’s
that?”

“What?”

“Are you cooking?”

I thought for a second. “Oh, no – that’s incense.”

“Are you burning it now?”

“No, that has to be from last night.”

“Oh,” he said. “The only time I run into that is when
it’s being used to cover up the smell of pot.”

I rolled my eyes, “I wasn’t smoking pot.” But suddenly
the incense was all I could smell. It seemed to get stronger and stronger, until
I considered excusing myself to see if I actually had lit a stick and
forgotten, but I sat tight.

“Okay,” he finally said, “let’s get to this.”

“How can I help you?” The butterflies continued their mad
flight through my body and heat prickled the back of my neck. If Jack hadn’t
told me this guy was going to ask me about sleeping pills, I probably wouldn’t
be so nervous. But then, maybe knowing ahead of time would keep my eyes from
bugging out of my head when and if he did ask. What was the saying?
Forewarned is forearmed?

He flipped open his notebook and I could see a list of
questions he had prepared. With a click of his pen, he began. “So how long have
you known Mr. Bravada?”

“About eight years – you asked me that before.”

“And when was the last time you saw him?”

“The morning of his crash. I told you that before too.”

“I spoke to the manager of Mike’s Diner and he verified
that you were there the morning of the crash with Mr. Bravada, around quarter
to seven. Is that right?”

“Yes.”
What’s he
doing?
I thought.
Asking me the same
questions to see if I change my answers?

“Mr. Bravada said he didn’t think the plane
malfunctioned. He said he felt drowsy and fought to stay awake.”

“I was in the hospital room when he told you that, Matt.”

Without looking up from his notebook, he continued, “Do
you have access to sleeping pills?”

So there it was. “I do.”

“Over-the-counter or prescription?” His voice was calm
and non-threatening.

Probably a
technique they used to interrogate actual criminals,
I thought.
“Prescription.”

“Who prescribed them for you?”

“My doctor, of course.”

“A general practitioner?”

I took a deep breath. “My therapist.”

He looked up from his notebook. “You’re seeing a
psychologist?”

“A psychiatrist, actually,” I said. He wrote that down.
“Do you think I drugged Tony?” I asked. “You can’t possibly think that.”

“I have to cover all the bases,” he explained. “You were
the last known person to see him before his accident.”

“So?” A trainload of agitation chugged toward the section
of tracks I was tied to.

“Audrey,” he said, “at this point I have to pause and
Mirandize you, because your answers might be incriminating.”

Jack spoke up, “Do you want a lawyer?”

“Why would I need a lawyer?” I asked, hearing the
exasperation in my voice. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

Matt read me my rights and then continued. “So, the
doctors found no physical ailments or disorders that would cause Mr. Bravada to
become drowsy. That means it was caused by an outside source, in this case
sleeping pills, which he does not have in his possession. So, at this time I
have to ask if you put sleeping pills in his coffee that morning.”

“To what end?” I asked. “He’s been a client and a friend
for years. His sponsors provided a huge portion of my income. I would have no
reason to do anything to him from a personal or a business standpoint.”

“Another client of yours, Miller Crawford, had the same
drug in his blood when he crashed his car,” he said, “and it’s come to my
attention that you may also have been the last person to see him before his
accident.”

I shot a look at Jack that said,
you told him
?

“Also,” Matt continued, “I have reason to believe that
you gave Mr. Crawford pills while the two of you were together, just before his
accident. Is that true?”

I looked again at Jack, only this time, I felt tears
running down my face. He looked stricken, and I knew he had told Matt. “Yes,
that’s true,” I said, “but I thought they were aspirin. They were in an aspirin
bottle, so why would I have thought they were anything else?”

“I was going to tell you,” Jack whispered.

“I don’t have any more questions for you,” Matt said, and
he stuck his notebook into his back pocket and headed toward the door. “Listen,
Audrey,” he said, “better me than someone you’ve never met, right? I know you
didn’t do any of this. But the process is the process. I have to ask you not to
leave town.”

Jack followed him. “It’s your job, man. I know that.”

After the door closed, I turned to Jack. “Why did you
tell him about Miller?”

“Take it easy,” he said.

“Don’t tell me to take it easy!” I shouted. “You betrayed
me!”

“Hold on. Remember when you told me you had given Miller
the aspirin? And we went to your office to retrieve the bottle? I said it was
because I knew that the police would eventually know you were with him before
he died, and had given him those pills. And what did I tell you was the reason
for picking the bottle out of your trash?”

“To analyze the contents before the police did.”

“Yes. To be forthcoming about everything, so it didn’t look
like evidence was piling up against you. We told
them
. So when Matt came to me with the results of Miller’s blood
analysis, and it was the same as Tony’s, I told him the rest – that you gave
Miller the pills. We were working together.”

“Against me!”

He held up his hands. “No, not against you. I would never
do that. You know better.”

“I need you to leave, Jack.”

“Okay, I’ll go. But first tell me you understand why I
told Matt what I did.”

“I know you had my best interest at heart. I just wish
I’d heard it from you, before I heard it from him.”

“I’d fully intended to tell you, Audrey, but then he
showed up at the door before I had a chance. Look, I have to go to work.” He
kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

I paced the floor, going over the interview, and realized
I’d been so nervous that I’d already forgotten much of what was said. I needed
something to occupy my mind and decided to drive over to Mike’s Diner. I wanted
to know what Mike had said to Matt; what questions he’d been asked.

When I arrived, the place was packed with the lunch
crowd; not the best time to get and keep Mike’s attention. I waved at him and
caught his eye. He was working the counter, but was willing to sit with me for
a minute.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I began, “but I’m freaking
out. The police are asking me questions about the last morning I was here with
Tony. Officer St. John told me he talked to you. What did he say?”

“He asked me how often you two came in, was it always
about the same time, were you here that morning, and did I see anything weird
happening between the two of you.”

“Anything else?”

“Wanted to know did any customers get sick that day,
which insulted the b’Jesus out of me, and he asked who else was working the
counter that morning – I said it was just me. That was about it. Listen,” he
said, “I have to get back to work,” and he started to get up.

“So after I left, Tony was still here, right?”

“For a few minutes. Some guy who was sitting at the
counter, a fan I guess, recognized his voice. He stopped by the table, and come
to think about it, he sat in the booth for a minute or two.”

“You didn’t tell that to the officer?”

He shook his head. “I just answered his questions. I was
busy.”

“That means I
wasn’t
the last person to see him that morning! Do you know who the man was?”

“Never saw him before. I’m pretty sure he came in after
you and Tony had already been here for a while; he sat at the counter. But then
the place started getting busy and I really didn’t pay any attention after
that.”

“Thanks Mike!” I said, as I got up to leave. I burst
through the door feeling relieved and pissed at the same time. And so ready to
tell off Matt. He should have asked more questions – gotten Mike to remember
more. I jumped into Nelly and headed to the police station to find him.