Buried Evidence (34 page)

“I don’t know,” Shana said. “Why didn’t you wake me so we could go home?”

“Richard cut his hand,” her mother explained. “We went to the store to get some bandages and disinfectant. When we got back, you were sawing logs.”

Hearing the two women talking, Richard lifted his head off the sofa. His injured hand had become sandwiched between the cushions during the night. When he pulled it out, he grimaced in pain. A few drops of blood had seeped through the gauze bandage.

“God… your hand!” Shana exclaimed. “How did you get hurt?”

“I broke a glass,” Richard told her, yawning. “It just smarts a little, that’s all. Your mother put all kinds of bandages on it.” He followed her eyes to a small bloodstain on the fabric. “Good thing she did. Don’t worry. A little cold water should get that off.”

“Didn’t you go to a doctor?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Really, it’s nothing.”

“It was my fault,” Lily told her. “I knocked his hand while he was holding a wineglass.”

Shana wasn’t certain they were telling the truth. She felt a
strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, but this time it wasn’t hunger. “I don’t understand, Mom,” she said, shaking her head. “Your place is only a five-minute drive from here. Why did I end up with the bed? Richard hurt his hand. This is just stupid.”

“Richard refused to let me wake you.”

“I want to get out of here,” the girl suddenly exploded. “And I don’t mean this hotel… ranch… whatever you call it. I want to get out of this damn town. I’m tired of sitting around waiting for someone to figure out what I should do. Just get me a car and stop treating me like a child.”

Lily frowned, folding up the blanket and stepping into her shoes. “Fine,” she said, standing and picking up her handbag. She started to apologize to Richard for her daughter’s rude behavior, but he gave her a look that said that nothing was required.

L
ILY HEARD
the phone ringing inside the guest cottage while she was still turning the key in the lock. Racing across the room to answer it, she knocked over one of the kitchen chairs. Shana had sulked during the short drive home. She followed her mother inside, then headed to the bathroom and slammed the door.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, pressing down on her left ear to hear better, “what did you say your name was? We must have a bad connection.”

“Detective Keith O’Malley,” he answered. “Ventura P.D. Homicide.”

“How did you get my home phone number?” As soon as Lily said it, she realized how foolish she sounded. The police could get any number they wanted, even if it was unlisted. “If you’re calling regarding one of the cases I’m handling, you’ll have to get in touch with my associate, Matt Kingsley. You can reach him at the D.A.’s office Monday morning.”

“What we need to speak to you about doesn’t have anything to do with your job,” O’Malley told her. “We’d like to talk to you at the station this afternoon.”

“Today’s Saturday,” she answered. “What is this about?”

“We’d rather not discuss it over the phone, Ms. Forrester.”

Lily slapped back against the wall, her heart doing a tap dance inside her chest. John had called the police, told them she’d killed Hernandez. Nothing else made sense.

“Can’t this wait until Monday?” Lily asked, pausing as Shana marched out of the bathroom, picked up her portable computer, and carried it outside to the patio.

“You’re either coming here,” O’Malley said gruffly, “or we’ll have the sheriff in Santa Barbara pick you up and bring you down here. It’s your decision.”

“I’ll come there,” Lily told them, her hand on her throat. “What time?”

“One o’clock.”

After all these years, the ceiling had finally caved in. Lily slid halfway down the wall, then rushed to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, rummaging through the bottles. After she’d killed Bobby Hernandez, she had numbed herself with tranquilizers. Without them she would have never been able to continue to function. Each day she had driven to the courthouse, terrified the police were going to discover what she’d done and lead her out in handcuffs.

Finding nothing stronger than Tylenol, Lily stared at her own reflection in the mirror. Valium wasn’t the answer. She had to send Shana to Los Angeles immediately. The same sense of urgency her daughter had felt at Richard’s bungalow that morning took hold. Retrieving her purse from the kitchen table, she removed a handful of bills, what was left of the money she’d collected when she’d posted John’s bail.

Shana was staring at her computer screen at the round table on the porch. Lily took a seat beside her. “You were right,” she said. “You need to go back to school. Is there anyone you can stay with while you check out some of those ads for roommates?”

“I could probably stay with Jennifer,” her daughter told her, removing her reading glasses. “We’d have to sleep in the same bed, though. They have a big family, Mother. She has five brothers.”

“Tell her you’ll pay rent until you get a new place.” Lily handed her the three hundred-dollar bills.

Shana stared at the money in her hands. “I don’t have a car, remember?”

“You can take the Audi,” Lily told her. “Call your friend, verify that you can stay with her, then take off for Los Angeles. If you call some of those ads, you might be able to line up an apartment right away. At least you won’t have to miss any more of your classes.”

“Are you certain, Mother?” Shana looked away, ashamed at the way she had acted earlier. “I don’t have to take your car. Why don’t I just use the Honda until they give me my car back? It still runs, doesn’t it?”

“No!” Lily said, rising several inches in her seat. She cursed herself for not having disposed of the Honda years ago. Covered with a canvas tarp, it was parked to one side of the guest house. Manny Hernandez’s description of the car was one of the factors that had caused Cunningham to suspect she had killed the man’s brother. No matter how many years had transpired since the crime, the authorities could always trace a car through the VIN number. With infrared scanning and other new developments in forensic science, a criminal could never be certain he had removed all evidence of his crime. Lily had considered giving the car to a wrecking yard, but since the Honda was in fairly good condition, she knew they would just turn around and sell it. If she had insisted that it be demolished, she would have raised suspicions. “I don’t want you to drive the Honda,” she said. “You might break down on the freeway. Next week I’ll take it in for a tune-up.”

“I’m sorry I acted like a bitch this morning,” Shana told her. “I don’t feel right taking your car. Dad has caused enough problems for you.”

“Please,” Lily said, touching her arm, “do what I say. We’re both going stir crazy. I’m glad you got to spend some time with Richard, though. At least you know he’ll be there if you ever need an attorney.”

“What’s going to happen, Mom?”

Lily pulled her daughter into her arms. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she told her, gently stroking her hair.

Shana stood, then placed a hand on top of her head. “I feel strange,” she said. “You’re acting just like Dad did the night of the accident. He told me he was moving away. I knew he was drinking, so I didn’t pay any attention to him. When I went to sleep, I had nightmares. I thought he was going to kill himself or something.”

Lily looked up at her. “Your father would never kill himself,” she said, her face shifting into hard lines. “He’s not the type.”

“What does that mean?”

“Forget it,” she said. “After you leave, I’ll go to my office and see if I can catch up on my work. I want you to take my cell phone. Make certain you keep it on all the time. I’ll call you as soon as I buy another one. That way we’ll always be able to reach each other. Just don’t forget to recharge it every night.”

“What about the duplex?” Shana asked, letting out a long sigh. “If we’re giving it up, I’ll have to move all my things out.”

“Your father should be moved out by Monday. Don’t worry about the furniture. I’ll hire a moving company to pick it up and put it in storage. If you make several trips, you can probably move most of your clothes and whatever miscellaneous things you have in the duplex in the Audi. Get some of Jennifer’s brothers to help you.”

Lily and Shana stood side by side, gazing out over the lawn. “Maybe I was wrong not to talk to Dad,” the girl said, placing her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Should I call him when I get to the city?”

“That’s something you’re going to have to decide for yourself,” Lily told her. “I loved your father very much during the early years of our marriage. I’m not really certain why we drifted so far apart.”

Lily went inside the house, leaving the screen door standing open behind her. Under the circumstances, she had made the most magnanimous statement of her life.

C
HECK OUT
of your hotel,” Lily said, calling Richard the moment Shana pulled out of the driveway.

“What do you mean?”

“I sent Shana back to Los Angeles,” she told him, slouched in her chair at the kitchen table. On the butcher block table was a gray fireproof storage box. It resembled a small safe with its sturdy locking mechanism, but since a thief could merely pick the box up and walk off with it, the primary function was to safeguard important documents in case of a fire. “She’s going to pay rent at her friend’s house until she finds another place to live. That way she can go back to her classes at UCLA on Monday.”

“I was going to suggest something along those lines,” Richard said. “Things seem even worse when a person has too much time on their hands. What’s this about me checking out of the hotel?”

“Now that Shana’s gone,” Lily said, fingering the pink slip on the Honda, “you can stay here with me. Why waste the money? Besides, I need you. A homicide detective from Ventura called. They want me to report to the police station by one o’clock today. They even threatened to send the sheriff over here if I didn’t come in voluntarily. John must have called after the argument we had the other day, somehow talked them into reopening the Hernandez case.”

“I’ll be right over,” Richard said. “You’re not going to Ventura alone.”

“You can’t go with me.” Lily felt as if she were about to step into the eye of a hurricane with nothing to anchor her to the ground. Her impulsive actions had caused enough pain. Richard had forfeited his dream of becoming a judge; Cunningham had given up the job he loved. John had become an alcoholic. It didn’t matter how many people Bobby Hernandez had killed. Even the fact that she had believed he was the man who had raped her and her daughter couldn’t justify her actions. This time Lily knew she was on her own. For six years she had been pleading with God to forgive her. Perhaps she had finally reached the crossroads. She could either redeem herself, or thrust herself back into another bottomless pool of agony.

“I’m not going with you just because I care about you,” Richard told her. “I’m going as your attorney. If the police file charges, I can always have Marty Schwartz represent you.”

“Your partner?”

“My associate,” he said. “He’s a fine attorney.”

After Shana had left, Lily had thrown herself on the bed and cried. She picked up a bottle of eye drops off the table, tipped her head back, and squirted them in her eyes. “Don’t you see?” she said. “This is what we feared all along, that you’d be called to testify against me. I won’t allow you to perjure yourself, Richard. And I can’t let this continue to the point where the police figure out that you knew I killed Hernandez and failed to report it. What good is it going to do if we both go to prison? How can I allow you to destroy Greg’s life as well as your own?”

“Hang up the phone,” Richard shouted. “Now, Lily!”

“Why?”

“I’ll be over there in five minutes.”

“But, Richard—”

“Damn it,” he said, “do what I say.”

Lily hit the disconnect button. She didn’t have to worry about stepping into the eye of the hurricane. The way it appeared, she was already inside it.

P
ulling into her driveway, Richard slammed his gearshift into park and flung open the door to his Lexus. Lily was waiting behind the screen door, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink turtleneck sweater. He almost yanked the door off the hinges in his haste to get to her, crushing her in his arms. After a few moments he released her, hurrying past her into the cottage. Lily remained near the door, her arms dangling at her sides. In some unknown way, he seemed to have extracted the panic and despair she had felt earlier. She took a few steps forward, then stopped.

“Don’t say anything,” he said, ripping the cushions off the sofa, the chairs, checking the light fixtures, then picking up her phone off the kitchen table and dismantling it. “Do you have more than one phone?”

“Yes,” Lily said, pointing, “in my bedroom.”

Richard hurried into her bedroom, then returned a few moments later. “Let’s talk outside.”

Lily followed him onto the porch. He kept walking, however, wanting to conduct their conversation as far away from the guest cottage as possible. She was barefoot; the gravel in the driveway cut into the heels of her feet. Richard continued until he reached the yard to the left of the main house, only stopping when he saw a grouping of lawn furniture. On each of the four corners of the swimming pool, there were statues of various Roman gods and goddesses. Lily remained on the grass. She had always respected her landlord’s property.

Richard glanced over his shoulder. “The owners are out of town, right?”

“Yes,” she said, a question mark on her face. “Can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Richard took a seat in one of the cushioned lawn chairs, motioning for Lily to do the same. Reluctantly she walked over and sat down. “The police may have bugged your house,” he told her. “I never considered anything along those lines until they contacted you today.”

“You’re becoming more paranoid than me,” Lily answered, flicking the ends of her fingernails. “It’s ludicrous to think the Ventura police convinced a judge to issue a court order to bug my place, Rich. The only way they could legally step foot inside that cottage would be if they had proof that there was a body or a bomb inside.”