Dead Lies (17 page)

It was the least
personal
motive, Web thought. “Yeah,” he said.

“What do the police think?”

“They checked to see if any of Bill’s clients recently got out of prison, but it turns out none were released within the last year. They’re going to go through all of his other cases, though. Kreeger said it could take a few days.”

Web was so caught up in his own thoughts he was surprised to see they’d reached the sign for 14
th
Street. Tim put out his left blinker and made the turn off the highway, pulling up in front of Web’s apartment building less than a minute later and double parked. Web reached for the door handle. “Gimme five minutes,” he said.

He strode into the lobby and waved at the doorman, not registering the reason for Nestor’s look of alarm until he was in the elevator and caught his reflection in the brass floor-button panel. Good thing he was alone. His face would scare children and small dogs—or even rile up a big one.

Inside his apartment, Web went straight to his bedroom, which had a breathtaking view of the Hudson and New Jersey beyond it. Normally he would have taken a moment to admire the view, but today his mind was on one thing only. He opened the closet and pulled out two suits, placing them on the bed. He figured he’d wear the dark gray suit to the wake and the black pin-stripe to the funeral. Next he stuffed some shirts, ties, shoes and dress socks into a bag he grabbed from the floor of his closet, zipping it up with a snap and tossing it onto the bed next to his suits. Finally he went back to his closet and reached onto the top shelf, gently lowering a hard plastic box about the diameter of a laptop but with twice the depth. He opened the box and checked to make sure it contained everything he needed. It had been a while since he’d opened it. There were months he forgot he had it.

He closed the box, grabbed his suits and duffel and headed back downstairs.

“Look that way because of a girl?” quipped Nestor as he passed the podium where the doormen received visitors and made small talk with the friendlier residents. Web smiled, knowing the doorman had hatched the line while Web was upstairs and had been itching to use it.

“Don’t you know it,” said Web, giving Nestor the laugh he was looking for and imagining how fast the man’s face would turn from glee to horror if he told him the real story.

Tim was holding the trunk of his car open when he exited the building. “Got it?” his friend said, taking the suits and duffel from Web.

Web patted the box in response and set it inside the trunk. Tim tossed in the duffel and laid the suits on top. Web closed the trunk and got back into the car, feeling he’d just gained the only measure of control he’d felt since this whole nightmare had started. With a loaded gun beside his bed, he knew he’d have no trouble getting to sleep tonight.

CHAPTER 18

A
NNA WAS DISAPPOINTED TO FIND THE SURLY RED-HEADED KID NAMED
Casey behind the Starbucks counter when she stopped in for her usual afternoon caffeine injection. She preferred it when Jessie, a high-school junior with first-rate barista skills, was the one manning the espresso maker. She enjoyed their daily ritual. Jessie would spot her coming in the front door, call out “Grande triple-shot latte with extra foam?” and with a thumbs-up from her, he’d have her drink waiting for her by the time she handed over her cash and dropped the change in the tip cup. On Saturdays she sometimes brought Max in, and her son squealed with delight when Jessie put him on top of his shoulders and walked around the store asking Max to hand him small items from the top shelves. It made her son feel like he was the most important person in the world.

The welcoming spirit of this Starbucks—which looked exactly like the one on every corner in New York City but had none of the serve-’em-up-and-get-’em-out attitude—was one of the things she’d come to love about suburban life. Coming here you almost always got the feeling you were welcome.

She looked around, hoping Jessie would appear, but her young friend was nowhere in sight.

“What can I get you?” mumbled the redhead. With Casey there was none of the pleasant conversation she always shared with Jessie. She wondered what she would do if Max one day grew into a sullen, unrecognizable teen.

“A tall coffee with room for milk, please,” she told Casey, deciding to scrap her usual order in favor of a quick pour. She ought to get back to the office, where she and Kreeger were reviewing everything they’d learned about the case so far. An hour earlier she’d gone home to relieve Max’s babysitter and wait for her mother to arrive. Her mom had offered to come to New Jersey for a few days to take care of Max so Anna could focus on the case.

“Make that two of those,” a deep voice behind her said. She felt a flash of impatience at the person horning in on her order and pictured the guy as the beefy owner of a big SUV illegally parked outside. She thought about saying something that would put him in his place but couldn’t come up with anything better than “Wait your turn,” so she decided to simply ignore him.

She saw Casey turn at the sound of the voice, and his eyes flickered with recognition. “Hey Uncle Web,” he said, looking a little less churlish than he had a minute ago. “What happened to
you
?”

“Hey, Casey. Had a little accident.” Web chuckled. “I met a fist I didn’t like.”

Anna almost gasped when she turned around. Web’s bruised taped-up mug looked like it belonged on the policeman’s blotter.

“May I buy you that cup of coffee, Officer Valentine?” Web said, taking a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and plunking it down on the counter. His green eyes sparkled. “That’s not against any laws, is it?”

“Uh, no. Thanks.” Her eyes bugged at the sight of his wallet. It was bursting with cash. And probably not just ones and fives.

Web turned back to Casey, who’d finished pouring their drinks. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said.

Casey’s sullen expression was firmly back in place. “No problem.” The boy paused, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. “Um, Uncle Web?”

“Yeah, kid?” Web placed a couple of bucks in the tip jar.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“You got it,” said Web. Anna knew Casey was referring to Serena and Bill Vance’s wake. She was planning on going herself.

Web looked down at her, all traces of mirth gone. He now looked like one of the guys whose job it was to scrape dead animals off the road. “Do you have time to sit for a few minutes, Officer Valentine?”

“Of course,” she said, looking up at him. She still couldn’t decide what surprised her more—that Web looked like his assailant had gotten the better of him or that he was related to Casey. “But please call me Anna.” They found a small table up front by the window and sat down.

“Any news on the guy who did this to me?” he asked. His voice was as tight as a piano wire about to snap.

Anna heard the subtext of his question:
Why the hell haven’t you caught the guy who killed my sister?
She deflected it. “What has Detective Kreeger told you?”

“He told me about the suspect on the video, and that he wasn’t the same person who attacked me.”

Anna nodded as she stirred her coffee. With a few turns, the milk she’d added turned the dark brew into a caramel color. “I was there when we went to arrest him and there wasn’t a mark on the man. But we’re convinced he’s the one who killed your sister and brother-in-law.”

“Then why haven’t you arrested him?” His words bit her.

She didn’t rise to the bait. “We could, but we think he’s a hired gun. We need to see what shakes out before we act.” She paused. “Wouldn’t you rather wait and get real answers?”

He didn’t respond.

“Look, we’re watching the guy now,” she continued. “We’re hoping he’ll lead us to the person behind this.” She added, “I know you want the killers behind bars, Web, but we just have to be patient.”

His face darkened, his pupils shrank to the size of pencil tips. “Patient? You don’t know what it’s like to lose a twin,” he barked.

Anna caught the sympathetic look from a woman three tables over. After all Web was a big guy who at the moment looked like a bruiser. She waited for the sting of Web’s words to wear off then stared directly into his eyes. “Actually, I might know more than you think,” she said quietly. “I have a four-year-old son whose twin died a year ago.” She felt the familiar lump grow in her throat and forced it down. She turned her gaze away painfully. “Max is just a little boy, and he can’t really articulate how he feels, but the word that I keep coming up with to express what he’s going through is ‘lost.’ ”

She looked back at Web and saw that the anger had drained from his face. He looked crushed. “‘Lost is a good word,” he said softly after a moment. “‘Alone’ is another.” He paused. “The twin relationship is unique. Even when Serena wasn’t physically in the same room with me, she was with me. We were so connected that sometimes we’d forget which one of us had a particular experience or dream.”

Anna smiled even though every time she talked about her dead son it felt like she’d swallowed an entire bottle of acid. “Did you have a secret language?” she asked. She was sure Max and Nicholas could communicate with each other as early as age one. There was something about their back-and-forth babble that sounded remarkably like conversation.

“No,” Web smiled, “although my mother would swear otherwise.” He paused for a moment then asked, “How did it happen? Nicholas, I mean.”

Anna realized she was holding her breath. She let it out. “Nicholas was hit by a car.” God, it was still so hard to say those words aloud. She looked at Web, not really sure why she was telling this to a virtual stranger. She looked into his eyes and realized why. There wasn’t just compassion there; there was understanding.

“My ex-husband was supposed to be watching him, but Jack was too busy getting stoned,” she continued matter-of-factly. “He passed out on the couch while he was supposed to be watching the kids and didn’t know Nicholas had slipped out until the cops broke down the front door to tell Jack his child had been mowed down. After I left the hospital and learned what had happened, I had to bail my husband out of jail.”

A shadow crossed Web’s face, and he was quiet for a moment. Clearly he didn’t know what to say. “Can I see a picture of your sons?” he asked after a moment. It was exactly the right thing.

Anna pulled her wallet out of her purse and handed over a copy of the same worn photo she kept in a frame on her desk—the one her friend Pam had taken one Sunday afternoon in the fall, a month before Nicholas died. It was the last time she remembered feeling truly happy.

“Which is which? Web said, holding the picture as carefully as one might cradle a baby.

“Nicholas is on the left, Max is on the right.”

“They’re beautiful,” he said. He handed the photo back and she tucked the precious cargo back into its plastic sleeve.

Afraid she’d start sobbing over the memories triggered by the picture, she asked, “So, you’re Casey’s uncle?” She looked around the store for the young man, but he wasn’t behind the register any longer. A middle-aged woman had taken his place.

“
Honor
uncle,” Web said. “He’s Danny Callahan’s son. The guy you met yesterday?”

“Right,” she said, recalling the redheaded man from The Grape. “I see the resemblance now,” she said. “Casey seems like a…nice kid,” she offered.

Web laughed, and Anna was glad to see the mirth back in his eyes. It made him ever more handsome. “You don’t have to pretend, Anna. I see what you see,” he said. He took a sip of coffee then held the tapered cup in his hand and ran his finger thoughtfully around the rim. “Casey is shy and socially awkward because he’s struggled with learning disabilities his whole life,” he said. “But he tries hard. He’s a good kid, really. And he’s incredibly close to his family, especially his mom, who’s been a real advocate for him.” He grinned. “I mean, how many teenagers do you know who actually enjoy spending time with their parents?”

Anna wanted to be as generous as Web in her assessment of the boy, but she couldn’t really see it. Learning disabilities or not, Casey looked like a classic loner—and one she suspected might be doing drugs.

She took a sip of her own coffee, wondering if she should say anything to Web. “Listen, I come in here a lot, and Casey often looks out of it,” she said after only a brief hesitation. “Is there any chance he could be using?”

Web blinked at her in surprise. “You mean drugs?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you say that?”

She shrugged. “He’s the right age…and temperament…and drugs are everywhere these days.”

Web’s eyes lit up for a moment as he seemed to remember something. “Casey may not be the most sociable kid around, but that doesn’t mean he’s doing drugs.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it’s worth looking into, don’t you think?”

He nodded slowly. After a moment he smiled. “You know, I smoked pot occasionally when I was in college. I’m telling you this because I don’t want a few baggies of grass and a set of iron bars to get between us down the road.”

Web was flirting with her now. She liked it. A smile crept onto her face, but she quickly pulled it back. She remembered her promise to herself.
No more men.
She liked Web, but she’d lost all faith in her own instincts.

She glanced toward the register and saw that Casey was back. “Talk to Casey,” she said. “Or have a conversation with his parents. Just don’t let him end up…where my ex-husband did.”

His expression grew solemn. “I will.”

Anna put the lid on her cup and stood up. “I have to get back to the office. I hear you’re coming down to Hackensack tomorrow. I’ll see you then, okay?”

“Definitely,” said Web, rising too. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Outside the cold swirled around them, and the last bits of daylight bounced off the crusted snow, bathing the street in a bluish, orange light. There was little noise on the busy street, as if the groups of passing shoppers couldn’t handle anything more than getting to their warm cars as quickly as they could. Anna hugged her coat tighter, feeling grateful she didn’t need to wear her uniform while she was working with Kreeger. She liked how she blended in better—it almost felt like working undercover—plus it allowed her to wear her long wool coat, which covered more of her body. Her police-issue jacket was warm, but it barely reached her butt.

She turned to Web and stuck her hand out for a goodbye shake. But he was looking away, so she withdrew it. He looked back at her, pulling her into his orbit with those dazzling emerald eyes of his. “Will you have dinner with me sometime?” he said.

She wanted to say yes.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He held her gaze. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She put her hand out again, and he took it. He held it for a second longer than was necessary. “See you tomorrow,” she said, hoping her rejection wouldn’t make things uncomfortable between them.

Their eyes locked, and he smiled, and something cracked inside her, releasing a deep longing she’d fought so hard to bury. She turned and walked to her car, head down,back hunched, fists in her pockets.