In answer to Davidson’s question, she said, “There’s not enough evidence at this point to determine if this will be considered a murder or accidental death. So I doubt they’ll hold him much longer.”
“My priority is my client’s safety and if he’s right, if Robert Ditto is behind this, then he’s still in danger. What should I do with him?”
She’d been wrestling with the same question. “If you’re asking where he’ll be safe, you need to consider several issues. He needs to be readily accessible for additional interviews. I don’t know what kind of support system he has around, but he’s going to need help.”
“He wants to leave, and now he’s worried about his son being in the house. He called the kid to tell him to come home, and he wants to be there when he arrives.”
Wendy thought about that a second. “For the moment, Ditto knows the garage is a crime scene. The last place he wants to go is anywhere even remotely near McRae’s house. And as far as later goes, after things settle down, I’ll make sure McRae hires some security if he can. Also, I’ll make sure the cars assigned to that district keep a closer eye on that neighborhood.”
D
AVIDSON RETURNED TO THE
interrogation room but left the door open. “Come on,” he said to Lucas. “Let’s get out of here. They can’t hold you any longer.”
“What time is it?”
“A few minutes past nine.”
“Morning or night?”
“Night.”
He stood on shaky legs, wondering what to do next? Laura was dead from a car bomb that had probably been planted when he was in bed with Wendy. How could he have done this to Laura? Yes, they were having their problems and had begun the long process of negotiating a divorce, but he was still married to her. He was a worthless specimen of a husband.
And how would that look to the police? He knew that when a person was murdered, the police first looked at the spouse, then at people close to the victim. And what would they find? That on the night before the murder, he’d slept with another woman. If the cops began to look into his and Laura’s relationship, they’d quickly find out they’d been in the first stages of a divorce.
Davidson pulled his arm. “C’mon, let’s get going.”
L
UCAS LEANED AGAINST THE
passenger door, forehead on the glass, staring at the passing darkness as Davidson drove. God, what he’d give to turn back time one year knowing what he did now. How differently he would do things. If only …
Lucas lets himself into Laura’s apartment, closes the door, yells, “It’s me.”
“You’re early. I’m still in the tub.”
“Stay there, Calgon Girl. I’ll be right in.”
He sets the plastic bag of Chinese takeout on the counter, then carefully places the other bag next to it. From the second bag, he removes two champagne flutes and a chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot with its distinctive orange label. He peels the price tags off the bottoms of the flutes, rinses them out, polishes both with a dish towel, tears off the foil seal, and uncorks the bottle. His stomach churning with anxiety as he carries the glasses and sweating bottle into the bathroom where Laura is up to her neck in bubble bath.
She glances at the glasses and bottle, her eyes lighting up. “You got your residency?”
He closes the lid to the toilet, sets and bottle the glasses on it, starts taking off his shoes and socks, throwing them into the bedroom. “I got crispy walnut prawns, broccoli beef, Buddha’s Delight, and brown rice. That okay?”
“All my favorites. What’s the occasion?”
He starts on the shirt next. “I thought I’d bring dinner over. You know … a quiet night at home, so we don’t have to go out.”
“My God, Veuve Clicquot. You can’t afford that.”
He tosses the rest of his clothes into the other room, pours two glasses, hands her one. “Move over.”
She slides forward and he slips in behind her, pulls her back against his chest, begins to cup, then drip water over her breasts. “You know how much I care about you, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She snuggles into him more, relaxing, her head under his chin, the scent of her hair in his nostrils.
“We’re so good together …” He stumbles on the words because he wants them to sound right. “We have so much fun … we like the same things like movies and neither one of us like slapstick … it just feels so right.”
“Lucas—”
“What I mean to say, is I love you, Laura.”
“And I love you too, Lucas. But what’s going on?”
He sips the wine to bolster his next words. For three restless nights he’s thought about this moment, agonized over how to ask, wondering how she’d answer. “What do you think about getting married?”
Aw shit, that didn’t sound right.
“She squirms around to look at him. “Is that a proposal?”
“Yes. I mean … absolutely.”
She leans over to kiss him. “Yes, Lucas, absolutely. Did you have any doubt?” She studies his eyes a moment. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
He’s at a loss for words, overcome by the moment. He was so afraid she might not want to marry him. Finally he says, “I got UC San Francisco.”
She turns back around and nestles back against him. “San Francisco, huh. Always thought that’d be a neat city to live in.”
He’s struck again with the realization that the person, the woman he loved so much that night was now gone from his life forever.
My fault … responsible
.
If only …
… he hadn’t gone to Hong Kong.
… he hadn’t worked too hard to build a practice.
… tried harder to be a good husband.
… insisted she get help.
… encouraged Laura to find part-time work when Josh started school. And if she hadn’t wanted to work, maybe volunteer for something that resonated with her heart. Anything to enrich her life might have prevented such bitterness these past few years.
Lucas said, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Davidson shot him a strange look.
The realization of what had happened hit and brought him back to the present.
And the horror of seeing the smoldering garage came flooding back.
Davidson was right. Although the police investigation was only hours old, they all knew this wasn’t an accident, an accident from cleaning out the garage. It was a car bomb intended to kill him, not Laura.
Any previous dislike for Ditto was now hateful rage. He wanted to find a gun, walk into DFH, and blow the son of a bitch’s head off.
Wait, calm down. That’d accomplish nothing
.
There had to be another way …
This time Lucas’s street wasn’t chock-a-block with blue flashing lights, smoke, and chaos, but the smell of charcoal and melted plastic lingered. Lucas noticed Josh’s Nissan parked at the curb, asked Davidson, “Just so I’m sure, you talked with Wendy … I mean, Detective Elliott, and she thinks it’s safe to be in the house?”
Davidson pulled the car to the curb, set the hand brake. “They believe that if the explosion was an accident due to flammables in the garage—which I’m not sure I agree with—there’s no continued risk. On the other hand, if this is Ditto’s work—which we believe is the case—he won’t take the risk of coming here. At least for a while. So, yes, you’re okay if you want to stay there.”
Lucas’s primary concern was Josh’s safety. Followed closely by helping Josh through the heartbreak of losing his mother.
Josh must have been at the window because as soon as Lucas began to get out of the car, he came flying out the front door of the house, ran to Lucas with wet cheeks, and threw his arms around him. Lucas hugged him fiercely.
“Who is that?” Josh asked as Davidson pulled away. “My lawyer.”
“Your lawyer?”
Josh stood still, a look of dismay etched in his face. Neither one spoke, for a long moment until Josh asked, “Mom’s dead?”
“Yes son.”
Lucas started toward the house, knowing he had to pull it together for Josh’s sake.
“I still don’t understand. Why a lawyer?”
“Because the police wanted to question me.”
“About what? It was an accident.” Josh looked at him. “Wasn’t it?”
Lucas’s first reaction was to protect Josh from the truth. But there was nothing to gain from lying. He decided to tell him everything. Well, except for last night. He looked at Josh, thinking about the drive over, how he probably hadn’t had anything to eat and Laura would’ve made sure he was fed. Most of all, right now, he wanted to take care of his son, then slowly try to explain what he thought was going on. “We’ll get to that. First, have you eaten anything?” As the words came out, he thought about how trivial they sounded.
“No. I drove straight over. When I got here firemen were still going over things and I …” His voice trailed off.
“I’ll order pizza.” Even though the thought of food nauseated him.
After calling a neighborhood pizza joint that delivered, Lucas grabbed two glasses and the bottle of Green Label from the cupboard. While filling the glasses with ice, he began explaining.
He carried the drinks over to the table and handed one to Josh.
Lucas finished the story without mentioning that he spent the night with Wendy.
Josh sat silent, lips pressed tight in anger, fists balls of white.
The doorbell rang. Lucas jumped, thinking maybe Ditto realized he hadn’t succeeded and was coming back …
Christ, get a grip. I ordered pizza
.
He took a deep breath to slow his heart back to normal. Still, he glanced out the window to make sure before opening the door.
Lucas placed the open pizza box on the table, but Josh waved it away. Fine with him. The cheesy greasy smell made him nauseated. He closed the lid and moved it to the counter.
“It’s over here if you change your mind. In the meantime, how about another?” Lucas asked, holding up his drink.
Lucas stopped to gaze at the label of the very same bottle purchased from the duty-free store at the airport. Hong Kong. And wondered if anything he did during that twenty-four-hour period caused Laura’s death. The butterfly effect, some called it when taken to its extreme logic. If he hadn’t pissed off Gerhard… What if the explosion was nothing more than something he did while cleaning out the garage? The red gasoline container … paint thinner … a pile of rags … He felt sick to his stomach, thinking he’d never forgive himself if Laura’s death was from some stupid mistake he’d made. Well, in a way it did. If he had never gone on that trip … would Laura still be alive right now?
At the thought of Laura dying in an explosion, tears began welling up along his lower lids. He sniffed and swiped at them, but they only got worse. A moment later he was standing at the counter with tears streaming down his face. Josh got up, came over, and wrapped his arms around him and hugged. Both men stood there crying and hugging.
Later, Lucas and Josh sipped scotch in silence, seeming mired in thought. He wondered what his son was thinking. Did he hold him responsible? Was he responsible?
Josh broke the silence. “I could move back here if you want.” Which sounded more like an attempt to comfort Lucas than a sincere desire. “You know, transfer. I’m pretty sure I could transfer to the U, and it’s not a bad department.”
Lucas loved him for that. But Josh needed the experience of being on his own. He had a great start on life: a good job as a teacher’s assistant, a girlfriend he adored, an inexpensive apartment shared with two compatible roommates. His professors knew him. And Lucas didn’t want Josh here out of sympathy. But at the moment, they were totally controlled by grief and unable to think clearly. He said, “I don’t think either one of us should make any decisions for a while. Neither one of us is thinking straight. For now, let’s just try to get through the next couple days, then see where we stand. Okay?”
T
HE CLOYING SCENT OF
white morning lilies and incense thickened the chapel air. The oak pew felt as hard and unforgiving as the priest’s voice. Lucas sat in the front row for everyone to see and sensed accusing eyes boring into the back of his head. Even if they didn’t know where he was when Laura died, they knew he wasn’t there. He knew where he was, and he hated himself for it. No need for him to go to hell. The fire of guilt was singeing his soul with each passing second. Regardless of who triggered the explosion, he, and no one else, bore ultimate responsibility for Laura’s death. The guilt was bad enough. Missing Laura made it exponentially worse.
Laura’s memorial service. No funeral. The medical examiner hadn’t released Laura’s remains because her death was under investigation, and he continued to be the prime suspect. And everybody here knew it. Was there anything he would ever be able to do to atone for her death? He’d talk to a priest if he thought it might help, but he wasn’t religious. That psychiatrist he wanted Laura to see, would that help?.
Josh sat on his right, cheeks glistening, sniffing occasionally. Lucas hung his own head and dabbed his eyes with a Kleenex and held Josh’s hand, squeezing it now and then, as much to comfort himself as his son. To Josh’s right sat Laura’s sister.
Lucas put his arm around Josh’s shoulder and held him as tightly as he possibly could and silently swore that he would do everything humanly possible to protect and love him and not allow his anger at Ditto to place Josh in harm’s way.
He thought of some of the arguments he had with Laura over the past year, how trivial they now seemed. If he’d put as much effort into the marriage as he had in his practice, this never would’ve happened.
He thought of Andy, how there had been no memorial service for him, how he wasn’t even declared legally dead yet. He vowed to make certain Andy received a service once that happened.
Which brought up DFH. And Ditto again. The man was responsible for planting the explosive in the car. Would the police be able to prove his culpability? Was there anything he could do to help prove it?