Here Comes the Night (23 page)

Horse was already in the elevator headed up to Vice when
Edgars finally answered his cell. “Where are you?” Horse asked, then continued
right on. “Got a call from Monroe. I’m headed up to Vice.”

“Not without me.”

“I thought you were grilling Buck.”

“His lawyer wanted a break with him. I’m on my way.”

“Just stay put. I’ll be back down in five minutes.”

“Okay,” Edgars said, “but be quick about it. We gotta time
this. They’re at that point.”

Horse clicked off and the elevator deposited him on the Vice
floor. The entire place was pandemonium. He wondered what the chances were of
finding anyone at their desk in the middle of their biggest arrest in years.

Then he saw a head of wild red hair moving over a desk at
the back and threaded his way there. A minute later, he was standing in front
of a plaque reading
Janis Monroe,
at the front of a desk saturated with
color pictures and legal pads.

After a second, the hot undercover cop behind it
acknowledged him by looking up and grunting, “Hey, Horse. That was fast.”

“You got something for me?”

She nodded. “Right. Sorry about the mess. It’s a shit storm
up here.”

“I won’t keep you. They’re both downstairs right now.”
Seeing her lean over her desk made him feel a little light-headed.

“Okay,” Monroe said, “have I got something for you.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” Horse said. “How long were
you under for this?”

“A couple of months.” She led him over to a large table
where several people were sorting out pictures. “Actually, you’re lucky. We’ve
got duplicates coming in right now.” She checked her legal pad then looked up
at one of the sorters. “Can you get File 43 together for the detective here?”

The worker nodded and started pulling 8 x 10's. While they
waited, Horse smiled shyly at Monroe, searching for something to say so he
wouldn’t stare at her chest. Finally he asked, “So how’d you manage to get the
shots? They’re so close-up.”

Monroe walked back over to her desk and got what looked like
a large, decorative button out of a drawer. “I wear it right on my dress.” She
pointed out the tiny lens to him, then handed it to him to check out.

“They think they’re looking at my tits,” she grinned, “and
all the while they’re smiling for mug shots.”

A weariness had overtaken Buck, and try as he might, he
could barely focus. He was grateful for Hackman, who had fended off the
detectives like a skittish watchdog, but Buck’s own defenses just weren’t there
anymore. He just wanted it to be over.

In contrast, when Edgars and Horse opened the interview room
door, they looked pleasant, even fresh. Edgars looked as if he’d just mainlined
a B-12 booster, and Horse’s craggy face had lost its sag. They looked way too
happy for it to be anything good.

“Well, gentlemen, are we ready to give this another go?”
Edgars began.

Hackman took over and Buck was grateful. “What is this
about, Detectives? Mr. Dearmore here is spent. I need to get him home.”

Edgars’ eyes took on a sudden steely look. “We’ll see how
that goes, Mr. Hackman. But now, getting back to that key to Wesner’s office.
How did it come to be on your key ring?”

“I’ve instructed my client not to answer any questions about
the key. Can we move on?” Hackman leaned back in his chair.

“It’s just it looks like a pro drilled out Wesner’s safe,
but somehow got into his office easy. You got to admit, looks like someone used
that key to get in. And your safe, Buck, shows no sign of forced entry.” Edgars
looked at Horse, who nodded in agreement. “We just don’t know how to put all
that together.”

“Did you open your safe for your kidnappers? Then let them
into Wesner’s office with that key? Or maybe you staged the whole thing.” Horse
left it there dangling.

Buck’s head was spinning. If only he wasn’t so bone weary.

Hackman saved him again. “Gentlemen, I said let’s move on,
or we’re leaving right now.”

“Not so fast, Counselor,” Edgars said and stepped in, it
looked like for the kill. “We’d like to show your client some fascinating
photos.” He turned to his partner. “Horse, you want to do the honors?”

Horse slid out the half-dozen 8 x 10's from the Vice folder
and splattered them around the table. “See anyone you know?”

Buck stiffened.

Hackman warned him, “Don’t say anything,” but Buck could not
have spoken anyway.

There he and Angie were, at Hankie’s, her arms wrapped
around him at the poker table, kissing him in the hall, his heady look of
success as he raked in the pot with her behind him. Buck thought he might throw
up.

Edgars added, “We have a witness who was in the room.”

Horse was talking to Edgars but glaring at Dearmore. “Looks
like motive, doesn’t it?”

“The oldest kind. How about it, Buck?” Edgars asked.

Hackman again put his hand over Buck’s arm. “He has nothing
to say.”

“Fine,” Edgars said. “You get the first shot, Buck. Angie’s
in the next room, and she gets to see them next.”

“What do you bet she’ll say it was all Buck’s idea?” Horse
asked his partner.

“Why not? She was smart enough to twist him around her
little finger. Get stud duck here to do the dirty work.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Buck was surprised at the
sound of his own voice.

Hackman warned, “Buck…”

But the detectives had found his button.

“She made you her bitch, buddy,” Edgars said. “I bet she
told you
how
she wanted it and
when
. And now you’re fucked.”

Buck recognized some truth in what Edgars said. He grappled
to hold down the emotions erupting in his body. His missing finger had begun to
ache again and his hands were shaking so hard he could not look at them.

Hackman saw what was happening. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Edgars said.

“You know what’s going to happen now?” Horse jumped in.
“We’re going to go in there and she’s going to deny she put you up to it. She’s
going to say she had no idea you’d go that far. Love is going to go out the
window, and you’ll go down for this alone.”

“She’s going to be looking out for herself, Buck,” Edgars
added. “And you’d better be, too.”

“Yeah,” Horse said, “‘cause if it was just you,
premeditated, that’s Murder One, the big one, the one they pull out the needles
for, Buck.”

“But if she was whispering in your ear, if you can help us
out with that…” Edgars leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Ask your
lawyer. Conspiracy is different. You help us out, and maybe the state won’t
have to execute its football legend.”

Hackman covered Buck’s forearm with a firm gesture. “Don’t
say anything, Mr. Dearmore. They’re fishing.”

“Actually, I think we got a bite,” Edgars said, grimly
smiling down at Buck. “We’ll give you a minute, see what Mrs. Wesner has to
say.”

Angie’s legs bounced up and down nervously as she sat
waiting for either detective to show up. She had decided if she got one whiff
of problems from either one of them, she’d stop talking and get a lawyer. But,
until then, she couldn’t help but think she’d look more innocent cooperating
without one.

Angie was sure they would do something to throw them both
off. She had to remember that they lie. That’s what the authorities do.

She couldn’t be sure Buck would be that strong, however. Not
after what she’d seen just an hour earlier. His beaten up body, the guilt that
had come to the surface so quickly, his emotional vulnerability.

Angie had learned early on, when she’d tried to rat out her
stepfather’s incest to DHS, that the authorities were prone to sidestep messy
truths, especially those that required risky efforts from them. They would
relentlessly try to steer you to a version of the truth that fit their needs
better. And right now, those detectives would lean on their only real suspect
with everything they had. Angie had warned him how it went. Hopefully, he’d
heard her.

When Edgars and Douglas entered her interview room, a new predatory
energy came with them. No more deference to the grieving widow, but a
businesslike coolness that immediately put her on guard. Her first thought was
that the pictures Buck mentioned that Gordon’s private investigator took must
have come to the surface somehow.

Angie thought if it came to it, that she would be able to
claim an affair had happened but was over. Both she and Buck had agreed to that
when they talked in his apartment. But if they’d just talked to Buck, and he’d
followed the plan, why did the detectives look so confident?

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Wesner,” Edgars began.

“What’s this all about?” Angie asked. “I have a million
things I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Then we won’t waste your time,” Edgars said and nodded at
Horse, who lifted the manila envelope and let the pictures spill out.

Angie tried to look away from the color photographs
haphazardly strewn across the table, but found it impossible. She was watching
her life explode in front of her. The pinball was circling the board in its
last hurrah. She heard the detectives talking to her, but it wasn’t real.

How quickly it was over. She couldn’t even remember anybody
at Hankie’s who could have taken the photographs. But there they were. All the
lies in the world could not make this go away.

The lights seemed to brighten a little as she came back to
reality. Edgars was saying, “Do you understand that I’m reading you your
rights?”

Numbly, she nodded her head. The pictures were so bright,
she noted, her halter dress such a saturated blue, Buck’s hair such a rich
silver. They were a beautiful couple and she would never touch his skin again.

“Mrs. Wesner, do you understand what I’m asking?” Horse was
looking at her strangely.

“What?” Angie asked.

“We know the key on Buck’s key ring was the one from your
home safe. We found out that your husband had them all specifically notched
when they were made. And the only logical explanation is that you gave it to
Buck.”

“No,” Angie said. “I didn’t.”

“You know what I think, Horse?” Edgars asked. “I mean, look
at her. Miserable. Lost. I get it. She’s not just fucking Buck. She’s got it
bad. That’s what I got this morning, the real love thing. Is that what this is,
Mrs. Wesner?” His fingers touched the photographs.

Angie looked up at him. She was letting it all show, but it
didn’t matter anymore.

Horse leaned in close. “And then there was this deal about a
cameo.”

Angie choked back a cry.

“Tony Bonner, who stole Buck’s car, lifted it from the glove
box and gave it to his girlfriend,” Horse continued. “She told us you
recognized it this morning in the restaurant.”

Edgars’ voice softened. “She said it looked like an
heirloom, Mrs. Wesner, and you insisted on getting it back. But how else could
it have gotten into Buck’s glove box unless you gave it to him?”

Angie could only stare at him.

“So we know you were lovers,” Horse added, “and even before
the rest of the lab evidence comes in, we’ve got Buck at the scene, using a key
that you had to have given him. That means premeditation, and motive. Murder
one.”

“No,” Angie cried.

Now Edgars sounded like a counselor, sympathetic, trying to
be helpful. “I know you were prepared to lie for him, ready to do anything to
get him off, but know what? It’s too late for that.” He looked up at his
partner. “Horse and I were ready to play you two off each other, but that won’t
work now, will it? He’s stubborn as a mule. Won’t give you up yet, Mrs. Wesner.
Which means he’ll go down for this alone. And that means the death penalty.”

Angie moaned.

Horse took up the thread. “It’s too late to lie for him. The
only way you can save him now is to tell the truth. That you did it together.
If it’s a conspiracy, they may not look at the needle so much. Heavy prison
time for both of you, sure, but if you cooperate, I’m guessing no death
penalty.”

“You strike me as a smart lady,” Edgars said. “If you tell
us now that it was both of you, we’ll see what we can do for you. Otherwise,
what have you got to look forward to? Seeing Buck die by lethal injection? Or
having him finally admit to your involvement somewhere down the line?”

“But if you come clean now,” Horse said, “you might both be
out in time to still have a few years together.”

Everything logical in her said don’t do it. She had access
to the best lawyers, could tie things up legally for years. They were probably
lying about the death penalty, too. But suddenly, she didn’t want to fight
anymore. She knew she would be making it too easy for them.

But maybe this was something she could finally give Buck.
Something that would be all of herself. Angie wiped her eyes and looked up at
the detectives. “We’d better get started then. It’ll take a while.”

Indigo Fisher smiled at her new, young client. “I can’t even
imagine how stunning all this must be to you, Miss Newton.”

“But he never responded at all,” Erika said, shaking her
head. “And now…it’s too late.”

“Mr. Wesner was nothing if not thorough,” Indigo was
assuring her. “He wanted to believe your claim, but he had to check you out
from every angle first. He didn’t want to find out later somebody was scamming
him for his money.”

“I just wanted to meet him. I never knew either of my
parents.” Erika closed her eyes in resignation. “And now I never will.”

“He wanted to tell you about him and your mother. He was
looking forward to it. Gordon didn’t tell me everything, but I do know a
little. If you’d like…”

Erika sat forward, eager. “Oh, yes.”

“Your mother was from a upper class family, but you probably
know that.”

Erika nodded. The family had turned their back on her when
she turned up pregnant with no husband.

“Mr. Wesner was cleaning buildings and dorms to work his way
through college, and developed a mad crush on your mom in a history class they
had together. But he didn’t have two nickels to rub together, so he couldn’t
even ask her out to buy her a Coke. Besides, she had quite a few boys after
her, he said.”

“The pictures of her look pretty,” Erika said.

Indigo took out an manila envelope. Erika recognized the
return address of the
Southwest Group Agency
from Dallas. Indigo took
out the two pictures Erika had copied and sent to Gordon Wesner in her
introductory letter. They both looked at them.

“She’s quite beautiful, I think,” Indigo offered. “And
apparently didn’t care about money, because she fell for your father as well.”

“But her family disapproved.” Erika had already guessed at a
lot of this. An adoption where the father is not on the birth certificate
usually means an unmarried girl in trouble with nowhere else to turn.

“Yes,” Indigo continued, “they sent her out of state to some
relative to have the baby. Mr. Wesner couldn’t find out all those details.”

“You mean, he didn’t know where she was?”

“Erika, he didn’t even know she was
pregnant
. All
this he discovered the past few months through his private investigator.”

Erika began to see what had happened. “He thought she just
took off?”

“He figured her family had put their foot down. That
happened more back then. He assumed they’d yanked her out of Southwestern and
sent to her some girls’ school somewhere. And he certainly didn’t have the
money or means to find her. He was penniless and heartbroken, he said.”

Erika picked up the pictures again, and it struck her for
the first time how similar her mother’s facial structure was to Angie Wesner’s.
Take away the wife’s bleached blonde and it was even more striking.

“He wondered how on earth you found out about him,” Indigo
said. “He had looked for your mom after college, but the official family record
did not give her cause of death. No indication it happened in childbirth.”

“Southwest managed to dig up my original birth certificate
in some ancient warehouse. It listed her as my mother, but I knew that much
from the orphanage records. The big thing on the original was that she’d
written in Gordon Wesner as the father. Up to then, everything had been a dead
end. I don’t know what kind of pull her family had, but they had managed to
erase his name from what was filed at the orphanage and the courthouse. I
didn’t even know people could do things like that,” Erika said.

Indigo smiled. “Believe it. Though I would be curious to
know how they felt when they found out Gordon became one of the most powerful
men in the state.”

“But if he didn’t even know she was pregnant, how was he
sure I really was his daughter?”

“I hope you won’t mind finding this out. He hired an
investigator to check you out, who managed to get your DNA somehow. A cup you
threw away, a hair. I’m not sure about that.”

“Wow, I had no idea.”

“Another reason it took so long, waiting months for those
DNA results. But that’s why he was certain you were the real thing.”

“I was so close to meeting him,” Erika said. “After all this
time.”

“I know. I’m terribly sorry about that. But Mr. Wesner had
taken steps that …well, your life is going to be completely different from now
on. He was going to tell you all this when you met.”

“I’m about to be arrested. That’s one thing pretty sure,”
Erika said.

“Oh, your predicament with this young man…” Indigo shuffled
through some papers.

“Tony.” She heard her voice catch. The newness of his death
still felt raw.

“I spoke briefly with Detective Edgars and Douglas about
your situation.”

“I’m in big trouble over that. I know it. After last night,
Mr. Wesner might not claim me if he was alive.”

Indigo put up her hands in a gentle
take it easy
gesture.
“The good news is you did the right thing by coming in. Could you have done it
a few hours earlier? Yes. But could you have stopped Tony Bonner from crippling
that girl? No, I don’t think so. And the detectives realize that.”

“I went along when he took the car, though,” Erika started.

“Yes, but you know, they identified him quicker because of
you. You gave them his whereabouts, everything you knew. If you’d come in after
they’d already identified him, it could have appeared self-serving. As it
stands, you cooperated fully.”

“But won’t I still have to go to prison?” Erika found her
hands shaking.

Indigo put her own hands over Erika’s and shook her head at
the girl’s innocence.

“I doubt very much it will come to that. What you don’t yet
realize is that you now have some of the best legal representation in the
state.”

“You’re going to help me?”

“My entire firm now represents you,” Indigo reassured her.
“But let’s back up a little. About the legal steps Gordon Wesner took only a
few days before his death…”

“Legal steps?” But a lightness, a sense of hope, had already
filtered through the despair Erika had felt only a few hours earlier. She liked
this beautiful caramel-skinned woman sitting before her, with her long,
graceful hands and generous brown eyes, which now danced as she laid out some
legal forms for Erika to see.

“Be prepared for a shock, Miss Newton. As of three days ago,
Gordon Wesner made you the sole heir to his entire estate.”

Erika sat, stunned to silence. She stared at the stacks of
documents organized by blue paper sheaths, as though that would clear it up.
Finally, she managed, “I’m sorry. What?” She tried to listen to the crisp
numbers and facts Indigo was detailing for her, but she couldn’t absorb it.
Wealth had never been one of her dreams. She always had simpler hopes, more
humble desires.

She stared at the glass-tiled window to the little room and
noticed it lighten as a sharp ray of sunlight shot through the thick clear
layers. It landed in her hand.

Erika looked down at the pool of brightness inside her
fingers, and held it there as though it were a gift.