Lethal Legacy (24 page)

“Whatcha got there?” B.J. asked.

“A story Chantou Pran wrote for Mai. Listen.” She read about a little girl named Mai who
was left all alone except for a miniature dragon with green eyes and fiery breath. He
helped Mai escape from many perilous adventures with fearsome demons.

One day the little dragon was mortally wounded. As he lay dying, he asked Mai to cut open
his stomach. Reluctantly, she followed his instructions and drew out the emerald green
of his eyes, the ruby red of his kind heart, and the white hot heat of his fiery
breath.

He asked her to care for his precious parts until the demons were vanquished. “When peace
reigns over our land,” he said, “You must take these cherished objects to my father in
the East."

“That's a strange tale to tell a child,” B.J. said. “The dragon's left there with his
innards hanging out. I wouldn't call that a happily-ever-after ending."

Amy pointed to the tattered pages. “Evidently, Mai liked the story. I'll pass it on to
Cam next time I see him.” She slipped the book into her pocket and turned to watch the
passing scenery again.

When they reached Wheeler, B.J. let Amy out at Fenwick's Athletic Club
and went on to the courthouse. In the club's foyer, she met Kim.

“Ah, Dr. Prescott,” he said, flashing a smile. “I'm most happy to see you. Are you
joining our mothers today?"

“Yes, I've been too busy to get to class lately."

“Most unfortunate. Much better, I think, if you be mother, not investigator."

She studied him, searching for evidence of a threat, and found his features as bland as
before. “You may be right. Has Dr. Nguyen been in?"

He wagged his head. “I think maybe he is regretting what he did."

She fixed her gaze on him. “What did he do?"

“He said his girlfriend told his wife she was pregnant” His wife threatened to tell the
hospital where he worked. That day he played handball like a madman. He hides it well,
but I think he is a violent man."

Her eyes widened in alarm. The words, ‘his girlfriend told his wife she was pregnant'
echoing in her ears, she pressed her hand against her chest.
Dear God, was that why
Cam disappeared after Chea's car was pulled out of the river
? The thought
staggered her.

“Dr. Prescott, are you all right?” Kim peered at her. “I did not wish to upset you."

Thank you for telling me, Kim.” She wandered off to the aerobics room in a daze. Had she
let her friendship with Cam blind her?

She sat down on a mat and scanned the room for Hue. She nudged the woman in front of her.
“Have you seen Hue Quoy?"

“She not coming,” the woman said, and frowned. “Someone say she hurt."

A chill rippled up Amy's spine. “What happened?"

When the woman shrugged, Amy jumped to her feet and rushed out A public phone hung on the
wall in the foyer, but she hurried outside. She didn't want anyone overhearing her
conversation.

She walked two blocks before she found a phone where she could have a little privacy. She
dialed Hue's number and waited anxiously until Hue answered.

“This is Amy. What happened? Are you all right?"

“Oh, Amy. The other night, I was attacked in the grocery store parking lot."

“Were you hurt?"

“A black eye, bruises on my face, and a sprained ankle is all. But I was scared, so
scared, Amy. I thought he was going to kill me, or rape me, or both. Luckily I was able
to get away from him."

“Thank God, Hue. Did you see his face?"

“He had a hood over his head."

A
hood!
“Did he say anything to you?"

“He speaks Cambodian. He said to stay away from you and keep my mouth shut or he'd kill
me."

“I shouldn't have gotten you involved. Any possibility it was Victor Samphan?"

“No, this man was shorter and slimmer and he smelled peculiar."

“Like incense?"

“Yes, yes, that's it. Did you find out who the dead woman is?"

“Her name's Chea Le. Cam claimed he was with her the night Mai was murdered."

“Are you saying he killed this Chea Le?"

“I don't know. He hasn't been seen since the day the body was found."

“He can't have killed her, Amy. That'd mean he killed Mai too. No! I don't believe it. He
couldn't have."

“I don't want to believe it either, but I have to consider the possibility. Are either
you or Raymond acquainted with an Asian man with a scar on the right side of his
face?"

“No, but I think I know who you mean. I saw such a man in the market the other day. He
knocked down an old man who got in his way."

“Didn't anybody do anything?"

“Some men tried to grab him. He snarled at them, Amy. Just like a savage dog, then he did
some karate moves and frightened them away."

“What else can you tell me about him?"

“Oh. One thing, he had a broken front tooth."

Amy's grip tightened on the receiver.
The man who'd spied on Mai from the woods. The
man whose picture she had taken when he was crouched in the bushes outside Nguyen's
window. The man she'd seen somewhere else in Wheeler. Somewhere, she was almost
positive, he shouldn't have been.

Victor Samphan sat stiffly erect, his face expressionless. Elliott
Osgood, Ivan Fenwick's attorney, tilted his straight-backed chair against the wall and
steepled his fingers over his abdomen.

“I hope this pays off,” B.J. said in a low tone. From their vantage point in Sheriff
Boyce's office, Amy and her father could see and hear what went on in the adjoining
interrogation room.

“The sheriff has to get
something
out of him,” Amy whispered. “We're at a dead
standstill."

Sheriff Boyce stooped and flattened his palms on the small table in front of Samphan.
“How long have you known Chea Le?"

“I don't"

The sheriff paced the length of the eight-foot-by-eight-foot room and swung around to
face the man. “Know anything about her car going into the river less than half a mile
from your house?"

“Don't answer that, Mr. Samphan,” Elliott Osgood said.

Samphan smirked and sat back in his chair.

Sheriff Boyce thrust his face in close. “You killed her, then drove her car into the
byway, didn't you, Mr. Samphan?"

“Now, Fred,” Osgood said.

Samphan scowled at the attorney. “I didn't know her and I didn't kill her,” he said to
Boyce.

“You're sure of that?” The sheriff leaned against the wall.

“You're damned right. Why the hell you accusing me? I ain't the one who's been screwin'
her."

“Ah, but you know who has, don't you Victor?"

“Sure. That double-dealing doctor."

Amy frowned as a smile of satisfaction spread over the sheriff's face. “Look at him,” she
said. “He's still bent on pinning the whole works on Cam."

B.J. gestured for her to be silent.

“And who else?” The sheriff asked, beginning to pace again.

“How the hell should I know?"

“How'd you know about the doctor? You been spying on him?"

“Everybody in town knows.” Samphan flung out his hands. “Shit! Even his wife knew
it."

Boyce spun around. “Who told you that?"

“I don't know,” Samphan's voice raised an octave, “I can't remember."

“You can't
remember?"
The sheriff slammed his fist down on me table. “Was it Kim
Sen?"

“No. No. He, he isn't a friend of mine, anyway. We don't talk."

“Well, now, Victor, I don't blame him much. I wouldn't befriend a liar myself.” He took a
turn of the room. “Matter of fact, liars make me real mad.” He crouched over the man.
“What about the guy with the scar? Did he know Chea Le?"

Samphan's face blanched. “No! Not him,” He gulped nervously. “I d-don't know who you're
talking about."

“I think you do. You responded when I mentioned that his face was scarred."

“Y-you said,"

“What?” He narrowed his eyes. “Well, what have you got to say?"

“About what?"

The sheriff's face turned red with anger. “Don't get smart with me, you little shit. What
the hell is Scar-face's name?"

“I, I,” Victor glanced around, his eyes wide with terror. “I don't know w-who you're
t-talking about."

Elliott Osgood languidly lifted his gaze from his steepled fingers. “You're badgering Mr.
Samphan, Fred."

“Knock it off. El. You can see this slant-eyed bastard is in this up to his goddamned
balls. He knows what's been going on in my town.” He scowled at Samphan. “I think I'll
lock him up for a few days, then he'll spill,"

“No!” Victor Samphan leaped out of his chair and clutched Osgood's arm. “Don't let him. I
can't be locked in here.” He gave the attorney such a jerk he nearly fell off his chair.
“I can't be. Do you hear? He'll,"

Sheriff Boyce grabbed him and threw him back on his chair. “Sit there, damn you, and
don't move."

Elliott Osgood yawned, stretched, and got to his feet. “Do you have any concrete evidence
against my client, Fred?"

The sheriff braced his fists on his hips. “You step out of the room for five minutes and
I'll have more than enough to clear this whole damned town of gooks. You got my word on
that."

Osgood wagged his head. An expression of distaste flitted over his face as his gaze came
to rest on Victor. “Not that I wouldn't like to see you do just that, you understand.
Unfortunately, Mr. Fenwick's paying me to protect this man.” He looked up at Boyce once
again. “He doesn't want the club to get any bad publicity."

Sheriff Boyce focused his steely-eyed gaze on Victor. “I'm letting you go ... for
now."

Samphan stood up, flung an insolent look at the sheriff, and swaggered toward the
door.

Sheriff Boyce waited with a half smile tugging at his lips until Samphan's fingers
touched the knob. “And I'll be sure to tell Scarface you told me where to find him."

B.J. growled and got up from the conference table. During the past three
days, he and Amy had gone over every scrap of evidence they had gathered, searching for
something they may have overlooked.

“This case is driving me nuts.” He smacked the table. “Piles of evidence, yet we still
don't have any suspects.” He stuck the folders in the file cabinet and slammed the
drawer. “I have to be in court at one. I should be back in a couple of hours."

Amy levered herself out of her chair. “I think I'll clean house. I didn't get to do much
organizing before Mary moved in."

“You sure having a stranger in your apartment is a good idea?"

She squared her shoulders. “She's not a stranger, and you'll like her once you get to
know her."

“Aren't you overdoing this ethnic thing a trifle?"

“No,” Amy said firmly, shoving the chairs into place around the conference table. “End of
discussion.” She marched out to the office and began clearing off her desk.

After B.J. left, Amy squatted on her heels behind the desk, filing papers in a bottom
drawer. When she heard the door open and close, she didn't even look up. “Did you forget
something?” she said, thinking B.J. had returned.

“Yes,” Jed said. “The rules."

Amy sighed, straightened up, and sank onto her chair. “How have you been?"

Jed picked up a brass paperweight and tossed it from one hand to the other.
“Ashamed."

“Forget it I had to put my ex-husband to bed lots of times,"

“Well, it's never happened to me before and it won't happen again."

“Oh...?” Amy said, raising an eyebrow. “It will if you keep drinking as heavily as you
have been lately."

Jed set the paperweight on the desk. “I've stopped feeling sorry for myself."

“Keep busy, Jed. Play golf, play tennis, start a hobby. It helps fill up the slack
time."

“Will you,” he squared the paperweight with the edge of a blotter without meeting her
eyes, “let me see you again?"

She smiled. “Of course, we're friends, aren't we?"

He came around the desk, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled softly at her. “You're a
special woman, Amy.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Don't ever change.” When
she smiled at him, he did an about-face, blew her a kiss, and sauntered out,
whistling.

Amy closed the office, took the elevator upstairs to her apartment, and began to dust the
furniture in the living room.

As she worked, Mary came out of her room. “Can I help?"

“No, I need the exercise. So, how's it going? Do you have enough space for your
things?"

“Space? There's so much of it I feel like a bug in a bam,” Mary said. “For most of my
life, I've shared a room with my sisters."

“Just wait, Mary.” Amy sat down on the rug and rested her back against the couch. “When
the twins are born, this apartment will seem a lot smaller."

A smile lit Mary's eyes. “That'll be nice.” She regarded Amy from beneath lowered lids.
“We need some noise around here."

“Oh yeah.” Amy laughed. “I'll remind you of that when we're both walking the floor with a
crying baby in our arms."

Mary smiled, picked up her book pack, and left for the university. Amy was preparing to
dust the bookcase when the phone rang. She didn't know how to feel when she heard
Nathan's voice come over the line.

“Sorry I didn't call sooner,” he said.

“Well, I'm still here. I guess that's a good sign.” The words came out flat and cold.

Nathan remained silent for a full beat. “You're still in danger, Amy. My contact in
Cambodia reports that Taun Keo, Mai Nguyen's father, was an assistant conservator at the
Silver Temple in Angkor."

His voice sounded weary, and she wished she hadn't been so abrupt “I see,” she said in a
much softer tone.