See Jane Die (34 page)

Thursday, November 13, 2003
2:15 p.m
.

J
ane made it home safely only by the grace of God. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there, couldn't recall the traffic or lights. Now, standing in the foyer outside her studio, she couldn't even say with confidence where she had parked her car.

Her thoughts raced, a chaotic mix of emotions, ranging from disbelief and denial to accusation and anger. At best, Stacy had kept the truth from her. At worst she had lied. And if she had lied, what did it mean?

She kept coming back to that question.

She didn't like the answer.

Ranger nudged her, anxious to be inside. She let herself into the studio. And found Stacy there. She stood in front of the rolling cart, cell phone to her ear. She flipped it closed when she saw Jane. “There you are! I was so worried.”

“Who were you talking to?” Jane asked, voice strange even to her own ears.

Stacy frowned. “Kitty told me you called and I came as fast as I could. You scared the life out of—Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You didn't answer me. Who were you talking to?”

“Mac. He's on his way.”

Jane lowered her eyes to the jacket, hat and gloves. The truth hit her with the force of a thunderbolt.

“Stay away from me.”

“Jane, what—”

“I know, Stacy.” Her voice rose. “I know.”

Stacy took a step toward her, hand out. “What are you talking about?”

Jane backed up. “I told you, stay away.”

“I think you need to sit down.”

“You planted them. To frame Ian.”

“Planted…these?”

To her sister's credit, the disbelief in her voice sounded genuine. Jane fought the trembling that threatened to topple her. “You have one of my keys. Know the security code for my alarm system. It's the same as yours.”

“What are you saying?”

“I found the file, Stacy. From Ian's office. It was you I saw that night.”

Stacy's expression registered surprise. Then understanding. “How did you—”

“Find it? When I couldn't reach you, I remembered you said you needed to stop home for some things.” She laughed, the sound high. Near hysterical. “To think, I was afraid for you. I thought something had happened to you.”

“Jane,” she said softly, gently. “It's not what you think.”

“Of course it's not. Isn't that what they always say?” Her voice shook; she steadied it. “Why, Stacy? Do you hate me so much? Were you so jealous of me you wanted to take it all away?”

“I went to Ian for a consultation. About breast implants. That's how we met. I thought maybe if I enhanced my appearance, I could have what other women did.”

She took a step toward her, hand out. Jane backed up. “I'm calling the police.”

“I wanted a relationship. Eventually, children. I looked
at other women and wondered why men gravitated to them and never me. I wondered why they seemed able to have and keep relationships. And I couldn't.

“Luckily, I came to my senses and realized a pair of double-Ds wasn't going to make someone love me.”

She held a hand out. “I didn't plant this evidence, Jane. Think about what you're saying. I look nothing like the person caught on the surveillance video. I'm strong, but not strong enough to so easily overwhelm a man like Ted. Yes, I went to Ian's office that night. To get my file. I didn't want my colleagues to find out.”

“You expect me to believe that you broke into the clinic to take a file that contained basically…nothing?”

“Yes. Because it had my name on it. Don't you get it?” Stacy dragged a hand through her hair. Jane saw that it shook. “They call them party boobs around the division,” she said. “It's a big joke. Big boobs equal bimbo. Never mind,” she added bitterly, “that having them is number one on their ‘must have to date' list.”

She met Jane's gaze. “If they had found out I'd even consulted about them, I would have been a laughingstock. So that night, I went to Ian's office. And stole the file.”

“You didn't see my Jeep?”

“If I had, I would never have gone inside. I heard a dog barking, but thought it was a neighbor's.”

She'd parked on the other side of the Dumpster
.

Jane folded her arms across her chest. “You lied to me, Stacy. You knew I thought the woman Ted had invited to the studio was the same one in the clinic that night. You knew! You kept the truth from me. We were partners in this and you kept the truth from me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I was wrong. Please believe me. I'm telling you the truth now.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I'm your sister.”

The blow went out of Jane's anger, replaced by despair.
She crossed to the wicker couch and sank onto it. Dropped her head into her hands.

Stacy wasn't a killer. Of course she wasn't. She wasn't in cahoots with one.

But this couldn't be what it looked like. It couldn't be
.

Jane lifted her gaze, her vision swimming. “Someone planted these. To make Ian look guilty.”

“He is guilty, Jane.”

“No. Please.”

Stacy crossed to her. She squatted in front of her. “I had begun to believe Ian was innocent, too. I was wrong. I'm sorry.”

“The woman Ted brought to the studio—”

“There was no woman.”

“Ted's killer. He'd come to plant the evidence. Ted surprised him and—”

“Jane—” Stacy caught her hands “—sweetheart. This is physical evidence that links Ian to Elle Vanmeer's murder. Presented with the surveillance tape and other circumstantial evidence, the jury's going to convict.”

Jane shook her head, feeling it all slipping away from her. The final blow.

The boater turning back, finishing the job
.

She fought despair. Hopelessness. Fought to hold on to her belief in her husband. The dream of their love. The life they had shared; the family they had planned on having.

“Maybe it's not the way it looks?” she whispered. “How can Ian be a murderer? I love him.”

The last caught on a sob and Stacy tightened her fingers. “I know you don't want to hear this, Jane, but I have to say it. Ian knew the police warrant wouldn't cover the studio. He stashed the coat, hat and gloves in there, just in case we put two and two together and zeroed in on him. He knew you, his devoted wife, would proclaim his innocence, his faithfulness, to the high heavens.

“Ian was unfaithful. He killed Elle because she threatened to tell you about their affair. He killed Marsha to protect himself. She knew all his secrets.

“My guess is he was sleeping with Lisette as well,” Stacy continued. “She was a loose end. If we found out, we'd use it against him. And he would have lost you—and your money. So he killed her.”

Jane wrapped her arms around her middle. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence, she longed to believe her husband. “What about Ted?”

“Based on what we learned about him, I believe he was the one writing the letters. Maybe, in his own twisted way, he thought frightening you would bring you closer to him. That with Ian in jail, you would turn to him. The night he was killed, he surprised a burglar.”

It made sense. But she couldn't accept it. “The letters were from the boater. He's behind all of this. Doobie's murder proves it.”

Stacy frowned. “Doobie ran in rough circles. He was an informant. He put away some seriously dangerous people. It made him a mark. Look, I don't have all the answers yet, but I will. That I promise you.”

The buzzer sounded. Stacy stood. “That'll be Mac.”

“I don't want to talk to him. I don't feel well.”

“A brief statement. A few questions.”

Stacy let Mac in. Another detective was with him. Liberman, she remembered.

Mac crossed to her; she saw sympathy in his gaze. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened this morning and how you came upon the jacket, gloves and hat.”

She nodded and began, tone wooden. She explained the order of events, leaving out all mention of going to Stacy's and finding the file.

“The bin was locked?”

“Yes. I found the key under the rubber mat on its top.”

“Was that unusual? To find it locked?”

“Yes. Ted and I don't keep…” Her words trailed off.

Mac looked at Liberman in question. The other detective shook his head. “That's good for now, Jane. We may have some more questions later.”

She nodded and excused herself, refusing Stacy's offer to accompany her. She called Ranger and headed up the stairs, aware of the three detectives' gazes on her back.

A prickle of awareness slid down her spine, like a chill wind. She glanced back. None of the three were watching her, but talking quietly among themselves.

Had the sensation been her imagination? she wondered. Or a premonition?

She jogged the rest of the way up the stairs, closed and locked the door behind her.

Thursday, November 13, 2003
3:15 p.m
.

W
hen Stacy returned to the studio, only Mac remained. “Where's Liberman?” she asked.

“Bagged the items and headed for HQ.”

“Good.” She crossed to him, moved in his arms. He held her against his chest.

“I'm sorry, Stacy.”

“Me, too.”

She breathed deeply, letting his scent fill her head. Acknowledging that she felt safe in his arms. And God help her, cared for.

She forced herself to move back. “I feel like such an idiot. You told me…the captain did, too. The evidence, for God's sake. But I refused to see.”

“You were emotionally involved. And no wonder, he's your sister's husband.”

She shook her head. “A part of me still can't believe it. Why, Mac? He had everything.”

He trailed a finger over the curve of her cheek. “Obviously, he wanted more. Some people,” he murmured, “will do anything for money. You should know that, Stacy.”

“I suppose I should. It comes with the job, right?”

“Right.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, then took a step away. “I need to get back. You coming?”

“I'm right behind you. Though I'm not looking forward to facing the captain.”

“It'll be all right. Happily ever after.”

“Promise?”

He kissed her again. “You bet, babe.”

Stacy smiled. “I'm going to check on Jane, make certain she's okay, then I'll be in.”

She watched him go, then went upstairs. As she climbed the creaking metal steps, she thought of Mac, his words. That she was getting her happily-ever-after at the expense of Jane's. It made her feel bad. She was sorry.

Stacy reached Jane's bedroom. Her sister lay on her side, back toward the door. Stacy called her name softly. Ranger, on the floor beside the bed, opened one eye and looked at her. Jane didn't move.

She shifted her gaze. A bottle of pills and a half empty glass of water sat on the nightstand. She crossed the room, picked up the vial and checked it.

Ambien. The sleep medication the doctor prescribed after Ian's arrest
.

Frightened, she shook out the pink oval tablets and counted them. According to the bottle's label, the doctor had prescribed thirty, ten milligram tablets. Twenty-five were left and she was certain Jane had mentioned having taken them at least once before.

Only partially relieved, she gazed at her sister's still form. She had lost a baby and a dear friend, now it seemed certain her husband would be convicted of murder. Just how devastated was she?

Jane had been through worse than this. She was strong. A survivor. People like Jane didn't swallow a bottle of pills. They fought back.

She couldn't take the chance she was wrong
.

She pocketed the Ambien and went in search of the
portable phone. She found it in the foyer and dialed Dave. She got his machine. “Dave, hi. It's Stacy. Could you call me as soon as you get this? It's about Jane.”

He picked up. “Stacy? What's wrong?”

She quickly explained about the sleeping pills. “I don't think she'll do anything crazy, but I hesitate to leave her alone. Could you sit with her for a few hours?”

“Jane hates medications,” he said. “What brought this on?”

Stacy thought she heard Jane stirring. “Hold on a second.” She crossed to the bedroom door. Her sister didn't appear to have moved.

Stacy lowered her voice. “I can't go into it right now. Long story short, she's in a really bad place and I'm worried about leaving her alone. But I have to check in at work.”

Dave was silent a moment, as if assessing his day. “I'm finishing with a patient now and have another waiting. I could be there in, say, an hour fifteen. Will that help?”

“Immensely. Thanks, Dave. What would we do without you?”

 

Seventy-five minutes later, Dave pulled up in front of Jane's building. Stacy had been watching from the front window and hurried out to the street to meet him. Her captain had called; he wanted her downtown, ASAP.

“What's going on?” he asked, looking shaken.

“I can't explain everything now, just that we found some damning physical evidence of Ian's guilt and…I'll tell you everything later. Okay?”

He agreed it was and she hurried to her vehicle. Moments later she checked her rearview mirror as she pulled away from the curb. Dave had already disappeared inside. He loved Jane. Maybe after her sister had a chance to heal, he and Jane would have a chance of happiness together.

She hoped so. Hoped it with all her heart.