"And caught the two of them in the act."
Ava lowered her voice. "No, they caught
him
in the act. But he wasn't with Kalyna. He was having sex with one of the corpses."
Luke blanched. "That's too sick to even contemplate. I hope they turned him in."
"No, they were afraid the negative publicity would adversely affect their business, so they simply fired him and agreed to say nothing so long as he kept his distance."
"But it didn't end there."
"Detective Morgan said that, according to Mr. Harter, things settled down for a while. Cannaby was gone, out of sight. But then he got a job at the cemetery, so the Harters would bump into him now and then. When he started dating a girl from Mrs. Harter's church, it was too much. She couldn't stand to see him every Sunday, acting as innocent and normal as everyone else. So she went to the girl privately and warned her."
"I don't blame her, but..." Luke gave a low whistle. "I can't imagine that went over very well."
"No. He called up, ranting and raving, saying she was a bitch who deserved to die. And then he threatened her--told her to keep her mouth shut or he'd make her pay for trying to ruin his life."
"When was this?"
"Sounds as if it was just a few weeks ago."
Luke shook his head. "Wow. Does Cannaby have an alibi?"
"I don't know. Morgan hasn't talked to him yet."
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He stroked his chin, scraping the stubble. He hadn't been able to shave. It wasn't his usual look, but Ava liked seeing him a little rough around the edges. "If Kalyna goes to jail, I can't imagine my case wil proceed to court," he said.
"What happens with your case wil depend on whether or not the prosecutor believes there's enough evidence to proceed. But I'm betting Ogitani would drop it instantly. The military has too much invested in you."
"And
I'm innocent," he reminded her with a slightly wounded expression.
She managed a smile. "That, too."
He stared at the floor. "Part of me hopes she goes to jail."
This statement surprised Ava. Since Kalyna's incarceration would very likely make the rape charges disappear, she would've expected him to be
all
for it. "And the other part?"
"I don't like the idea of her being in prison while she's carrying my baby."
Ava knew it was sil y, but she experienced a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Kalyna having such a permanent and very personal tie to Luke.
"It would solve any custody issues."
That seemed to offset his concerns. "Good point. What else did the detective tell you?"
"Nothing. That's all he knows. Except that he believes Kalyna might be on her way to California. He'l get in touch with the air force, just in case she shows up for work, and he asked me to give him a call if I hear from her."
"They can't reach her on her cell?"
"She's not picking up. But Tatiana spoke to her earlier."
"And?"
"She acted surprised by their mother's death."
"If she just learned that her mother's been kil ed, wouldn't she be on her way back to Arizona--not here?"
"It didn't sound like they were expecting her."
"Wouldn't
most
people turn around, considering the circumstances?"
"You already know Kalyna isn't like most people," Ava said. "She and Norma were estranged. Besides, she's absent without leave so she has a 201
very good excuse to continue on to the base."
"I don't care if she has a good excuse or not. To my mind, that makes her look even guiltier."
"I agree. I'm just telling you how the police see it."
Luke leaned one shoulder against the wall. "She said she'l kil anyone I'm involved with."
"You told me you're not involved with anyone."
He tilted up her chin. For a second, she thought he might kiss her.
But he didn't. "She thinks I might be involved with you."
And she'd done nothing to destroy that assumption when she'd spoken on his cell phone last night. "No...she's got to realize that can't be."
"Why not?" He grinned. "I
have
seen you in your underwear."
"It doesn't matter."
He leaned closer. "Does it matter that I want to see you that way again?"
"Don't joke about this."
"What makes you think I'm joking?"
Their eyes met, and Ava felt butterflies. "You're a client," she said to cover her reaction.
"That's not what concerns me."
"What does concern you?" she asked.
Putting his hand on her waist, he guided her back to the table. "The fact that there might be a homicidal maniac out to kil anyone I touch."
Tatiana Harter stared at her mother's bloated body. At least two or three times a week, her father picked up a corpse from the morgue. It was routine, part of the business. Today, however, that process would happen in reverse--a body would be taken from the mortuary to the morgue. And it wouldn't be a member of someone else's family. It would be Norma, one of the central figures in Tati's life. After the autopsy, they'd be able to bring her home--here, where she'd spent the past thirteen years--but only to dress her for burial.
Her artist's eye already dictating what she'd use, Tati imagined applying Norma's makeup as she did every Sunday before church. Maybe she wasn't the best make-up artist in the area, but she knew what Norma 202
liked. She'd apply a thicker foundation than normal to hide all the bruising.
Then she'd go with a pretty pink blush and matching lipstick, and pencil in her eyebrows with a high arch the way Norma preferred. From there she'd create some definition around the eyes using brown shadow and a touch of green at the outside corners. But first she'd dye her hair to hide the gray.
Norma hated going gray.
Tati had done her mother's makeup for years. But now that Norma was dead, this would be the last time she'd perform this service, and she wasn't sure how she'd get through it. She'd finally established a relationship with the woman who'd adopted her at the age of six, finally gained an appreciation of her strengths and some tolerance for her weaknesses.
And now Norma was gone. It wasn't fair. How could Mark, or anyone else, have done this?
"Hey, you okay?"
Tati glanced up to see her father watching her closely. As skinny as Norma was fat, he looked more shrunken than usual, the lines on his face etched more deeply than before. Wearing the same black polyester slacks and button-up shirt he'd had on yesterday, as if he'd scooped them off the chair next to his bed, he'd slicked his dark hair into place but somehow stil looked disheveled, bewildered,
old.
Someone else might never have noticed the change. But to Tati he seemed to have aged a decade in a matter of hours.
"I don't know," she said. "I don't know what to think. This seems...unreal, like a nightmare." Realizing that he probably felt as lost as she did, and just as robbed, she conjured up a smile. "What about you?"
"I always thought I'd be the first to go. I never dreamt it would be like this."
The deputy coroner had just pulled the van around to the loading area. He threw open the back doors and strode in to get the gurney, and Dewayne followed, obviously planning to help.
The phone rang. Tati's eyes shifted to the counter, but she hesitated to answer for fear the police had discovered who'd done this terrible thing, and it wasn't someone as far removed from her as she hoped.
When she made no move, Dewayne switched directions, but somehow Tatiana found the energy to intercede. "I've got it," she mumbled, 203
and motioned him back toward the van. "You go with Mom."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Okay, call me on my cell if it's important," he said.
She nodded as he left. Then she forced her wooden legs to carry her across the room. "Hello?"
"Is Tatiana there?"
She'd been hoping it would be Kalyna. That her sister was calling to say she was driving back, after all. Tati
wanted
to believe what Kalyna had told her earlier, but the way the police had acted, and her father...she was beginning to have some serious misgivings. If only Kalyna would arrive soon and prove that she'd had nothing to do with whatever happened this morning. Then Tati could focus her pain on the tragedy of losing her mother and stop worrying that the situation was about to get worse. But it was a man's voice on the other end of the line. "This is Tatiana," she said.
"Tati, this is Mark Cannaby."
Tati's first thought was to catch her father. Maybe Mark was going to confess. Maybe all their questions would be answered right here, right now, and she could feel good about her sister again. But something in his voice made her cautious. She walked toward the door, even opened it, but didn't rush out to stop the van. Instead, she waved her father off. "How dare you call here!" she said into the phone when Dewayne was gone.
"I don't know what the hell Kalyna is telling you, but I didn't do it," he responded.
"Then how do you even know what 'it' is?" she challenged.
"How do you think? The police were just here! Detective Morgan said someone murdered your mother and asked me where I was last night. But I was home sleeping, where I always am that late at night. They're coming after the wrong person."
"No. Kalyna told me, Mark." Tati had been mostly dry-eyed since talking to Kalyna. But the confusion and loss she felt now brought a fresh flood of tears.
"She told you what?"
"About the hitch--" her voice snagged on a sob "--hitchhiker you--you kil ed ten years ago. The one you cremated after you were d-done."
204
"It's not true!" he insisted. "Even if you believe I'm capable of such a thing, do you really suppose Kalyna would keep quiet about it all these years?"
He had a point, but Tati didn't want to acknowledge it. Kalyna loved to shock others, loved to gossip. And she trusted Tati with everything. At least, she used to. "She has the girl's necklace," she said. "I've seen it in her jewelry box."
"Oh, yeah? What does it look like?"
This took her by surprise, but she was determined to convince him she knew what she was talking about. "It's a floating diamond on a gold chain. A piece of jewelry she could never afford herself."
"You saw her with it?"
"I saw it in her jewelry box. No way would she wear it. She watched you take it from a girl you murdered!"
"I have something to show you," he said. "Can I come over?"
"No!" Tati wouldn't feel safe. She'd never liked Mark to begin with, didn't trust him.
"Then give me your e-mail address, and I'l send it to you."
"What is it?" she asked.
"You'l see."
Tati was sitting in front of her parents' computer when his e-mail arrived. "Here's your sister showing how horrified she is by what
I
did," it read.
"What?" Tati downloaded the attachment. It turned out to be a picture. But it was so large she couldn't see the entire image at once, or even figure out what it was.
After typing in a few commands, she got it to fit her screen. Only then could she tell what she was looking at. It was a picture of Kalyna at maybe...seventeen. She was sprawled on a bed, completely nude, laughing as if carefree. And she was wearing that necklace.
205
A
va was at Luke's apartment. He'd dropped her off so she could get some work done, then he'd left to get groceries and run errands. But even with him gone she couldn't concentrate. Just being in his space was enough to distract her.
She forced herself to finish checking the phone records on the Beeker case. Then she opened her laptop, typed out a few letters she planned to print later and tried to return some e-mail. But after reading one particular message three times without comprehension, she gave up. She was no longer getting anything done.
With a sigh, she got up and wandered around the room. Luke's apartment was plain but clean, and she had to smile at the various masculine touches that put his stamp on the place--a bike propped against the wall behind the couch, skis in the corner,
Sports Il ustrated
magazines on the coffee table and a giant TV against one wall. There was a picture of him with his family on a shelf--taken at Christmastime--and several other photographs, mostly snapshots of various buildings or landforms as seen from the air. Luke obviously loved being a pilot. She'd bet he was a great one.
She went into the tiny kitchen and checked a few cupboards. He'd told her to help herself if she wanted anything to eat but she wasn't hungry; she was bored.
He had canned goods, a whole shelf of vitamin supplements and a large container of protein powder. The fridge wasn't any better stocked.
The fruit-and-vegetable bin contained one apple and a few carrots. On the shelves, she found milk, sour cream, jelly and a package of hot dogs. He probably ate out a lot.
From there, she walked down a short hall to his bedroom and poked her head through the doorway. His bed was made, of course. His closet door was shut but she didn't need to see inside to know that his uniforms would all be neatly ironed, with his shoes shined and organized beneath.
206
Remembering the first time she'd seen him at the door of The Last Stand wearing jeans and a T-shirt that'd been pressed, she chuckled.
Some free weights lined the wal and a giant model plane took up most of the space on his dresser--what was left by a second flat-screen TV.
There was another bathroom off the master bedroom. She knew it would be as clean as the one she'd used when she arrived--
A knock at the door brought her immediately back to the living room.
"Hey, Trussell. You home? Open up!"
Ava answered to find two men there. One was every bit as tall as Luke, the other only five-nine or so, but both were dressed in muscle shirts, gym shorts and tennis shoes and were sweaty enough to suggest they'd been exerting themselves. Their haircuts would've told her they were military, even if she hadn't been able to see the dog tags hanging around their necks.
"Who're you?" the tall one asked.