Authors: Erica Spindler
“Okay. So far, not too confusing.”
“He said Jeff knew all along.”
“Knew what, Ms. Gallier?”
“Where Connor had gone. And why. But Jeff always claimed he didn’t.”
“Which, if true, would mean he lied to you?” He paused. “Is honesty important to you?”
“Of course.”
He changed direction. “Do you trust him?”
“Connor?” She hesitated. “I did. Until…”
“This.”
“Yes.”
“He’s very secretive.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Really? He doesn’t keep secrets from you?”
“He doesn’t. Not anymore, anyway.”
“Honesty is important, Ms. Gallier. And I’m going to make a promise to you right now. I won’t lie to you. And I’m telling you, I don’t trust him. And I don’t think you should, either.”
She pressed her lips together, her conflicted feelings easy to read.
“Why are you protecting him?”
“I’m not.”
He looked her straight in the eyes. “He’s a mystery. And I find it odd, very odd, that all these things didn’t start happening to you until he came back into your life. Don’t you?”
She didn’t reply and he continued. “You don’t think it strange that all these things—these bizarre things, as you called them—began since he returned to New Orleans?”
Spencer didn’t wait for an answer. “August ninth: Sisters of Mercy Church is vandalized and Father Girod is murdered. A ‘judgment’ message is graffitied on the windows you restored. August twelfth: a street evangelist comes into your studio and attacks you, spouting frightening things about the end of the world. He snatches your cross and runs. August thirteenth: your cross is mysteriously returned. Preacher is murdered. August sixteenth: Anton Gallier is shot to death. Interestingly, that occurs after he challenged Connor Scott to tell you the truth.”
Mira was shaking. Spencer waited a moment, then pressed on. “Ms. Gallier?” She looked helplessly up at him. “When did Connor come to see you for the first time?”
She thought for a moment. “The same day that Preacher took my cross.”
“The twelfth,” he said. “And do you know the date he returned to New Orleans?”
“He said he’d been home a few days. Something like that.”
“Would you be surprised to hear that Connor Scott returned to New Orleans on the morning of the seventh?”
“The seventh,” she repeated.
“Two days before the first incident. That’s pretty weird, don’t you think?”
He saw that she did. “Could it be a coincidence, that all these things have occurred since Mr. Scott returned from Afghanistan? Could it also be a coincidence that, in addition, they all lead back to you?”
When she didn’t answer, he asked again, “Could it be, Ms. Gallier?”
She jumped to her feet. “I don’t know! Yes, maybe it could be! Or—”
“Or what?”
“Or maybe it isn’t. I don’t know what’s happening! Why don’t you believe me?”
“I want to, Mira,” he said. “I really do. Please, sit down.”
She did and he continued. “Let’s talk about the things that have been happening to you personally.” She nodded. “You believe someone broke into your home twice now.”
“Someone did.”
“Yes, but your house was locked up tight and we found no sign of a forced entry. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t.”
“After Katrina, did you change your locks?”
She frowned. “Why would I have?”
“I take it that’s a no?” She confirmed and he continued. “What about your alarm code, did you change it?”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t see any reason to.”
“Did Connor Scott, as one of Jeff’s oldest and most trusted friends, have access to both?”
As if completely nonplussed by his question, she just stared at him.
“Ms. Gallier,” he pressed, “did he?”
She met his gaze defiantly. “Yes.”
“And your dog, Nola, she was a gift from Mr. Scott, is that correct?”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “You know she was.”
“Nola seemed pretty fond of him. Bet she wouldn’t even bark at him if he showed up unannounced.”
“I know what you’re doing and it’s bullshit!”
Malone ignored her and pushed on. “He would know what aftershave your husband wore—”
“Stop it!”
“What else would he know and be able to use to unhinge you?”
She got to her feet, face white, shaking with anger. “Are we finished here, or do I need to wait for my lawyer?”
“I tell you what, let me clear you leaving with my captain.” He stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Spencer joined his colleagues in the viewing room. No one spoke or even looked his way. They sat gazing at the video monitor, watching Gallier’s every move.
She was pacing. Clasping and unclasping her hands. Talking to herself. Every so often she would stop and hug herself or drag her hands through her hair.
Suddenly, she stopped and went still. Her expression shifted from confused desperation to understanding.
“Jackpot,” Percy said.
“She’s got something,” Bayle agreed, obviously excited. “Let’s go find out what.”
“Uh-uh,” Spencer said. “I say we release her. See where she goes. What she does. I’ve already got someone in place.”
“Tail her.” Percy nodded. “Perfect. I’m with my bro here, Bayle.”
Bayle looked frustrated. “But she knows something!”
“She’s not going anywhere. Besides, if we don’t release her now, she’ll wait for Arnold and the moment’s lost.”
“Agreed,” Bayle said, though she didn’t look happy about it. “With a caveat. Give her a last chance to share her aha moment.”
Malone agreed and reentered the interview room. She was sitting, hands folded in her lap. She looked hopefully his way.
“Free to go.” He smiled. “Thanks so much for doing this, Mira. I really appreciate it.”
She scooped up her handbag. He could tell she was eager to leave. He didn’t blame her, but it seemed to him that her desperation had been replaced with determination.
“Is there anything else you want to share before you—”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You’re certain? Even the smallest realization can lead to something big.”
“I agree,” she said. “And I’ll let you know if I have a small realization.”
Which meant, maybe, that she’d had a big one.
“Are you okay to drive?” he asked. “I could give you a lift? Have an officer bring your car?”
She shook her head again and together they walked to the elevator. He pushed the call button.
“I’ll escort you down,” he said as the car arrived.
She didn’t respond and they didn’t speak again until they reached her Ford. He saw Stacy, waiting in her silver Camry, several rows down.
“I’m here for you,” he said as Mira opened the car door and slid inside. He bent to meet her eyes. “If you need anything, just call. You can trust me.”
She held his gaze a moment, then nodded. “Thank you.”
She backed out of the parking spot. Spencer started for the building’s entrance, careful not to glance Stacy’s way. Even so, he was aware of the exact moment she fell in line with Gallier.
He had complete confidence in Stacy’s abilities and trusted her to anticipate trouble and respond appropriately.
Trouble.
Truth was, he wasn’t positive they were coming at this from the right angle. They’d focused their attention on her and Scott as being the guilty parties. But what if they had this all wrong? What if she was the perpetrator’s focus? What if they were, indeed, dealing with a lunatic who believed himself final judge over all?
What part might Mira Gallier play in that scenario?
Not liking the answer to that, Malone went back to the squad room. Bayle was waiting for him.
“You did it,” she said, grinning. “She trusts you.” She delivered a friendly punch to his upper arm, seeming almost gleeful. “Good job, partner.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Why not?” She fell into step with him. “This is practically a no-brainer.”
“A no-brainer,” he repeated. “Are you for real? Have you even considered the fact that instead of the perp, she’s the intended victim?”
“No. Hell no, in fact.” She shook her head. “The one who looks guilty usually is. It’s a fact of police work, Malone. And you know it. We see it played out that way every day, year after year.”
It was true. But still, his gut instinct was leading him in another direction. He told her so.
She shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. But I don’t think so.”
“And you’re never wrong?”
She grinned. “Of course not. You?”
“Never.” He returned her grin. “May the best man win.”
He started off. She called after him. “You’re so full of crap, Malone.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Clearly, I’m not the only one. Catch you later, loser.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Wednesday, August 17
12:10
P.M.
Mira knew what she had to do. Stacy Killian had told her that morning. A clean slate. Question everything. Start with what she
knew
was true. Lay it all out with the possibility it wasn’t.
And look for what?
For someone who would want to hurt her. A liar. A betrayer.
Mira glanced at the dash clock and noted the time. Deni’s morning class would have just let out. She grabbed her cell and dialed her assistant.
“Where are you?” Deni answered. “Are you okay?”
“I’m on my way home. I’m fine.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“No. I need some time to think. To try to sort things out.”
“I could help you. Mira, I … I don’t think you should be alone. I’m afraid for you.”
“I’ve got to do this by myself. I’ll be fine.” She paused. “But thanks, Deni. I’m really glad you’re my friend.”
But maybe she wasn’t.
Mira shook her head against the thought. Why would Deni try to hurt her?
“What happened at the police station?”
“They asked me a lot of questions. Mostly about Connor.”
“Connor?” she repeated. “Do they think he’s the one who killed all those people?”
“They didn’t come right out and say that, but that’s the way it seemed.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Clean the slate.”
“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
She didn’t answer. “I’ve got to go. I’ll check in later.”
“Wait! Have you called Dr. Jasper?”
“Not yet. Did she call again?”
“No, but … I thought I saw her drive by the studio.”
“Dr. Jasper? Really?”
“I was taking some glass out to the bin. At first I thought she was going to turn in to our drive, because she was going so slowly. But then she just rolled on by.”
“Are you certain?”
“Almost a hundred percent. Doesn’t she drive that beautiful silver-blue Jag?”
“She does.”
“This is going to sound really nuts, but”—she let out a long breath—“Dr. Jasper wasn’t alone in the car. There was a man with her.”
Mira waited, wondering what would come next. Wondering if, after everything that had happened so far, she could be surprised.
“Mira,” Deni went on, “he looked like Jeff.”
Like Jeff? A man with Dr. Jasper
— The blare of horns and scream of brakes jolted her attention back to the road. She dropped the phone. A red light, she’d realized, heart leaping to her throat. She had run right through it. She could have killed herself or someone else.
She made it through the intersection and to the side of the road, then stopped the car. She rested her head on the steering wheel, breathing deeply. The feeling passed and she remembered Deni. She recovered the phone from the car floor.
“Deni?” she managed. “Are you still there?”
She was. “What happened?”
“I … I ran a light and nearly caused an accident.”
“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe it was my imagination. I mean, the man probably just looked similar and after what you told me last night … Besides, I was up by the building and she was rolling by…”
Her assistant’s words trailed off and Mira drew her eyebrows together. Why would Dr. Jasper have driven by the studio? And who could have been with her? Not Jeff. Of course not.
Question everything. And everyone.
“I shouldn’t have upset you. She’s probably worried about you and drove by to see if your car was in the lot. And the guy could have been anyone. There are a lot of tall, dark-haired—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mira said, forcing calm into her voice. “I’ll call her as soon as I get home.”
Mira eased carefully back into traffic. Even as she fixed her attention fully on the road, her thoughts began to wander. Why would Dr. Jasper have driven by that way? Why not just call again?
The man with her had looked like Jeff.
Mira thought back to the previous evening. Dr. Jasper’s call had come in moments after Jeff’s. So close, in fact, she had thought it had been Jeff calling back.
A weird coincidence? Or carefully timed?
The thought took her breath. Dr. Jasper—better than anyone—knew her innermost thoughts, her hopes and fears. She knew intimate details of her and Jeff’s life together. But she hadn’t known Jeff. She would have mentioned if she had. Wouldn’t she?
She shook her head. Ridiculous. Why would Dr. Jasper want to terrorize her? What could she possibly gain from it?
Mira tightened her fingers on the steering wheel, forcing herself to focus. She’d found Dr. Jasper through a recommendation. Not her regular physician. A friend or acquaintance. Who? Someone who had known Jeff, she remembered.
She turned on to her street. Mrs. Latrobe’s porch light was still on. She glanced that way, frowning slightly at how uncharacteristic it was.
Mrs. Latrobe. Ask her, of course.
Mira slammed on her brakes, jerking to a stop in front of the woman’s home. She stared at the porch light. Louise Latrobe’s reason for living was spying on her neighbors. And she seemed to have a special interest in Mira. What had she said the other day?
Men coming and going, all hours.
Louise Latrobe would have seen everything. Who had been breaking in and how. She would be able to describe them.