Wrong Place, Wrong Time (40 page)

“Yeah, I know.” Monty grabbed his coat. “I’m going with you.”

“So am I,” Devon called out from the kitchen. She pushed aside the bowl of soup she’d been swallowing and scrambled to her feet.

Blake frowned as she joined them in the foyer. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I have to face them. You don’t.”

“I’m sure. For your sake and for mine.” She lay a supportive palm on his arm.

He nodded, squeezing her hand in silent understanding, before retrieving her jacket from the closet.

Monty held things up only long enough to poke his head back in the kitchen, where Sally and Meredith were eating. “We’re heading out.”

Sally stopped chewing her sandwich. “Do you need us with you?”

“No.” His response was adamant. “You and Merry stay here. Finish every drop of your soup and sandwiches. Take hot baths. Oh, and call Lane. Tell him what happened and that we’re okay.”

“All right.” Sally gazed steadily at her ex-husband. “Will you be long?”

“Nope.” He winked. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

THE PIERSON FARM was blanketed by snow. Under any other circumstances, it would be a breathtaking view to pause and admire, a veritable winter wonderland.

But not today.

Monty eased the truck up the driveway. In the circular section nearest the front door, a police car was parked. It was covered with enough snow to indicate it had been there a few hours.

The house seemed eerily quiet, although the drone of voices coming from down the hall said that everyone was gathered in the living room.

Blake led the cops in that direction.

At the entrance, they stopped.

Inside were Edward, Anne, and James Pierson, along with Dr. Lawrence Vista and a man Devon didn’t know, but quickly determined to be Edward’s cardiologist, Dr. Richards.

“Louise isn’t here yet,” Blake muttered, assessing the room.

“She will be,” Devon assured him. “It’s only an hour and change since you called her. Metro North takes at least that long to reach the train station nearest here. She’s also up against rush hour and a snowstorm. Give her time.”

A lawyer and a doctor, she mused silently. Clearly, Edward needed both.

He was sitting on the sofa, gripping a glass of water in a trembling hand. He looked a little out of it, as if he’d been sedated, and there was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his arm. Dr. Richards stood to his right, listening intently through his stethoscope and pumping the pressure gauge as he monitored Edward’s vital signs.

Anne was seated on the sofa beside her husband, her hands folded primly in her lap, her icy gaze fixed straight ahead. Across from her, James was crumpled in one chair, his head buried in his hands. Vista was perched in the opposite chair, his lips pressed tightly together as if to prevent himself from speaking.

The two cops present were jotting down notes, clearly trying to unnerve the Piersons into talking. Just as clearly, the interrogation was getting nowhere.

“Blake.” Edward looked up, spotting his grandson and acknowledging him, first with a ray of hope, then — after comprehending that he was aligned with Devon and Monty — with renewed anxiety. “Don’t tell me you’re part of this witch hunt.”

Blake didn’t respond. Instead, he looked at Dr. Richards. “What’s my grandfather’s medical condition?”

“Stable,” the doctor responded, having tugged his stethoscope out of his ears. “Earlier, he had some chest pains and muscle weakness. That’s no surprise, given the stress he’s under. I gave him a mild sedative. The symptoms appear to have subsided. That doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods. I’m keeping my eye on his vital signs. He shouldn’t be agitated.”

Blake heard Dr. Richards’s warning loud and clear.

“That’s going to be tough, considering the circumstances,” he responded flatly. He looked like he wanted to say more, then changed his mind. His mouth snapped shut and a muscle worked at his jaw as he struggled for control.

Deputy Tompkins cleared his throat and stepped into the room, heading over to the sofa. “Anne Pierson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Frederick Pierson, the murder of Philip Rhodes, and the attempted murder of Peter, Sally, and Meredith Montgomery. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right — ”

“To an attorney,” Anne finished for him, raising her regal head. “Yes, I know, Officer. And, as I told these two gentlemen, my attorney is on her way. Until she arrives, I have nothing to say.”

“Of course you don’t.” Monty joined Tompkins in the room. “I suggest we all sit down and wait for Ms. Chambers together.” He turned long enough to whip out his license and flash it at one of the two cops who’d been detaining the Piersons. “Pete Montgomery, private investigator,” he introduced himself.

A flicker of respect crossed the officer’s face. “Detective Montgomery, yeah, the sheriff told us about you. I’m Deputy Kearney.”

“Kearney.” Monty nodded. “I assume I don’t need to ask you the status of your questioning.”

“No, sir, you don’t. Ms. Chambers spoke to us by phone and instructed us to hold off on any interrogation until she arrives.”

“Well, there are a few things Ms. Chambers doesn’t know. If she did, she’d realize that silence won’t help her clients. Not with three witnesses and a tape recording of everything that went down before Luis tried to heave us over a cliff.”

“What kind of recording?” Vista blurted out, his eyes as wide as saucers. His head jerked around toward Edward. “You didn’t say anything about taped evidence.”

“Shut up,” Edward snapped, visibly thrown by Monty’s words. He eyed Monty like an animal assessing its foe. “You’re lying. There is no tape.”

“Yeah, Grandfather, there is,” Blake supplied. There was no triumph in his voice, only pained resignation. “I know because Devon made it. Even with his wrists bound, Detective Montgomery managed to press
speed dial
and call her cell phone. She and I heard everything that went on in your office. And now so have the police. We turned the cassette over to them a little while ago.”

To corroborate Blake’s words, Tompkins pulled out the tape and waved it in the air.

Edward reacted as if he’d been struck. He tensed, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, there was an expression of stunned disbelief on his face. “Blake.” The word was an accusation of betrayal. “We’re talking about family. Me. Your grandmother. Your cousin. What the hell are you doing?”

“The hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Blake’s jaw continued working, but he didn’t flinch or avert his gaze. “I can’t condone what you’ve done, or protect any of you. What I can do is preserve the rest of the family. I owe it to them. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Grandfather and grandson stared each other down.

“Wait a minute,” Vista interrupted. Sweating, he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face. “If there was anything incriminating about me on that tape, I have a right to know.”

“Sounds fair.” Monty pursed his lips, seemingly weighing the options. “Then again, fair doesn’t matter. Not when we’re talking multiple homicide. It’s a pity you can’t talk to us without your attorney present. Unless, of course, Louise Chambers isn’t your attorney. Did she actually tell you she’d be representing you? Because it seems to me she has her hands full. Plus, she’s a corporate lawyer. But you probably know that.”

“Stop playing mind games, Montgomery,” Edward snapped. “Vista’s not talking to you.”

“I think the doctor should make that decision on his own.” Monty shot down Edward’s interference with a wave of his hand, never averting his gaze from Vista’s. “And Vista? I also think you should stop counting so heavily on the Piersons’ lawyer and call a good criminal defense attorney of your own. You’re going to need it. Especially after the Piersons hire the best criminal law firm in the country. It won’t take long before you’ll be set up as the ringleader and the Piersons as unwilling accomplices. But that’s your choice.”

Edward pointed an accusing finger at Monty. “He’s lying, Vista. Don’t believe a word he said.”

“If you say so.” Monty arched a dubious brow. “Okay, Doctor, you want the low-down? Here it is. Between what Mrs. Pierson admitted on tape, and the skin cells and corresponding files the police will find in your trailer, you’re going down on more counts than you want to know. Now add kidnapping, attempted murder, and murder charges. That’s what you’re looking at, if you stay on the current path.”

Vista had bolted to his feet, all the color draining from his face. “There’s no way you could know about…How did you get into my trailer?”

“Whatever you found there is inadmissible, Detective,” Anne announced, her gaze boring through Monty. “You didn’t have a search warrant. That’s breaking and entering. Don’t let him rattle you, Lawrence.”

Monty’s brows rose in feigned innocence. “Now, did I say I saw that stuff firsthand? As for the warrant, it’s already been signed. The trailer’s being searched as we speak.” He inclined his head at Vista. “Listen,
Lawrence
, don’t be a jerk. Pierson’s only interested in saving his family’s ass. Yours is expendable.”

Vista wet his lips with his tongue. “What if I’m willing to talk?” he blurted out. “In exchange for some kind of deal?”

“That’s up to the authorities,” Monty returned smoothly. “But it’s worth a try.”

“I agree,” Deputy Kearney said. “I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”

“Sounds good.” Monty waved his hand in a fait accompli gesture.

“Are you crazy, Vista?” Edward demanded.

Ignoring him, Vista leaned forward, still addressing Monty. “So what happens next?”

“You, Deputy Kearney, and I can stroll down to Mr. Pierson’s office and have a private talk. My daughter can join us,” Monty added, feeling Devon’s insistent stare. “We’ll see if we can’t help each other.”

“Why your daughter?”

“Because she’s a doctor. We’ll be discussing medical procedures. She can translate.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” Vista was already in motion, despite Edward’s sputtering protests.

Before following them, Devon turned to Blake. “I want to be there,” she told him softly. “Plus, Monty’s right. I will understand more of the medicalese than anyone else. Will you be okay?”

“Yes.” Blake nodded. “Go. I have a few things to say to my family anyway.”

Squeezing his hand, Devon headed off.

She followed the others into Edward’s office. There was a trace odor of chloroform in the air, and Devon wrinkled her nose and grimaced, grateful that Monty was cracking open a window. Snowstorm or not, the fresh air was welcome.

Vista sat down. The others remained standing, clustered around the desk. Kearney gestured for Monty to take the lead.

“Let’s cut to the chase. You’re experimenting on illegal aliens,” Monty announced to Vista. “You’re also experimenting on Edward’s horses. How do the two connect?”

Silently, Vista lowered his gaze, staring at the oak planks of the floor.

“Your license is gonzo no matter what,” Monty informed him, reading Vista’s mind and making quick work of his reticence. “But your jail time has yet to be determined. That depends on what crimes you’ve committed, and how much you’re willing to help us.”

“I had nothing to do with any murder.” Vista’s head jerked up, and his frightened gaze darted from Monty to Kearney and back again. “I’m a doctor. A scientist. Not a killer.”

Monty nodded. “I believe you. So tell me about your genetic research.”

Somewhat appeased, Vista hunched forward, gripping his knees as if to steady his nerves. “There was very little risk involved. Whatever risk existed, the subjects knew about it up front. They signed releases to that effect. It’s no different from what drug companies do when they’re testing a new product. The subjects in question were my control group.”

“Where did you find these subjects?”

“Through Roberto, the Piersons’ groom. He lives in Poughkeepsie, where there’s a large Mexican community. Many of them are illegals. They need jobs, money.”

“And you supplied both. What a guy.”

“I provided income for a service.”

“Tell us about that service. What type of drug did your subjects have tested on them?”

“No drug. Not in the way you mean. Drugs are detectable. Genetic enhancements aren’t.”

A lightbulb went off in Devon’s head. “You’re experimenting with gene therapy. Whatever you’re working on for Edward, it’s not just for his horses. It’s for James.”

“Exactly.” Vista looked pleased by Devon’s response. Clearly, he regarded her as the closest thing in the room to a colleague — one who should be excited and amazed by his accomplishment. “Gene therapy itself isn’t new. Nor is the attempt to utilize it in professional sports. But my research goes beyond that. It’s unique in its specificity and sophistication.”

“Go on.” Devon folded her arms across her breasts. She didn’t have to fake her curiosity.

Vista converged on it like a moth to a flame. “I’ve actually managed to genetically engineer skin cells — both equine and human — and reinject them to enhance the exact qualities necessary for a champion jumper.” Animatedly, he leaned toward Devon. “This produces both winning riders and winning mounts. In short, I’ve tailored gene therapy not just for professional sports, but for equestrian jumping.”

“How?” she demanded.

“As I said, I harvest then genetically manipulate the skin cells. Those cells are then reintroduced into the body — the horse’s cells through the hock, the human cells through the forebrain.” Vista indicated the back of his neck. “The procedure results in exactly the enhancements needed for both subjects: improved focus and concentration. Strengthened leg muscles. Decreased nervous tension. And heightened tactile sensitivity, which makes the rider more attuned to his horse and better able to convey instructions to it via his thighs and knees. As a result, a fine contender like Sunrise can become an Olympic winner rivaling Stolen Thunder. And a champion rider like James can become a legend.”

“And no drug test can detect the enhancements,” Devon concluded.

“Precisely.”

Monty let out a low whistle. “No wonder Edward was shelling out such big bucks for you — and from a secret account. Also why your heavy-duty lab is set up in your trailer as opposed to in his stables. Talk about protecting his ass and hanging yours out to dry.”