Between the Lies (Book One - The Northern Lights Series) (23 page)

“Who is Gerald?” I asked.

“He was the family butler and served the Lyons until his death a few years ago.”

The nurse returned to check on Aggie. We rose to leave and she grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It was never your fault.”

“Thank you, my dear. When my God sends for my soul I will leave gladly. Until then I will live in the peace of your forgiveness. When Alex returns for me, he will not be able to take away the precious gift your Jillian told me about.”

“What gift?” I asked.

“Ida and I served her together as volunteer grandmothers. She had us read to her about Jesus and in the words meant for a child, I found my salvation.”

“I’m glad you found comfort in Jillian,” I said, standing.

She reached out her hand for mine one last time. “Please come again. I’d like to know her mother better.”

I nodded, realizing that small action was a promise.

In the car, I lost it. My giggles became hysterical again as I said, “In this case, the butler really did it!”

Harper burst out laughing while Newman blushed. He looked quite attractive in red.

“You’ve got to stay here,” Michelle said. “At least until he’s apprehended.”

Harper and Michelle were sitting in the two wing-back chairs, and I sat cross-legged on my bed. Sarah sat at the desk, studying.

“This room is getting really small.” I sounded whiny even to me.

“Aren’t you going to ask how Alan’s visit with Aggie went?” Michelle asked, dangling her carrot out in front of our noses.

“We didn’t want to push,” Harper said, then quickly corrected herself. “Actually, Olivia didn’t want to press. I’ve been wondering when I could start the interrogation.”

Michelle smiled. “I took him to see her after your visit, and asked her to tell us everything she told you. At first he was livid you’d been told everything before him, but Aggie explained that was the way she wanted it. Right now, he’d do just about anything for her. It was difficult for him to hear and he’s in denial which is good.”

“How is that good?” I asked.

“He went on a mission to prove Aggie wrong. He gave Harper and her team immediate access to the boat house and the tunnel. The forensic specialists tore the building apart. Sadly, they found evidence of the crimes she said took place there. And a few Alex may have committed more recently. They found animal bones, and human bones and teeth for sure. I won’t go into more detail until the authorities can prove it all, but it’s much worse than Aggie imagined.”

“Is he relieved old man Lyons’s blood doesn’t run in his veins?” I asked, hating the fact that Gus’ ran in mine.

“I don’t think he’s gotten that far. Right now he’s driven by a need to find the truth and do the least amount of damage to the family name. It’s going to be tarnished and he worries about what that will do to business.”

“What happened to his mother’s art?” I asked out of genuine concern that it be preserved.

“We took it all to Claire. She has it in a safe place, and an appraisal is being done. She’s also planning a gallery showing for a year or so from now. I can hardly wait to see Mother’s work given the honor it deserves.”

I looked at Harper. “Did you ever find the shoe-maker?”

“We did—right where the architect said he would be. He recognized the drawing you did of Alex. He’s been a regular customer for years.”

“Where was he when he wasn’t here?” I asked Michelle.

“Alan had him committed after you were raped. He was in a maximum-security mental health home for several years. Then a new doctor came on the scene, declared him mentally fit, and released him. Alan wasn’t notified until after he’d been out for two weeks.”

“Are you saying that all these years Alan knew who my rapist was?” My head started to ache, and my right eye started to twitch, and then throb. I felt my throat tighten and face redden as rage and pain battled for first place in my heart. He knew, and said nothing. He just put Alex away and let that be enough. How convenient for him.

“Yes. He’d been raised to protect the family and the name at all costs. He took that seriously.”

As much as I hated their ways, I liked it that she didn’t apologize for him. Or the family.

“I’m angry, Michelle. Very angry. He knew. He protected a rapist who, it turns out, is also a murderer. And it’s possible more women were violated or worse. He could have made this right, and instead he made it worse!”

“He did and he’s going to have to live with that the rest of his life,” she said.

“But he covered up the crimes of a dangerous person,” I insisted. “Isn’t that illegal? Doesn’t that make him an accomplice? He endangered others to protect the Lyons name.”

“It doesn’t look like Alan knew about what went on in the boat house, so he couldn’t have reported them. His mother had it sealed off when her husband died, and Alan couldn’t have cared less. He is guilty of convincing you not to report the crime against you.” Harper said.

“That is not my fault. He was very persuasive. You cannot imagine,” I said, my voice rising to an unnatural pitch.

“Did he threaten that if you went to the police, harm would come to you?” Harper asked.

“No, he did not,” I said, knowing I’d lost my case against Alan.

“Then he didn’t prevent you from reporting the crime. Yes, you were afraid. Yes, you wanted to please your keeper—the man you loved. But you are the one who didn’t report it. That was never up to Alan. The buck has to stop somewhere, Olivia. In this part of the case, it stops with you.”

I started to cry. “I don’t want it to be my fault. I didn’t rape me. I didn’t use me. I didn’t cover it all up.”

“No, but you stayed and you said nothing. Were you a victim? Yes. Did you have to stay one? No. You could have come to us.”

“The police would never have believed a girl over a millionaire with strong political allies. We all know that,” I insisted.

“You don’t know that. You didn’t try,” Harper said. “We’ve had a rape unit for over twenty years. One of those officers would have listened. You never gave us a chance.”

The truth was difficult to battle. “Is there a statute of limitations on rape?” I asked.

“There is. Depending on the criteria, you have three, six, or nine years from the date of the assault to report it.

“It’s too late,” I said in defeat. I was hot, breathing hard, and sweating. Michelle helped me take deep breaths while we walked up and down the hotel hallway. When we got back inside the room, I said, “I either need to get out of here, or I need something to do.”

“I agree. That’s why I called Lloyd. He’s bringing over your box of old mail. You told him you were ready to start reading,” Harper said.

Her cell phone rang. It sounded like the theme song to
Hawaii 5-O
. It was Lloyd. He was on his way up.

He came in and announced, “Newman called. I guess there’s something going on at Mickey’s place . . . I mean your house, Olivia. He wants us to come right away.”

Sarah volunteered to stay with my box and we went in Harper’s car. “That box means a lot to you?” Harper asked.

“It might. It’s full of letters from Ma and my sister. It’s the only connection I have to them. I don’t want to lose it in all the stuff going on around me. I hope if I read them I’ll find my way home.”

Newman sat on my front steps.

“Where are the carpet guys?” I asked.

“I let them go,” Newman said.

“Who gave you that authority?” I demanded.

“I didn’t think you’d want a crowd to see what they found,” he said.

“Who called you?” Harper asked.

“The neighbor lady. She’d just delivered cookies to the workers, and they showed her their find. She had my card, and I came right over. I know I should have called, Harper. Sorry. I didn’t touch anything. I just let the guys go, and I’ve been watching the house.”

“You’d better show us,” Harper said.

We followed him in and he said, “There’s a false stair here. When they pulled up the carpet, the stair top lifted.”

“What’s inside?” I asked.

“A shoe-box wrapped in duct tape,” Newman said.

“That’s so Mickey,” I whispered to him, the only other person in the room who’d known him.

His FBI friend nodded.

“Can I see it?”

“It’s your property. Anything not found in a search has to be volunteered to the police. I would appreciate if you’d wear gloves when you open it, and after you’ve looked at it, give me permission to take this into evidence,” Harper said.

“I have no idea what’s in here, but I have a feeling it’s literally my get-out-of-jail card. I want to open it in some official way—with all of you present. Can we do that, Harper?” My words came out much stronger than I felt.

She directed Newman to get an evidence bag for the box. Across the silver tape in thick black letters were the words,
For Olivia.

“Sure. Let’s take it to the station,” Harper said. “That way you can open the box in a safe environment that won’t contaminate the evidence.”

“Good idea,” Newman said. “We don’t know if this will clear you or implicate you in his murder.”

“Do you have time to do this now, Michelle?”

Michelle asked me, “You’re sure?”

I nodded and said, “Yes.”

Before we could leave, Alan called Michelle. Harper and Newman stepped away and were discussing something quietly. When Newman glanced my way, I started to sweat.

Michelle talked to Alan for a few minutes and then she said, “I’ll tell her.”

“Tell me what?” I asked.

“I meant Harper,” she said.

“Can you and Newman join us for a moment? I just talked to Alan, and there’s something you should know.”

The two investigators joined us. “Alan was visiting with Aggie,” Michelle said, “when she asked him what happened to the nice FBI man who was looking into a local case. The description she gave Alan sounds like it could have been Mickey.”

“How did he gain access to her? Doesn’t that take special permission from the family? If he wanted to see me, why talk to Aggie?”

“It does now. Before the attack, Aggie was free to decide who to see and who not to. She was brought to the front desk, introduced to him, liked what she saw, and invited him to have coffee with her,” Michelle said.

“We need to open this box,” I said. “Now.”

Newman’s phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. “It looks like Agatha Bailey told us the truth. Seems that a few years ago, the ladies had DNA tests done on both boys, themselves, Gerald, and Walter Lyons. They are all on file and official. Both Alan and Alex’s are on file twice. Alan had his parentage to Jillian proved privately. Alex’s was done again when he was committed.”

“Can we please go?” I begged. I had to know what my friend knew.

The box was full of newspaper clippings, old photos of the Lyons home and building, and pocket-sized notebooks. Mickey’s notes confirmed his meeting with Aggie.

“Listen to this, Olivia,” Harper said while reading one of the notebooks Mickey had written. “A.B. said she overheard A.L. tell his mother O.M. had been brutally attacked in the hallway but was alive and was not going to the police. A.B. said, ‘It was all about protecting the family name. God, forgive us all.’”

“I found something too. I’ll read it to you,” I said and took a deep breath before reading.

“I was in taking a look at the building and met a janitor in the alley. He says he can get me into the building tomorrow at 3 p.m. I know what I’m doing is illegal and will likely cost me my job, but I have to do what I can for Olivia. She has to know she didn’t do it.’ Later the same day, he wrote, ‘A. B. called and said she is sure she is being watched and is afraid. I will do what I can for her after I’ve spoken to Olivia.’”

I couldn’t take anymore. I fell apart.

“Olivia, what can we do for you?” Harper asked.

“Get me out of here,” I said. “Take me to the hotel. I can’t do this.”

Michelle agreed to take me.

Before we left, I turned to Newman and said, “I’m abandoning Mickey again. Please forgive me. I didn’t kill him. You’ll know that, because somewhere in all of this, in his own handwriting, he will tell you that.”

He just looked at me.

When Michelle shut the hotel room door behind us, I lost it completely. I curled up in the hotel bed and bawled. Hours later, Sarah changed the pillows for me, Michelle brought me two Benadryl tablets, and I slept.

It was two days before I could face anyone other than Sarah. I spent the time with ice packs on my eyes, Vaseline on my lips and cheeks, and sleeping. Wishing I could die.

Michelle mentioned calling a doctor. I refused, took a shower, and told her to tell the others I was ready. There were stipulations. Although Mickey’s stuff was mine, I didn’t want to look for myself, and I didn’t want details.

Harper called and asked if I’d meet with her, Michelle, and Newman. I said yes and we met in her office.

“If it’s okay with all of you,” I said, “all I want is a brief report about what you’ve found, then I’ll seal the box up and put it back under the secret stair tread.”

Everyone agreed.

“From everything we know right now, Alex killed Mickey to keep him quiet about what he’d learned about the Lyons men,” Harper said. “Especially what one of them did to you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “No one but Alan knew about the rape, and he didn’t do it.” I felt dizzy and it must have shown. Harper helped me into a chair. Someone gave me a bottle of cool water. I held it to my cheek.

“Olivia,” Michelle said. “You need to take a few deep breaths.” Then she counted them for me.

It felt like someone had just turned off my auto-pilot, and I was in a dive.

I’d known who my rapist was since Aggie told me, but I’d put that fact somewhere in a dark corner of my brain. My rapist had a name—Alex Bailey. What Alan had carefully swept away, was out in the open.

I heard Harper talking and tuned back in to the discussion.

“During his visit with Aggie, he mentioned you, Olivia. She didn’t release her secrets, but she did warn Mickey you were in grave danger. That was all he needed to hear.”

She took a look at me. I nodded at her, and she continued.

“It turns out in a group session, Alex bragged about what he’d done to you. He used your first name and Alan’s full name. A nurse overheard the session and then Mickey’s discussion with Aggie. He contacted Mickey and told him everything. Then the guy got scared and told Alex what he’d done. Right after Alex was released, the nurse was found dead in his apartment with wounds similar to the ones inflicted on the kitten left in the apartment.

“Mickey’s notes say he was sure you were blaming yourself for the fire,” Newman said. “He was determined to prove you didn’t kill Gus, and that the fire was an accident and not tied to you in any way. When he started looking for you so he could deliver the evidence, he found what he called ‘dangerous information’ about the Lyons family that had him worried about your safety.”

“Does his proof satisfy you?” I asked him.

“I’m getting there,” he said.

As mad as he made me, I respected him for that. I was also pretty sure I wouldn’t be free much longer. I didn’t start the fire, but that wasn’t the whole story . . . not by a long shot.