City of Echoes (17 page)

“Maybe a beer that I could take upstairs.”

She seemed disappointed that he didn’t want to stay up for a while and talk, but Matt ignored it. He followed her into the kitchen. As she pulled a Corona out of the fridge, he spotted the glass of white wine on the counter. He watched her take a sip, then noticed the look she gave him as she switched off the lights.

She still wanted to talk.

Matt followed her upstairs and down the hall to the bedroom directly across from the master bedroom. She walked in, set her wineglass on the side table, and started turning down the bed.

“You don’t need to do that, Laura.”

“I know, but I want to. Let me get you some fresh towels.”

She stepped into the bathroom, pulled a set of towels from the closet, and hung them on the rack beside the shower. She checked the room, then walked out and reached for her wineglass. When she sat down on the bed, Matt took a swig of beer and pulled the chair over.

“Are you okay?” he said.

She nodded but didn’t say anything. Her eyes were on him. Her wheels were turning again.

“How’d your day go?” he asked.

She shrugged, her voice throaty and just above a whisper. “I’d rather hear about yours.”

He didn’t want to tell her about Frankie. He wanted to hold off until later, maybe in the morning after she got a decent night’s sleep. But even more, he didn’t want to tell her about anything for the very same reasons Leo Rodriguez had held back on his wife, Sally. If Laura knew what was really going on, she’d be even less safe than she already was.

He saw her eyes drift down to the pack of Marlboros in his shirt pocket.

“I thought you and Kevin stopped smoking together,” she said.

“We did.”

“So what happened?”

He shrugged and tilted his head.

“You don’t want to tell me, do you?” she said.

“Tell you what?”

“What happened to you today. You don’t want to tell me because you think that I can’t handle it. Something happened. Something horrible. I can tell, Matt. You’re smoking again, and I can see it in your face. In your eyes. It’s like you’ve aged ten years in the last fifteen hours.”

Matt took another pull on the Corona. “It’s been a long couple of days, that’s all. I need some sleep, and you do, too.”

Her eyes were still on him, measuring him. After a moment she got up from the bed.

“Do you think the burglar will come back tonight?” she said.

Matt finally understood, flashing a warm smile at her as he got up from the chair. “I think he already took everything he was looking for. If he does come back, the guys outside will take care of it. They’re the best we’ve got.”

She stepped into his arms and rested her head against his chest. Matt could feel her pressing her body against his. He could feel her body relaxing in his arms. She was still frightened.

“Thanks for staying with me,” she whispered. “You don’t know how much it means.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Laura. I promise. You’re safe here.”

“I miss him,” she said. “I don’t think I can make it.”

“We’ll get through this,” he said quietly.

She tightened her hold on him, then gave him a look with those eyes of hers. A moment passed before she let go.

“You’re a good man,” she said.

He watched her pick up her glass and cross the hall. Just before closing the door, she turned and wished him a good night.

Matt started to close his own door but looked down the hall toward the study and had second thoughts. After tonight, after the events of the day, it seemed more than plausible that Orlando had been the one who had broken into the house last night, stolen Hughes’s files on the Faith Novakoff murder case, and walked into Laura’s bedroom while she slept.

More than plausible, but not definitive. There were too many question marks. Too many black holes. He thought about what Cabrera had said, and it didn’t help.

They could be murdered in their sleep tonight.

Matt placed his .45 on the bedside table, switched off the lights, and stepped out of his clothes. As he got into bed, he looked across the hall at the crack of light beneath Laura’s bedroom door and tried to quiet his mind. After several moments he became aware of the sound of rushing water. The two bathrooms must have shared a wall because he could hear Laura in the shower. He thought about her magnetism and the spell she seemed to cast over everyone she met. Her blond hair, her full lips and soft skin, the curves and smooth lines of her body. He could smell the light scent of her perfume on his face. He could still smell her hair from just moments ago when she rested her head on his chest. He could feel her body pressing against him and relaxing. He could see her in the shower. The warm, soapy water cascading all over her naked—

Matt switched on the lamp and tried to get rid of the images in his head. He remembered the guilt he’d felt when he read her love letters earlier in the day. He tried to concentrate on that feeling and build on it. Tried to remember that Laura was his best friend’s wife. Tried to remember that she’d just lost her husband and was particularly vulnerable right now. Tried to keep in mind that she might even be pregnant. But after fifteen minutes, the shower was still going, the wall was too thin, and all of a sudden Matt was wide awake and reaching for the murder books he’d tossed in his overnight bag . . .

CHAPTER 34

Matt eased open her bedroom door after a second light tap but didn’t find her sleeping. It was six thirty in the morning. When he didn’t see her clothes on the chair, he called her name and listened for her in the house.

Nothing. Just the strange sound of the wind whistling outside.

He walked over to the windows facing the backyard. He could see the wind pushing and pulling at a large oak tree that was being held together by steel wires. When he looked down the steps at the pool, he spotted Laura cutting back a bougainvillea that was creeping up a small tree. She had a windbreaker on and a pair of rubber boots that rose to her knees. A large mug of coffee was set on the stone wall. He looked up at the sky. It seemed too dark for this time of day and too cold, like maybe it might even rain; like maybe it was January instead of October; like maybe the whole world had come undone and was out of order.

Matt turned back to Laura and watched her for a few moments. The feelings he had experienced last night, the wild thoughts and fantasies, were gone. As he tossed it over, he wondered if what had happened last night hadn’t been a result of his extreme need for sleep. As he tossed it over, he wondered if his unbridled thoughts hadn’t been born from the paranoia and outrage he was feeling. Last night had been a crossroads. Matt knew that as a police officer, a homicide detective, he could no longer trust his own.

Sleep had finally come about an hour after Laura turned off the shower. Matt had opened Millie Brown’s murder book and reread every entry that mentioned Jamie Taladyne and his past. When sleep arrived, it was dreamless, which he appreciated and took as a good sign.

He walked back into the guest room, showered and shaved and got dressed in some fresh clothes. When he entered the kitchen, he could see the two officers from Metro standing in the driveway, drinking coffee and waiting for the next team to arrive. They seemed like good guys, but he still wondered if he could trust them after what happened last night. In the end, did he really have any choice?

He pulled on his sweatshirt and grabbed his jacket, then walked outside and down the steps to the pool. Laura was still working on that bougainvillea. She looked tired, but at least she was in her element. Before all this, Laura had been a landscape designer and worked at a nursery on Orange Grove in Pasadena. Before all this.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“You are, too. How’d you sleep?”

She gave him a look and shrugged. “You want breakfast?”

“I’ll get a sandwich on the way in, but I need to talk to you about something.”

Her eyes came back to him and stayed there. He could tell that she was bracing herself for the bad news that she sensed had happened yesterday. Matt watched her set down the clippers. He couldn’t let it go any longer.

“You’re gonna tell me what happened yesterday, aren’t you?” she said.

Her voice was soft and throaty again. She seemed so defenseless.

“It’s about Frankie, isn’t it?” she went on. “It’s about Frankie, and he’s hurt.”

She sat down on the stone wall. Matt joined her.

“He’s dead, Laura. His car went off the road in Mint Canyon yesterday, and I don’t think it was an accident.”

Their eyes met, and she reached for his hand. A long moment passed.

“How did you know it was Frankie?” he whispered.

“I called him after lunch and left a message. He never called back. That’s not Frankie. When I saw your face last night, I knew something had happened. When you didn’t want to talk about it, I knew that it probably wasn’t good.”

“Are you still locked into staying here? Is there any chance that you’d reconsider and visit your parents in Philly?”

“I have to go back to work, Matt. Next week.”

“I bet they’d give you more time off if they knew what was going on.”

“But there’s Kevin’s funeral. They’re releasing his body the day after tomorrow.”

His phone started vibrating in his pocket. Digging it out, he saw Cabrera’s name and stepped away from the wall. He had sent Cabrera a text message before he showered, asking him to call back as soon as he could.

“What’s up?” Cabrera said.

Matt glanced at Laura, then turned away and spoke in a low voice. “I think we need to talk to the girl Taladyne raped in her dormitory.”

“That was five years ago, Matt. She would’ve graduated. She’s probably long gone by now.”

“I don’t think so. Grace and Rodriguez interviewed her when Taladyne was a suspect in Millie Brown’s murder. Her contact info is in the murder book. It says she was living in Playa del Rey. She was at the beach, and it wasn’t that long ago. She could still be there.”

“What about meeting Baylor at the coroner’s office for the ID?”

“I’ll take care of that if you’ll check out the girl and see if you can set something up.”

“When?”

“This morning. Any time she’s free. I’ll text you her contact info and meet you out there as soon as I can.”

“Sounds good,” Cabrera said. “What’s her name?”

“Leah Reynolds. And just so you know, I ran into Orlando last night.”

It sounded like the phone went dead. Matt checked the signal, then the power, which was low. He had forgotten to charge the battery last night.

“Are you there, Denny? You there?”

“I’m here,” Cabrera said. “You ran into Orlando. What happened?”

“Nothing good. We’ll talk later. Be careful.”

Matt slipped the phone into his pocket and turned back to Laura. She had been watching him. When he started walking toward her to say good-bye, her eyes stayed on his face. He thought about that pregnancy test kit he’d seen on the kitchen counter the other night. She had that look going—the same one he’d seen in so many women carrying a child. She seemed so fragile, so vulnerable, so gentle, so possibly pregnant. Or was he just projecting his emotions onto her being? Was she just a blank canvas that he couldn’t help filling in? Either way, he promised himself that he’d be there for her.

CHAPTER 35

His paranoia had returned, following him from the parking lot into the lobby at the coroner’s office. The cops in their uniforms were obvious, but so were the cops in plainclothes. Every glance his way sharpened the edge. Every long look made him wonder if they might not be tied to the enemy in some way.

Grace, Orlando, and Plank.

It was like being overseas. He could no longer tell who was who. If he wanted to stay alive, he could no longer trust anyone at face value. If he wanted to stay alive, he couldn’t take anything for granted anymore.

A woman sitting behind the front desk directed him to the conference room down the hall on the right. When he gazed through the doorway and didn’t see anyone from Hollywood Homicide, he stepped inside and found Art Madina sitting at the head of the table. Baylor was seated with a middle-aged woman who had to be Brooke Anderson’s mother but bore no physical resemblance. A video monitor was mounted to the wall, the screen switched on but blank.

Matt nodded at Baylor as he took a seat on the other side of the table. It sounded like Madina was trying to prepare the woman for the horror she was about to face. The medical examiner had hoped that they could conduct the identification using a video camera, but it seemed like the woman was insisting on seeing her daughter in the flesh.

Matt winced as he listened, trying to bury the memory of Brooke Anderson’s disfigured face with no success. He wondered if he should speak up and tell her about his experiences as a soldier in the desert. He wondered if he should tell her that while she’d never forget seeing her daughter’s corpse, a video image had the chance of dimming over time. An image provided emotional distance, no matter how slight, and had the chance of becoming unreal and fading into the background. Seeing her daughter with her own eyes would have the opposite effect. The experience would become radioactive. The moment would remain in sharp focus, haunting her until the day she died.

As it turned out, Matt didn’t need to interrupt. Madina had switched gears and was making the case for him. Still, as Matt looked her over, he didn’t think she’d change her mind.

There was something about her. Something about the way her face had been stained by her grief.

She was a meaty woman in a small frame, with plain features that seemed masculine and institutionalized. Her black suit appeared well tailored, her light brown hair so even and unnatural in color that Matt guessed that it had been dyed for the trip. He checked her hands. They didn’t look particularly rough or worn, but her fingers were too short and fat for the ring she was wearing. Instead of appearing elegant, what was most likely a very expensive piece of jewelry looked cheap and out of place.

He remembered Baylor telling him that she was the CEO of an insurance company in the Midwest. He looked back at her ring, then at her face, her person, as he thought it over. Anyone in her position had to be used to dealing with crises on a daily basis. She was probably used to getting her own way as well. Today, he thought sadly, it would cost her.