Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (22 page)

“Don’t beat yourself up. Most kids we can’t help, but Matt’s different. He’s got a caring parent and a chance to turn his life around before it’s too late.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“I’ll take you to him now.”

We stopped at a small room that looked like it’d been furnished from the Salvation Army. The rancid odor confirmed my suspicions.

“Have a seat.” Officer Taylor motioned to the plaid couch. “I’ll be right back.”

I cringed at the unidentifiable stains and started pacing, testing the durability of the carpet. Minutes later, Matt entered the room, hands deep in his pockets. His eyes hidden by his disheveled hair and downcast stare.

Officer Taylor followed him and handed me a clipboard. “You need to sign here and make sure you call a lawyer.”

With a trembling hand, I took the pen. “Is this going on his record?”

“Only if he’s convicted, but make sure you get a good lawyer so that doesn’t happen. Once a judge convicts, it will follow him for the rest of his life, especially in a small town like Lyndon.”

I swallowed hard. “This could go away?”

“I’m not saying that, but Matt’s got a good chance to beat this and turn his life around. He’ll probably get probation, be sentenced to drug treatment and community service, plus have to pay a fine of up to $2,000, but that’s a gift compared to a record.”

Matt’s bloodshot eyes connected with mine, then his gaze retreated to the floor.

“Thanks so much, Officer Taylor.”

I glared at Matt, promising him an earful.

“No problem. I’ll leave you two alone. You’re free to go when you’re ready.” He closed the door behind him.

“What were you thinking?” The levy to my reserve broke. “First fighting? Now this? You can forget about that cushy summer job at the country club. I don’t even want to think how this might affect your chances of getting into an Ivy League college.”

“Are you going to tell Jack?”

Realization illuminated. Could Matt be acting out to get Jack’s attention?

“Jack can’t be bothered with your self-destructive behavior right now. I’ll deal with you in my own way.”

Matt slid his hands from his pockets. Black ink stained his fingertips, yet unlike his reputation, Matt could wipe them clean. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“What do you mean it wasn’t your fault? Did they hold the joint to your mouth and plug your nose? And don’t tell me you didn’t inhale.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to go home.”

“We’re not going home until you tell me what was going through your head. How long have you smoked pot?”

His eyes narrowed, challenged. Eyes filled with so much fury, so much pain. “I could be doing a lot worse, ya know. And I’m not the only one who screws up in this family.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The car accident yesterday wasn’t that man’s fault.”

“Sure it was. He was drunk. He ran a red light.”

“No,
you
ran the red light. The accident was
your
fault.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

10:27 p.m.

MATT’S ACCUSATION HUNG AROUND my neck like a noose as I closed the garage door and stepped from his Jeep. We hadn’t spoken since we left the police station, but I couldn’t get his words out of my mind. Was the accident my fault? I played the scene over and over. Realization tightened, sentencing me to the fate I deserved.
I
had looked down.
I
had run the red light. Not the violent drunk in the rusty old car. Me. Mari Duggins.

I
was the guilty one.

Before I clicked the deadbolt, Matt disappeared upstairs to his room. I was glad to let him go. The way he looked at me earlier. The judgment in his eyes. I couldn’t bear it again, not tonight. The clock chimed on the half hour as I shuffled through the kitchen, a stack of mail in my hand. After the upheaval my stomach experienced today, I welcomed the grumble, but my exhaustion prevented me from finding something to eat. I kicked off my shoes, then sorted the mail.

Giggles echoed through the hall. I padded to the living room. Danny and Cherilyn sat on the floor, open textbooks all around, their lips locked in a spit-swapping kiss. I cleared my throat.

Cherilyn pulled off in a hurry.

Danny wiped his mouth, his face flush. “Oh, Mrs. D., we were just studying.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Cherilyn inched away from Danny. “It’s much quieter studying here than in the dorms.”

“Then I’d better leave you two to your studying. I’ll check on the kids.”

I left the two lovebirds to roost, still uneasy about Cherilyn. Even if she wasn’t C.S., Henderson still could have fathered her child.

After tucking Hattie and Ben in bed, I bumped into Danny at the top of the stairs. He bounced around as if he were on cloud eleven.

“Things are going well between you and Cherilyn?”

“Better than I could have imagined.”

“I hate to sound like a mother hen, but be careful. Don’t rush things. Take it slow. Girls like—who’ve come off of a bad relationship are vulnerable. I don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”

“I wouldn’t hurt Cherilyn for anything.”

“You’re okay with everything that’s happened?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I overheard you two talking last night. It seemed you were pretty upset when she told you about the abortion.”

“Sure, I was upset. I kept thinking, how could you do that? What if my parents killed me? Then when I cooled down I tried to put myself in her situation. Young, alone, in trouble. I couldn’t judge her. So I forgave her.”

“And you’re okay with it now?”

“I’ll never be okay with someone taking the life of an innocent child, but I can’t hold her past against her. God knows I’ve done some stupid things. I’d hate for him to leave my sins hanging around my neck. Cherilyn’s waiting. I better go find my study notes.” Danny entered his room, and I headed downstairs.

Cherilyn sat, legs crossed, engrossed in the book on her lap.

“Cherilyn, can I talk to you a minute?”

She looked up. “Sure.”

I glanced at the stairs and sat in the chair opposite the blonde beauty. It wasn’t hard to see why so many men, young and old, might lose all sense around her.

She waited, hands folded, as I tried to gather my thoughts. But there was no tactful way to ask. “Was Theron Henderson the father of your unborn baby?”

She gaped at me like I had accused her of his murder.

“How? Um …” She peeked at the staircase, then crawled to me and whispered. “Danny doesn’t know who the father was. Please, don’t tell him. I don’t want to mess this up. If he knew I was involved with a professor, I’d lose him.”

“You should give Danny more credit than that.”

Her eyes grew round. “Please don’t tell him. I’m begging you.”

“That’s not my place. Still, you need to tell him the truth or you
will
lose him.”

“I want to. Every time I try and say the words, I get sick. I can’t believe I fooled myself into thinking I was in love with him. What I have with Danny is so different. So right.”

I grabbed her hands. “You fell victim to Henderson’s charm. No one blames you.”

“Yes, they do. There are rumors all over campus. Ugly lies saying I blackmailed him and threatened to kill him if he didn’t take me back. Can you believe people actually think I could have murdered him?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“What?” She pushed away and gathered her books from the floor.

Had I said that out loud? “I didn’t mean that.” I stood. “It’s been a long day. Don’t go.”

“I thought you were different, Mrs. Duggins.” She slung her backpack on her shoulder and stood.

“Cherilyn, I’m sorry. It’s just, I found these love letters of Henderson’s with the initials C.S. and naturally, after I learned about your pregnancy and admitting to being with Henderson, well—I have to think of Danny. He’s like family.” I blocked her from leaving.

She grabbed the keys on the end table. “Tell Danny I had to go. I’m borrowing his car. I’ll call him tomorrow.” She pushed past me and drove off.

Danny clomped down the stairs seconds later. “Was that Cherilyn?”

I nodded.

“Did she say why she took off without saying goodbye?”

I shook my head and walked toward Jack’s study. Danny trailed me.

“I said she could borrow my car any time, but why would she leave without telling me? Unless she some had an emergency or something. I should call her.”

“I don’t think it’s that serious.” I sat in Jack’s chair and inhaled the leather. “I think there are still some things she needs to talk to you about, and she’s afraid.”

“Of what? There’s nothing she could say that would shock me.”

The boy was in for a rude jolt. “She said she’d call you tomorrow.” I opened my email. Nothing from Jack.

Danny shook his head. “I just don’t get women.” He headed for the door.

Now that suspicion was fading from Jack, I felt remorse for deleting his emails, yet thankful I had forwarded them to my inbox. The reason for the sender’s secrecy nagged, baiting my curiosity. “Danny?”

He turned around.

“What do you know about email codes?”

“You mean encryptions?”

“I’m not sure, but now it’s your turn to promise not to say a word to anyone.”

“Cross my heart hope to—”

“Don’t finish that.”

He sat in the chair opposite me, and I told him about the FBI, Ms. Bomani, and Jack’s suspicious emails. Danny shook his head. “Changing grades is one thing, but interfering with an FBI investigation . . . I don’t think you should have deleted them.”

“I forwarded them to my inbox first. If I delete them now, no one will know they existed.” Except the sender.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Danny exhaled. “They may not know
you
deleted them, but if the FBI confiscates Jack’s computer, they’ll figure out someone deleted the originals from his computer and then forwarded them to yours.”

“How is that possible if I delete all traces of the original email?”

“Even though the emails are deleted, the computer keeps a record of what goes on. It’s only a matter of time before the FBI finds them.”

What had I done? Not only might I have caused more trouble for Jack, but now I could be accused of tampering, unless they didn’t know it was me. “Is there a way to put the deleted files back?” I stood, offering Danny the chair.

“I could try to do it remotely by logging into the university system again.” Danny sat in front of the computer. “You still have to deal with the emails you transferred to your inbox. If they look, they’ll find the trail.”

I chewed my pinky nail. “Then we’ll have to hope they don’t look for the trail.” I found a USB drive and handed it to Danny. “Copy them, then delete them from my inbox.”

“I’m not sure that’s going to help you.”

“What choice do I have? You said I can’t erase them from my computer, so why not delete them? That could buy me some time.”

“Possibly, but it’s very risky.”

“You said yourself they won’t be able to tell who deleted the emails from Jack’s computer, right?”

“Technically, no.”

“Matt, Ben, Luke, and Fletcher have been in Jack’s office. They could’ve easily been on his computer and somehow transferred and deleted the emails, right?”

Danny cocked one eyebrow? “If I delete these, how would you explain the same thing happening at home? Mrs. D., you’re the one who told me the truth will always find you out.”

Pain jabbed my heart. Guilt. I had no choice. “Delete them.”

Danny hesitated.

“If you won’t, I will.” I inhaled deep. “Please, delete them.”

Danny’s finger punched the delete button and that was that. He took the flash drive, and headed to his room to try and decipher the code on his computer. Refocusing my attention on Jack’s computer, I opened his documents to see if there might be anything else to incriminate him. After this whole mess was settled and the artifact was proven to be authentic, I knew Jack and I would have a good laugh.

A knock sounded at my front door. I jumped up and glanced at the clock. Two minutes after eleven. No one ever made house calls this late to bring good news.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

11:03 p.m.

WHEN I PEERED THROUGH the peephole, my breath caught in my throat. Ms. Bomani stood next to two official-looking men, most likely FBI. I opened the door and stepped onto the porch in my bare feet, shivering. And it wasn’t because of the nip in the air. “Have you heard from Jack?”

“No, not yet.” She handed me my phone. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

I pasted on a calm expression, despite my thundering heart. “Did the voicemail help?”

“The recording is in the lab now. They are trying to isolate the background noise and clean up the message. It is not much.”

“Thank you for returning the phone. I’d invite you in, but the kids are sleeping.” I went to close the door, but the big man with Ms. Bomani held it open. The shorter one carried an empty box. “What’s going on here?”

She handed me a piece of paper as the men slipped past me. “It is a search warrant for the contents of your ex-husband’s home office. We have already confiscated his computer at the university and discovered deleted emails in his account that have relevance to this investigation.”

I steadied my breathing, hurrying into the study. My mouth hung open as the smaller agent unhooked the computer while the other ransacked Jack’s desk.

Ms. Bomani stood beside me. “Gentlemen, we do not have to destroy the office. Take what we have come for and leave Mrs. Duggins in peace.” Then she turned to me. “What do you know about emails from Pharo294 to your husband?”

“Nothing.” It was the truth. Almost. “Jack probably gets dozens of emails from Egypt. That’s not a reason for a search warrant.”

“But confirmation that the heart scarab has been forged is.”

“What? How did you get the test results so quickly?”

“We sent off a sample to the micromorphology lab in Houston. They compared sediment on the heart scarab with a section from where the artifact was uncovered. They did not match.”