Got Your Number (26 page)

"Because... I didn't see it happen. I only heard her scream and saw the car. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought I might be mistaken."

"You couldn't put two and two together?"

They thought she was dumb. "Even if Dr. Seger had hit her, it was an accident. Tammy was... dead, and I couldn't see how destroying Dr. Seger's career would help anything."

The men exchanged doubtful glances, then Jaffey gave her a tight smile. "Ms. Ryder, we know that you were questioned in the hit-and-run of Tammy Paulen. Nell Oney was the girl's academic advisor and filled us in on the details. She said that Tammy Paulen knew something that she was holding over your head."

Her heart fell to her stomach—she thought her secret had died with that horrible girl, but could Tammy have told Nell?

"What does this have to do with Carl Seger's murder?" Mike asked.

Jaffey gave her the evil eye. "I think it's mighty convenient for Ms. Ryder to suddenly say that she saw Dr. Seger's car leaving the scene of a hit-and-run when he's not alive to defend himself." He pointed his finger at her. "Maybe
you
ran Tammy Paulen down in the street and now see your chance to pawn it off on Dr. Seger and claim self-defense for murdering him."

She shook her head. "No, you're wrong. Besides, my car was examined."

"But not until three days after the accident. It had been washed."

She didn't respond.

Jaffey slammed his hand on the table. "Did Tammy Paulen know you got on your knees for Dr. Seger? Was she threatening to tell?"

"N-no. Tammy died when I was a freshman, and the thing with Dr. Seger didn't happen until I was a senior."

"So you say. Then what was the big secret Tammy was holding over your head?"

"You don't have to answer," Mike said. "She's already told you what happened with Dr. Seger. You can see by her bruises that the man nearly killed her."

Jaffey shrugged. "Maybe she's into erotic asphyxiation."

Angora's eyes bugged. She'd read about that kind of thing—is that what Carl had been trying to do?

"Ms. Ryder, did you know your cousin went to Dr. Seger's house last night?"

She frowned. "What?"

"She jogged over there to see what was going on." He angled his head. "What do you suppose she saw when she looked in the window?"

Angora's stomach twisted. Roxann had
spied
on them? Had she seen Carl fondling her? Choking her?

Roxann had seemed so concerned this morning on the back porch, but was she covering up her own sins? If jealousy had propelled her to follow them, maybe she had seen them together and snapped. Maybe Roxann had killed Carl with her scarf while
she
lay passed out on his bed. And now she was letting Angora take the rap.

A sudden sharp pain in her chest took her breath away. She clutched the top of her dress, and fell forward in her chair.

"Ms. Ryder," Mike said, his voice elevated. "Ms. Ryder, are you okay?"

She was having a heart attack. She was going to die and everyone would say she was a murderer and Dee would have her cremated so she wouldn't have to bother with tending a grave.

The pain grew so intense her stomach heaved. Bright lights exploded behind her eyes. Someone grabbed her, but it was Carl, and he had his hands around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. She gasped for breath and clawed the air. God, what a waste her entire life had been. No one would even miss her.

Chapter 22

"She'll be fine," Capistrano said for the tenth time.

Roxann threw back the last mouthful of her hospital-vending-machine coffee. The emergency waiting room was packed with old people and mothers bouncing crying babies, which was why Jaffey and Warner had vamoosed two hours ago after giving orders for Angora to come back as soon as she was physically able. Meanwhile, she and Capistrano were holed up on a thinly padded bench in a corner. "I hope so."

"Is there a history of heart disease in your family?"

"No." She tossed the cup into an overflowing trash can sitting at her knee. "Just schizophrenia."

He smiled, but when she didn't smile back, he sobered. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "My dad told me the other day that our great-aunt was committed to an asylum after she pushed someone out of a window."

"Did the person die?"

"Yes."

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "So what triggered that revelation?"

"I asked him."

"Why?"

"Because Nell told me that Angora was a suspect in a hit-and-run that occurred when we were students here."

"Who was the victim?"

"A girl named Tammy Paulen. She was a sorority sister of Angora's."

"Why was she considered a suspect?"

"Because she and the girl didn't get along. Apparently Tammy was holding something over Angora's head."

"Do you know what it was?"

She didn't look at him. "Yes. But I can't say."

"Was it enough for her to want to kill the girl over?"

"Of course not."

"But you think she might have?"

Roxann leaned back against the wall. "I don't know. It's hard to explain—Angora has always lived in a bit of a fantasy world. She would make up stories to convince people—and maybe herself—that her life was exciting."

"What kinds of stories?"

"Oh, the places she'd been and the people she'd met. It was funny because Angora would lie about little things that didn't matter."

"I guess they mattered to her."

She nodded. "Angora was a small-town beauty queen and carried herself as if she were better than everyone else. If truth be told, though, she was one of the most insecure people I ever met."

"But capable of running down a girl who was tormenting her?"

She sighed. "Maybe. Angora has a way of blocking out things—I guess that's her coping mechanism. You talked to her mother, I'm sure you can imagine what her childhood was like."

He nodded.

"Anyway, I remember the night we went to Tammy's memorial service. Everyone was upset, but Angora was inconsolable. We were living together in a dorm at the time, and I was worried about her state of mind."

"Did she ever talk about the accident?"

"Not then. I didn't know the Paulen girl was hassling her. But the night we spent at my father's she made some curious comments about the incident, and the other day she told me that Tammy knew she was a virgin and wanted to give Angora to her brother as a birthday gift."

He grimaced.

"Sick, huh? Anyway, then Angora said something about Tammy 'getting hers,' and she had this strange, faraway expression. She just zones out sometimes."

"So that was what you were holding back at the station?"

"You could tell?"

"I knew something was bothering you. What was your cousin's relationship with Seger?"

She closed her eyes briefly—
was,
as in past tense. "She was infatuated with him, like everyone else, although I didn't realize it. After being jilted at the altar, she was hell-bent on losing her virginity. I guess she picked Carl."

He lifted his eyebrow. "She's a virgin?"

A tiny sliver of jealousy cut through her at the tone of his voice. She remembered the way he'd looked at Angora. "Yes."

He pursed his mouth. "Does that particular characteristic run in the family, too?"

"You are so out of line."

One side of his mouth climbed. "Oh, so Miss Principled and Uptight is human, after all."

Roxann spoke through clenched teeth. "Just when I think you might be tolerable, you blow it by opening your mouth."

"I have to grow on a person."

"Like fungus?" She stood and stalked over to the receptionist's desk. "Can you give me an update on Angora Ryder, please?"

The moon-faced woman looked at her suspiciously. "Is she the lady the police brought in?"

"Yes, but she's not under arrest."

"Just a moment." The woman picked up the phone and lazily punched in a number, punctuating every movement with a sigh. Roxann wanted to strangle her, then quickly amended her thought in light of the circumstances. Poor Carl. God, what a mess they'd stepped into—maybe even created, although she couldn't quite get her mind around the idea of Angora murdering Carl. Still, his handprints were on her neck, so even if he hadn't planned to hurt her, he might have triggered a violent response in her.

She'd give anything to have stayed in Biloxi after the break-in, maybe hid out in a hotel. Instead, she'd allowed that message on her computer to unleash old worries that had hovered just under the surface for years. What was the saying about liars—their punishment was not that they couldn't be believed, but that they couldn't believe anyone else. The deception that she and Angora had created years ago had affected them both more than they could ever have imagined, shaping relationships with people they should have been close to, but couldn't be.

Roxann turned her head and looked at Capistrano, jammed into a space half his size. A little girl with sagging pigtails walked over and handed him a doll. He smiled and pretended to have a conversation with the doll before handing it back to her. The child gave him a shy grin and galloped off.

His smile lingered even after he made eye contact with Roxann across the room. She expected him to be embarrassed that she'd caught him in such an unguarded moment, but he didn't look away. In fact, his gaze traveled down her body in a leisurely fashion, combing over the clothes he'd loaned her to replace the ones the police sealed in a plastic bag. Beneath the huge white dress shirt and cavernous sweatpants, her skin tingled, as if she had donned his clothes the morning after a night of scrupulous lovemaking.

It was the stress, the proximity, and the deprivation. Why else would she be experiencing a sudden physical attraction to a hulking detective who was only hanging around because he expected her to eventually betray the whereabouts of his witness? He completed his inspection of her assets and met her gaze again in spite of bodies moving between them.

He
was
rather good-looking in a rugged sort of way. Who had Helen compared him to—Steve McQueen? Quite a change from the slender soft-handed men she had dated in the past. He stared and shifted his big body forward on the bench, an unmistakable gesture of invitation. She wet her lips involuntarily.

"Ma'am?"

She turned back to the receptionist. "Yes?"

"Ms. Ryder is in X-ray, but the technician says it's backed up. It'll be at least an hour if you'd like to get something to eat."

"Can I see her?"

The woman frowned, but relented and pointed the way.

Roxann followed a winding path through hallways and curtained areas. Angora lay in a corner bed with her eyes closed, pale, with golden hair fanned against the pillow. The bruises on her neck had turned pale purple. To Roxann's surprise, Angora's lawyer sat next to her bed.

"I didn't realize you were still here, Mr. um—"

"Brown," he whispered, standing. "I'm not supposed to be, but I didn't want the cops bothering Ms. Ryder."

The man was short and well-fed, with honest light brown eyes behind thick spectacles. He smelled faintly of manure. "How is she?" she asked.

"They think it might be her gallbladder. Something to do with a crash diet, followed by a binge?"

Not good, but at least not a heart attack. "Will she have to have surgery?"

"They won't know until they do more tests."

"As if you care," Angora said.

Roxann turned to see Angora had awakened. She was surprised at the venom in her cousin's voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Lousy. And I don't want you here."

She pulled back. "Why?"

"I'll step out into the hall," Mr. Brown offered, then skedaddled.

Angora's mouth tightened. "Are you happy now that I'm on my deathbed
and
accused of murder?"

"You're not on your deathbed, and how can you think that I'd be happy about any of this?"

"You told the police things I said." Angora sat up, her red eyes welling. "Things I told you in confidence. They think I murdered Carl because of you and your jealousy."

She frowned. "Jealousy?"

Angora leaned forward, her eyes wide and glazed. "You couldn't stand the thought of Carl and me together, so you sneaked over to spy on us."

"You're wrong." Roxann crossed her arms. "I had heard some bad things about Carl, and I was worried about you. But when I got there, I realized it was wrong and that you're old enough to take care of yourself."

"That's right," Angora flung back. "Haven't you interfered enough in my life?"

Roxann gaped. "Interfered? If you recall, I've gotten you out of more than one jam."

Angora narrowed her eyes. "And if I recall, you were rewarded nicely."

Her stomach leaped. "Angora, don't do this. You're upset."

She flailed against the sheets, eyes wild. "And why shouldn't I be? My cousin is framing me for murder. I knew everyone else was out to get me, but I thought I could trust you."

Roxann eased down to sit on the end of the bed, maintaining level eye contact. It was the best way to calm an unstable person. "Angora," she said softly. "No one is out to get you—we all want to help. If you killed Carl in self-defense, you'll be acquitted."