Kisscut (7 page)

He asked, "Would it kill you to dress up a little bit?"

Sara lowered her voice, the way she did when she got angry. "Is there some reason you're talking to me like you're my mother?"

He felt a flash of anger that was so intense he knew not to open his mouth and say what wanted to come out.

"Jeff," Sara said, "what is going on?"

He walked past her and slammed the door shut. "Would it kill you to do me this one favor?"

"Favor?" She shook her head, as if he had started talking gibberish.

"Sit in on the interview," he reminded her. "With Weaver."

Sara exhaled sharply. "What could I possibly say to her?"

"Never mind," he answered. To give himself something to do, he closed the blinds. "Just forget about it."

"Just tell me what you want me to do," she said, her voice irritatingly reasonable. "Do you want me to go home and change? Do you want me to leave you alone?"

He turned around, saying, "I want you to stop breaking my balls, is what I want you to do."

Sara tucked in her chin. It seemed to be her turn to hold back something she wanted to say.

He raised his eyebrows, prompting her to speak. "What?" he demanded, knowing he was pushing her, wanting a fight to release some of the anger he felt.

Sara took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't understand why you're so angry at me."

Jeffrey did not answer.

She smoothed down his tie with the back of her fingers, then put her palm to his chest. "Jeff, please. Just tell me what you want me to do."

Words failed him. He turned away from her and then, because there was nothing else for him to do, he twisted the wand to open the blinds again. He felt Sara's hand on his shoulder.

She said, "It's all right."

"I know that," he snapped, but he didn't. He felt like his brain was on fire, and every time he blinked all he could see was Jenny Weaver's head jerking back as the bullet cut through her neck.

Sara put her arms around him, then pressed her lips against the back of his neck. "It's okay," she whispered against his neck, and he felt the coolness of her breath calming him. She kissed his neck again, holding her lips there for what seemed like a long time. His body started to relax, and Jeffrey wondered why she hadn't done this last night. Then he remembered that she had.

She told him again, "It's all right."

He felt calm for the first time that morning, like he could breathe again. It felt so good that for just a second he thought he might do something really stupid, like cry or, worse, tell Sara that he loved her.

He asked, "You gonna sit in on the interview or not?"

She let her hands drop, and he could tell this was not the reaction she had been hoping for. He looked at her, trying to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind.

Finally, she nodded once, telling him, "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

Jeffrey stood in the observation room, watching through the one-way mirror as Sara comforted Dottie Weaver. He had never been able to stay mad at Sara for long, mostly because Sara would not allow it.

Dottie Weaver was a largeish woman with dark brown hair and olive colored skin. Her hair looked long, but she kept it in a neat bun on top of her head. The style was a bit dated, but it seemed to suit her. She had what Jeffrey thought of as an older face, the kind where the person looks the same at ten as she does at forty. Her cheeks were more jowls, and she carried about twenty pounds more on her than she should have. There were deep creases in her forehead above her nose, which gave her a stern look, even when she was crying.

Jeffrey glanced at Lena, who was standing beside him with her arms crossed over her chest. She was watching Sara and Dottie with her usual focused intensity. Here they were, the two most emotionally raw people in the station, responsible for finding out what had happened the night before. Jeffrey knew then that he had asked Sara to do this for selfish reasons. She would act as his sanity.

Jeffrey turned to Lena, telling her, "I'm using you."

She did not react, but that was hardly uncommon. Six months ago, Lena Adams would have been rabid for this interview. She would have strutted through the station, flaunting the fact that she had been chosen by the chief. Now, she just nodded.

"Because you're a woman," he clarified. "And because of what happened to you."

She looked at him, and there was an emptiness to her eyes that struck him to his core. Ten years ago, at the training academy in Macon, Jeffrey had watched Lena fly through the obstacle course like a bat out of hell. At five-four and around a hundred twenty pounds, she was the smallest recruit in her group, but she made up for it by sheer force of will. Her tenacity and drive had caught his attention that day. Looking at her now, he wondered if that Lena would ever show herself again.

Lena broke eye contact, staring back at Sara. "Yeah, I guess she'll feel sorry for me," she said, her tone flat. It unnerved him the way she did not seem to feel anything. He even preferred her intense anger to the automaton Lena seemed to be lately.

"Go slowly," he advised, handing her the case file. "We need as much information as we can get."

"Anything else?" she asked. They could have been discussing the weather.

Jeffrey told her no and she left without another word. He turned back to the mirror, waiting for Lena to enter the interview room. When the young detective had returned to her job, Jeffrey had told her she would have to get some kind of therapy to deal with what had happened. As far as he knew, Lena had not. He should ask her about this. Jeffrey knew that. He just did not know how.

The door creaked as Lena opened it. She walked into the room, her hands tucked into the pockets of her dress slacks. She was wearing tan chinos with a dark blue button-down dress shirt. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tucked back neatly behind her ears. At thirty-three years old, she had finally grown into her face. Lena had always been attractive, but in the last couple of years she had developed a womanliness that was not lost on the senior squad.

Jeffrey looked away, uncomfortable with these thoughts. After what she had been through, it felt wrong for him to be considering Lena this way.

"Mrs. Weaver?" Lena asked. She extended her hand, and Jeffrey cringed along with Dottie Weaver as they both stared at Lena 's open palm. The scar in the center was horrible to see. Sara was the only one who did not seem to react.

Lena withdrew her hand, clenching it by her side as if she was embarrassed. "I'm Detective Lena Adams. I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss."

"Thank you," Dottie managed, her Midwestern twang a sharp contrast to Lena 's soft drawl.

Lena sat opposite Sara and Dottie at the table. She clasped her hands in front of her, drawing attention to her scars again. Jeffrey half expected her to take off her shoes and put her feet on the table.

"I'm sorry…" Dottie began, then stopped. "I mean, for what happened with you."

Lena nodded her head once, staring down as if she needed to collect herself. One of the first interrogation tricks Jeffrey had taught the young detective was that silence is a cop's best friend. Normal people do not like si-lence, and invariably they try to fill it. Most of the time, they do this without letting their brain enter the equation.

"And your sister," Dottie continued. "She was a lovely person. I knew her from the science fair. Jenny loved science. She was…"

Lena 's chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath, but that was all the reaction she gave. "Sibyl was a teacher," Lena supplied. "She loved teaching kids."

The room was silent again, and Jeffrey found himself staring at Sara. Strands of her dark red hair had fallen loose from her ponytail and were sticking to her neck. Her glasses were no longer crooked on her nose, they were crooked on the top of her head. She was staring at Lena the way she might stare at a snake, trying to decide whether or not it was poisonous.

Lena asked, "Do we need to contact your husband, Mrs. Weaver?"

"Dottie," the mother answered. "I've already told him."

"Will he be coming down for the funeral?"

Dottie was quiet, and she fidgeted with a thin silver bracelet on her wrist. When she spoke, she directed her words to Sara. "You cut her open, didn't you?"

Sara opened her mouth as if to respond, but Lena answered the question.

"Yes, ma'am," Lena said. "Dr. Linton performed the autopsy. I attended the procedure. We wanted to do everything we could to make sure Jenny was taken care of."

Dottie stared from Lena to Sara, then back again. Suddenly, she leaned over the table, her shoulders stooped as if she had been punched in the gut. "She was my only child," she sobbed. "She was my baby."

Sara reached out to touch the grieving woman on the back, but Lena stopped her with a look. She leaned forward herself and took Dottie's hand in her own. Lena told the woman, "I know what it's like to lose someone. I really do."

Dottie squeezed Lena 's hands. "I know you do. I know."

Jeffrey realized he had been holding his breath, waiting for this moment. Lena had broken through.

Lena asked, "What happened with her father?"

"Oh." Dottie took a tissue out of her purse. "You know. We weren't getting along. He wanted to do more with his life. He ended up running away with his secretary." She turned to Sara. "You know how men are."

Jeffrey felt mildly irritated, because she was obviously referring to Jeffrey's infidelities. Such was the nature of a small town.

"He never married her, though," Dottie finished. "The secretary." Her lips curved in a slight, triumphant smile.

"My best friend in high school went through this," Lena began, making the bridge between her and Dottie Weaver more solid. "Her father did the same thing to them. He just picked up one day and never looked back. They never saw him again."

"Oh, no. Samuel wasn't like that," Dottie provided. "Not in the beginning, anyway. He saw Jenny once a month until he got transferred to Spokane. That's in Washington." Lena nodded and Dottie continued, "I think the last time he saw her was over a year ago."

"What was his response when you told him last night?"

"He cried," she said, and tears rolled down her own cheeks. She turned to Sara, perhaps because Sara had known Jenny. "She was so sweet. She had such a gentle heart."

Sara nodded, but Jeffrey could tell she was uncomfortable with the way Lena was handling the interview. He wondered what Sara had expected after her physical findings last night.

Dottie blew her nose, and when she spoke her words were more punctuated. "She just got mixed up in this crowd. And that Patterson boy."

"Mark Patterson?" Lena asked, referring to the boy Jenny had threatened to kill.

"Yes, Mark."

"Was she seeing him? Dating him?"

Dottie shrugged. "I can't tell you. They did things in groups, and Jenny was friends with his sister, Lacey."

"Lacey?" Sara asked. She seemed to realize she'd interrupted the flow, and nodded for Dottie to continue.

"Jenny and I were so close after her father left, more like friends than mother and daughter. She was my anchor through everything that happened. Maybe I was too close to her. Maybe I should have given her more independence." Dottie paused again. "It's just that Mark seemed so harmless. He used to cut our grass in the summer. He did odd jobs around the house to earn extra money." She laughed without a trace of humor. "I thought he was a good kid. I thought I could trust him."

Lena did not let her go on this tangent for long. "When did Jenny start hanging around with Lacey?"

"About a year ago, I guess. They were all in the church together. I thought it was good, but these kids… I don't know. You would think that a church would be a safe place for your child, but…" She shook her head. "I didn't know," she said. "I didn't even know she had ever been with a boy, let alone…"

Lena gave Sara an almost imperceptible nod. Jeffrey saw Sara brace herself as she prepared to deliver the news. "Dottie, I did examine Jenny last night."

Dottie pressed her lips tightly together as she waited.

Lena said, "Jenny wasn't pregnant. That wasn't her baby in the skating rink."

The mother stared openly from Sara to Lena, then back again. She seemed too shocked to show anything but disbelief.

Sara clarified. " Lena 's right. She wasn't pregnant, though I can tell you that she was sexually active prior to six months ago."

Dottie's mouth worked, but no words came. She smiled, finally, interpreting this as good news. "So, she didn't do it? She didn't hurt the baby?"

Lena answered, "We don't really know what happened with that yet." She paused, looking at her hands, this time not for effect. After a few beats, she looked back up at Dottie. When she spoke, her voice was low, her eyes locked on the mother as if Sara were no longer in the room. "This is just my opinion, ma'am, but from everything I've learned about your daughter, I can't see her doing what she's been accused of."

The mother's shoulders dropped in obvious relief. She began to cry again, putting a tissue to her nose. "She was so gentle," she said. "There's no way she would ever do this kind of thing." She turned to Sara for confirmation. "She was such a good girl."

Sara nodded again, her smile weak.

"She talked about being a doctor one day," Dottie told Sara. "She said she wanted to help kids just like you do."

Sara's smile wavered, and Jeffrey could see the guilt flash in her eyes.

Lena cut through the moment, asking, "Jenny and this group she was with, the Patterson children?"

"Yes, Mark and Lacey."

"She was still going to church with them? Still active?"

"Until about eight months ago," Dottie answered. "She stopped going. I can't tell you why. She just said she didn't want to go anymore."

"This would have been in January?"

"I suppose."

"Right after Christmas?"

Dottie nodded. "Thereabouts."

"Did anything happen during that time? Maybe a falling out? Did she get angry at anyone? Maybe have a fight with Mark Patterson?"