Shoot from the Lip (36 page)

I reached the stairs, and when I opened the door I nearly shouted out in surprise. Paul Kravitz was leaning against the wall in the stairwell.

“Sorry, Abby. Didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice seemed to bounce off the walls. “How’s your friend?”

“He’s ... okay. He’ll recover completely.” I had to admit Kravitz was smart. I should have known he’d find me.

“Good. Even our bad guy will be okay. They patched him up and transferred him to the police station—what do they call it? Travis? Took him there for interrogation.”

“Really? Thanks for telling me.” I swallowed, met Kravitz’s stare. “I’m sorry about the man who worked for you. Really sorry. What was his name?”

“Cooper. Bill Cooper. The police say he probably never knew what hit him.”

“I-I still feel terrible.”

“Why? Foster’s the one who killed him.” Kravitz sat on the stair closest to him.

“Thanks for trying to let me off the hook, but he’s still dead, and I still feel awful.”

“I’m not letting you off the hook. I think you owe me an interview, Abby. Can we talk about that?” He patted the concrete next to him.

Maybe I did owe him, but the last thing I wanted was to show my face on a TV show that millions watched. I sat beside him, hoping a conversation would be enough.

“Stu videoed the whole thing today, the shooting, everything,” Kravitz said, “but the police took the tape. I want it back. You have strong connections to them. Maybe you can accomplish what I couldn’t.”

“The chief of police told me to cooperate with you and Venture, said you’d bring good publicity to the city. I’m not sure I understand why they’re withholding the video.”

“They say they need it to prosecute Foster. That it’s evidence,” he said.

“Their best evidence. But they can copy it for you. I’ll see what I can do.”

Kravitz nodded. “Thanks.”

I was puzzled. “If they’re asking
me
to cooperate with you, why won’t they?”

“You want my guess? Because you took that guy out, not them. And what’s on the tape is not what they want the world to see.”

I turned to look at his profile, again amazed at how old he looked in contrast to what we saw on TV. “I’m wondering if this is the story you want to tell. That SWAT didn’t arrive until a few minutes after I shot Foster? That HPD was late to the game?”

“I’m pissed off about them shutting me out all of a sudden, so maybe yes. Maybe that
will
be my slant.” His neck was reddening and his jaw was taut.

“Can I offer you some advice?” I said. “Don’t do that. This case is about so much more. This is about how you can never really bury the past. This about three families all touched by Foster’s crimes.”

“Three families? Who else besides Emma’s family and the Fosters?”

“Emma has two half brothers she’s never met. She has a half sister she may never meet, either. But what she does have is the truth. She knows what happened to her mother now. And all the hard work she put into raising her brothers and sister will be rewarded. This is a story about horrible crimes that led to a happy, if not so perfect ending. Isn’t that a whole lot more important than a tape in an evidence locker?”

Kravitz sighed. “I’ll have to think about it. Meanwhile, you still owe me a formal interview—you promised your cooperation, right?”

Guess stairway conversations didn’t count as cooperation. “Interview, yes, but I don’t want to show my face on TV.”

“Why not? You’ve got a great face.” He smiled.

“I run a very small business and am extremely selective about my clients. Just the mention of my name on a local TV show brought Chelsea Burch to my doorstep.”

“You got a problem, then. This story was syndicated. UPI, Reuters, all of them have it. And when the Today show calls tonight or tomorrow, I hope you tell them no and give me an exclusive agreement in writing, especially since we lost one of our own to help your solve this thing.”

“The
Today
show won’t be calling me. That’s ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous at all,” Kravitz said. “Seems you’re a damn hero, Abby Rose.”

 

Jeffs fellow officers and the hospital administration continued to shield Kate and me from the herd of reporters still waiting to talk to us. We heard that even Aunt Caroline’s name was big news. She was now the “socialite hostage” and had her own guard at the door, I guess to keep the press out. My sister and I would never be allowed to forget her important role in all this.

Before Kate and I could be escorted through a back exit of the hospital, the phone in Aunt Caroline’s room rang. She was so knocked out, the noise didn’t wake her. She’d had some strong medicine—maybe a sleeping pill the staff begged her doctor to order to shut her up.

I picked up quickly and said, “Hello?”

It was DeShay. “I’m still with Jeff, and—”

“Has something happened? Is he all right?” My heart went into overdrive again.

“He’s sleeping like a baby. No problem there. But White called. He wants you and Kate to come with me to Travis. We need formal statements. But there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Foster says he’ll confess to everything on the record—and we love confessions—but only with Kate present. She doesn’t have to do this, but I’m relaying the message.”

I glanced at my sister. This had to be her choice. “Hang on a minute.” I motioned Kate away from Sleeping Beauty and relayed what DeShay said. “You’re under no obligation, and, in my opinion, you should pass. They have plenty on him.”

Her brown eyes darkened with anger. “I’m not passing. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded.

“I’m going with you, then.” I spoke to DeShay again. “We haven’t got any wheels, planned on bumming a ride with one of the officers downstairs. Can you come up to Aunt Caroline’s room and get us?”

 

Don White and Kate sat facing Harrison Foster in a small interrogation room, while DeShay and I watched on a live feed in the next room. Foster’s arm was in a sling, and dried blood on his orange jail jumpsuit marked the spot where the bullet had struck him.

White told Foster they had his
almost
ex-wife in another room and they’d be checking Foster’s story against hers.

Foster offered his dimpled smile. “Good. What about my daughter?”

“She’s being taken care of,” White said. “But she’s not really your daughter, is she? You want to tell us about that?”

Foster ignored the question, had eyes only for Kate. “I wouldn’t have killed you. If you’d given me the money, I would have disappeared forever.”

I didn’t believe him, and sure hoped Kate wouldn’t buy his bullshit either.

Kate leaned forward in her familiar therapy mode. “You’ve harmed a lot of people when the truth would have been simpler. I’m not sure I understand why you felt the need to do so much damage.”

“You don’t know what I’ve had to overcome to get where I am. I had two dollars when I came to this city.”

Kate said, “Did your family throw you out? Maybe after you repeatedly hurt someone close to you—probably for fun? Maybe more than one someone?”

He kept smiling. “That’s why I needed you to come here—to help you understand.”

“And you’re helping us
understand
without a lawyer present?” White said.

Foster stared at White for a second and then calmly said, “I’ve already waived those Miranda warnings twice. You want me to write it in blood?”

His attitude, his creepy smile made chill bumps rise on my arms. How had this man masqueraded as Mr. Nice Guy? But sociopaths
are
chameleons, and Foster had convincingly camouflaged his true self.

“Tell me how all this happened,” Kate said. “That’s what you want to talk about, right?”

“Yes. Because my wife and my child have nothing to do with this.”

“The wife who kicked your ass to the curb?” White said.

Next to me, DeShay groaned. “Why you doing that, man? Let the turd talk.”

Foster ignored White, but I, too, hoped White would keep his attitude out of this.

Kate broke the tense silence that followed. “How did you find out your life was about to be turned upside down? When the house came down and reports of infant bones were broadcast on the news?”

“I was at work and saw the bulletin on a local TV Web site. I went to the O‘Mearas’ house, talked to a neighbor hanging around the scene and heard all about the television show. Quite a knowledgeable woman. I learned Emma’s name, heard the whole story about how her mother had abandoned her and her siblings. The O’Meara name was very familiar to me. Yes, this was about the baby—the one I knew about.”

“Knew about? Let’s not fool around. Your baby had been buried under that house, right?” Kate said.

“Of course.” Another cold smile.

“And you couldn’t let anyone find out, so you followed Emma Lopez that evening and ran her off the road,” White said. “Did you think that would accomplish anything?”

He smiled and kept his unwavering gaze on my sister.
“That
was a mistake. Panic leads to mistakes, and I’ve made too many—that first day and now today. But that’s not what you really want to know, is it, Kate? You want to know why I came after you.”

“You’re wrong,” she said evenly. “I want to know what happened to your baby. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

“You’re kidding yourself, but I must say, you are probably the first genuine person I have ever met. I truly regret we didn’t meet under different circumstances.”

Kate didn’t flinch, didn’t allow her emotions to take over even though Foster probably hoped she would.

He sat back in his chair. “In the end, you won me over, Kate. That’s why I promised the truth, and I’ll deliver. My wife, Beth, began behaving oddly after our daughter was born. I understood this better after that mother who killed her kids was all over the news a few years ago. Beth was like her. Postpartum depression. She kept saying she was evil, that she didn’t deserve a child so perfect. That maybe she should kill herself. I took her to a shrink and they doped her up good.”

“But something happened anyway?” Kate said. “She harmed your baby?”

“No.” Such a simple word, and so devoid of emotion coming from his lips. “I was the one.”

“You ... you did it?” Kate couldn’t hide her horror this time.

“You know, you’re overly sensitive, Kate. Too pampered, maybe.” He spoke in a mocking tone, and I wanted to get her out of there, give Foster a swift kick in the groin while I was at it. But I didn’t. White’s goal was to learn if this man’s wife had been complicit in his crimes.

“Keep going,” Kate said calmly. I was relieved to see that she’d regained her composure.

“Beth was sedated, and I was exhausted the night it happened. I never heard any sound through the baby monitor. Nothing. I thought the baby had slept through the night for the first time. But she was dead when I went into her room that morning. Cold ... blue ... dead. I wrapped her up and was holding her when the cleaning lady came. Just so you know, that woman was despicable.”

“Despicable enough that you made a deal with her?” White asked.

“Am I talking to you?” Foster snapped. Then he looked at Kate again. “She realized the baby was dead, and her wheels started turning right away. See, I stupidly wondered out loud how I’d explain this problem to Beth when she was finally with it enough to understand.”

“You were worried about Beth?” I could hear the skepticism in Kate’s tone.

“Oh, you are a smart one—you and your sister both.” His tone was hard now. “There were things in my past I’d managed to hide up to that point. I couldn’t have any fucking investigation over a dead kid.”

I nodded and noticed that DeShay was getting it, too. We were now seeing the real Harrison Foster, the man who’d held a gun to my sister’s head today, shot Jeff and shown no mercy to his other victims. This had never been about anything but protecting Harrison Foster—or whoever Harrison Foster really was.

“Did Christine O’Meara take the baby’s body off your hands?” White asked.

“Yes. That day. Said she’d bury it. Said she could get some herbal medicine and induce her labor. She was eight and a half months along and could provide me with a brand-new healthy baby right away for a price. Beth would never know the difference; that’s for sure.”

“Even if it was a boy?” White again. He’d probably never heard anything like this—had any of us?—and I couldn’t have kept my mouth shut either.

“Beth wasn’t a problem,” he said. “I mean, the woman was damn psychotic—still is, if you ask me. I could have convinced her of anything. But a boy would have required a forged birth certificate and probably a quick relocation away from her friends. Her family lives in Oregon, and I figured that if the O’Meara woman delivered a boy, I could always explain later that Beth got it all wrong when she called them, that she’d had a breakdown and was under treatment. Turns out, I didn’t have to worry.”

Kate nodded. “You
bought
a new baby?”

“Yes. And I took care of her until Beth was well enough to function again. Took months. I considered my actions an investment in my future.”

I wondered how his
actions
had affected that poor kid. Having this sicko for a father must have had some negative impact.

“Let me get this straight,” White said. “Your wife had no knowledge that your daughter Amy wasn’t her biological child?”

“Interesting question. A man who’s been ‘kicked to the curb,’ as you put it, might want a little revenge on an ungrateful wife, might tell you Beth was the one who forced me to switch the babies. But you know, I like Amy. I don’t want to damage her by leaving her without both her parents. She’d end up in foster care. The truth is, Beth and Amy do not know the truth.”

Damage. That word meant something to him. Another chill crawled up my arms. This man’s wife might never know how lucky she was that he’d be locked away until they put a needle in his arm.