Snapped (17 page)

“How does she know that?” Noonan demanded.

“—and I think the public can rest assured that they will leave
no
stone unturned as they investigate these killings.”

“Someone put a muzzle on that girl!” Reynolds exclaimed.

“But just to be clear, are you saying you believe there was someone
else
involved in the attack?”

A chorus of telephones started ringing across the station house. Jonah’s throat tightened with fury as he gazed at the TV.

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t comment.” Sophie smiled apologetically at the reporter. “That’s a question for the police.”

The heavy thrum of bass pulsated through the darkened room, making Sophie’s stomach vibrate as she pushed herself to the limit.

“Harder, everyone, harder! You’re almost there! Don’t stop now!”

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut and blocked out her spin teacher’s voice as she focused on her burning muscles. Three more minutes of pain. And then two. And then one. She pushed and panted until she was dizzy, and just when it felt as if her heart would pound right out of her chest, she heard a collective sigh of exhaustion.

The lights came up on Sophie and a dozen other sweat-drenched people on stationary bikes. The music downshifted to melodic for the optional cooldown, and Sophie opted to get the hell off. She slid from her bike, grabbing the handle as she did because her legs were like noodles. She snatched the towel off the floor to mop her face.

“Great spin, Sophie! Woo-hoo!”

Her instructor’s bright smile beamed at her from across the room. The woman was as soaked as everyone else, but there wasn’t a hair out of place and her makeup remained perfect, despite the sixty minutes of torture she’d just meted out. Sophie somehow managed a friendly wave instead of an obscene gesture as she staggered from the room on trembling legs. In the hallway, she downed three cones of water at the cooler before going to the locker room for her gym bag, which was singing as she
picked it up. She’d forgotten to turn off the ringtone.

Her brother’s number flashed on the screen.

“Ted? What’s wrong?”

Silence on the other end, and Sophie’s stomach filled with dread. Ted was an intern at a hospital in Dallas, and he didn’t have time to sleep, much less chat on the phone. She pictured her dad in ICU.

“Did you just run up some stairs?” His voice sounded oddly normal.

“I’m at a spin class. What’s wrong?”

“You spin?”

“Is this an emergency?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you
never
call me. What’s going on?”

“I was going to ask you that,” he said as she plowed through the locker-room door. “How come you didn’t give the parental units a little ET-phone-home about your brush with death last week? We have to hear about you on the news now?”

“Damn it.” Sophie sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Mom and Dad saw that? I was going to call them.”

“Yeah, well, dial a little faster next time. Mom’s left three messages on my phone tonight, like I know anything about all this. Are you okay?”

The note of genuine concern in his voice made Sophie feel guilty. She hadn’t told her family what had happened because every last one of them was a worrier. They’d been horrified by her ordeal last winter, and now every conversation with her mother ended with a recommendation for some therapist she should talk to. All in Dallas, of course.

“Sophie? Hey, you want me to come down there? I can probably take some time off—”

“Absolutely not,” she said. That he would even offer showed just how concerned her family must be. “I’m totally fine.”

“Then why are you on CNN talking about your ‘harrowing experience’? You weren’t injured, were you?”

“I’m fine. I just … The reporter asked me for an interview and I thought maybe it would be, you know, cathartic. So I decided, Why not?”

She waited to see if he was buying any of this. When he didn’t comment, she knew it was time to get off the phone.

“Sophie … are you all right?”

“For the last time,
yes
! Listen, I’ve got to go. Call Mom for me. Tell her—”

“
You
tell her.” Commotion in the background, and her brother exchanged ER jargon with someone. “Shit, I have to run. We just got an OD in here.”

He clicked off, and Sophie took a minute to wrestle with some daughterly guilt. She gulped down one more cone of water and stepped into the muggy night. Her gaze scanned the parking lot for her Tahoe but got hung up on the pickup parked beside it.

Jonah was there, leaning against the grille with his arms crossed over his beefy chest and his fingers tucked under his armpits. Sophie’s still-racing heart took off at a sprint.

His gaze was dark, ominous. He looked like a dam about to burst, and she felt a shiver of fear right down to the soles of her Reeboks.

Damn. She hadn’t expected him to do this now. But then, he was a warrior by nature and she should have known he wouldn’t shy away from a fight.

She tried not to look shaken as she rummaged for her keys and made her way to the row of cars. She paused in front of his pickup.

“Hi.”

He didn’t say anything, simply pushed off the grille and took a menacing step forward.

Sophie tossed her head and sauntered to her door, but he blocked her path.

“Ex
cuse
me.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Why don’t you go home and call me after I’ve had a chance to take a shower?”

“Now.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to de-slime myself first.”

“I do mind.” He reached behind her and opened the passenger’s-side door to his truck. “Get in.”

The hard set of his jaw told her arguing was only going to make things worse. If he was determined to talk about this, they might as well get it over with.

She sighed heavily and got into his truck.

Rather than looking triumphant or even pleased by her acquiescence, he continued to look supremely unhappy as he jerked his keys from his pocket and walked around to the driver’s side. He fired up the engine as Sophie dug through her purse for a tissue to dab her still-sweating temples. Her yoga pants and T-shirt were wet, and she probably reeked. But as they exited the parking lot, Jonah seemed too preoccupied to notice.

The driver in front of them missed a chance to pull out, and Jonah laid on the horn.

Sophie slid a glance at him. “In a hurry?”

He looked straight ahead.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“For a drive.”

Sophie glanced out the window and waited for him to start. He needed to vent his temper, apparently, and she was up for the challenge. She’d expected a cold sulk from him, but she could deal with this, too. She just wanted to get on with it.

“So, I guess you saw the interview,” she said as he pulled into traffic.

“Did you accomplish your objective?” he asked without looking at her.

“Well, I haven’t seen the broadcast, but I’d say yes, I’m guessing I did.”

“Was your objective to piss off every cop in town? Or just me in particular?”

She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t about you.”

“What was your objective, Sophie?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not to me. Maybe you could explain it. Because if your objective was to further this investigation, it’s just taken a big step backward, thanks to you.” He turned to look at her, and hostility flashed in his eyes.

“Oh, really? How’s that?” She said it with the right amount of sarcasm, but underneath her confidence was a twinge of anxiety.

“You set the media on us, for one thing. How easy do you think it’s going to be for us to pursue your theory with that pack of dogs nipping at our heels?”

“My ‘theory,’ huh?” He still didn’t believe her.

“And even if there was something to it, you just tipped our hand. If there
is
some mystery accomplice out there, he’s probably busy covering his tracks now. You want to go into PR? Here’s the first rule of talking to reporters: Don’t. They fuck everything up.”

She folded her arms over her damp shirt. God, she hated this. Sex appeal was one of her go-to weapons, and she didn’t like fighting with a man when she looked and smelled like dead fish.

“He was already covering his tracks,” she said. “His prints weren’t in the car, which means he wore gloves. Speaking of which, you need to get that car to the Delphi Center so our tracers can take a look at it.”

Jonah shook his head.

“I mean it. There could be hair, dirt, carpet fiber, latent prints, skin cells, any number of things you could have tested—”

“Since when did you become a CSI?” he thundered. “You’re a freaking
receptionist
, Sophie! Get that through your head! And your meddling is mucking up an already impossible investigation. Now thanks to you, besides an uncontrollable crime scene and angry parents and lawsuits to worry about, I’ve got the media wailing about conspiracy theories. And on top of everything, I have to leave town and worry about your safety the whole time I’m gone!”

She let a moment tick by to make sure he’d finished shouting before she responded. “Why would you have to worry about my safety?”

He turned to glare at her. “Because if by some chance you’re right about this, then you just announced to the
world that you’re an eyewitness who can identify a coconspirator! What the hell were you thinking?”

Sophie turned to look out the window. “You can scratch my safety off your list of concerns. I barely saw the guy.”

“And I’m sure he knows that, right?”

She felt a prick of unease. “I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, yeah? Like you did last winter?”

She turned to look at him, stung by his vehemence. He must be seriously upset to take a cheap shot like that. But if he didn’t think her story had merit, he wouldn’t be worried about this. Was it possible he
did
believe her?

And where was he going, anyway? She hadn’t figured on him leaving town in the middle of this, and it made her uneasy. And the fact that his whereabouts should even matter bugged her.

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I’ve got a meeting at oh-ten-hundred tomorrow. With gas stops, I’ll probably just make it.”

“You’re
driving
?”

He didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead. She studied his profile. His teeth were clenched, and she’d never seen him so angry.

“So, you’re worried I’ll give another interview while you’re gone?”

“Among other things, yeah.”

“Well, I’m not going to. And if it’s my safety you’re concerned about, Ric or someone else can keep an eye on me. Or tell one of your patrol cars to put me on his route or something. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Jonah shook his head. “You still don’t get it.”

“
What
don’t I get?”

Whatever short fuse he’d had ran out. He jerked the wheel right and whipped into a parking lot, then slammed on the brakes, making them both pitch forward.

“Damn it, Sophie! There
is
no patrol car to keep an eye on you, or Ric to keep an eye on you. There’s nobody but me. Don’t you understand?
Nobody
believes you!” She shrunk away from the blast, but he kept going. “You pulled a publicity stunt, and guess what everyone in my department thinks this is about? Publicity. As in, here comes Sophie Barrett again, looking for a chance to get her face on the news. Congratulations. Your credibility is completely shot. Was that what you wanted?”

She felt as if he’d slapped her. “Nobody believes me?”

“That’s right.”

“Not even Ric?”

His silence answered her question. It dragged on, and she started to feel sick to her stomach. Ric was her friend. Mia was her friend. Did everyone she knew doubt her credibility? Did they really think she’d lie about something like this to get attention?

Jonah sat there, jaw twitching with suppressed emotion. A cold feeling settled over her.

“What about you?”

He didn’t look at her.

“You know this case better than anybody. You think I’m lying?”

He sighed heavily and some of the anger seemed to go out of him. “Sophie …”

“Just tell me what you think. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“I think you gave an honest account of what you
thought
you saw.”

She turned away, hoping he didn’t see how much this conversation hurt her.

“The other VW is a pretty big coincidence for me,” he said. “It brings reasonable doubt into it. I think it’s reasonable to believe that’s the car you saw, not James Himmel’s. And not some mystery accomplice.”

“So the case is closed, then,” she said bitterly.

“Far from it. Especially not after today.”

Sophie looked at him, and she knew it was all just for appearances. She’d been on the news, and now the department had to at least
look
as though they were following up, even if they weren’t.

Sophie turned off her emotions. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Georgia,” he said.

“This is related to the investigation?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

Which meant it was. She should take it as a good sign, although the fact that he was driving made her wonder if the department was paying for the trip or if he was off on his own. He could be kind of a maverick.

Sophie glanced around. “Take me back to the gym,” she said. “You need to get on the road.”

A tense silence filled the truck as he took a few turns and drove them back to the gym. He pulled up beside her Tahoe. The lot had nearly emptied, and she glanced around apprehensively. She hated parking lots at nighttime.

She unzipped her big purse and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Here,” she said, handing them to him. “I’d
planned to give you these tomorrow, but sounds like you won’t be here.”

“What is this?”

“Victim profiles. Even though I’m just a
receptionist
, I managed to find some good info and I wanted you to have it. You might be interested to know Walter Graham took out a two-million-dollar life insurance policy just a few months ago.”