Tagged for Death Page 13

  He wasn’t surprised to see me, since I’d had to get him to sponsor me on base. His office was dark. Books fought for space with files in the cramped room. The blinds were closed and the fluorescent lights were harsh.

  “What were you thinking?” I asked. “Having CJ taken in for questioning.”

  “The Ellington police have the lead on this. CJ’s a civilian.” Bristow’s shirt was missing a button and his tie was rumpled.

  “You’re giving them information. Cooperating with them.”

  “Of course I am. Would you expect anything else? What if Tiffany or Jessica was part of your family?”

  In a way, they had been. “You’re right.”

  “Why don’t you sit?” Bristow pointed to a tattered office chair.

  “I’m fine.” I was way too antsy—perhaps from my breakfast—to sit down.

  “I have to follow the evidence, not my emotions.” He gave me a sharp look. “The evidence led to CJ.”

  “Some circumstantial evidence.” I mimicked his tone. “You have no proof. CJ didn’t murder anyone.”

  “You know this how?” Agent Bristow asked. “I’d like nothing more than to find some kind of evidence and get CJ out of jail. Do you know someone else with means, motive, and access to the murder weapon?”

  “Lots of people have the means. A whole base filled with people. With the fence cut, anyone from the outside, too. You don’t know who had access to the murder weapon because apparently it was in Tiffany’s possession at some point.”

  “But it was yours? And CJ’s?” Agent Bristow asked.

  “Yes.”

  “When did you last see it?”

  Somehow Bristow ended up asking the questions, instead of me. “I’m not sure. It was in our house when we were moving. One of the packers could have taken it. For all we know, that’s what happened.”

  Agent Bristow looked at me. His eyes were sadder than usual. “Do you have any proof at all that CJ didn’t do this?”

  “No. I can’t imagine he did it. I know he didn’t do it.” I wanted to believe CJ didn’t do it. Doubt crept through me again. He’d stood in my apartment, telling me I couldn’t read him.

  “I wish I could act on your feelings. But I can’t.”

  “Why is CJ being questioned about Tiffany’s murder and not Jessica’s?” I asked.

  “I have no doubt he’ll be questioned in connection with Jessica’s murder, too. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Now I wished I’d sat down when Agent Bristow had asked me. Instead, I pivoted and left.

  I headed over to CJ’s apartment. Lexi’s owner was supposed to pick her up around nine. I parked in his drive, wishing I hadn’t agreed to this. I’d never been in here and didn’t have any desire to go in now. I forced myself out of the car. A dog barked frantically. Poor thing probably needed a walk.

  I unlocked the side door off the carport with the key Pellner had grudgingly given me. A fluff ball attacked me, licking, jumping, and whirling. I couldn’t picture a dog like this living with a rough, tough police officer. Her dark eyes sparkled when she looked up at me. Her tail wagged so hard that it looked like a propeller.

  We stood in a little foyer. To the left, three steps led up to the kitchen. In front of me, a steeper set of stairs led to the basement. Lexi rolled over so I could see her tummy. I scratched it until she jumped back up. I grabbed a leash hanging on a hook by the door and took Lexi out. Every time we breathed, vapor hung briefly in the air. I wished I’d grabbed the jacket in my car. We walked down a couple of blocks. The houses looked almost identical, two stories with carports on either side, only a few had cars in the drive. Lexi wanted to keep going, but I turned her around.

  I wanted to wait outside, but Lexi’s little tongue hung out. “Okay, we’ll go in and get you some water.”

  The kitchen was plain but neat, with yellowed Formica countertops and cheap cupboards. It led to a dining room. The table was covered with papers, books, and CJ’s computer. Sliding glass doors opened to a small backyard. Lexi’s food and water bowl were in the corner.

  Lexi lapped up the water I had put in the bowl. She flopped down, apparently exhausted from our walk. We could wait on the front steps, but curiosity got the better of me. I was here alone. I might as well poke around.

  I headed to the basement, stopping at the top of the steps. My grandparents’ dark basement had had a shelf full of old, scary-looking coconut heads that my grandpa had brought back from the Philippines. They had leered at me with their creepy shell eyes when I walked down my grandparents’ steps. I’d always been afraid that one would come to life and attack me.

  I trotted down the rickety wooden steps. The basement wasn’t big. Some attempt had been made to finish it. The walls were concrete block and painted. A drop ceiling missed a few panels. A poorly hung fluorescent light flickered and buzzed. Unopened moving boxes lined the walls. Most were labeled, showing that they were books, kitchen, pictures, and so on. I wasn’t going to open boxes, because it would be too obvious I’d snooped.

  I started digging through everything else. I opened doors of cupboards filled with sports stuff. I pulled out toolboxes, searching them. I spotted CJ’s golf clubs. The notes I’d found in the golf bag at the thrift shop really bugged me. Were they meant for CJ or was Ted bluffing? Part of me hoped they were for CJ, because that meant Deena wouldn’t have to go through the same heartache I was experiencing. But a tiny, very selfish part of me hoped they were for Ted, and I wasn’t the only one who’d been duped.

  I went through his new golf club bag as thoroughly as any CSI team. I didn’t find another note or anything the least bit suspicious. What was I thinking? If CJ had any other notes, he would have tossed them by now. I went upstairs, chiding myself for being afraid of basements. Lexi and I would wait outside. She wasn’t in the dining room. I called for her. My curiosity spent, I really didn’t want to go around the rest of CJ’s house looking for her. “Come here, girl.”

  No response. A hall to the left must lead to the bedrooms and bath. I headed into the living room. A big picture window let in a lot of light. A TV, couch, CJ’s favorite leather chair, and moving boxes marked as Books, which served as end tables, were all that was in the room. No pictures, no drapes, nothing pretty. A temporary home. A depressing home.

  Lexi yapped from down the hall. I called again. She didn’t come. I walked down the hall to what must be CJ’s room. The king-sized bed was unmade; our silk comforter was a rumpled mess. A purple beach towel tacked up over the sole window served as a curtain. Our massive mahogany dresser took up most of the rest of the room. Lexi barked at the foot of the bed. A toy lobster sat on the bed out of her reach. I grabbed it and tossed it down the hall.

  Two framed photos stood on the nightstand. One was of me from not long after we met. We had driven down to Big Sur. I stood on a hill, wind blowing my hair, the Pacific Ocean stretching out behind me. I picked up the second one. A stranger had snapped it for us when we’d gone to Maine last year. It had been near sunset. Our faces glowed in the sunlight. This time it was the Atlantic, endless behind us. Both photos had been in albums last time I’d seen them. Sometime since CJ had moved here, he’d taken them to be framed. I couldn’t imagine why he’d do that. Until the other night, when I’d found our wedding album, I hadn’t looked at a photo of the two of us.

  Something creaked behind me. I was slammed onto the bed. My face was buried in the mattress before I had time to scream. A body pinned me down. Harsh breath panted near my ear. The comforter was dragged over my head. My attacker rolled me in it like a cocoon. I could smell CJ’s aftershave on the comforter. I gasped for air. Something hard poked through the comforter onto the back of my head.

  “Stay or die,” a deep voice commanded.

  CHAPTER 18

  Footsteps pounded away from me down the hall. Lexi barked and growled before a door slammed. I wrestled my way out of the comforter. Thoughts of a bullet to the brain danced madly in my head. I wanted a fighting chanc
e to defend myself if the guy came back. When I freed myself, Lexi ran to me. I picked her up. She lapped my face like she was asking if I was okay.

  Holding her tightly, I ran out the front door and barreled into a woman. I jumped back.

  “What the hell are you doing to Lexi?”

  “A man attacked me.” I gestured toward the house as Lexi strained toward the woman speaking. I didn’t want to give up her warm, comforting presence. Lexi wiggled again. I handed her over to the woman. “He slammed me on the bed. Wrapped me in a comforter.” It sounded crazy. Who would do that?

  The woman whipped out a cell phone; and after making a call, she chattered in police code. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?” she asked.

  “No. I’m okay. I don’t need an ambulance.” I plopped down on the stoop. “A little scared. I don’t know where he came from.”

  She ended the call. Lexi wiggled in the woman’s arms, so she set her down. Lexi leaned against me, her little head on my leg.

  “Did you see anyone coming out of the house when you got here?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Anyone who hurried away?”

  “A guy was jogging down the street. A car heading east. No one suspicious.”

  “I can show you where I was.” It surprised me how calm I sounded. I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being wrapped up and barely able to breathe.

  “We’ll wait out here for the other units.”

  Two cop cars raced up from opposite directions, lights flashing, sirens killed as they parked. Pellner and two other officers ran into the house, coming back out minutes later.

  “It’s clear,” Pellner said. “So, what were you doing here?”

  I looked at him, astonished. He knew exactly why I was here. He’d handed me CJ’s keys, under protest, when CJ asked him to. “I was here so I could give Lexi to her.” I pointed at the woman, who was searching the yard with the other two officers.

  “How did you obtain entry into the premises?”

  “With CJ’s keys—the one’s you gave me early this morning.” The other officers had split up and disappeared around the side of the house. I wondered if Pellner had asked them to leave us alone.

  “Which door did you enter through?”

  “I went through the side door.”

  “And then?”

  “I took Lexi for a walk.”

  “Did you secure the house before you left?” Pellner’s tone indicated that this was all my fault, that I’d probably deserved what happened.

  “No. We just went a couple of blocks.”

  “Could you see the house the whole time you were walking the dog?”

  “No. But it wasn’t out of my sight for long.”

  “Long enough for someone to enter the home, allegedly, without your knowledge?”

  “Yes. For all I know, he could have already been in there.” That was a scary thought.

  “Are you in the habit of leaving houses unlocked when you leave the premises?”

  “No.” That wasn’t entirely true. Fitch had very little crime. When they went on vacation, people would leave their houses unlocked for a week if someone was caring for their pets. I wouldn’t do that, but I didn’t always lock up when I ran an errand or took a walk on base. CJ had always lectured me if he found the door unlocked. The whole “even though we’re on a base, crimes can happen” speech. Not to mention the doors had old-fashioned mail slots. Anyone with a skinny arm could reach in from the outside and unlock the door. It was great if you locked yourself out. All you had to do was grab the nearest kid, seconds later you were in.

  “Sometimes on base, if I could avoid one of CJ’s safety lectures.”

  The other officers came back to the front. “No sign of forced entry.”

  Pellner nodded. “Knock on some doors. See if anyone saw anything.”

  I didn’t want to be left alone with Pellner.

  “Walk me through what happened,” Pellner said.

  We went in the side door. I showed him where the leash had been, walked him down the street and back, which he timed on his watch. I went through the motions of putting water out and looking for Lexi. I didn’t mention searching the basement.

  “You didn’t hear or see anything suspicious? Notice any unusual cars parked outside?”

  “I’m not familiar enough with the neighborhood to know whose cars belong and whose don’t.”

  “Really?”

  “This is the first time I’ve been in here.”

  “But not the first time you’ve been by.”

  Now Pellner was making me angry, which was probably a good thing, because I was rapidly getting over being scared. I studied Pellner for a minute. That might have been his intention all along. Then again I didn’t think he was that smart.

  “It’s a public street. I’ve driven down it before.”

  Pellner looked smug as if he’d just elicited a confession for some major crime. We walked into the bedroom. My breath became ragged.

  “It’s okay. He’s long gone,” Pellner said.

  Wow, Pellner being human. “The closet door wasn’t open when I came in the bedroom.” I sketched out being hit, wrapped in the comforter.

  “He must have been hiding in it. Does anything look different or out of place since you first came in?”

  I looked around. The nightstand was empty.

  “Two pictures are missing from the nightstand. I noticed them when I came in.”

  “What kind of pictures?”

  I described them. He looked a little annoyed, giving his head a shake. We hunted around to see if they had been knocked down. They were gone.

  “You think someone broke in here and attacked you over a couple of pictures?”

  Back to the Pellner I knew and disliked. “I don’t know.”

  We walked back through the house. CJ’s computer still sat on the table. We stopped in the kitchen.

  “As far as I can tell, nothing else looks out of place.”

  “What about the basement?” Pellner asked.

  “I don’t like basements. They’re creepy.” It was a nonanswer. I hoped Pellner wouldn’t realize it.

  “Wait here.” Pellner trotted down the steps.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter until he came back up. “What’s in the basement?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “A lot of boxes and furniture. Without the chief taking a look, we won’t know for sure if anything is missing. He’s not available to come, is he?”

  It sounded like an accusation. “Pellner—” I was ready to light into him, but the front door creaked open. I moved a step closer to Pellner. He stepped in front of me, pushing me back.

  “Pellner?” One of the officers came into the dining room. “We canvassed the neighbors who are home. No one saw anything.”

  “Okay, you can take off.” Pellner turned to me. “Something about all this bugs me. Chief said he found the shirts when he was going through boxes and bags in his basement. There aren’t any bags down there. Just boxes.”

  I shrugged. At least I hoped it came off as a casual shrug rather than an involuntary shudder. “Like I said, I don’t like basements.”

  We walked out to the front lawn. Lexi ran over to me, until her owner said, “Ride.” She jumped twice, then bounded to the car.

  “Do you have any idea of who would do this or why?” Pellner asked.

  “Maybe I was just here at the wrong time.” I almost told him it was possible someone was watching CJ and knew the house would be empty. Then I’d have to explain about my role in finding the bloody shirts. CJ had asked me not to do that.

  Pellner looked skyward for a minute before looking back at me. “I don’t know whether to believe you or if this is some kind of crazy bid for attention from the chief.”

  “It’s not. I’ve been around law enforcement since the day I met CJ. I wouldn’t waste the resources.”

  Pellner thought for a minute. “Okay. Give me the keys and I’ll lock up.”

&nb
sp; “What about CJ? Will he be released?”

  “I don’t know. They’re waiting for the DNA to come back. They will check the DNA on the bloody clothes. Something is really bugging me about those shirts. CJ’s too smart to keep them around his house if he killed Lopez.”

  “Exactly.” Pellner and I agreed on something. “Someone must have planted them.” Of course that someone had planted them in my Suburban, not in CJ’s basement.

  “Interesting there’s no sign of forced entry. You said CJ was very careful about locking doors. He even yelled at you if you didn’t.”

  “Lectured me. CJ isn’t a yeller.”

  “If someone planted the shirts, there’d be some indication,” Pellner said.

  I flushed. Pellner might be smarter than I was giving him credit for. Because it really felt like he was the guy who set out bear traps, and I was the innocent bear wandering around in the woods. “I can’t explain that.”

  “Too bad.”

  We walked out to the carport. I unlocked my car.

  I looked at Pellner. “Please don’t tell CJ about what happened here today. He’s got enough on his mind. I don’t want him worrying about me.”

  Pellner squinted at me before finally nodding. “Okay. I’m not sure if it’s because you really don’t want him to worry. Or nothing happened here for him to worry about. I won’t tell him. I’ll make sure no one else does, either.”

  Trust and betrayal. I thought about both as I drove to Bedford. I needed to price more things for Betty’s garage sale on Saturday. Pellner was suspicious about the bloody shirts being found at CJ’s house. If I told the truth, I betrayed CJ’s trust. I would damage his reputation and might end a career he loved. CJ trusted me, even though he betrayed me. That trust was a heavy burden. It made me angry. What did I owe CJ after what he’d done to me?

  I found the hauling, sorting, and pricing comforting. My mind wandered occasionally to Tiffany, Jessica, CJ, or the attack this morning. Pricing old Ball jars and arranging them with other kitchen items kept me from dwelling too much on any one thing. Before the garage sale, I’d pick up some daisies to brighten this dreary space.