“Four years! Do you have any idea how many cases our people handle?”
“There’s still a chance it could be the probationer she mentioned to you this morning,” he told her. “We didn’t find any signs of forced entry, but it isn’t that hard to get into a motel room. The guy who rented it with a stolen credit card may have left early that morning and accidentally left the door ajar. Then this Phillip Bramson could have snuck in with the intention of fooling Veronica into believing he had a right to be there.”
“Did Brad Preston send you the information in his file?” Carolyn asked, running her fingers through her hair.
“Yeah,” Hank said. “Bramson hasn’t shown up at work for two weeks. He also didn’t pay the rent on his apartment, so his landlord locked him out four days ago. Veronica’s file indicated she placed a number of phone calls to him. There was also a notation that she suspected he was using narcotics again. He could have found out she was looking for him, and arranged to meet her at the Motor Inn.”
“It’s possible,” Carolyn said. “What happened to Veronica’s gun?”
“We have it,” Hank said. “It may turn out to be the murder weapon. We found it in a Dumpster at the rear of the motel.”
Carolyn scratched a patch of dry skin on her arm. “Veronica hated guns. He must have overpowered her. She was always afraid of something like that. She believed we were safer without guns. Not just people in law enforcement, but private citizens as well. Veronica thought if you bought a gun and kept it in your house, instead of your defending yourself with it, someone would use it against you.” She paused, thinking. “If Bramson was strung out, he would never have agreed to see Veronica. He had drug terms. If he tested positive, he was looking at a certain prison term. In reality, she could have violated him for not showing up at his job. He may have lured her to the motel to kill her.”
“Why didn’t he just abscond?” Mary interjected.
“Addicts don’t act rationally,” Hank reminded her. “He may have thought he could con Veronica into thinking he was clean. When she didn’t buy it, he impulsively grabbed her gun and shot her.”
“But why would Bramson threaten me and my family?” Carolyn asked. “Not many murderers would risk showing up at a county facility only hours after the crime, particularly if the victim was in law enforcement. And how did he find out so much about me?” She turned to Hank. “I doubt if Bramson took a tour of my house. It doesn’t make sense. Junkies look and act like junkies. My real estate agent never brought anyone to the house without screening them.”
“You must know more than you think you know,” Mary told her, exchanging tense glances with Hank.
Had she already put it together? Carolyn asked herself. Mary Stevens was one of the sharpest women she’d ever known. Her father had been a high-ranking officer with the LAPD. When he was killed in the line of duty, Mary had tracked down his murderer, then relinquished a lucrative position in the private sector to become a cop. Her statement had struck too close to home. If the detective had somehow sniffed out the truth about Tyler Bell, Carolyn’s future was at stake. Instead of going on her honeymoon, she could end up in the county jail.
“I have to go,” Carolyn said. “I’ll be on my cell if you need me.” Seeing Hank about to say something, she cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw my gun away. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve already killed one murderer. I don’t need any more notches on my belt, but I’d welcome the chance to shoot this one. Do me a favor. Find him before I do.”
CHAPTER 5
Wednesday, October 13—6:30 A.M.
The morning sun filtered in through the white wooden shutters, casting the room in a golden hue. Carolyn was snuggled in Marcus’s arms. She inhaled the masculine scent of his skin as she gazed at his handsome face. When he slept, his forty-eight years disappeared and his face took on a look of childish innocence. She loved the graceful slant of his nose, his hooded, seductive eyes, his sensuous lips. Her hand drifted between his thighs; then she felt her head throbbing and the events of the day before thrust their way to the surface.
Slipping out of bed, she squatted on the wood floor, using her feet to push herself into the corner. After she’d left the coroner’s office, she had gone to check on Drew and relieve Linda Cartwright. Her eyes drifted closed, and she was standing at the front door of Veronica’s house.
Carolyn knocked several times, but no one answered. Using the key Veronica had given her years ago, she let herself in, not wanting to wake the children by ringing the doorbell. Empty beer cans were scattered on top of the coffee table, alongside toys, newspapers, and various clutter. Drew was asleep on the sofa.
She checked the bedrooms and found all the children in their beds except Jude. Since Linda wasn’t there, she assumed Drew had sent her home.
Carolyn tiptoed back down the narrow hallway, walking over and tapping Veronica’s husband on the shoulder. When he only groaned and changed position, she said, “Drew, it’s Carolyn. Where’s Jude?”
“How the hell do I know?” he said, his speech slurred from the alcohol. “She’s probably doing dope with one of her low-life friends. I drove around for hours trying to find her. For all I know, she’s shacked up with some gangster.”
Carolyn sat on the edge of a chair across from him. “I’m going to notify the police that Jude is missing. I’m worried, Drew. Veronica’s murder has been on the news. She should have called or come home by now.”
Drew pushed himself to a seated position. “This shit happens all the time, Carolyn,” he told her. “That damn kid drives her mother and me nuts. She should be in college, but all she’s interested in is partying.” He rummaged among the beer cans until he found one that still had a few drops left in it. Once he slugged it down, he tossed the empty can into the pile. “You got any cigarettes?”
“I don’t smoke,” Carolyn said. “Didn’t you stop years ago?”
“Yeah,” Drew said, leaning forward over his knees. “After what happened to Veronica, I’m wondering why. We knock ourselves out to stay healthy and then some maniac comes along and…” He covered his face with his hands. “Christ, what am I going to do? I tried to tell the kids, but I couldn’t. I keep thinking I’ll wake up tomorrow and Veronica will be beside me in the bed. That isn’t going to happen, is it?”
Carolyn shook her head. “You have to tell them, Drew.”
“I know, I know…All I want to do is sleep right now. I’ll find a way to tell them. I just can’t do it right now.”
“The police are going to ask you a lot of questions,” Carolyn said. “Didn’t you used to work for National Insurance?”
“I worked for National Car Rentals before I got the job at Boeing. Jesus, Carolyn, that’s got to be fifteen years ago. What does this have to do with what happened to Veronica?”
“Nothing,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “Were you and Veronica having problems?”
“Of course we had problems,” Drew told her. “We have a screwed-up teenager, and with both of us working, we still have to scrimp to make ends meet. It didn’t help that Veronica started popping out babies ten years after we had Jude. Veronica swore she was on birth control, but I think she snookered me. Then she decided Stacy had to have a brother or sister closer to her age. I don’t know where Michael came from. With this many rug rats, Veronica and I either can’t find the time to have sex or we’re too exhausted.”
He was still using the present tense, Carolyn noticed. He should have gone to the morgue instead of her. He seemed to be dealing with his wife’s death as if it were a temporary situation, something along the lines of having your car repossessed. It made you feel lousy, but you could take out a second mortgage on the house,