The Lies I Told(83)

“He cools off and realizes what he’s done. He might have lost it, but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t want to go to jail for this.”

“Reasonable. DNA can prove if David impregnated your sister, but it doesn’t prove he killed her.”

“It, along with the picture, puts you one step closer.”

“All valid, but again not enough to get a warrant.”

She set her cup down next to mine, sloshing coffee on her hand, which she wiped away on her jeans. “But don’t you want to know if David was the baby’s father?”

“Sure, I want to know.” I could pull strings and get a discarded cup or bottle from David. Then a few more strings later, I’d have the DNA checked. “Ask your buddy Alan how a defense attorney would spin this in court. Two young adults have consensual sex, she gets pregnant, he never knows about the baby, and she tragically dies.”

“You know Alan?”

It had taken me a moment, but I had finally placed Alan. “He worked for a defense firm before joining the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office. We went head to head on a case three years ago, and ol’ Alan raised enough questions to plant a crop of reasonable doubt in the jury’s mind. And FYI, that was a rape and murder case.”

She sighed.

“Look, he’s a lawyer and was doing his job,” I said. “He’s on the Commonwealth’s dime now, but that doesn’t change the fact that all lawyers think alike.”

“Okay. He’s a lawyer. Not a crime.”

I scratched the side of my head, swallowing a favorite jab at lawyers. (If there’s a hell below . . .) “We’d have to prove David came to Richmond at least twice, found Clare at the party, and killed her. That’s hard to do in current cases. And don’t forget that Clare was dressed like you, and many at the party thought she was you. Her pregnancy might be irrelevant.”

“If you had to bet the farm, where would you put your money?”

I hesitated, put aside all my doubts, and went with my gut. “On the baby daddy.”

She grinned. “Look, if David happened to discard a coffee cup in a public place, and we could pull DNA, test it, and if it matched the DNA of Clare’s baby, then you’d have a reason to talk to him.”

“The backlog of DNA tests on cold cases is at least a year, and I only got a week left.”

“What if I had it tested at a private lab?” she offered. “I can work fast. I don’t want to lose this opportunity.”

“Are you going to rifle through his trash?”

“Maybe. Or have a coffee with him and keep the cup. He’s engaged to my sister, and he’s already mentioned me doing the engagement pictures.”

Whenever I landed on the trail of a killer, excitement ran high, much like making a basket from center court or catching a fifty-yard pass. “Don’t do something like this alone.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“If I had a nickel for all the times I’d heard that one, I’d be able to pay for that new boat I had my eye on. Don’t.”

“When you’re gone, Richards, the next guy isn’t going to care as much about Clare’s case as you. The next guy didn’t walk the crime scene, talk to everyone when their stories were fresh, or watch the pathologist cut open my sister. You’ve skin in this game. If you didn’t, you’d have ignored my call.”

“Let me ask around about David Welbourne. I’ll make calls today. But until I know more, stay away from him.”

Marisa shook her head. “How long do I have to wait?”

And now I was negotiating with her. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

“And then you’ve five days before you’re gone?”

“I don’t turn into a pumpkin, Marisa. I’ll still be in the city for a little while longer. And last I heard, phones and computers are fairly efficient.”

A grin tugged her lips. “Okay.”

I jabbed a finger at her. “If you don’t stay sober, the deal is off.”

“That was a one-time thing.”

“I said the same to myself more times than I could count.”

“Believe me, that’s all I hear at the meetings. It won’t happen again. It won’t.” She mimicked a child’s whiny tone. “I’m not prepared to make a lifetime guarantee, but there won’t be a slip until you retire.”

Six whole days of sobriety. I knew she meant it. All the best alcoholics repented well. And I wasn’t going to judge, because the demon lived in me, and he was always hungry. “I’ll call you.”

“Fair enough.”

I met her gaze, holding it, hoping I could burn sense into her. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

“Deal.”





47


MARISA

Sunday, March 20, 2022

1:00 p.m.

My intention was to honor my bargain with Richards. I’d made the promise with honor in my heart. I wanted to give him his twenty-four hours, but when he left my apartment, that restless energy that always buzzed in my system tilted to a new level when Paul texted again, still looking for that drink. I deleted the message, but suddenly computer work would not satisfy me, cleaning the place felt like a waste of time, and the apartment walls shrank closer together as the seconds ticked.