What Happened to the Bennetts(21)

“Jason, really?” Lucinda scoffed. “They only care about us because we’re witnesses. It’s called the witness protection program, not the victim protection program.”

“Whatever the reason, they’re trying to protect us.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lucinda called upstairs, “Ethan, Dad and I are going next door!”





Chapter Eleven



“Dom, got a minute?” I called through the screen, standing next to a simmering Lucinda.

“Be right there,” Dom called back, then opened the door. “Hello, Jason, Lucinda.”

“Hi,” Lucinda answered, clipped, and we entered their apartment, which we hadn’t seen. The window overlooked the driveway, and the small living room had a blue couch, matching plaid chairs, and an entertainment center with a small TV and a videogame console. The tiny kitchen had an oak-veneer table covered with several laptops, empty mugs, and a sports section. I assumed Wiki was in the shower since I could hear it running.

Dom smiled politely. “How are you, Lucinda?”

“How do you think?” Lucinda folded her arms and planted her feet. “You told my husband we can’t go to our daughter’s funeral. You kept this from us intentionally. You knew we would never come here if we knew.”

Dom blinked, his smile fading. “We didn’t keep it from you—”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“All right, I should have. I’m sorry. The issue wasn’t top of my mind that night. The moment was exigent. We were concerned about your safety. That’s our priority.”

“Whatever, I’m telling you now, you are not keeping me from my daughter’s funeral. If you try, I’ll contact the hospital myself, get my daughter’s body, and arrange for her burial.”

Dom frowned. “Please don’t. The Verias can guess which hospital your daughter was brought to. We’ve already sealed her medical records. Hospital employees have been instructed to direct inquiries to a number we monitor.”

“Hospitals follow the HIPAA laws. They don’t give out personal or medical information.”

“Generally, that’s true. But don’t you think somebody would leak information for five grand? How about ten? It only takes one employee to tell them you called. They’ll find out where you are.”

Lucinda shook her head. “But this is our daughter. I’m willing to take a risk to bury her.”

“Risking your life? Ethan’s?”

“You’re exaggerating,” Lucinda shot back.

“Why would I?”

“To get us to do what you want.”

I cringed inwardly. My wife was nothing if not direct. I wondered if she was right. Maybe I compartmentalized, like she said.

Dom pursed his lips. “I can prove the danger, if I have to.”

“Then do.”

“This way.” Dom crossed to the kitchen table, hit a few keys on the laptop, then angled its screen to face us. We walked over together and looked at a color video showing our house, the Corbuzes’ next door with their blue Nittany Lions flag, and most of our street. The scene was sunny and still, and according to a clock at the bottom with the time and date, in real time. “So you see, we have a team monitoring cameras on your house. This feed is raw investigative material. It’s against procedure to show it to you, but you need to understand why we cannot let you go.”

Lucinda fell abruptly silent.

I couldn’t ignore the pang I felt at seeing our street. The front yard. The lawn and beds, with my fresh mulching. Our home. Without us. Without Allison. “So this video is from the investigation team? Watanabe and Reilly?”

“Yes.”

Lucinda lifted an eyebrow at the unfamiliar names, and I made a mental note to explain later.

“Now, I’ll rewind.” Dom rewound the video, and time ran backward onscreen, our street going from sunshine to darkness and back again at top speed. The Patels walked their rescue greyhounds up and back. The Slater-Dobbs rolled recycling bins back and forth. Everyone drove in and out of driveways, opening and closing SUV hatchbacks and trunks.

Dom slowed the video, saying, “Now, watch. This is what happened eight minutes after you left the house, that first night.”

I watched the dark screen of our street at night, holding my breath. Suddenly a sedan cruised slowly past our house, silent as a shadow. I didn’t recognize the car, which went down our street and vanished around the corner.

My heart started to pound. “Is that them? Veria and company?”

“Yes,” Dom answered.

Lucinda gasped. “You mean, we got out just in time.”

“Correct.” Dom eyed the laptop screen.

“My God.” Lucinda’s hand flew to her mouth, and I felt the gravity of the threat in a way I hadn’t before.

“Dom, who was driving? Was it Milo?”

“No. We believe it’s someone else. Lower-level.”

“Who?” I was already thinking of researching the name.

“I’m not going to divulge that.”

I tried a different tack. “Is lower-level lower than retail-level?”

“It’s the same.”

“How do you know who it was?”