21st Birthday (Women's Murder Club #21)(87)

Brady paid for his soup.

“Cindy. According to Burke’s lawyer, Evan wants to meet with you. He’s at Sunrise Med in Vegas, maybe still in the ICU. Boxer and Conklin can go with you. As your friend, I do not want you to see this dude alone.”

And then Brady was gone.

Cindy said, “I can’t believe Lucas is dead. I mean I’ve been watching him for months. I hoped to interview him. I turn my back and he kills himself?”

I said, “I saw him this morning, Cindy. He was depressed, but he’s been depressed since the day I met him.”

“I gotta write the end of his story.” Cindy stuffed the unopened letter into her bag. “I’ll be at the ME’s office.”

“Hang on, Cindy,” Rich said. “Read the letter.”

“I’m gonna have a panic attack.”

“Hon. Read the letter with your buddy and your lover right here. Then go see Claire.”

“Fine.”

Cindy picked up a bread knife and opened the envelope. She read, “Att: Cindy Thomas.” She looked up and said, “This was written on copy paper with a felt-tip pen, dated today.

She skimmed the letter, sipped some water. Said, “What the hell is this? I’ve never met Evan Burke.”

I said, “Is that a key taped beneath his signature?”

“Yes. So here’s what he says, and I quote: ‘I’m a master killer and in over twenty years, this is the first time I’ve been caught. That was half due to frustration, and half due to, I’m tired of doing all this work and getting zero credit. That, Cindy, is where you come in.’ Then, he says, ‘Keep this key. If you want a story with headlines from here to eternity, pay me a visit at Sunrise Medical Center, Las Vegas. ICU. You look good in baby blue.’”

Rich said, “Cindy. He’s a subhuman liar.”

“I’ll call him up,” she said. “Take it from there.”

She kissed me on the cheek, Conklin on the mouth, grabbed her bags, and split.

“The boss is right that we should go with her,” I said.

I signaled to Sydney.

“You know, Rich, Evan claimed to me that he’d been sleeping with Tara for years. That Lorrie was his child.”

“What? That’s crazy. Is that true? Did you believe him?”

“I didn’t believe a damned thing he said, but he got to me. What if some of that is true? Now, I’m having a sick feeling that he is going to confess to killing Lorrie, Tara, and Misty. And that would mean … Oh, my God.”

“If true, that means Luke was wrongly convicted. That he killed himself because his father trapped him and there was no way out.”





CHAPTER 117





THE ICU DOCTOR’S name tag read “R. Warren, M.D.”

He was grizzled, harried, and gruff, telling Cindy that his patient was adamant about seeing her and he was going to permit this because he didn’t want Evan Burke to stroke out.

Dr. Warren went on.

“You’re not a relative. You’re not even a friend. But this patient is restricted in unusual ways, and if spending five minutes with you makes him feel better, I just have to allow it.”

Cindy said, “Five minutes? I just flew here from San Francisco.”

“I might be talked into six, but that’s it.”

“Okay. Okay, doctor. Thank you.”

She could see Evan Burke in the hospital bed, cuffed to the rails, IV dripping fluids into his arm, a nurse changing his bandages.

The nurse tapped his hand and Burke opened his eyes and turned his head. Cindy felt a shock, like she’d been struck by lightning. She mouthed “Cindy” and pointed to herself.

Burke held up a finger to indicate one minute. When the fresh bandage was in place and the nurse had refastened his robe, she stepped outside and said, “He’s been waiting for you for two days.”

“Are those handcuffs secure?”

“Yes, and those two policemen over there will be watching you. Don’t sit close enough to him for him to … I’m not sure.”

“Grab me, I guess.”

“Just be careful, dear. I’ll tap on the glass when your time is up.”

The nurse exited and Cindy went in, took the chair, and sat back, out of reach.

“Mr. Burke. How are you feeling?”

“We don’t have time for chitchat.”

She said, “Would you mind if I record our conversation? That will save time.”

“Go right ahead.”

Cindy took out her phone, tapped the mic app, and held it in her lap.

“There’s a lot to say, so I’m going to talk fast.”

Cindy nodded.

“I’ve followed your coverage of this recent activity in San Francisco — Kathleen’s hysteria, Luke’s running away, Tara’s car — all of it, and without going overboard. You’re going to be famous one day.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m going to help you. Or else I’m just messing with you. I’m capable of both.”

Cindy wondered if he was for real or completely insane. Was he just mouthing off? Or was he giving her the story of her dreams? Could this even work? Whatever kind of spotlight Burke wanted, the Chronicle wasn’t going to go for it, but before she made the decision for Tyler and the board, she could play along.