The 17th Suspect (Women's Murder Club #17)(47)

One crummy lead.

We needed one crummy lead: a video, a fingerprint, a bullet linked to a gun in our database, a witness statement, even an anonymous tip. Someone had to know something.

I didn’t know how I’d catch this ghost, but I had to. Millie’s killer mustn’t win.





CHAPTER 68


“HEY, HEY,” SAID Claire, snapping my attention back to the present.

Syd put platters down in front of us, saying, “Two daily specials with all the extras. Anything else I can get you ladies?”

“Thanks, we’re good,” Claire said, grabbing the ketchup bottle.

I stared down at my burger and fries. They had all the appeal of a wriggling pile of alien life-forms.

Claire noticed my revulsion and said, “Okay, Lindsay. What’s up? You’re usually a girl with an appetite, and seems to me you’ve dropped some pounds. What are you now? A size four?”

“I have to talk to you about this,” I said. I reached for my handbag and extracted a white paper bag. I handed it to Claire.

“What is this?” she asked. She peered into the bag. “Oh, my. Really, Linds?”

“I need you to be with me.”

“Right here?”

“There’s no place I’d rather be, Butterfly. No one I’d rather be with.”

Claire grinned and said, “I love you, too.”

I told Claire to go ahead and eat, and I nibbled. When our plates had been cleared and the check had been paid, Claire and I headed back past the cigarette machine and the old wall phone to the ladies’ room.

I took the home pregnancy test into a stall. My hands shook and the instruction sheet rattled, but I performed the procedure and a moment later brought the little stick out to where Claire was waiting for me.

Claire said, “What are we hoping for? Positive or no?”

“Que será será,” I said.

The refrain to an old song my mom used to sing to me. I imagined that millions of moms sang it to their daughters who wanted to know their futures. It meant, “What will be will be.”

Claire and I waited thirty seconds, and together we stared at the stick.

“Look it. There’s only one bar,” Claire said, examining the tester. “That would be a no.”

I must’ve been holding my breath, because I exhaled deeply.

“You okay, Linds?”

I leaned against a sink and said, “I’m not ready to be pregnant right now, Claire. But something is wrong. I feel … fatigued. Depressed. Nauseated.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“The last few weeks.”

She placed her hand on my forehead.

“You don’t feel warm to me. When are you seeing your doctor?”

“It’s just exhaustion,” I said. “I’ve been working like a donkey.”

“Call your doctor, Lindsay. I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“And call in sick right now. I say so. I’m a doctor.”

I called the squad room and left messages for Conklin and Brady. Then I went home and got under the bedcovers at two in the afternoon. Joe, Julie, and Martha made a fuss over me while I reassured them and tried to empty my mind.

Tomorrow. I would call the doctor tomorrow.

And then I slept.





CHAPTER 69


TWO AND A half days had passed since Marc Christopher was shot and Judge Rathburn granted a continuance.

Ten minutes from now court was due to reconvene.

Yuki and her second chair, Arthur, sat together on a bench outside the courtroom, waiting for their star witness to arrive.

When Yuki spoke with Marc last night, he had said, “I’m good to go.” But his tone had been shaky, and she had been obligated to tell him that she couldn’t stall the proceedings any longer. If he didn’t show up, she’d have to run the video for the jury without him, which would dramatically diminish its impact.

Yuki said to Arthur, “I don’t like that he doesn’t answer his phone.”

He said, “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. He was shot in the thigh? One shot only?”

“Yep. One shot. Through and through.”

“The slug wasn’t recovered?”

“Not so far,” she said.

“So the shot could have been accidental. Like a random shot from two streets away.”

“Yep. That’s possible.”

“Or maybe the shooter had a motive,” Art said, inserting a long pause before adding, “Like an eight-hundred-pound gorilla wearing a designer suit.”

Yuki said, “The gorilla has an alibi. There’s no evidence that she shot him. In fact, her gun wasn’t recently fired. Video supports her whereabouts. Giftos got Rathburn to reinstate her bail, and she’s been released.”

“Maybe she hired someone to freak him out.”

“So that he wouldn’t testify?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Good theory, Art. That had not occurred to me.”

The bailiff swung open the courtroom doors.

“Let’s go,” said Arthur. “I want to get a good seat.”

Yuki smiled. Art was funny, but he was also very sharp. Committing a sex crime and hiring a hitter were two entirely different kinds of crimes, but they weren’t mutually exclusive. Had Briana paid a shooter to intimidate Marc? Had Marc in fact been intimidated? What kind of testimony would he give today?