The Last Invitation (58)

Liam stood there as the police stripped the duffel off his shoulder and motioned for him to go farther into the room.

“We’re going to need your car keys. Your vehicle is covered by the search warrant,” the detective added.

The situation worsened with every word. Gabby struggled to keep from retching. Anger. Full-fledged rage. That was the only way to survive the constant spinning: to focus all her energy into rugged indignation. “Stop treating him like he’s a criminal.”

“He’s being treated like anyone else would be in this situation.” The detective motioned for the officers to keep searching.

“I’m here now. What is this about?” Liam stopped scanning the room and stared at the plastic bag in the detective’s hand. “What are you holding?”

“Methohexital.”

Liam shrugged. “Okay. And?”

“A sedative.”

Confusion flooded Liam’s face. “Where did you get it?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” the detective said.

Gabby wanted to jump in, to use that expensive legal education to save or at least protect Liam, but the fuzziness in her brain refused to clear. Sedatives. Searches. She hated that her secrets had ripped her family apart, but now she wondered about what Liam had been hiding.

“The sedative isn’t mine.” Liam stepped back as if standing too close to the bag might incriminate him. “I take a vitamin and a pill for high cholesterol. That’s it. No other medicine.”

The detective made a humming sound. “That’s an interesting response.”

“Why?” Anxiety churned inside Gabby. She had to bite back all the words floating through her brain. Babble could only cause trouble here.

But the detective kept talking directly to Liam. “We found the bottle and syringe in your bathroom upstairs.”

His bedroom . . . but drugs? Gabby couldn’t make those pieces fit together no matter how many times she pulled them apart and tried to make them fit together again.

“Not possible.” Liam pulled his cell out of his pants pocket. “I’m calling my attorney.”

“Go ahead. Your sister-in-law is holding the search warrant.”

Liam froze. “Why me? What brought you here?”

“We have information that you may know more about your brother’s death and your sister-in-law’s attack than you previously told us.” The detective’s gaze traveled from Liam to Gabby and back again, assessing the stunned reactions in real time.

Liam shook his head. “What the hell? You can’t be serious.”

“Who gave you this so-called information?” Gabby asked at the same time.

The detective shook her head. “Not relevant.”

“Of course it is.” Gabby hated this woman. Yes, she had a job to do, and a difficult one, but she seemed to relish it. She enjoyed launching into lectures and delivering killing verbal blows.

“A second review of the autopsy—which you, Mrs. Fielding, requested and fought for—showed a needle mark at the back of Baines’s neck.” The detective raised her hand, showing off the needle in the bag.

Liam sat down hard on the armrest of the couch. “Wait . . .”

“A mark in your brother’s neck.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of who Baines is.” Liam spaced out the words. Talked slowly and firmly even though he looked ready to drop.

“You mean was. And toxicology confirmed the presence of a sedative.” The detective still held the bag in the air. “Which is why this is important.”

“You’re saying . . . What are you saying?” Gabby stood there unable to move. She listened as the detective jumped to impossible conclusions. She might be overplaying her hand, but it sounded like . . . God, Gabby couldn’t put the horror into words.

“Nothing yet.” The detective didn’t break eye contact with Liam. “But sedating your brother would make it easier to kill him.”

“No.” Gabby didn’t know she’d said the word until she heard it. “You are looking in the wrong direction.”

The detective faced Gabby. “And easier to subdue you, Mrs. Fielding, when you just happened to walk in on the scene.”





Chapter Fifty-Two

Jessa




Chinese food night. Faith had declared cooking a bore and ordered takeout. The noodles smelled good, and if Jessa could crush the whirling sense of dread that something terrible lurked in the darkness, waiting to lunge, they’d probably taste good.

“For a person who’s in the middle of the best week of her life, you sure seem distracted,” Faith said before scooping up another bite out of the white container in her hand.

Right. Time to act fine. Jessa had been doing that on and off for most of her life. “I’m a big-time partner now. You need to talk to me with respect.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “You’re not my partner.”

“I’ve seen your previous girlfriends. I don’t think I’m your type.” Faith liked the put-together, buttoned-up-but-naughty-underneath type. The kind who knew what they wanted and didn’t flail around, waiting for disaster to strike.

“Wrong type of partner, but you’re not that either. What’s up?”