Deceit: A Novel Part 16

My mouth twisted. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. No need to take this out on you."

"It's okay. Just...Will you call me after you see her?"

A woman came out of the house next to Melissa's, dressed in an exercise outfit. She turned down the sidewalk and started jogging toward me. I listed far over to my right, pretending to pick something off the pa.s.senger floor. A small grunt escaped me.

"Are you there, Joanne? What are you doing?"

Footsteps pounded past. I hung there a second longer before raising my head. The woman jogged on.

I straightened. Such a little thing, but it had shaken me. If someone noticed me sitting in my car so long, they might become suspicious, call the police. Please, Melissa, come soon.

"Better go, Dineen. I'll call you when I can. Don't call me, okay? I may be in the middle of talking to her."

"Okay." My sister sounded reluctant. "Just don't forget me."

"Never."

I punched off and checked the time on my phone. Almost 5:30.

"Don't go home until you've found her." Hooded Man's words.

Worst case scenarios ran through my head. What if Melissa didn't show? I couldn't stay here all night. And I couldn't go home, and I couldn't go to Dineen's. A lot of choices that left me. Some hotel. How long could I keep that up?

What if Melissa did appear, and I blew the surprise confrontation?

What if, amazingly, she agreed to break her silence? Who would I take her to? Surely not Chief Eddington.

Reporters, that's who. Get the media involved. Then the public would be watching. The Vonita police wouldn't be able to sustain a cover-up.

Baxter would still try to lie his way out of it. He couldn't be allowed to pin blame on Melissa. She would need an attorney's advice before leading authorities to Linda's grave. Maybe she'd need some kind of immunity in exchange for her information? I didn't know.

But that whole process could take days. Meanwhile Melissa and I could still be in danger.

Fresh anger at Hooded Man rose within me. If I only knew his ident.i.ty. Had he acted alone-or did a circle of justice-seekers silently urge me on? Would they come out of the woodwork if Melissa went to reporters? Would anyone come forward with corroborating evidence? Would they help keep us safe?

Six o'clock arrived. The sky was darkening.

Six-twenty. The streetlights had come on. Fortunately, I'd parked some distance from the closest one.

My muscles were tight, every nerve on edge. Helplessness filtered through me, untamed and fiery. I had to do something other than just sit there.

On impulse I pulled my regular cell phone from my purse and dialed 411 for the number to Perry's convenience store. He answered on the second ring.

"Hi, it's Joanne Weeks." My eyes remained on my target house.

"Hey, Joanne." He sounded pleased. I never called his store.

"Anybody else around at the moment?"

"Just yours truly."

Now that I had him on the line, how to pose my question? I wanted to trust him. I wanted...I wasn't sure what. But I didn't know whose side he was on.

If he was on any side.

"I need to ask you something, Perry. This morning as I left your store you said, 'Do what you have to do.' What did you mean by that?"

Hesitation p.r.i.c.kled the distance between us. I pictured Perry's kind eyes, his detective novel on the counter. I pictured him in his house, alone. "Just that I admire you for speaking out about what you believe."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." He paused again, as if awaiting an explanation. "Should there be more?"

"I don't know; you tell me."

A red car pa.s.sed, headed up toward Melissa's house. My eyes flicked to the driver. A man. My muscles relaxed.

"Joanne, I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

I gripped the phone, Hooded Man's white and bloodied cheek flashing in my brain. I could see those shadowed eyes, hear the roughened voice.

"Do you know what I'm doing right now?" I asked.

"Is this a trick question?"

"No."

"You're talking to me on the phone."

My chin sank.

He made a sound in his throat. "Are you okay, Joanne? Can I help you with something?"

Fear and frustration welled up my throat. Yes, I needed help. But I still hadn't the slightest notion whom I could trust. I just wanted to go home and wake up on a new day. Discover this was all a horrible nightmare.

"No, Perry. I'm...fine."

"You don't sound fine."

Headlights appeared up the street. I sat up straight, watching with hawk eyes. Was it slowing down?

"Joanne, you there?"

The car was slowing. And it was approaching Melissa's house.

The garage door at house number 264 began rolling up. The car turned into the driveway.

"Gotta go, Perry." I threw the cell into my purse.

The car drove into the garage. The door rolled down.

G.o.d help me; this was it. I'd promised myself I wouldn't hesitate, lest fear paralyze me.

Purse in hand, I hefted out of the SUV and locked it. On trembling legs I walked swiftly up the street to confront Melissa.

THIRTY-ONE.

As I hit the porch of 264 South Anniston, an overhead light flicked on. Footsteps m.u.f.fled through the door.

Melissa-coming out to check on the package.

I froze. No, no, not yet! I wasn't ready. I'd needed to gather myself before ringing the doorbell.

Everything in me wanted to turn and run.

A lock clicked, then a bolt. The door pulled back.

Melissa stuck her head outside, gaze aimed downward. She caught sight of my feet, and her head jerked up.

We ogled each other.

Her cheeks had grown a little rounder, her brown hair now cut to her shoulders. But I'd have known her in a crowd. Her eyes latched onto mine as emotions rippled across her face. Surprise...recognition...indignation...fear. My tongue couldn't utter a word.

A small gasp escaped her. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you, Melissa."

"Why?" She threw wild looks up and down the street, as if searching for ghosts. "How'd you find me?"

"No one's with me. Please let me come in."

"How did you find me?"

"I-"

Anger cinched her face. "The UPS lady. That was you."

"Please, I-"

"Get out of here! Now!"

She pulled back into the house, started to shove the door closed. I thrust my foot across the threshold. The door hit it hard. I winced.

"Get out of here right now, Joanne." Melissa's words spit through clenched teeth. "Or I'm calling the police."

"You can't call the police. You want me to tell them why I'm here?"

"I have no idea why you're here." She pushed harder against my foot. I couldn't have pulled it out if I wanted to.

"Melissa, please. Let me in." My voice shook.

"What do you want?"

"I have to talk to you."

"Who knows you're here?"

"n.o.body. I promise. Please. Give me five minutes."

"You lied to me."

"Do you know Baxter's second wife is dead?"

Melissa's shoulders arched back. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything."

She glared at me, her hand still on the doork.n.o.b, her cheeks blanched. My foot throbbed. I clutched my purse, a trembling supplicant.

Air whooshed from Melissa, deflating her chest. She dropped her chin, anguish and ire etching her forehead. She stepped back. Opened the door.

I pushed inside before she could change her mind. We stood in a tiled entryway, illumed by an overhead light. To the right lay a darkened living room, leading to a dining area. A large den with a staircase at the far side was on the left. Straight ahead up a hall I could see a little of the kitchen, the only other room in the house that was lit.

Melissa banged the door closed, folded her arms, and a.s.sailed me with her eyes. "Five minutes."

My throat constricted. None of this was going right. I struggled to find a starting point. "Can we sit down?"

"No."

I nodded.

"This is about Baxter." Melissa spoke his name with contempt.

"Cherisse, his second wife, died two weeks ago. From a fall down the stairs, so he said. I don't believe it."

"Why should I care?"

"Because you saw him kill Linda."

Melissa's jaw moved to one side. She singed me with a look on slow burn. "Says who?"