Pool Of Lies Part 29

Rae had a queasy feeling, as if the other shoe was about to drop.

Chapter 52.

Rae met Veronica met at Dawson Park on the following day. The park snaked around McIntosh Lake, at the quiet north end of Longmont. Veronica had taken the day off and offered to come to Rae's territory.

From the look of her, Rae judged that Veronica didn't have an appet.i.te either, so lunch was not a consideration.

The park was quiet at mid-afternoon on a weekday. Just a handful of kids. A couple of moms--or nannies--pushing strollers along the path that ran by the swings and climbing bars. Rae sat down at one of the picnic tables, her back toward the mountains. Veronica took the bench opposite her, and Rae watched her glance move along the panoramic view that was dominated by Longs Peak for which the town was named.

Somebody has to start this conversation. "You get a great view on a day like this," Rae said. "That snow patch? It never melts." Veronica nodded. Rae thought she saw tears in the detective's eyes. Maybe they were just from the bright sunlight.

"I know the La.s.siter case has left you frustrated," Veronica said. "You wanted justice for Deidre and answers."

What has that got to do with Justin meeting my kids?

Veronica continued, "We may not always find all the answers. Or the ones we get may not be the ones we wanted."

Rae twisted in her seat, suppressing her urge to comment. A squirrel nabbed a crust of bread from under their table and scurried away.

"But sometimes justice comes when you least expect it. From no effort at all on your part."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Reggie Navarro..."

At the sound of his name, Rae imagined the rage Morgan and Veronica must have felt as they came from viewing Deidre's tape to find one of the perps up to his a.s.s in cedar boards. "You did what I'd have done. Is that what you're trying to tell me? Left him flopping in the fence? You think that bothers me?"

"You think I'd risk giving Morgan Bayfield something like that over me? When she was a prime suspect in Kevin's murder? Don't you remember? I was wearing a wire."

You just answered my question with three questions. Was Morgan's arrest just more smoke and mirrors?

Wait and see, Rae.

"We never saw Reggie," Veronica said. "At least I didn't. I left Morgan at the top of the stairs. I went out the front entrance. That's not where I'm going with this."

"So where are you going?"

"To a very dark place, especially for you, Rae."

Rae wondered what could be darker than the La.s.siter case with all its twisted arteries. So Morgan went down the back stairs? Was Reggie already dead? How could she miss seeing him? But how would she know who he was?

"Victor Markov didn't kill Anthony."

Rae felt her chest constrict. Not there. I won't go there.

"Reggie Navarro was a member of the swat team that took out Markov. They were positioned on the roof of the house next door. Markov had a little twenty-two. He shot at Anthony, but the fatal shot came from a much larger weapon. A swat team rifle."

Veronica's words seemed to be coming from a distance. But not far enough. Rae could still hear her. She leaned away and closed her eyes.

"Did you ever read Anthony's ... autopsy report?"

Rae shook her head emphatically. Tears squeezed through her tightly-closed eyes. No...no...no... Deidre's was the only autopsy report she'd ever read.

"It was Reggie's fire that pierced Anthony's vest, not Markov's puny little twenty-two bullet."

"Why wasn't I told?" she finally choked out. "Why didn't somebody do something?"

"Covering up death by friendly fire isn't exactly new, Rae. It isn't confined to the military."

Veronica's words, painful knives, hacked away at Rae's old scar tissue revealing the true message. "But you're really saying it wasn't friendly."

"It was deemed to be friendly fire. Reggie was put on indefinite administrative leave. Then he resigned and went with Wheat Ridge."

"And all the time, you had information that it was deliberate?" Rae's senses heightened at each incision of the word-knives, as if someone had turned up the volume on a bad movie.

"Reggie had been stalking me for a year. He was obsessed with me. He thought...what you first thought...that Anthony and I were involved. He followed me to the family planning clinic, not bothering to find out that the fertility clinic was part of the operation. He must have seen Anthony go in at a different time because he confronted me and threatened to report us both. Reggie thought I was going for an abortion."

"What did you tell him?"

"That it was none of his business. I didn't bother to explain. Why should I? I told him I'd report him for stalking me. Since the law had been tightened up to make it a felony, I thought he'd see that he had too much to lose. I was wrong." Veronica hung her head. Rae could see her shoulders quivering.

Anthony died because of you? "Why didn't you do something?" A volcano of rage was building in Rae's midsection.

"Once I saw what Reggie was capable of, I was scared for the new life inside of me. Besides, I had no proof. He'd drag Anthony's name through the mud along with mine. You'd be thinking what you first thought. Only you'd still be raw from the newness of Anthony's death."

You really think I'm less raw now? Only she was. The anger peaked and ebbed without her usual vitriolic discharge. Maybe the scar tissue had to be cut away before she could really heal. No, it hurts too much.

"It wouldn't bring Anthony back," Veronica whispered. "I know your temper, Rae. I've felt its full force. Better get it over with now." She bowed her head as if expecting a blow.

You just think you've felt it full-force. Rae tried to summon back her dissipated rage. Mind shots from the past danced before her eyes, including a vision of Veronica, pregnant and alone. Her choice.

The last thing Rae pictured was the pinched, bitter face of an old woman--her own face reflected in her car window on the day she'd last seen Sam Garvin. Bitter old woman.

Rae jumped to her feet. "I can't do this."

"Please, Rae..."

She ran down the bike path, leaving Veronica behind at the picnic table with tears chasing the mascara down her cheeks. She narrowly avoided running down a mom and toddler, scared a flock of scavenging crows up into the Scotch pines, nearly tripped over a kid fastening his roller blades.

I...won't...be...this...person.

Then stop running, Rae.

Chapter 53.

Stephen and Callie arrived on July second, a Sat.u.r.day. Rae had offered to pick them up at DIA, but Stephen had insisted on renting a car.

When they drove up in the blue compact, Rae stifled an urge to run out and greet them. She'd been waiting for half an hour by the front window, crouched on the window seat like one of her cats. Now she strained to get a look at the woman in Stephen's life as the two exited the car.

Callie was tall, about Veronica's height which Rae guessed to be around five-eight, but with a lot of pale hair the color of corn silk. From a distance, her skin looked pale, too. Definitely not the look of a Floridian.

Rae hurried to the door to welcome them. Every time she looked at her son, Rae marveled at his likeness to Anthony expressed in his hunky, six-two frame, the huge, deep-set hazel eyes. Stephen's hair was medium brown, whereas Anthony's had been nearly black. Rae drank in the sight of her son, then grabbed him in a bear-hug and felt his kiss on her cheek.

He detached himself gently and said, "Mom, this is Callie."

She's gorgeous, thought Rae as she wavered between shaking Callie's hand and hugging her. Why was resentment seeping into her craw like moldy chicken scratch? She hadn't felt this way when Tori married Jeffrey.

In the living room, Callie took the initiative. "Mrs. Esposito, it's a pleasure to meet you." She followed this with a firm handshake.

Rae squeezed equally hard on Callie's slender, short-nailed fingers. "Please call me 'Rae.' You're making me feel like the hundred-year-old woman."

"Oh, sure. Rae." Now Callie was holding onto Stephen's arm like she owned him. He was beaming at her as if he enjoyed being owned by her.

Like when she had to tell me he was in the shower, she's marking her territory. If she pees on him, I'll hit her.

"As they say," Callie continued in that same infuriatingly perky voice, "fifty is the new thirty."

b.i.t.c.h! I'm only forty-eight.

"I'll just go back out and get our bags," Stephen said. "You two can get acquainted." His smile at Rae asked, Isn't she something?

Yes, son, she certainly is. Rae smiled back.

In the kitchen, Callie expressed a preference for herbal tea. She and Veronica should get along just great.

Rae and Veronica had made their peace. She and Justin would be joining them on the Fourth.

"Where are you from, Callie?" Rae asked as she brought out her new a.s.sortment of tea bags. Callie's complexion was so fair, it seemed translucent. Her clear, gray eyes held intelligence and mischief.

"Wisconsin," replied Callie.

I knew it couldn't be Florida. Her skin hates the sun. "That's where you and Stephen are going for Christmas?" The information Rae had gotten from Tori was still p.r.i.c.kling her. The bigger holiday would be spent with her folks.

"No. My parents have a second home in Miami. That's where we'll spend Christmas."

Rae tried to paste a smile on her face. She must have done a c.r.a.ppy job.

"We've got it planned to divide the holidays equally. Next year, we'll come to Colorado. That is...I mean..."

Rae was suddenly ashamed. "Of course it is. All right. That's what you meant?"

Callie nodded, smiling a perfect-teeth smile.

Get this over with. You're going to love her. Even if you end up hating her. Rae gave Callie a big hug. It felt like holding a startled deer.

As she prepared chicken dinner, Rae could hear Stephen and Callie's voices coming from the porch.

"I think it's so great your mom raises her own food. My grandparents had a dairy, but I don't think I could ever pluck a chicken."

Rae rolled her eyes. The chicken had come, in parts, from Whole Foods in Boulder. She heard Stephen's laughter, then his reply. "Honey, when one of Mom's chickens dies, it's from old age."

Then their voices got lower. Rae imagined him telling Callie about his mom, the farmer who couldn't kill food animals.

Callie giggled, notching up her volume a bit. "Does that mean those Black Angus critters we saw up front aren't going to be our Fourth of July barbeque?"

"Babe, you'd break a tooth if you ever took a bite out of one of those old guys. They were our Four-H projects that never got to the fair."

Next morning when she did her barn ch.o.r.es, Rae thought about how really pleasant dinner had been. Callie talked almost non-stop, but Rae was getting used to her. She learned Callie's last name was Nordstrom. "Like the department store, but no relation."

Callie didn't fit Rae's image of a criminologist, but maybe she'd change her mind about that career. On the plus side, maybe she'd change Stephen's mind about becoming a FEEB.

The kids were up when Rae returned to the kitchen. Callie had put on a pot of coffee for her. Both kids drank herbal tea and ate Total cereal with skim milk. While on the porch feeding the cats, she heard the phone ring.

"Shall I answer that?" Callie offered.

You sure do love to answer other people's phones. Before Rae could reply, she heard Callie's cheerful "Good morning. Esposito residence."

Then, silence.

As Rae came back into the kitchen, she saw a bright crimson flush creeping up Callie's neck onto her cheeks, turning her milk-white flesh the color of an evening sunset. Callie held the phone out toward her as if it were road-kill. "It's a man," she said, her voice suddenly small.

Rae glanced at the caller ID and took the phone from Callie. "Hi, Burt. Just a minute." She covered the receiver with her hand, turning to Callie. "It's the ditch company. We're getting water today."

Callie still wore the same dazed, embarra.s.sed look.

At the other end of the line, Burt enlightened her. "I told her not to bother you--just to ask how many inches you wanted this time."