Price of Innocence Page 27

Belichek tried a different tack. “Even putting aside that one of them might have tried to kill you, do you think it will be easier to have you just show up if they haven’t heard?”

  “You can go in first, but I have to go there. No more questions, no more answers until I’ve seen my people.”

  * * * *

  Landis questioned the podcaster hard, but Palery pulled the plug.

  Landis wasn’t totally disappointed. With the news about Jamie out, he had a lot of catching up to do on checking her story and tracking Bethany Usher — alive or dead.

  A terse statement was issued from the public information office of the Fairlington County Police Department that expressed support for Detective Tanner Landis’ handling of the investigation into the homicide on Red Hill Street, along with “the entire investigative team.”

  A separate one-line release said Oliver Zeedyk had helped with inquiries.

  * * * *

  “I go up first. Alone.” Stopped in the Sunshine Foundation parking lot, Belichek directed the next order at Jamie. “Stay here until I come back for you.”

  “I want to—”

  “Just spring it on them?” Belichek interrupted her. “Looking for heart attacks? I’m going up first.”

  “You just want to see their reactions,” she accused him.

  “You’re saying I have an ulterior motive?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded slowly. “And you spotted it. I can live with that. And no more than half an hour.”

  He exited the car before she could respond, gesturing for Schmidt.

  He’d secured the uniform with a quick phone call before they left the underground parking lot, with Jamie and Maggie with him in his car and Schmidt driving Maggie’s.

  After giving the young officer explicit instructions, Belichek went inside and up the stairs to the offices of the Sunshine Foundation.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  At first glance, the scene duplicated when he and Landis first came here, with Celeste at the desk, Adam on one side, Denise and Kimby on the other. Shock. Tears.

  But a pale Hendrickson joined the group this time, standing out of the circle, past Adam.

  “Detective Belichek,” Kimby screamed. “Is it true?”

  Everyone turned to him. “It is. Jamison Chancellor was not the victim of murder at her house. She’s alive.”

  “Thank God,” Denise murmured.

  Adam hiccupped a breath.

  Celeste declared, “I will not believe it until I see her. I will not. There could be a mistake. This could all be a trick.”

  “No trick.”

  “Maybe not you, but what about that horrible podcaster who’s been trying to make a name for himself off Jamie’s death.” Celeste gripped the arms of her chair and breathed slowly, in and out, in and out.

  “I would not put anything past that creature,” Hendrickson York said.

  “Do you know where she is? How she is?” Denise asked.

  “Have you seen her? Talked to her? What happened? Where was she? Was she kidnapped? Hiding out?” Kimby’s questions tumbled over the calmer ones of her fellow volunteer.

  He held up a hand, stopping the words.

  Then he turned and went down the stairs.

  Jamie opened her car door as soon as she saw him. He mostly closed it before she could swing her legs out and blocked the gap with his body as he bent to speak into the car, feeling the rain on his back.

  “We go up with me first, then you and Maggie, then Officer Schmidt.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “It’s the way it’s going to happen.”

  He’d already had a good look around, but liked the way Schmidt did, too, as he came around the car.

  They went up deliberately, but when they reached the third-floor landing, Jamie darted around them.

  York and Delattre turned even paler. Celeste flushed scarlet. Kimby gaped. The only one who smiled was Denise.

  The women swamped her, the volunteers first. Celeste, handicapped by being seated at the desk, made up for it when she got her arms around Jamie.

  The tangled hug loosened only when demanded by the need for tissues to mop eyes, cheeks, and noses.

  Jamie turned.

  Hendrickson lurched forward and wrapped his arms around her. “My dear. My dear.”

  She hugged him back, smoothing out the awkwardness of his movements. “It’s okay, Hendrickson. I’m so sorry you were frightened for me.”

  Frightened? Was he?

  Releasing the older man, she turned to the younger one. He had hung back, pale enough that Belichek sent Schmidt a look, and the officer moved within catching range.

  “Adam.” Jamie tried to smile. Tears slid down her cheeks, matching his.

  “It’s you,” he whispered. “It’s really you.”

  And then she did smile.

  “It’s me.”

  He put his head on her shoulder and sobbed.

  * * * *

  “Well, now we can put all this behind us,” Hendrickson said.

  Celeste expressed the reaction of the others. “Put it behind us? It’s just starting.”

  “Nonsense. We can all get back to work now. Except Jamie. She needs time—”

  “I’m coming back right awa—”

  Celeste commanded, “Stop. You are not coming back right away.” She aimed that at Jamie, then turned on Hendrickson. “As for you… Someone’s still dead. We all say thank God it’s not Jamie, but it’s someone.”

  Now she zeroed in on Belichek.

  He had to shake off reacting to her as if she were his grandmother by straightening and saying, Yes, ma’am.

  “You think the person who was killed could be Bethany Usher,” she accused.

  The suck-in of air by the others could have started a vortex.

  Jamie said, “They don’t know yet if—”

  “We are actively investigating the identity of the victim. The department will issue a statement when there is an official identity.”

  “Why Bethany? What would she be doing at your house, Jamie? Did you know she’d be there? Wasn’t she on vacation? What—?”

  “Kimby.” Celeste stopped her with that Gran voice. “Detective Belichek can answer better than Jamie.”

  “I’m not here to answer questions. I’m here to ask them.”

  “We’ve already answered all the questions and done everything we can to help with this matter,” Hendrickson protested.

  “No, you haven’t.” Belichek held the older man with his gaze. “Even when you thought Jamie was the victim. You knew she wasn’t going to your Pennsylvania cabin and you didn’t tell us.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “She told you—”

  “Oh, yes, she told me she was considering going to a different cabin, but since I knew nothing about where, much less that she was certainly going there, I could contribute nothing to your investigation. And since she was killed — we thought she had been killed — in her home well before leaving for anywhere else, what possible difference could it make?”

  Belichek felt a muscle under his jaw tick. His voice remained even. “It might make the difference of whether or not you are charged with obstruction.”

  Jamie drew a breath. He moved his hand, a short, brief shift. She didn’t speak.

  “You never asked me—”

  “Detective Landis went over that with you before. On top of that, Margaret Frye of the Commonwealth Attorney’s office went to that cabin, hoping against hope her cousin was there, alive. A painful trip you could have saved her.”

  Maggie looked so fierce that when Hendrickson glanced toward her, he seemed to shrink. Not from guilt or sorrow for causing her fear, but more likely trepidation.

  Jamie’s look toward her cousin was entirely different.

  “York, you’d said you called Jamie on the Saturday morning before Labor Day? Did you also call her Sunday?”

  He flashed a look at Jamie, wondering what she’d
told the police.

  She looked back, but Belichek couldn’t see any message transmitted. Then she glanced toward Belichek, but didn’t connect with him before she looked down.

  Hendrickson licked his lips. “No. I thought she had left. She never took her phone—”

  “Another fact none of you told us.”

  “—so what was the use?”

  “You said you didn’t know when she was leaving.”

  Kimby’s mouth opened. Denise and Celeste flicked looks toward Hendrickson.

  Hendrickson said nothing.

  “Why did you think she had left Saturday when the others said her plan was to leave Sunday?” After a beat, he cracked out, “York.”

  “All right. I didn’t know she left Saturday. I didn’t want to talk to her. That’s why I didn’t call her Sunday. We had a disagreement when we talked Saturday. I thought a day to cool off—”

  “Disagreement about what?”

  “The management company,” he snapped.

  “It’s a foundation matter that has no bearing—”

  Indignant or eager to get his view out first, Hendrickson cut across her words. “Jamie refused to give me assurances that it would not encroach on my area of authority.”

  “Hendrickson, this isn’t the time—”

  “After all I’ve done, using my contacts to create a solid financial base for this organization.”

  “Fiefdom,” Celeste muttered.

  “The management company needs to have access—”

  “I’ve built that donor list. I will not have oafs interfering.”

  “They’ll work with you, Hendrickson. It’s—”

  “No. I shall not allow it. That is all there is to say.”

  He had an entirely new slant on Jamie snapping Don’t talk over me, Belichek at Carson’s cabin.

  “As we’ve talked about, it needs to happen for continuity and it’s going to happen.” Hendrickson opened his mouth and before he could speak, she added, “Soon.”

  Belichek supposed he should count himself lucky she hadn’t closed him down that way. But did that mean she’d listened to him?

  He looked around at the uncomfortable group.

  “None of you has done everything you could to help solve this murder. Why did none of you tell us of the resemblance between Jamie and Bethany Usher?”

  Adam’s mouth dropped open. Celeste looked shocked.

  “There was no resemblance to tell you of,” Hendrickson started dismissively. He sure didn’t give up.

  “There was.” Denise’s disagreement drew a dark look from York. “But it was more in things like height and build and coloring than—”

  “Oh, I suppose,” York interrupted again. “Like a blurry reproduction of a brilliantly vivid photograph.”

  Belichek dropped his head to keep from staring at the man, to keep from revealing his processing of what York revealed.

  The disdain in those words could be considered harsh. But there was more. Guilt? Like he blamed himself for … what? That Bethany Usher resembled, but didn’t match Jamison Chancellor? That made no sense.

  Or… Or was it something else entirely in the words?

  Not dismissing Bethany Usher, but exalting Jamison Chancellor.

  But how did that match with his belittling Jamie’s abilities?

  Did he see her as a blurry reproduction of her aunt and therefore not to be valued? Or was it overcompensation to mask other feelings? Or, simply, to prop up his own ego.

  Belichek thought of that photograph turned askew on the shelf in Jamison Chancellor’s living room, the same one on the wall in the conference room.

  She could dazzle you with one look.

  So much so that York couldn’t look at the photo of her beloved nieces?

  If so and if York was the murderer, the thefts and rummaging almost certainly happened before the murder.

  Someone who couldn’t bear to have the photo watching him wouldn’t have searched for silver and taken electronics with Jamie’s dead body there in the hallway.

  “I never thought of there being a resemblance until you brought it up,” Denise said. “And even now… It’s the kind that shows more in photos than when you’re with the real people.”

  They piled on that explanation with relieved agreement. Relieved to have a reason for failing to see the resemblance or something more?

  * * * *

  Fairlington County Police Department News Conference

  Good evening. I’m Fairlington County Police Public Information Officer Elliott Kepler. That’s E-L-L-I-O-T-T. K-E-P-L-E-R. I have a statement on the investigation into the homicide on Red Hill Street. There will be no questions taken at this time.

  The Fairlington County Police Department now confirms that the residence on Red Hill Street where the victim was found is the home of Jamison Chancellor.

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: We know that. What we want—

  PIO Kepler: Further, the department confirms that Jamison Chancellor is not the victim. To repeat, Jamison Chancellor of the Sunshine Foundation is not the victim. Ms. Chancellor is cooperating with this inquiry. That is all for—

  Unidentified Media: Where is she now?

  Unidentified Media: Where was she?

  Unidentified Media: Who is the victim?

  Unidentified Media: Does Jamison Chancellor know who the victim is?

  Unidentified Media: What’s—?

  PIO Kepler: No questions. We are not releasing any further information at this time. If the public has any information to aid in our investigation, we ask that they contact us through the means provided again in the handout at the door. We will notify you when we have a further statement.

  Death, Murder, Violence Podcast: Is Jamison Chancellor a suspect?

  ~~ End news conference transcript ~~

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Belichek enforced his half-hour curfew and escorted Jamie down the stairs over the combined objections of everybody except Maggie and Schmidt.

  Celeste Renfro caught up with the departing group at the bottom.

  “Detective Belichek. After you were here last time, I looked up Bethany Usher’s reference. I almost forgot in the excitement. It was Nancy Quinn, an assistant in the Commonwealth Attorney’s office.”

  Not an assistant. Maggie’s assistant.

  “Nancy? I never knew she was the reference.” Jamie looked past him to her cousin. “I would have called you — or her — right away if I’d known.”

  Hair on the back of Belichek’s neck rose. The circumstances under which he could imagine Maggie’s tough-minded assistant recommending Bethany Usher to the Sunshine Foundation were none, nada, zilch.

  He thanked Celeste, who looked puzzled, but headed back up the stairs. Then met Maggie’s gaze.

  “You drive, I’ll call Nancy,” she said.

  “Don’t call Nancy directly. Call Landis. This needs to go through official channels.”

  He had a weird feeling.

  He hoped his weird feelings were as accurate as his bad ones.

  * * * *

  “Nancy Quinn.”

  “Nancy. It’s Tanner Landis. Something’s come up in the Jamison Chancellor investigation that connects to you.”

  “More like the Bethany Usher case now.”

  “How do you—?”

  “What’s your question?” She meant a real question, not a useless one like How do you know that? Also, none of the normal Me? In connection with me? What are you talking about? for Nancy.

  “Did you recommend a woman for a job at the Sunshine Foundation?”

  “No. What woman?”

  “Let’s take that one at a time.”

  “I have never recommended anyone for any job at the Sunshine Foundation. Covers all your bases. Who said I did?”

  “We’re looking into that. Have you ever met Bethany Usher?”

  “No.” She didn’t ask if that was the person killed at Jamie’s house. She’d consider it a waste of time because she knew i
t was.

  * * * *

  Oliver Zeedyk was flying high.

  The cops had to let him go.

  They’d seen he wasn’t going to tell them anything.

  Yeah, that lawyer he’d hired had come in and done some stuff, but it was his own determination that made them let go.

  If the police idiots had realized how much coverage it would get from the mainstream media idiots, they never would have taken him out of the news conference, which would have been a shame, because it had drawn even more listeners to the podcast.

  Too bad they backed down by release instead of at a news conference.

  Walking into the news conference where the Fairlington Police Department had to own up and say Oz Zeedyk had been absolutely right, now that would have been sweet.

  Even without that, the media guys were panting after him.

  Best of all, Death, Murder, Violence’s numbers had caught the eyes of top sponsors. Finally.

  “Oz?” the voice of the remote temp he’d hired to work the comments, keep up with links, and keep the tech rolling while he was delivering the podcast, came through his headset as he’d prepared to do a short bit about his time with the Fairlington County Police Department today.

  “What are you doing on here?” he snapped.

  “You’re not recording and I thought you should know there’s a weird message in the comments.”

  This chick should know weird, because she was. With the sponsors knocking at his door, he’d be able to do a lot better than this temp from someplace where two roads came together that they called a town in Oklahoma or Arkansas or Arizona. Somewhere like that.

  He had to slap her down on the previous episode when she’d fed him a comment questioning his sources and whether he should be putting information out on his podcast that might jeopardize the investigation.

  Jeopardize the investigation, his ass. Like those clown cops knew what they were doing. If they did, they’d be a helluva lot closer than they were.

  The commenter clearly was a stooge for the cops. And if this temp — Annie, Audrey, Ariel, something like that — couldn’t tell that, she was either stupid or a stooge herself.

  He’d have gotten rid of her right then, but the pickings were slim in the responses from the offer for a virtual assistant he’d put out. You’d think these guys thought they were the stars. Even when money started coming in from the sponsors, he wasn’t wasting it on peons.