Dead Run

CHAPTER 56

Wednesday, November 21

6:20 p.m.

Rick made his way to Val’s sedan, parked around the corner from Carla’s cottage. Val followed closely, the barrel of the revolver pressed to the small of Rick’s back.

Rick frantically scanned the area, looking for a witness to confirm his version of this nightmare, for details that would later help him create an accurate timetable of events-in case he managed to escape with his life. He came up with little. Except for several parked cars and a mangy-looking dog barking at them from Carla’s neighbor’s porch, the street was deserted.

“You going to kill me, Val?” Rick asked.

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” He pressed the gun more snugly against his back. “Although I suspect before this is all over you’ll wish you were dead.”

“Now who’s being melodramatic?”

“Just honest, my friend.”

Rick laughed at that. Valentine Lopez and honesty had parted company a long time ago. They reached the vehicle and stopped. “Why’d you park way over here? The way it’s raining, I would have thought the open space right in front of Carla’s would have been a better choice. But that’s right, you didn’t want anybody to know you were here.”

“Shut up.” Keeping the gun trained on him, Val yanked open the front passenger side door, reached inside and retrieved his cuffs. “Turn around.”

Rick complied. “You really think cuffs are necessary? If I ran, who would bring you down?”

The other man snapped the cuffs on roughly, then shoved him against the car. He yanked open the rear door. “Get in.”

Rick did, and moments later Val pulled away from the curb. Using the radio, he called dispatch, informed them he was bringing in murder suspect Rick Wells for questioning. He ended the call, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Murder suspect? How do you figure?”

Val made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Patience. It will all be revealed to you soon. And after it is, I suspect you’re going to wish I had killed you.”

Dammit, he needed that tape. “Playing it close to the vest, Val? Afraid I’m going to punch holes in your little plot?”

Val looked over his shoulder and smiled, the curving of his lips as cold as ice. He held a finger to his lips. “Just a little farther. And if you play nice, I won’t beat the shit out of you for resisting.”

Rick faced Val across the interrogation-room table. The other man had refused to say another word until they reached police headquarters, though Rick had continued to try to goad him. Once at headquarters he’d spoken. In a singsong voice he had given Rick the option of coming peacefully with him or being cuffed and dragged in.

Rick cocked his head, studying the other man as he readied the video camera. He found Val’s movements robotic, as if he was operating on autopilot. He had seen similar reactions in both victims and witnesses of violent crime. The psyche simply overloaded and shut down.

If he pushed hard enough, Rick believed, he could break him.

“So, what are we doing here, old buddy?” he asked.

Val finished setting up the camera and took the seat across from Rick’s. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

“Cop double-talk, tricky, Val.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because you’re crazy. Because you killed Detective Carla Chapman and have formulated some scheme to pin it on me.”

Val’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced at the other officer in the room, a patrolman standing in the corner near the door. “This is Officer Walters, Rick. He’s going to sit in.”

Rick nodded in the rookie’s direction. “Listen carefully, kid. Lieutenant Lopez is slippery. Don’t let him suck you in.”

“Why did you kill Carla Chapman?” Val demanded.

Rick relaxed against the chair back and returned his gaze to Val’s. Interrogation was a kind of verbal chess game. It relied on intelligence, strategy and balls-out moves meant to keep your opponent on the defensive. “I didn’t, as you very well know.”

“And how would I know that?”

“Because you killed her.”

The other man didn’t blink. “How well did you know Naomi Pearson?”

Rick hesitated, surprised by Val’s shift in direction. He frowned. “Not well. She came into the bar a few times.”

“How about Larry Bernhardt?”

“Larry Bernhardt? The banker?”

“Is it true he wrote your loan for the Hideaway?”

“Yes, but I don’t-”

“And isn’t it also true that you met Naomi Pearson for the first time at that point?”

“Yes. Bernhardt introduced me to her.”

“And wasn’t it also at that point you learned how loan verification worked.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The screening and approval process for loans.”

“I suppose. Although from what I’ve seen, it’s not rocket science. Pretty straightforward stuff.”

“You mean you learned how easy it would be to have fraudulent loans approved. With the right associates, of course.”

Son-of-a-bitch. Val wasn’t trying to frame only Carla’s murder on him, but to tie him to all of them.

Rick narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t about to let the other man maneuver him into a corner. “No,” he corrected, “that is not what I meant.”

Before his former friend could fire another question at him, Rick fired one of his own. “Tell me something, Val. How does it feel to know you’re one of the bad guys?”

“I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind.”

“But I do mind.” He leaned forward, keeping his tone and body language conversational. “You see, I really want to know. What does it feel like to kill a fellow officer in cold blood? How did it feel to hack at her until her chest resembled Swiss che-”

“That’s fucking enough!” Val shouted, jumping to his feet. He snatched up a file folder from the end of the table and slammed it down in front of Rick. “Take a look, my friend.”

Rick flipped open the folder, aware of Val behind him, watching. It contained several copies of correspondence between him, Larry Bernhardt and Naomi Pearson. Rick read them, feeling himself begin to sweat. The correspondence detailed a plan between the three of them to begin defrauding Island National Bank by writing bogus loans.

He twisted his head to look at Val. The gleeful expression in his former friend’s eyes infuriated him. “I’ve never seen these before.”

“Is that your e-mail address?”

Rick glanced at it, though he knew beforehand it would be. Val had thought this through. And judging by the date on the correspondence, he had been planning it for some time. “Yes, it is.”

“But you’ve never seen any of these e-mails before?”

“That’s right.”

“And I suppose you’re going to stick to that story even after we get a search warrant for your computer. Pathetic, Rick.”

They had gotten to his computer, Rick realized. Who’d helped him? Libby? Margo? Both of them?

The Horned Flower.

Rick’s thoughts raced to put the pieces together. Suddenly Liz’s theory about a conspiracy of evil, of a cult of Satan worshipers on a killing spree, didn’t seem so wild.

But there had to be more to it than that. He took a stab. “So is it all about money, Val? About wanting more. Did you sell your soul to the devil for that?”

A muscle in the man’s jaw spasmed. “You really are crazy. I feel sorry for you, Rick.”

“You prepared to go to hell, Val?”

“As long as I can take you with me.”

Fury took his breath. Val felt no remorse. None. Carla’s life had meant nothing to him. She had been a loose end, Rick realized. Nothing more than an annoying detail to be taken care of.

“She was your colleague, you son-of-a-bitch!” He fisted his fingers. “She thought the sun rose and set on your head.”

“Carla made one fatal mistake, Rick. Besides falling for a heartless prick like you, that is.”

“Yeah? And what would that have been? Trusting you?”

Val laughed. “Hardly.” He bent close to Rick’s ear. “She decided to grow a brain.”

With a roar of fury, Rick threw back his chair, knocking Val off balance. Before he could right himself, Rick had slammed him up against the wall, arms at his throat.

“Back off!” Walters shouted, drawing his weapon. “Back off now!”

“Let him hang himself,” Val managed to say, eyes on Rick’s. “This would be assaulting an officer, my friend. Not a smart move for someone in your position.”

“Bastard!” Rick hissed, knowing he was right. He released him. “You’re not going to get away with this. I’m not going to let you get away with it.”

Val smiled and glanced at Walters. “Thanks for the backup. Holster your weapon.”

The patrolman did as his superior ordered, then returned to his post by the door. Val smoothed a hand over his hair, then motioned to the chair. “Have a seat, Rick. We’re not done here.”

His cell phone rang, interrupting him. Val checked the display and flipped it open. “Lieutenant Detective Lopez here.”

He listened, expression growing smug. “Stay calm and don’t worry. I’m leaving now. It’s going to be okay, I’ll take care of everything.”

He ended the call and looked at Walters. “I’m needed at Paradise Christian. There’s been an accident.” He started for the door. “Don’t take your eyes off him, Walters. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”