Most Wanted

Chapter Twenty-two

Christine called Griff as soon as she got in the car, driving away from Warwick Street. She hit the SPEAKER button so Lauren could hear, then stuck her smartphone on the Drop-Stop sticker she kept on her dashboard, so she could talk hands-free.

Griff picked up after two rings. “What?”

“I was just at 305 Warwick Street, Gail Robinbrecht’s house. I found out that she lived in a duplex, and a neighbor around the back said that she used to have a lot of men going up the stairs at night.”

“You went to the crime scene?” Griff asked, surprised.

“Well, I went to her house. I couldn’t get inside, it was taped.” Christine cruised through the leafy residential area of West Chester. “But I thought you could follow up on that for the defense. It suggests that there may have been other suspects, other than Zachary. I mean Jeffcoat. He could have been telling the truth.”

Lauren looked over, rolling her eyes, since she hadn’t been inclined to credit Kent’s ravings.

“His defense is my job, not yours. Assuming he retains me.”

“I know, but I thought I could help, and I’m sure he’s going to retain you.” Christine caught sight of the business district up ahead and hit the gas. “The woman’s name is Linda Kent and she lives on Daley Street. She tried to tell the police what she saw, if anything, but they didn’t get back-”

“I have to go. Call me after you meet with Jeffcoat. Tell me if he wants to retain me.” Griff paused. “Remember, no talking to him about the case. Don’t tell him what you just told me.”

“Why not?” Christine turned right, onto the main road, and traffic was moving along steadily out-of-town. People strolled on the sidewalks, window-shopping or waiting in line for restaurants, and folk music wafted from the open door of a bar, under a banner that read, HAVE A GR8T SUMMER, WCU STUDENTS!

“I told you already. What are you, stupid? Conversations between you and Jeffcoat are not privileged. They’re discoverable and admissible.”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” Christine glanced at Lauren, who was trying not to laugh.

“God in heaven! You’re stubborn!”

“No, I’m not, I’m just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Griff hung up, and so did Christine, pressing END on the mounted phone.

Lauren looked over, chuckling. “You’re driving him crazy.”

“Because I’m curious? Curiosity is a good thing.”

“Not for cats. You heard him.”

“Right.” Christine fed the car some gas as traffic broke up, steering out of the town for open road.

An hour later, Christine and Lauren arrived at the hotel, checked in, took turns showering, and flopped in matching bathrobes on the bed, then ordered Greek salads with no onions from room service and a first-run Melissa McCarthy comedy from the Spectravision. The two women enjoyed the movie, tacitly agreeing not to talk about the day, but Christine felt anxiety gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. She tried not to think about Zachary, Gail Robinbrecht, or the other murdered nurses, but they were in the back of her mind. She also knew that she’d have to talk to Marcus to say good night and she dreaded lying to him.

Night fell outside the large smoked-glass windows, and, by the time the movie ended, Christine knew she couldn’t put off the phone call any longer. She found the remote, aimed it at the TV, and muted the credits as Lauren looked over, her dark eyes tired and her curly topknot slipping to the side. She had spent most of the movie answering texts from her mother, husband, and sons, who were getting ready for a travel baseball game and couldn’t find clean socks, the new cleats, or the dog’s Prozac.

“You going to call Marcus?” Lauren asked with a sigh.

“It can’t be avoided, can it?”

“My advice, keep it short. You’re a bad liar.”

“Good advice.” Christine picked up her phone, and Lauren rose slowly, with a soft grunt.

“I’ll leave you alone. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“You don’t have to, you can stay.”

“Are you kidding?” Lauren looked back with a smile. “I get to sit on the bowl in peace? I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Have fun,” Christine called after Lauren, who trundled off to the bathroom, then she speed-dialed Marcus’s number, and he picked up after the second ring.

“Hey, babe, how you doing?” Marcus asked, still in cool mode.

“Okay, but tired,” Christine answered, which wasn’t a lie. “I just wanted to call you quick before I went to bed. I can barely stay awake.”

“I won’t keep you,” Marcus said quickly, and Christine felt a twinge, getting the impression that he didn’t want to talk to her.

“How’s it going on the site?”

“The usual crap. We’ll be able to straighten it out, but it puts us behind schedule, and you know how that goes. It’s expensive. How’s the weather? You getting any beach time?”

“Not really, I’m helping out in the house. We have to get all the sheets out and the towels, and sweep up.” Christine scrolled quickly to her Weather Channel app, plugged in Long Beach Island, New Jersey, and saw that it was partly cloudy there. “It’s not that nice a beach day anyway.”

“Too bad. It’s been raining all day, down here. I think I actually ruined my suitpants.”

“That sucks,” Christine said, her mood spiraling downward. She couldn’t believe they were reduced to talking about the weather in their respective locations, one of which was fraudulent.

“You feeling any better about the Homestead lawsuit?” Marcus’s tone softened, which only made Christine feel guilty, so she faked a yawn to bail on the conversation.

“Yes, I am, but let’s not get into it tonight, okay? I’m so tired, and I’m tired of thinking about it. I just want to get to bed.”

“Okay, I get it.” Marcus’s tone stiffened again, now that he had been rebuffed. “Sleep tight, and take care of yourself.”

“Love you,” Christine said, then she realized that he hadn’t said it first.

“Love you, too.”

Christine hung up first, then tossed the phone aside. A wave of sadness overwhelmed her, so she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Marcus, Zachary, or anything bad, any longer. She placed the palm of her right hand over her belly and focused on her baby. Because that was everything good, growing every day, bigger and stronger, right inside her very body.

Her breathing grew soft and even, and every muscle in her surrendered, and she drifted into an exhausted slumber before she could even begin to worry.

About what tomorrow morning would bring.