Allison Brennan - See No Evil

He was looking through his medicine cabinet, then opening and shutting drawers. He knelt next to her, with bandages, scissors, and tape. He sprayed something on her arm, but she didn’t feel it. He brought out a needle and thread. She was a quilt he was sewing. She laughed. Was that her laugh?

“Faye, stay with me.”

“I’m here.” She thought she said it aloud. Maybe she hadn’t. He could probably read her thoughts, though.

He taped over the gash he’d sewn up. Her arm felt numb. Maybe it always had. Her whole body was numb.

“Swallow.”

He put a pill in her mouth. She trusted him and swallowed. He put a water glass to her lips.

She was in his bed, warm blankets all around her. But wasn’t she just on the bathroom floor?

She tried to raise her arm.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You passed out.”

He was wearing a robe now. She smelled bleach.

He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand. “No matter what you hear or see, you must always trust me.”

“I will.”

“Say nothing. Do nothing. Stay right here. No one can know you’re here. Not even Cami.”

Faye nodded.

He leaned over and kissed her. “I’ll always take care of you.”

“What’s wrong with my arm?”

“You cut tendons. I fixed it.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. He fixed me. That’s what he does, fixes people. “How long was I sleeping?”

“Sleeping?” His hand cupped her cheek and she felt oddly safe and loved. She’d never felt loved before, not like this. “You passed out from blood loss,” he said. “You’re still very weak. I have orange juice here. Vitamins. Some medicine that will help. You’ll be fine.”

“How long?”

“Twelve hours.”

After she finally convinced Connor that she needed transportation and he couldn’t chauffeur her around all day, he reluctantly dropped Julia at a car rental agency Monday morning. “Be careful,” he commanded, as she was about to get out of his truck.

“I will.” She was surprised by the concern in his voice. “I will,” she stressed when Connor grabbed her arm.

But he didn’t release her. He stared hard into her eyes, his own face animated, with conflicting emotions. He kissed her, long and passionate, his hands holding her head to his. Heat rumbled through her body, and when he let her go, Julia felt light-headed.

“Wow,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. She swallowed, cleared her throat. “Is that a promise of what I can expect tonight?”

A half smile tilted Connor’s lips up. “I’ll meet you at the courthouse at noon,” he said. “Don’t be late, because I’ll worry. We don’t know what this killing group is planning, and they went after you once.” He frowned. “I really don’t want to let you go alone.”

“Emily needs your protection right now. Please, I’ll be fine. And I’ll be seeing you in just a couple hours. Don’t worry.”

“Easier said,” he mumbled.

She kissed him quickly, jumped from his truck, then leaned in through the window. “Think of it this way. They have no idea what car I’m driving.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

She blew him a kiss and watched him drive off.

Her first stop was the Ridge house. She’d made some calls earlier that morning and learned James Ridge was a CEO of a major corporation. He left for work before eight every morning. It was now nearly nine.

The understated house was in an expensive area of old San Diego. Its tree-lined streets were wide, and deep front lawns gave the community almost a New England feeling. Julia walked up the brick steps and rang the bell.

Stephanie Ridge answered the door. “May I help you?”

“Mrs. Ridge? I’m Julia Chandler. We met at Dr. Bowen’s house Saturday.”

Recognition and suspicion crossed the woman’s face. “What do you want?”

“A couple minutes of your time.” Julia tried not to sound desperate.

Stephanie opened the door without a word. Though she didn’t work, she was dressed in tailored slacks, a silk blouse, and simple gold jewelry. Her dark bob was sleek and styled, her makeup simple and elegant.

She led Julia to a formal living room. Above the elaborate fireplace mantel was a framed painting of Jason Ridge in his football jersey-number 10-holding his football in both hands. He’d been a handsome boy with dark windswept hair and vibrant blue eyes. Julia suppressed a stab of guilt that she was dredging up the past with his grieving mother.

Stephanie Ridge didn’t offer coffee. Nor did she offer Julia a seat.

“I know about Shannon Chase,” Julia said.

Stephanie’s face darkened. “You don’t know anything. That girl hurt Jason deeply. She lied.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I knew her and I knew my son.” Her chin quivered.

“I read the police report she filed,” said Julia. “I saw the medical report. There was a rape. There was DNA evidence.”

Stephanie shook her head. “I don’t care what any report said. Jason was a good son. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. The poor boy was devastated when Shannon killed herself. Doesn’t that tell you something? Doesn’t that tell you that he had forgiven her for her lies?”

“She’s not here for me to ask,” Julia said.

“Nor is my son.”

“I’ve been trying to find Michelle O’Dell. She had been Jason’s ex-girlfriend as well as a friend of Shannon’s. By chance have you kept in touch with her? All I have is her number at Stanford.”

“Michelle?” Stephanie blinked. “I’m surprised you missed her at Garrett Bowen’s party Saturday. She was the one wearing a slutty little red dress.”

“Michelle was in San Diego Saturday night?”

Stephanie frowned. “What is this really about? Why are you asking about a rape-something that didn’t even happen-two years later?”

Julia changed the subject. “How well did you know Dr. Bowen?”

“Garrett? For years, but what- did? Has something happened to him?”

“He was murdered Saturday after the party,” she said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. It was on the news last night.”

“I don’t watch the news. I need to call my husband.”

“Dr. Bowen was Jason’s therapist, correct?”

“I’m not going to answer any more questions.”

“Why?”

“This is private family business! How dare you come in here, asking painful questions about our past, throwing out names right and left like you’re on some fishing expedition. Leave now or I’ll call the police.”

At the door, Julia turned and asked one last question. “Was Jason a member of an online community called Wishlist?”

Stephanie slammed the door in her face. But not before Julia saw the surprised recognition in her eyes.

It surprised Julia how close the O’Dells lived to the Ridges, though the two neighborhoods had completely different flavors as well as income levels.

Gina O’Dell answered the door when Julia knocked. “Ms. Chandler, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you have a recent photograph of your daughter.”

The mother blinked rapidly. “Why?”

Julia didn’t want to deceive her, but she needed the photograph. “The District Attorney’s Office is looking into steroid use in high schools and we believe Michelle has information relevant to what happened to Jason Ridge last year.”

“She’s not in trouble, though,” Mrs. O’Dell prompted.

“No, we just need to ask her some questions. She probably doesn’t even know that she has information we need.”

“I gave you her phone number. Why do you need her picture?”

“I haven’t been able to reach her by phone, so a colleague in Palo Alto is going to stop by her apartment. He needs a picture to make a positive ID before he’s allowed to discuss the investigation with her.” The lies were rolling off her tongue easily now. It didn’t make Julia feel good, but she needed to find out if Stephanie Ridge was right and Michelle O’Dell was in San Diego. And why.