In the Temple, page 30
Cindy started feeling the pieces click together. “Wesley didn't want to give his DNA, not because it would implicate Seth, but because it would implicate him.”
“That's what I think,” Georgia said, “and I didn't put this together before, but we knew if we got his DNA, it would be a fifty-fifty match to his father and a fifty-fifty match to his brother, right? So those matches would have told us the only other two people it could have been would be Hank and Seth. But two brothers would also have a fifty-fifty DNA match.”
They all paused and absorbed that.
“Hank didn't kill Zoe,” Georgia announced, even though they'd all put it together by then.
Cindy swallowed, “But we have to leave in five minutes to go make this interview with Daddy Greenbrier.” A man who they still believed gunned down his son in cold blood and likely staged a suicide for his wife. “How does this change what we ask him?”
66
Cindy stood on the veranda at the Greenbrier house. Unlike the cramped balcony at Serena's, the veranda was wide and should have felt inviting.
It hosted lovely seats with fluffy red cushions. Potted plants that were clearly watered and tended were spaced in little groupings at the ends of the railing or in between the chairs and little tables. She could imagine the right person would sit on the patio, drink their morning coffee and watch the traffic on the street in the distance. Maybe the deer would cross the yard.
But knowing what she did, the place just felt sterile. It didn’t calm her nerves as they ran higher than she was used to handling. And Cindy had dealt with some nerves in her life.
She wasn't sure what her job was for this interview other than touch Hank, so she lingered toward the back of the little pack. The other two were certainly much more versed in how to handle this.
So much of her life had been spent trying not to talk to people, not to know what they were thinking, that now she was simply going to let the other two take the lead. Hank might know they were investigating Zoe's death, he might know they were trying to exonerate the kid they’d all pinned it on. Maybe she could find out.
In front of her, Jesse knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. It was Lulu Martinez.
She shook her head at them. “Mr. Hank is not here yet.”
Something in her eyes asked, Are you really going to do this?
Jesse replied in measured tones, “Is it okay if we wait?”
Lulu’s eyes darted to the side, something was off. She shook her head slightly, and Jesse nodded. It took another moment for Cindy to catch on. Hank Greenbrier was watching or recording or something. He might be home or he might not, but he'd set up some kind of trap for them. They had to tread carefully.
If it was a camera or something of the like, maybe Georgia could figure it out. Hopefully the younger woman would give them a signal if she did.
Lulu waved them inside and asked, “Can I get you a drink?”
Cindy leaned forward, touching the woman's arm, even though Lulu had no idea what Cindy was doing. She asked, “What do you recommend?”
“We have water and lemonade and beer if you want something stronger.”
Cindy made a small motion to the other two. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t in the drinks.
“I’d like a water.” Jesse smiled and headed into the sitting room where Lulu motioned them to wait.
The other two agreed and Lulu said she’d be right back.
They seated themselves across one couch and Cindy thought they could pull off the see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil monkey pose if they tried. The silence stretched and Jesse jumped in, maybe realizing if something was already recording that would look bad. Of course they had their own audio recording running in Georgia’s pocket. It might wind up being their version against his.
Cindy looked around at the furniture. It appeared the room had been painted and updated recently. Hank was keeping up appearances, even without a wife. Lulu brought the waters and then disappeared.
Cindy swallowed again and took a sip from the glass. Lulu was the most recent person who had touched it, and her nerves radiated off it. The maid had acted as though she hadn’t seen these women at her own apartment or played a dead body for them very recently. They had to act as if they didn’t know each other either, at least not in any capacity other than this.
But as Lulu returned with a small tray of cookies, her head popped up. “That sounds like him pulling up the driveway.”
She disappeared again and, sure enough, a few moments later, Hank entered from the other side of the house, probably having come in from the back porch near the driveway. Up the stairs where he’d shoved Mariana Martinez to her death.
“Hello, ladies. I'm so glad we're finally getting a chance to have this interview.” He smiled, reaching out a hand, “I'm Hank Greenbrier and you are?”
As if he didn’t know.
“Georgia Dunham.” Georgia's voice didn't shake at all.
“Jesse Nash.” She didn't mention the newspaper. She wasn't going to lie in case he already knew.
“Cindy—” She held out her hand, but her voice caught. “Cindy Baker.”
And then his fingers slid through hers and she saw what he had done.
67
Jesse stayed seated as Hank Greenbrier sank down on the couch opposite them. Even she felt slimy as she shook his hand, and she wondered what Cindy might have seen. But her colleague sat there, relatively quiet.
“Well then,” Hank said with a smarmy grin. “Let's cut straight to the chase. We all know you're not doing a story on Zoe. You're reopening the case.”
Jesse shook her head, at least the language would allow her to be honest. “No, sir. We don't have the authority to reopen the case. The Godwins simply asked us to investigate. And I told them what I tell all my clients—which is that I will examine the evidence, and it may not show what you want it to.”
That was at least all true, but the evidence was showing a lot of things. She just hoped that Hank Greenbrier believed he'd stitched himself up tightly enough in his little suit of lies that it would hold.
He steepled his fingers and nodded. “It was a tragedy for sure.”
Jesse, given that Hank admitted he knew they were investigators, decided to move forward as such. All she could do was follow the questions she had planned and play her best cards. “Do you think Zoe was murdered, or do you think it was an accident? The kids were all partying. Do you think it was just rough sex that got out of hand?”
He frowned and shook his head. “That's awfully rough and awfully out of hand. And they were just high schoolers at the time.”
Jesse just nodded and agreed and asked her next question. “And do you believe that Gordon is the one who did it?”
“Why wouldn't I?” Hank held his hands up, seeming a little too affable, a little too slick, maybe a little oily. “Seth said he saw Gordon and Zoe going into the room. Zoe was alive, then Gordon came out asking for help, saying she was dead. Seth tried to help, but there was nothing he could do.”
Jesse nodded, she wasn't taking any written notes. She wondered if he suspected she was recording the interview. But if he was recording something, too, he certainly wasn't going to incriminate himself. She allowed herself to relax a little. This was just going to be a formality so Hank could believe he’d been part of the process and maybe stay unaware that he was their number one suspect.
She asked her next question. “And you believe him?”
“Why wouldn't I? He's my son.” As if being the junior Greenbrier was enough.
She watched as Cindy stood up then, interrupting the conversation with her usual gambit, despite already having shaken Greenbrier's hand. This time, she waited until Jesse was mid question and tapped him on the back of his hand—the only skin that showed other than his neck or face given his business suit. She murmured, “I'm so sorry. Is there a restroom I can use?”
Jesse watched as she disappeared down the hall, but she couldn't stop the interview because of it. She tried a lie. They hadn't gotten to the M.E.’s office. It was still on the list, but maybe she could squeeze something out of Hank here.
“We stopped by to see the medical examiner earlier.”
Hank's eyebrows rose. Interesting. If she was reading him right then he was getting information from other people around town, and he had not heard that they'd been to the medical examiner's office. He hadn't heard because they hadn't been. But his reaction was telling.
Zoe's autopsy had been performed in the morgue at the local hospital and not been sent to one of the bigger cities because the case wasn't considered complicated at all. Gordon had been arrested within twenty-four hours. Jesse banked on all of that now.
“We asked him About Zoe's autopsy, and he said something really interesting.”
Hank froze. When he tried to act nonchalant, his movements were unnatural, even for him.
She continued. “We asked specifically because it wasn't listed in the findings, but he said it was possible that she was pregnant. Of course they keep all the samples. He didn’t note a pregnancy on the physical exam, so she couldn’t be far along, but he's going to run the blood work now. I think it might turn out positive.”
Jesse had started spewing some bullshit there. She wasn't quite sure if he would know or not.
“That's really interesting,” Hank said stiffly. “I don't know what that would do, though. Wouldn’t change anything.”
“Just might be interesting to see who the father was.”
“Probably Gordon or maybe Oliver. He was a handful.”
So was Seth, Jesse thought. She was opening her mouth for her next question when she saw Cindy coming back down the hall.
Something was wrong. Jesse was on her feet before she even realized what it was.
Cindy lurched forward, one hand in front of her. Her mouth was slightly open as if she was struggling to breathe and sweat clung at the edges of her face, her hair looking slightly damp. Her hand clamped to her chest.
“I am so sorry,” she apologized softly. “I don't feel well. I need to go back.”
Jesse was leaning over to look in her friend’s face as Georgia rose to her feet, too.
“I can have Lulu drive you home,” Hank volunteered smoothly. He didn’t even get up. “Or she can take you to the nearest doctor. I have a friend who's a GP. I'm sure I can have him stay late.”
Jesse's head snapped to the side. Was he going to send Cindy to Takahashi? Had he already somehow drugged her? Was she going to start feeling it next?
He was clearly trying to split them up, and her friend needed help. Jesse wasn’t having it. “I'm so sorry. We'll take Cindy home and continue this interview later, when she feels better.”
Reaching out, she took Cindy's hand, finding it disturbingly clammy. Cindy leaned into her, her breathing heavy enough to make Jesse wonder what the hell Hank Greenbrier had done.
68
Georgia helped prop Cindy so she could walk, then helped slide her into the car, sending Jesse around to get the engine started.
They'd parked in the driveway, aimed the same way that Hank probably had when he'd come home to kill his son.
Cindy looked more than a little pale. “I'm leaning you back.” Georgia lifted the lever on the seat until Cindy tilted enough to breathe out a soft, “Okay.”
After quickly belting her friend in, she dashed to the other side of the car. She would no longer fit behind the tilted front seat. But even as she was buckling in, Jesse was pulling out and asking, “Which way do I go?”
“I'm on it. You don't want to go to Takahashi. Maybe a walk in clinic.” She found one and gave directions. Jesse practically sped down the driveway.
“Take a left at the end,” Georgia told her, “Then the third right.”
They were another mile down the long road before Cindy said, “Holy shit!” and sat upright. She must have grabbed the lever because the chair snapped upward.
Georgia’s mouth flew open, and Jesse was startled enough to hit the brakes, though she didn't squeal them all the way to a stop.
“Sorry about that,” Cindy said suddenly.
“You're okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Georgia must have blinked at her too hard because Cindy explained. “Hot water from the sink. Makes the skin flush. Looks like sweat.”
Georgia took a moment then almost gave her a high five. “You fooled all of us.”
“Good,” Cindy declared. Then she dropped her bomb. “We can't drive back in front of the house, but we have to get to Serena's. I couldn't tell when I shook his hand, so I had to touch him again. He killed Serena.”
“What?” Jesse almost squealed the big car to a stop again.
“Take a right here,” Georgia told her, having changed their route.
Jesse drove again, but she argued. “He can't have killed Serena. We were just there.”
“We were there almost two hours ago,” Cindy argued, turning sideways in her seat to make eye contact with Georgia. “And he was late.”
“He was just at Serena’s? And killed her?” Georgia was stunned.
“I think so. I think he was watching us when we were there.”
“Holy shit,” Jesse replied. “Well, we don’t have to speed if she’s dead.”
“I don't know if she is. That’s the problem.” Cindy pushed, as Jesse hit the gas again. “But Hank sure thinks he killed her.”
They were quiet aside from the terse instructions Georgia issued to their new destination. Jesse took the curves a little too fast until Cindy reminded her to slow down.
“Getting stopped by a police officer who is one of Hank Greenbrier's friends is not a good idea right now.”
When they finally got to the apartment building, Jesse pulled into the lot, leaving the car across two spots as the women bolted, slamming doors behind them and racing up the steps.
At Serena's, they banged on the door repeatedly, but there was no answer. The only answer was a neighbor coming out and telling them to shut up.
“Do you have keys to this place?” Georgia asked.
“Of course not. She's probably drunk. Go home.” He unceremoniously slammed his own door and left them.
“Georgia?” Jesse asked, her voice tight.
“I got this.” This was a small, slim kit that Aunt Sin had given her, and she told Georgia to always carry it. At the time, Georgia thought it was ridiculous, but she'd used it more than she would like to admit.
“You just carry lock picks?” Cindy asked incredulously.
“You just faked an illness and worried the hell out of both of us!” she shot back as Jesse snarked, “You know whose daughter she is.”
Georgia shrugged rudely at both of them, but had the door open in no time. It swung wide, the slide chain not engaged, only the click lock. Serena had not locked it from the inside.
But Georgia was running down the short entry hallway past the blocky little kitchen to where she found Serena in the living room. Laid back on the couch, mouth open. Her lips were blue and she wasn’t breathing.
69
“Step back,” Jesse issued the order, even as she pushed her own way closer to the body. “If she's dead, this is a crime scene.”
Georgia might be the one to get them into the apartment, but this was her forte. She was the only licensed P.I., and she was going to be responsible for this scene.
Leaning forward, she put her hand in front of Serena's mouth but couldn't feel the heat of any breath. She placed two fingers to the side of her neck. Then her breath sucked in. “I've got a pulse. It's real low.”
“He poured alcohol into her,” Georgia said.
“What?” Selena was a known drinker. It looked like she’d simply had too much.
But Cindy pointed at the dirty coffee table where there were two clean bottles of pills spilled open, a couple from each strategically placed. Alcohol, maybe rum, was splashed down the front of Serena’s clothes, and empty bottles were strewn about.
Jesse understood. It was what police and investigators often referred to as “an orgy of evidence.” Too precisely pointing to the problem, it was almost definitely staged.
“We need to get her breathing.” Cindy moved closer.
“We need to get her treatment. She's at least taken the medicine, and she drank something.”
“No,” Georgia said. “He forced it down her throat. See her chipped tooth? It wasn't chipped earlier. That's fresh damage.”
Shit. Jesse had been so concerned with whether or not Serena was alive that she hadn't noticed the little signs. This was at least an attempted murder. “Call 911, now!”
“I'm on it,” Georgia replied.
Jesse felt along Serena's neck, hoping it wasn't snapped or broken. Though there was no reason for that with the scene staged the way it was, she simply needed to be sure. When she found no other injury, she turned Serena on her side, attempting to get her to vomit up some of what she'd taken. But the woman’s breathing stayed shallow, and she didn't resist any of Jesse’s attempts to get her to react.
It seemed an eternity before the EMTs arrived.
They asked the basic questions, and Jesse lied.
“We'd been talking to her earlier, and we wanted to come back and ask another question. She didn't answer and the door was slightly ajar.” She hoped like hell Georgia had pulled her lockpick tools out of the front door.
“We found her like this.”
One of them worked on setting up a line, while the other continued to ask questions. No, they hadn't touched anything on the table or any of the alcohol. Yes, they believed she drank regularly.
If she was a friend, wouldn’t she know that about Serena?
Jesse knew this whole thing was going to look really ugly in the morning light, when they realized the three women weren’t friends but investigators who’d just fled Hank Greenbrier’s. Word of something would get around. Get back to Hank.
The EMT snapped pictures of the medicine bottle for reference. They strapped Serena to a gurney and began the arduous task of getting it down the apartment building steps. At the bottom, they looked to the three women. “Is one of you kin? Are you following?”
