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His reputation as a good shooter isn’t exaggerated. Liliane was impressed.

  “We’re ready to intercept. Over.”

  Something brushed her shoulder.

  “Liliane?” Jasper grabbed her upper arm and helped her extricate herself from the crawl space in front of the passenger seat. “Stay here.”

  Stay here? In a running car stopped in the middle of the road, ready to be plowed by a crazy widow? No way. She exited the cruiser, but as she followed Jasper to the car resting at the edge of the woods, she slowed down.

  The headlights of the cruiser illuminated the back of the vehicle and the green rental sticker on its bumper. It resembled Damien’s car. Through the back window, she spied a round shadow above the headrest on the driver’s side. A knot formed in her throat. Damien...

  Jasper yanked the driver’s door open and bent inside. “Damien is alive, Liliane.” Then he radioed for help.

  Astounded, she leaned against the trunk. His wife won’t be happy.

  ~ * ~

  Jasper placed the victim on the ground beside the rental car. The suicide note and the empty pill bottle sitting in plain view on the passenger seat suggested Damien had been heavily drugged, but against all odds, his heart hadn’t given up yet.

  “Do you think he’ll be all right?” Kneeling beside the victim, Liliane held Damien’s hand.

  “He stands a chance.” A better chance than Sophie did. Jasper monitored the victim’s weakening vital signs in case he needed to start performing CPR before the medics arrived. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

  In the headlights of his cruiser, she looked pale and dejected. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “This is Gambone.” The officer’s voice came through loud and clear over the cranked up radio. “The SUV rammed our patrol truck. The two suspects are injured and in custody. Partner and I are fine. I called dispatch. They’re sending an ambulance and backup. Over.”

  A sigh of relief escaped Jasper’s lips. “We found Damien Godfrey,” he told Officer Gambone. “I’ll see you at the station. Over.”

  A few minutes later, the siren of an ambulance pierced the darkness.

  Hang in there, Godfrey. The victim’s irregular pulse throbbed against the pad of Jasper’s finger. Help is almost here.

  ~ * ~

  Something brushed Liliane’s cheeks, rousing her from a nightmarish sleep.

  “Wake up, sweetkin.”

  His voice pierced the hazy layers of her guilt-ridden mind. As she struggled to lift heavy eyelids and get a grip on reality, the dripping, humming, and clicking sounds of the machines fell into the background. The events of the last few hours rushed back to the surface, exacerbating her regrets and sorrow. She followed the vestiges of his voice while seeking comfort in his touch.

  A tender smile lit his face, ebbing away the worry lines. “You were twitching and yelping. Why don’t I drive you home?”

  “I’m staying.” After throwing Damien into the lion’s den, she wouldn’t leave him while he fought for his life. “What time is it?”

  She hadn’t seen Jasper since she’d ridden back in the ambulance with Damien. The dark stubble on his face and the wrinkles in his shirt were the telltale signs of a night spent working.

  Squatted beside her uncomfortable armchair, he checked his watch. A coffee stain discolored the cuff of his sleeve. “A few minutes after 6:00. Any news?”

  Her gaze turned back to the unconscious man on the hospital bed. An IV line carried the fluid from the three bags hanging on a pole to the top of his right hand while tubes attached to his face were connected to portable machines plugged into the wall. No one had apprised her of the contents of the bags or the purpose of the tubes, and she didn’t bother inquiring. The care the doctors and nurses were providing had kept him alive throughout the night. At the moment, it was all that mattered.

  “As of forty minutes ago, he was still listed as critical.” She felt like she had slept for hours without getting any rest. Her back ached, her muscles cramped, and her legs tingled. To work the kinks out, she stretched in her chair. “From what I overheard, they haven’t isolated the drug on which he overdosed yet, but he’s hanging to life. What happened to Stuart and Janet? Are they rotting in hell or in jail?”

  When Jasper walked to the door, she resigned herself to the idea she wouldn’t receive any answers to that question either.

  He closed it then leaned one shoulder against the wall edging the lone window overlooking a church parking lot. “They suffered minor injuries and were discharged from the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. I spent the rest of the night interrogating them. They’re currently in custody at the police station for damaging a police truck and endangering the lives of two officers.”

  “Those aren’t the only charges you’ll be filing against them, are they?” Though Liliane didn’t miss Thomas, the two monsters responsible for Sophie’s death, Damien’s overdose, and her car explosion deserved to experience the full wrath of the criminal justice system.

  His arms crossed over his muscular chest, Jasper expelled a harsh sigh. “They gave me the same story. Almost word for word. Damien stopped by Janet’s house earlier in the evening to offer his condolences. They talked about his divorce, how depressed he felt—”

  “Depressed over his divorce?” Liliane hiccupped a chortle as she glanced between the two men in the room. “Damien can’t wait to get rid of her, Jasper.”

  “I’m convinced they concocted that story during their ride tonight, but without Damien’s testimony to the contrary, it could seed doubts in the minds of a jury.” Peculiar glints lit up Jasper’s eyes. “Apparently, after we inquired about him, the widow remembered they had also talked about the dangers of driving on Archie Lane at night, so she called her lover Stuart to help her search for Damien because she was worried something bad might have happened to him.”

  Stunned, Liliane gaped at Jasper, the muscles holding her jaw stretching to a painful extension, then she snapped her mouth shut. She couldn’t decide what had shocked her the most: Janet’s alleged altruism or the nature of her relationship with Stuart. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I wish.” He joined her and sat on the armrest. “They claim Janet picked Stuart up at an intersection downtown and drove to Archie Lane where they stumbled onto Damien’s rental car. Do you recall seeing anyone approach her SUV at any of the intersections?”

  “She hit a few red lights ahead of us...” Liliane had tried her best to keep an eye on the black SUV, but Jasper maintained his distance and other vehicles filled the gap between the SUV and the cruiser while they crossed town. “I didn’t see anyone, but I suppose someone could have climbed in her car without me seeing him.” It pained her to admit the story was plausible. “What was their excuse for fleeing when we arrived and for ramming your officers’ truck at the other end of Archie Lane?”

  “They said they were about to call 911 when our abrupt arrival frightened them. They panicked, tossed a thermos in my direction, and sped away.” His arm draped over her shoulders, he hugged her close to his chest. “In the dark, they didn’t see the officers’ truck until it was too late to avoid it.”

  The strong beating of his heart against her ear provided the emotional anchor she needed to weather this latest tragedy. “Don’t they realize Damien will sink their story the moment he regains consciousness or do they think he’s dead?”

  “Not sure, but they haven’t lawyered up yet, so they may believe he can’t survive whatever drug they gave him.” He brushed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I have a mountain of circumstantial evidence against them, but I can’t prove Stuart blew up your car any more than I can prove Janet killed her husband and staged Sophie’s suicide in order to frame her for his murder.”

  Regardless of Sophie’s faults, her husband and twin boys didn’t deserve the pain caused by her senseless death. Liliane felt for the broken family she left behind. “Sophie had two boys, Jasper. I don’t get why Janet chose to frame her and not
Jasmin or Rose.”

  “You don’t get why?” With his fingers, he tipped her chin up. “They were having an affair, sweetkin. Her yellow negligee was discovered under the bed in Thomas’ motel room. She was the perfect patsy.”

  “What?” Baffled by his allegations, she searched his face for an explanation. “No, it can’t be her negligee. They weren’t having an affair. Where did you get that?”

  His eyebrows knitted together over his nose, he stared at her with a quizzical expression. “You were the one who told me Sophie rummaged through Thomas’ office looking for the compromising picture I found on his phone.”

  “I didn’t—” As she recalled their previous exchange, understanding dawned on her. “What exactly was in that picture, Jasper?”

  ~ * ~

  Had they been in his office at the station, Jasper would have shown Liliane the compromising photo. Since he didn’t carry a copy with him, he provided her with a detailed description of the image and the vantage point in the backyard from where it was snapped.

  “Your compromising picture is of Sophie in a yellow negligee in her bedroom? That was the shot you found on Thomas’ phone?” Her muted disbelief carried loud and clear. “Sophie was having an affair with Thomas’ son, Jeremy. Thomas caught them in action in Jeremy’s garage last winter. He feared the affair would end his son’s marriage and he would lose his grandson, so he threatened to show the picture to Sophie’s husband if she didn’t stop seeing Jeremy. Thomas had no reason to snap that picture when he could blackmail her with the more incriminating picture, unless he didn’t want to implicate his son...if Janet or Stuart became aware of Sophie’s reputation as a man eater, one of them could have snapped that negligee picture and planted it on Thomas’ phone.” Her fingers twined with his, she lowered his hand on her lap. “He was stabbed in the back, Jasper, but the way he angled his desk prevented anyone from sneaking by him. Despite his caution, he made the fatal mistake of turning his back to someone he knew—and trusted.”

  “I doubt Stuart Reiter enters that trusting category, which is irrelevant since he has solid alibis for the times of both murders.” While at the campaign office, Jasper had talked to more than a dozen employees, including the candidate. Between all of them, they vouched for every minute of Reiter’s whereabouts. “On the other hand, Janet’s black SUV was spotted near Sophie’s house on more than one occasion. It’s possible Janet stole the negligee and planted it in the motel to cement their non-existent affair.” As he spoke, a different scenario sprouted in his mind, a scenario explaining why Janet chose to frame Sophie. “Sweetkin, how many people knew of Sophie’s affair with Thomas’ son?”

  “You mean aside from Sophie, Jeremy, Thomas, you, and me?” Her gaze traveled inward to a place only she could visit. “No one else I know of. Why?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~A good lie placed between two truths is always easy to swallow.~

  Jasper wanted another crack at his two suspects before they decided to retain a lawyer, but this time he intended to question the widow first and force her to turn on Reiter. By setting the record straight regarding the compromising picture, Liliane had provided him with a strong motive to use against Janet Finch.

  The woman sitting with her back erect in the interrogation room looked sophisticated and deceptively innocent. She welcomed him with a weary smile. “Am I free to go, Detective? I will plead guilty to reckless driving and reimburse the police department for the cost of the vehicle I hit. Like I said many times through the night, I am truly sorry, but after finding Mr. Godfrey, I was in shock and I panicked. Poor man. All alone in the woods. What an awful way to die. Please, I’m physically and emotionally exhausted. I’d like to go to bed and forget.”

  A jury might believe the widow’s excuses, and while Jasper applauded her performance, he didn’t buy it. Rose, the aspiring actress, would have been better off taking acting classes from Thomas’ wife than sleeping with the deceased.

  To avoid intimidating his suspect—not that he believed her to be easily intimidated—Jasper leaned back in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

  “Well, Mr. Godfrey isn’t quite dead yet, so there’s always hope, right?” He was pleased to see the subtle tightening of the muscles around her mouth. “In any case, I’d rather discuss your husband’s murder. Would you mind if I share my fanciful theory with you?”

  Her arms crossed over her chest, she stared with a blank expression. “Can you make it fast?”

  “I’m afraid it’s a long, twisted tale, Mrs. Finch. See, I believe you’ve known about your husband’s indiscretions for a while. You gave us his password for his phone, so we assume you could also access it. It must have been humiliating to discover the emails he exchanged with his younger lover Rose. A woman in her fifties, no matter how beautiful, cannot compete with a girl in her early twenties.” In no hurry, he selected every word for clarity and effect. “The opportunity to seek revenge arose when the election was called. Had it become public knowledge that your husband made an illegal contribution to a political party, it would have tarnished his reputation and benefited your lover’s party. Your plan was brilliant, but it fell apart when you told Liliane Irwin you weren’t surprised by your husband’s actions. She found out Thomas had already forced you to contribute to his favorite party within the limits of the law. If you’d been appalled by your husband’s behavior, Liliane would have been left with unanswered questions instead of lies. She might have dropped the questions, but she couldn’t ignore the lies, and that’s the reason your lover decided to blow up her car. To silence her. Anyway, I’m digressing here.”

  Aside from the rhythmic drumming of her index finger against her elbow, the widow remained stoic and silent, so he continued.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure you intended to kill your husband at this point, but when you overheard Nathalie Jacobs threaten to chop his manhood after he sexually harassed her, you decided to confront him. To discover your husband’s betrayal on his phone in private was one thing, but to be humiliated in public in an election office belongs in a different category. You bought a second phone in his name, and posing as Rose, you lured him into his office. He must have been surprised to see you, unless he chalked it up to a coincidence. Maybe you argued with him then went back into the lobby, saw the screwdriver on the receptionist desk, and re-entered his office to terminate the conversation for good. Or maybe you saw the screwdriver when you first entered and took it with you in case you might need it to protect yourself from him. In any case, you stabbed him, but then you needed someone to take the fall for his death, so you framed an attractive woman, the type of woman that captured your husband’s roving eye. Sophie Mink. You snapped a sexy picture of her and planted it on your husband’s phone to make it look like they were involved, then you visited her at home. She either offered you a drink, or you requested one, and in return you spiked hers. Once she was unconscious, you loaded the dishwasher and started it to wash the incriminating glasses, then placed her in her running car where you left her to die of carbon monoxide poisoning. To cement her affair with your husband, you stole a yellow negligee from her house and dropped it at the hotel where you, or Stuart, abandoned your husband’s truck. Leaving the phone between the seats so I could find the picture and the emails he exchanged was a nice touch. They highlighted your husband’s despicable character and muddied the case. There was only one problem...” He paused a few seconds for effect. “You didn’t convince the coroner that Sophie committed suicide. So, what do you think?”

  “Well, for a detective, you have a hell of an imagination.” Something akin to amusement shimmered in her eyes. “I’m debating if I should be flattered or offended that you think I concocted such a diabolical plot. I doubt you can substantiate any of this nonsense or I would already be under arrest for murder. Nonetheless, for a few minutes, the tale was entertaining.”

  Shrouded in a veil of overconfidence, she held his gaze, almost challenging him to establish her guilt.
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  “You’re right. I can’t prove it yet, but it won’t stop me from trying. We have a witness who can place your black SUV with your grandson’s Batman car seat in Sophie’s neighborhood on multiple occasions prior to her death.” The witness’ children touched the SUV and Jasper asked for the vehicle to be processed, but the collision shattered most of the windows and bent the metal. The odds their tiny prints survived weren’t in his favor.

  She raised a brow and served him a dubious look. “I often drive through her neighborhood. The town isn’t that big, you know. Besides, there’s a great playground near her house where I took my grandson a few times. I even talked to some of the mothers. I’m sure one of them remembers me and Tommy.”

  Many playgrounds existed between his suspect’s and the victim’s neighborhood. Still, she chose to make a detour to let her grandson play in that particular one and engaged in conversation to establish an alibi. That suggested premeditation.

  The realization that Sophie never stood a chance pained him.

  “I’m convinced your grandson enjoyed the playground, but it didn’t exclude you from returning alone and stalking Sophie, did it? You hid in her backyard and spied through her bedroom window until she got dressed, or undressed, or lay on her bed, unsuspectedly providing you with the picture you needed.” It amazed him that Janet hadn’t snapped a naked picture instead. “The truth is, Sophie was never involved with your husband. You framed her for his murder and you killed her, not to absolve you, but to conceal the affair she carried on with your son Jeremy. The father of your only grandchild. This is the reason you enlisted Stuart’s help to eliminate Liliane. Liliane knew about their affair. Sophie told her they met in Jeremy’s garage. You couldn’t risk that either woman would ruin your son’s marriage because you couldn’t bear the idea of losing your grandson.”