“There might have been a fancier word for it,” Claire said. “Anyway, house closed up like that, it filled right up with poison. A few hours later, she would have been dead three minutes after she came in the front door.”
No. It couldn’t be simple. Not with Susan Ward involved. Henry tried to sort this information out. Why would Bennett try to kill Susan? He rubbed his head. The lack of sleep had settled in his brain like a fog. “He was the first responder to the Molly Palmer crime scene,” Henry theorized. “Maybe he didn’t fall.”
“You think he was trying to destroy evidence?” Claire asked.
“Let’s say he killed Molly Palmer and tried to cover it up. That might give him a reason to go after Susan.”
“Why Susan?”
“She’s working on a story tying Molly Palmer to Castle.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “She was the kid you told me about, the kid he fucked?”
“I think I used a fancier word for it,” Henry said.
He had to protect Susan. He could do that. Archie would want him to. Henry would keep her safe.
If he could keep himself from killing her.
“Let me know if he wakes up,” he said. “We searching his house?”
“Just filed for warrants,” Claire said. Her phone rang and she checked the caller ID. “It’s Flannigan,” she said, lifting it to her ear. Flannigan was back at the task force offices, running the search for Archie. “Let me get this.” She reached up and touched Henry lightly on the shoulder. “It could be good news.”
CHAPTER
56
You’ll like this,” Gretchen said. “Draw a star.”
They were sitting on the sofa in the living room. Gretchen had put on a white silk blouse and a pair of slacks. Archie was dressed again in the blue shirt and corduroys. He had built a fire while she had made him a sandwich, and now he sat with the sandwich on a plate on his lap. Gretchen had found a pen and notebook in her purse and now handed Archie both.
He put the pen to the pad and tried to draw a star. It came out wrong, one side trailing off. It looked like a triangle. He tried again. The same thing happened.
“I can’t,” he said, examining the pen.
“You can track your neurological decline,” Gretchen said. She got up, leaving Archie to ponder the lopsided lumpy drawing. “It will get worse,” she said as she walked to the bar.
“I tried to make love to Debbie yesterday, and couldn’t get hard,” Archie said, putting the notebook on the floor with the sandwich. He couldn’t eat, and his urine was tinged with blood.
Gretchen was pouring them two drinks at the bar. She walked back to the couch and handed him a glass and stretched out on her back, putting her feet in his lap. “Did you try thinking of me?” she asked.
Archie examined the whiskey for a moment and then took a drink. “Yes.”
Gretchen smiled. “Did she know?” she asked.
“Yes,” Archie said.
“Good,” said Gretchen. She moved her foot, pressing it against his groin. “Maybe I’ll have our love child,” she said.
“You had your tubes tied,” Archie said. “I saw the prison medical reports.”
Something flashed in her eyes. Then it was gone. “Yes. Even at the tender age of seventeen I knew I shouldn’t reproduce.”
It was maybe the most responsible thing she’d ever done. And still, it was sad, Archie thought. To make that decision so young. “And you found a doctor who’d do the operation?” he asked.
“The same one who did the abortion a month earlier,” Gretchen said. She rolled on her side and faced the fire, the orange light reflecting off her smooth skin. “That was the first person I killed,” she said.
“The baby?” Archie asked.
“The doctor,” Gretchen said.
CHAPTER
57
Susan’s phone rang. It wasn’t supposed to be on and she scrambled to find it in her purse before the nurse came back and busted her. The Herald. She picked it up.
“Are you okay?” Derek asked. “It came through on the scanner.” He sounded breathless. “Your mom shot a cop?”
“I’m fine,” Susan said.
“Is something wrong with your nose?”
Susan could feel her face blush. Great. She sounded nasal. Perfect. “It’s sort of broken,” she said.
Derek paused. “Dude,” he said slowly.
The nurse would be back any minute. “So I’m supposed to keep this oxygen mask on,” Susan said, trying to get off the phone.
“There’s a Texaco in a town called Mills Crossing on 22,” Derek said. “It’s about an hour and a half off of 5. Sixty-five people. Guy I talked to said he pumped gas into a Jag last night at about eleven P.M. Didn’t remember the driver, but said the car had some sort of special wheels. Let me find it in my notes.”
Susan’s mouth went dry. “Sabre?” she said softly.
“Yeah,” Derek said. “What are those anyway?”
“I have no idea,” Susan said. “Listen, I’ve got to run.”
“Okay. Ian’s sending someone over. You know, to interview you and your mom.”