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Haley had trouble falling asleep that night. The words “Ricardo Zepeda” kept slicing through her mind, her hatred of the man growing with each silent repetition of his name. But when she finally did doze off, she slept surprisingly well. She woke up Wednesday morning to the sound of someone lightly rapping on her front door. She glanced at her alarm clock, wondering what kind of sadist would be paying her a visit at six a.m. She conjured up a vision of Nexus Warren come to perform a spot-check on her Internet reliability.
Haley swung her legs out of bed, cinched a bathrobe around her pajamas, and trudged toward the front of the house. Whoever continued to tap at her door apparently didn’t want to draw attention from the neighbors, which ruled out Luke Justice.
Haley peered through the peephole. Despite the early hour, the summer sun had already begun to rise, giving her a decent view of the redheaded woman on her doorstep. Haley sighed, hoping another well-meaning resident hadn’t come to welcome her to the neighborhood at this ungodly hour.
She flipped the deadbolt and opened the front door. “Can I help you?”
“You’re Haley, the woman who ID’ed Ricardo,” the redhead said, her voice strained.
Haley’s heart seized at the mention of Ricardo Zepeda.
“I’m Tracy Lamb,” the redhead said, making no move to extend her hand or offer further details.
Haley kept her own hand wrapped around the doorknob, unsure what this woman wanted. From her opening statement and the lack of home-baked goods in her hands, she obviously hadn’t dropped by to offer the new girl a warm welcome to the neighborhood.
“I’m the police chief’s wife,” Tracy added.
Haley’s pulse sped up as recognition dawned. “Did they arrest Zepeda?” she asked. The taste of the man’s name in her mouth made her want to spit.
Tracy nodded.
A broad grin broke out across Haley’s face. One of Michael’s drug suppliers was one step closer to being imprisoned. She had been waiting forever for this moment, and now she wanted to jump with joy.
“Ricardo . . .” Tracy began before her voice faded.
“Do they need me at the station?” Haley took a step forward, ready to sprint there in her pajamas if that meant the authorities could prosecute Zepeda sooner.
Tracy shook her head, her red curls bouncing around her face. “Victor, he—” She broke off on a sob.
Haley’s excitement dimmed, her chest tightening as she took in the fact that Tracy’s eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was rubbed raw, as though she’d been crying.
Tracy took a deep breath. “Victor doesn’t know I’m here.” She darted a glance in the direction of Luke’s house before turning back to Haley. “Do you mind if I come inside so we can talk privately?”
Haley swung the front door open and motioned Tracy into the living room. She had been obsessed with Ricardo Zepeda for five months, before she had even learned his name. She refused to turn away anyone who might have information on him.
Haley secured the front door as soon as Tracy stepped across the threshold. “Can I offer you some coffee or something?”
“That’d be great.”
Haley didn’t move. She hadn’t actually expected Tracy to accept her offer, hoping the woman had merely swung by to tell her something before continuing on her way.
Tracy took a seat on the couch, her eyes trained forward and her back ramrod straight. She didn’t seem even remotely curious about Haley’s lack of living room furniture. After a moment she dropped her head into her hands and didn’t move.
Haley frowned, wondering whether Tracy might suffer from some illness. Babysitting the police chief’s ailing wife before diving into a fresh pile of work wouldn’t be a good start to her Wednesday morning.
But, she reminded herself, she wasn’t turning Tracy away until she learned why she had come here, dredging up Ricardo Zepeda. She headed for the open kitchen, keeping one eye on her visitor as she started a pot of coffee.
Once the coffee began brewing, Haley joined Tracy on the couch. “I have to say, I don’t have a clue why you’re here,” she admitted.
Tracy fingered the edge of the sofa. “No, I didn’t figure you would. I’m not quite sure how to tell you this.”
“It has something to do with Zepeda and the drug bust, right?”
Tracy nodded. “I understand you identified him as the person you saw in the woods.”
“I did.”
Tracy locked gazes with her. “It wasn’t him.”
Haley blinked, taken aback by the conviction in Tracy’s voice.
Tracy turned her focus to her hands, which she twisted in her lap. “I don’t know who you saw, but it wasn’t Ricardo.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Lamb, you really have no clue what or whom I saw that day.”
“I know you didn’t see Ricardo.”
Haley stood up and marched to the kitchen to pour their coffees. Her hand shook as she held the coffeepot, preventing her from filling the mugs as high as she normally would. She added a spoonful of sugar to her own cup, not bothering to ask Tracy how she preferred hers.
She returned to the living room and set Tracy’s cup on the corner of the coffee table so she would need to work to reach it. She no longer felt compelled to treat her guest hospitably. In fact, she really wanted to take the second cup and throw the contents in Tracy’s face.
Haley perched on the edge of the small couch, as far away from Tracy as she could get. She only felt steady enough to resume their conversation after they’d sipped their beverages for a silent minute. “Mrs. Lamb, I’m not sure why you’re questioning my ability to identify Zepeda. If you have knowledge that might clear him, you’ve come to the wrong person. You should be talking to your husband.”
Tracy shook her head as if the notion of a wife confiding in her husband was preposterous. “That’s not an option.”
Haley tightened her grip on her mug. “Then I can’t help you.”
“You’re the only one who can help. If you withhold your testimony against Ricardo, the D.A. will have no grounds to charge him.”
Haley bristled, insulted by the suggestion.
Tracy twisted toward her, her eyes moist. “You’re what’s holding this case together. Without your testimony, there’s nothing keeping Ricardo from being freed.”
Haley’s jaw clenched. “I doubt that. The police searched his house and apparently found reason to detain him.”
“Ricardo’s a good man.” Tracy’s voice cracked. “He would never do something like peddle drugs to people.”
Haley snorted. “Right.”
“I’m serious.”
Haley leaned away. “Look, if you’re aiming to get this case dropped, you’re talking to the wrong person. I have no interest in seeing that happen.”
Tracy placed her cup on the coffee table before clutching Haley’s free hand. “But Ricardo’s not guilty.”
Haley yanked her hand away, then wrapped it around the other side of her mug. “Mrs. Lamb, you should leave now. I’m not in a position to help you, and I’m no longer comfortable with this conversation.”
Tracy balled her hands into fists and pressed them into her lap. “Just hear me out. Please.”
Haley didn’t say anything. Instead, she glowered at her unwanted visitor, daring her to speak.
Tracy took a deep breath. “Ricardo has never been under arrest for anything.”
“The police had a mug shot of him.”
“They blamed a brawl on him once until witnesses came forward and vouched that the other guy started it.” Tracy’s face darkened. “It was a racial attack. And besides that one incident, Ricardo’s never even had so much as a traffic ticket. Trust me, he stays on the good side of the law.”
“If anything, that only proves he’s good at concealing his illegal activities.” Haley thought of the collection of traffic tickets she’d accumulated over the years. Anyone who made it into their forties without acquiring a speeding ticket either didn’t drive or was too elusive to get caught, especially in a town where drivers risked getting written up for circling the same street twice.
Tracy shook her head. “No, Ricardo wasn’t there that day. You must believe me.”
“I don’t have to believe anything except what I remember.”
Tracy didn’t respond, although Haley swore she saw her lips twitch, as if she yearned to reveal more. Still, the seconds ticked by without another word.
Haley finally broke the silence, her patience snapping. “If you have something else to say then say it. Otherwise, you’re wasting my time.”
Tracy’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. I suppose I’ll have to confide everything if I expect you to believe me. You see, Ricardo and I are involved.” She swallowed. “Physically, I mean.”
Haley’s mouth dropped open. Although she hadn’t figured Tracy had stopped by to convince her of Ricardo Zepeda’s innocence based on a psychic hunch, she also had never expected her to admit to an affair with the accused.
However, the news didn’t completely surprise her. Mindy Larkin had mentioned Tracy’s affair before. Haley tried to recall what else Mindy had told her about the chief’s wife. Something about her passion being smothered by loneliness.
But looking into Tracy’s imploring eyes now, Haley believed Mindy had it all wrong. The person across from her did not look like a passionless woman. Rather, she looked like a woman in love.
The realization triggered a resentment that radiated from Haley’s core to every part of her body. How horribly unfair for this adulteress to be blessed with two men who loved her while Haley’s one and only fiancé had died. For that mere fact alone, she didn’t think she could drum up any sympathy for Tracy Lamb now. After all, with Ricardo Zepeda arrested, she still had Victor.
And given that Zepeda had caused Haley’s own personal loss, nothing would stop her from seeing the man imprisoned for life.
“Mrs. Lamb,” Haley began, “you aren’t the first person who’s been blinded by love.”
“I’m not blinded by . . . my feelings. It’s more than that.”
Haley tapped her foot on the floor, wishing the woman would hurry up and make her point.
Tracy really looked at Haley then. “You see, I know for a fact that Ricardo wasn’t in those woods that day.”
Haley’s heart stopped beating. She couldn’t pinpoint what clued her in, but in that instant she knew whatever Tracy said next would change the course of this conversation.
“Ricardo was with me the day you found that crop. Victor had gone to the station to work on some paperwork for the end of the fiscal year. I knew he’d be gone all day, so I went over to Ricardo’s.”
Haley didn’t move. Tracy’s ability to provide the man with a solid alibi had immobilized her.
That is, she reminded herself, if Tracy were telling her the truth.
Tracy picked at a wrinkle in her pants. “I’m not proud of my affair. And I’ve tried so hard to shield Victor from it.”
Haley thought about her conversation with Mindy last week. “Your husband might already know.”
Tracy nodded, misery etched across her face. “I’ve gone out of my way not to flaunt it, but it’s hard to hide things in a town this size.”
The statement prompted Haley to sneak a glance behind her, as if Mindy might be furiously taking notes in the kitchen.
When she turned back around, Tracy looked even more stricken than before. Haley wondered how many people the chief’s wife had told about her affair. For all she knew, she might be the first to ever hear a direct confession.
She studied Tracy, taking in her vibrant red curls and heart-shaped face. She could see why someone might be drawn to the woman. And with Victor working long hours, maybe it was only natural for his wife to seek affection elsewhere. A man could only ignore his partner for so long before she turned somewhere else to fulfill her needs.
And, Haley supposed, her heart growing heavy as her thoughts turned to Michael and the solace he’d derived from smoking marijuana, sometimes it worked the other way around, too.
“How long have you been cheating on him?” Haley asked quietly.
“A few years now.”
“Has Victor known all this time?”
Tracy shrugged, but the gesture contained no life. “Perhaps. I know he’s known for a while. Maybe not since the beginning, but long enough.”
“Yet you don’t want to tell him you were with Zepeda that day? You’d rather see your lover go to jail than confirm something your husband already knows?”
“No, of course not. But nothing I tell Victor will influence his investigation.”
“Because of my testimony.”
“Yes, he’s banking on that to convict Ricardo. You have to understand, Victor wants to see Ricardo punished.”
Haley scoffed. “Well, naturally. What did you expect when you started sleeping with the guy behind your husband’s back? That he’d throw you a party?”
Tracy regarded her. “I don’t think you understand. Victor is using you to make sure Ricardo is punished.”
“Using me?” Haley’s anger flared. “You think your husband and I made some sort of pact, agreeing that I would lie and say I saw your little lover frolicking among those marijuana plants when I really didn’t?”
“Of course not. But I do believe he’s exploiting you unwittingly.”
Haley could feel the blood rushing through her head when she spoke next. “Look, Tracy, I’m not sure what you’re implying, but I know what I saw. Any claims I made against your precious Ricardo were based on that, not because your husband wants to frame your little angel of a lover.”
Tracy didn’t seem deterred by Haley’s venom. “Do you know how Victor and I met?”
Haley listed against the sofa, disoriented by the sudden change in topic. Perhaps Tracy Lamb was more than a little ill. Maybe she suffered from a psychotic version of attention deficit disorder.
“I was working on my master’s degree in Portland,” Tracy went on. “Victor was a beat cop in Eugene back then. He visited to attend a symposium hosted by the University. As a psychology grad student, the topic sounded interesting to me, and I could sit in for free.” She paused, then looked Haley in the eye. “Do you know what the topic was?”
“How men respond to crazy women?”
Tracy shook her head, as though Haley had offered up a serious guess. “The accuracy of eyewitness reports.”
Haley set her mug on the coffee table, fearing what she might do with it otherwise. “What are you saying? That my identification of your little lover wasn’t accurate?”
“I’m saying Victor manipulated you into thinking you were identifying the right person when really he knew you saw someone other than Ricardo.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would he think he could do that?”
“Because he knows how to,” Tracy said. “He knows exactly what to do to maximize the chances of you fingering Ricardo rather than the true guilty party.”
Haley folded her arms across her chest. “Like what?”
“Like how he waited over a week before asking you for a description of the man you ran into, giving you time to forget what you really saw.”
Haley made a face. “That’s it? So the guy was busy. Didn’t you just say he had a bunch of fiscal-year stuff to work on?”
“And when he showed you pictures of the potential suspects,” Tracy continued, undaunted, “did he tell you the guilty party might not be present?”
“I don’t know. Why would he do that?”
“Because studies show omitting such a disclaimer increases the odds of witnesses positively identifying someone.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Not if the guilty party isn’t present. And did Victor have you view the photographs separately, or did he line them all up and ask you to pick one? Because the studies also suggest the odds of a false identification increase when suspect photographs are displayed side by side. Then the witness compares the individuals rather than evaluating each photo based on its own merits.”
Haley opened her mouth to tell Tracy to stop splitting hairs but something stopped her. She didn’t remember any of Tracy’s best practices being applied to her second visit to the police station. That realization made her distinctly uncomfortable.
But would she really have fingered the wrong man because Victor deviated slightly from protocol? The idea struck her as awfully far-fetched.
“You know,” Tracy said, “your memory is not static. It’s not like a videotape that can be replayed over and over again without a hitch. It’s more malleable than that. Over time, your memories evolve. They change as your experience changes.”
“That’s all well and good,” Haley said, “but it doesn’t explain why you think I’d magically start remembering seeing Zepeda.”
“Because Victor knows how to maximize the odds of a person’s memory assimilating fake details that he planted. He knows as much about the fallacies of eyewitness memory as I do.”
“Maybe, but my memory wouldn’t have changed as drastically as you’re implying.”
Tracy eyed her. “You’d be surprised.”
“Besides, I’m not the only person who saw Zepeda. Luke Justice saw him too. He remembered details right down to the mole on his chin and the tattoo behind his ear.”
“I don’t know what Luke saw, but Luke knows Ricardo. They’ve both lived in this town for years. If Ricardo was the person he had seen, he would have known right away.”
Haley threw her hands up. “So what are you suggesting? There’s someone else running around out there with the same tattoo and mole?”
Tracy shrugged, appearing at as much of a loss as Haley felt. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.”
“In Sobaco? What’s the population of this town? Five hundred? One thousand? You honestly believe two people here look identical, have the same facial mole, and the same crucifix tattoo?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Tracy turned her head away. From Haley’s vantage point, she looked ready to cry. “Who’s to say that tattoo isn’t commonplace? And Ricardo’s mole isn’t that large. Maybe the person Luke saw had a smudge on his face. Is that so difficult to imagine, given that he’d been digging in the dirt seconds earlier?”
Haley picked up her coffee mug again, hoping the gesture would signal the end of her willingness to continue with this discussion. “Well, it sounds crazy.”
“I only know one thing for sure,” Tracy said, “and that’s that Ricardo was with me when you saw that person in the woods.”
The women lapsed into silence. Haley thought back to Luke’s suspect profile, not the crude sketch he’d penned himself but the professional composite. If Luke really had seen Zepeda on the trail, it would make sense that he wouldn’t have admitted he knew him. Even though Tracy hadn’t said as much, Haley felt pretty confident that cops volunteering the name of their primary suspect so eyewitnesses could look them up online would go against best practice too.
Tracy released a ragged sigh, the sound jarring enough for Haley to slosh coffee on her bathrobe. “I know you have no reason to believe what I’m saying. But can you just answer me one question, Haley?”
She shrugged. She no longer had the will to argue.
“How sure are you that you saw Ricardo?”
And just like that, Tracy Lamb shattered what remained of Haley’s confidence.
