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Detective Drisklay was the only one who didn’t appear at all surprised at Vivian’s confession. Kennedy sucked in her breath. Nick whipped his head around to look at Drisklay so fast his dreads flew through the air.
“You?” Drisklay didn’t raise his voice. He still wore that bemused smirk on his face. “And why would you kill your husband?”
Vivian was no longer trembling. “Because he was going to disown our son. And I don’t care what Noah’s done. He’s our child, and nothing’s going to change that.”
Kennedy heard her throat muscles working.
“They had a fight,” Vivian explained. “After Noah came home last night, he went to his dad’s office. I listened in. Wayne said he was meeting with the lawyer first thing in the morning. He was going to take Noah out of the will, begin the emancipation process to completely disown Noah. What kind of father would do that to his own child? His own flesh and blood? And so when they were done talking, I went in. Told Wayne he would not write our firstborn out of his will. We fought. I realized my husband wasn’t going to change his mind. His golf bag was there in the corner. I took out a club. And that was that.”
Drisklay appeared unmoved. “And the fire?”
“You said it yourself. It was intended to cover up the body. But Noah didn’t set it. I did.”
Drisklay gave a little shrug. “All right, then. If that’s your story, you know I’ll have to take you in. Shall I put you in handcuffs? Make it look more convincing?”
“I’m telling the truth.”
Another shrug. “That’s the judge and jury’s job to determine. My job is to get you booked. By the way, I guess I should tell you that you’re under arrest for the murder of your husband. You have the right to remain silent.”
Even after hearing Drisklay pull out of the driveway with Vivian Abernathy, Kennedy wasn’t sure any of it had actually happened. She couldn’t raise her eyes to Nick. Didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know what to think. Vivian wasn’t guilty, was she? Something was wrong. Besides, even if Vivian did kill her husband, that wouldn’t explain who set the Lindgrens’ house on fire and who stabbed the Christian counselor. Vivian couldn’t have done all that. She was with Jodie during the fire until the police came to ask her questions.
That still left Noah a suspect at two of tonight’s crime scenes.
Where was he?
“Well that was strange, wasn’t it?” Nick finally asked.
Kennedy let out her breath. “Strangest night of my life, I think.”
“Yeah. Mine, too.”
She wanted to ask him questions. Ask him what he really thought about Drisklay’s explanation. Kennedy had spent all night trying to think of ways to prove Noah’s innocence. What if she’d been mistaken? If Noah hadn’t done anything wrong, he wouldn’t be hiding right now, would he? Unless he thought his dad really had kicked him out of the house. Was it possible he didn’t have a clue about any of this? Didn’t have a clue how thin a line existed between him and a prison sentence for murder?
Nick stood up. “So, do we tell Vivian’s mom?”
“I suppose we have to.” Kennedy hoped Nick would volunteer to be the one to break news like that. She’d be more comfortable sitting in the bus listening to the Babylon Eunuchs. “I guess we need to let Jodie know, too.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” The crackling voice from around the corner sent cold goosebumps racing up Kennedy’s neck.
Mrs. Olinstein emerged from whatever crevice she’d been hiding behind. “My daughter’s a fool. A fool to have married an Abernathy in the first place. You two get yourselves home.”
“What will you tell Jodie when she ...”
“I’ll tell her what I decide is important and relevant for her to know.” Mrs. Olinstein stretched out a bony finger. “Now leave, and I expect you’ll be so kind as to lock my door on your way out.”
“So, do you really think Vivian’s guilty?” They were halfway back to Nick’s apartment when Kennedy finally found the courage to broach the subject.
Nick shrugged. “I guess it’s possible. A mother’s love can be a pretty strong motivation in something like this.”
She knew that sort of thing happened in books. But still, that didn’t mean regular people like Vivian Abernathy could up and kill their husbands, did it? Kennedy had experienced so many things in the past twelve months. Surviving a kidnapping. Running away from a vindictive criminal. Confronting police brutality head on.
Still, everything in the past was a far cry from pre-meditated murder.
There had to be some other explanation, a logical scenario that wouldn’t condemn Vivian or her son. “What about that Marcos guy?” Kennedy asked. “The counselor?”
Nick scoffed. “You don’t even want to hear my opinion on the likes of him.”
Kennedy hadn’t been prepared for such a vehement response. She stared at his radio dial. Maybe he’d opt for some folksy grunge worship music.
“I wish he’d told me he’d been talking to that quack job.” Nope. He wasn’t reaching for the dial at all.
Nick shook his head. “If you ask me, that’s when everything started to go wrong. When Noah thought he had to go so far as to change his orientation. I hate it when families do that to their kids.” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.
Kennedy tensed in her seat but didn’t respond.
“I hate it,” he repeated, more softly this time.
Kennedy glanced out the window. It was strange to see the midnight sky even though her body and brain were telling her it should be the middle of the day. She felt like Kate in Taming of the Shrew, riding in a cart with her new husband who forced her to admit the sun was really the moon. She couldn’t believe how long of a day it had been already.
How long of a night, that is.
Nick strummed the steering wheel, but the upbeat rhythm was gone, replaced by a heavy, dour pulse.
He looked over at her. He couldn’t be out of his twenties yet, but there were long furrows etched across his brow she’d never noticed before.
“I get pretty worked up about the whole ex-gay movement.” His fingers held still. “That’s because it was charlatans like this Marcos deadbeat who killed my sister.”