“Yes ma’am, they were screaming at each other.”
The witness chair practically swallowed the tiny Hispanic woman. Chelsea watched her fingers latch and unlatch with nervousness, her thin brown lips forming a small O as she perched before Erica Salvador.
Lupe de La Roca, one of the weekly crew who had cleaned the Welks’ house, was the fourth defense witness of the morning to testify about hearing an argument between Shawna Welk and another person, this one being her daughter, Tracey. Two others had told of arguments with ex-boyfriends. And the first, an electrician called to a repair in the Welks’ household, had told of hearing a bitter argument between Shawna and Brett. The way defense counsel apparently wanted it to sound, Shawna Welk did little else but argue. Chelsea wondered at that. Shawna was turning out to be quite different from what she’d expected. Anyone who ran an adoption agency would have a soft side, would care about people. Maybe Shawna had cared for others. But more and more Chelsea was seeing her selfishness.
Lord, help me know what’s true.
“What did they do when they saw you in the hall?” Erica asked. Chelsea thought her voice sounded unusually warm. She was obviously trying to put the woman at ease.
“Mrs.Welk pushed Tracey into her bedroom and slammed the door.”
“Whose bedroom, Tracey’s?”
“No, Mrs.Welk’s.”
“Did they continue to argue?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Lupe de La Roca frowned at her hands. “A few minutes.”
“Okay. How far were you from the room?”
“At first I was down the hall, but I was cleaning the baseboards and came closer.”
“Did you hear anything else as you got closer?”
“Yes ma’am. I heard something that sounded like a slap.”
“A slap?”
The woman nodded. “Like a hand against a cheek.”
Erica looked shocked. “Then what happened?”
“The door flew open and Tracey stumbled out. She ran right by me. Her cheek was red and she was crying.”
Erica let the words hang in the air. “When was this, Mrs. de La Roca?”
“Wednesday, February thirteenth.”
Two days before Shawna’s murder, Chelsea thought. She wrote down the date in her notes.
“Are you certain of that date?”
“Yes. I know because”—the woman pressed her lips together until they nearly disappeared—“that’s the last time I saw Mrs.Welk.”
COURT BROKE FOR LUNCH. Milt hustled toward the hall, mind running in a dozen different directions. Phone messages, emails, and COURT the testimony. Tracey arguing with her mother so soon before Shawna’s death.Wasn’t that interesting. But most important right now—had Maria emailed him back? And had Tracey written Maria?
Milt found himself behind Kerra and Brett, the couple of the year.He drew even with them. “Sounds like you’re not the only one who didn’t like Shawna.” He raised an eyebrow at Brett. “Care to comment?”
Kerra turned on him like a wildcat protecting her young. “Get out of here!” she hissed, raising a hand.
Whoa. Milt melted back.He’d expected a reaction, but what was that all about?
“Milt Waking!” a caustic voice sounded from behind.He turned to see Lynn Trudy, eyes narrowed into slits, bearing down upon him in obvious wrath. She cornered him against the wall and away from others, raised a long-nailed finger and pointed it at his nose. “You better stay away from my niece,” she hissed.“Or I’m gonna tell everybody what you’re doing.”
Milt stared at her, brain scrambling. Tracey had told her about them? Why?
Why not? She’d obviously yakked to at least one email friend. Talk about the kiss-and-tell type …
“You hear me? I know what you’re up to. I know you’re just using her to get information. I’m warning you—I’ll ruin you and your career if you don’t stop.”
Easy does it, he told himself.
He set down his briefcase. Raised his shoulders in a slow shrug. “So I’m attracted to her; what’s that to you?”
She cursed at him, her voice like gravel. “You don’t care about her.You are the lowest, most disgusting form of scum on this earth.”
Anger knocked around Milt’s chest.He drew away from the wall, forcing her backward. “Who I choose to date, Ms. Trudy,” he declared in a chilling tone, “is none of your business. But since you brought up this delectable subject, just what information are you so worried I’ll discover?”
“There’s nothing to discover,” she shot back. “You’ve heard it all in court.”
“Then I repeat: what are you worried about?”
Her face flushed to the roots of her spiked hair. “I’m telling you to leave my niece alone! Or I’ll go to the other reporters right now and tell them how you’re using someone half your age.”
“You do that, Ms. Trudy.”Milt flicked at an imaginary piece of lint on his suit coat. “You go right ahead. Maybe they’ll consider it nothing more than a salacious piece of news to drop into their stories. Which, of course, would reflect as much on Tracey as it would on me. More likely”—he gave her a twisted smile—“they’ll figure I’m on to something. They’ll start watching. Real closely. And the next thing you know, Tracey will have a dozen reporters camped on her doorstep. Is that what you want?”
The crimson on Lynn’s face crept down her neck. For a moment Milt thought she was going to hit him.He stepped back and picked up his briefcase.
“I’m going to forget we had this conversation, Ms. Trudy.” He glared down at her, adjusting his tie. “This case will be over before long, and I expect you’ll see the conviction you so heartily desire. In the meantime if you really want what’s best for your niece, you’ll keep her name out of the papers.”
Before she could answer, Milt brushed past her and headed for the escalator.
He reached the first floor before he could breathe again. Briskly he walked outside and to his car in the parking garage. Leaning against the hood, he tried to collect his thoughts.He sure was making enemies all of a sudden.Which could only mean he’d stumbled onto something big.
Milt buffed his jaw with the palm of his hand. Okay, back to the most important thing on his agenda. He pulled out his laptop and rested it on the car hood. Logged on to his email and checked his in-box, holding his breath. Four emails popped up. The top one was from Maria.
Anticipation spritzed his nerves. He clicked on the email and read.
I don’t know what to say to you, I’m so worried. I’ve been thinking about this for hours. I can’t believe it. You simply CAN’T do this! Please write back and tell me you’ve come to your senses.
“Yes!”Milt whispered. He’d done it!
Now how to get any information out of her? He frowned in thought, then typed.
I’m going crazy. I can’t think straight.Why’s it so bad to take a trip with Milt before I come see you, tell me that? Don’t worry about talking openly; nobody’s even the least suspicious of me anyway. Just HELP me!
Don’t wait so long to write this time.
Tracey
Milt clicked the send button and exhaled. Distractedly he considered his other emails, then checked his watch. His phone messages still awaited. With all that had happened, he hadn’t remembered to check them even that morning. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
Messages clicked on. The first was from an anxious-sounding Rogelio, left last night. The second was from an even more anxious Rogelio, left at eight o’clock this morning. The third had been recorded just two minutes ago. This time Rogelio’s voice was a loud mixture of anger and panic.Milt winced and yanked the phone away from his ear.
“I want to hear from you, understand me! I want to know what you found out and what you’re going to say in your report tonight. Plus what I should do then! You told me we’d talk some more about everything.Don’t leave me hanging,Milt; I’ve got too much at stake!”
Oh, great. Milt could have kicked himself. Not a good thing to forget to call Rogelio.What if the kid got tired of waiting and did something stupid like go to another reporter? He’d have to call as soon as Rogelio got home from work. Convince him to hang tight another day or two. This baby thing would have to wait; no way could he blow his cover with Tracey now.
At least Tracey hadn’t called him. Now to make sure he kept her in line. He looked up her work number on a small notepad in his suit pocket and dialed.
“Halding’s Dress Shop.”
“Tracey. It’s Milt.”
“Hi!”
No suspicion in her tone. His eyes closed in relief. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said. “I don’t think I can see you tonight.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve got to do some interviews on another story.”
“When can I see you?” she asked in her lost-waif tone.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you back as soon as I can figure something out. I don’t want to wait long.”
“Okay.”
“By the way,” he said, allowing irritation to creep into his voice, “why did you tell your aunt about us? She came at me today with both barrels.”
“I didn’t tell her!”
“Then who did?”
Silence. “Okay,” she said quietly, “I did tell her. It was a mistake.”
Milt shook his head. This girl lied coming and going.“Yes, it was.
You’re making it more difficult for me here. I want to keep seeing you, but you’ve got to keep quiet about us, understand?”
“Yes.” She sounded meek.
“Have you told anybody else?”
A pause.“No.”
Milt gestured in frustration. She would neglect to mention Maria to him. “Okay. But let me just warn you that if you do, others are likely to respond as your aunt did. They’ll only make you miserable and get in our way. For both our sakes, I hope you won’t talk to anyone like that.”
He cringed as he awaited her answer. Had he said too much?
“Milt, I’m not going to talk to anybody who’s against you, believe me. I threw my aunt out, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” he said, his tone softening, “you did.”
When he disconnected the line a few moments later, he suddenly realized how hungry he was.