Forty-five minutes later, I pulled into the parking garage of Piedmont Hospital. Nerves clenched within my stomach as I worried for Harper. My phone rang through the speakers in the car. I hit the “Answer” button on the steering column. “Hey.” It was my uncle Calvin.
“Where are you?” He always sounded uptight when something went awry with a case. This one technically hadn’t even begun yet, and we were already dealing with a nightmare.
“I’m at the hospital. When I arrived at the precinct, I found out they transported Harper here from jail. I don’t know anything more yet. I was going to call you, but I ran into Piper Sanchez, and she said the oddest thing that had me mentally whirling. I’m sure there isn’t any truth to it. She claimed Mother had offered to help with Harper’s legal fees.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” He didn’t sound happy. “I did receive a call about Harper from Mr. Jenkins. He’s still trying to get to the bottom of what happened. Be careful. He warned me of a large press presence around the hospital.”
I glanced around and could see a couple of media vans. “Okay. I’ll keep my head down as I go inside.”
“Good girl. I’m not sure they’ll give you any information on her condition. Mr. Jenkins is on his way there now. He raised hell with the county, and he probably is still doing so in transit. I’d advise you to wait for him. I can meet you both after eleven—Jenkins is aware of that. He has drop-in office space in one of the buildings few a few streets over.” When a car slowly rolled past me, I thought it looked similar to the car I’d seen at my townhouse—or at least I thought it was. My heart sped up.
“Okay.” Turning in my seat, I scoped out the scene behind me. Nothing odd stood out. Shaking my head, I inwardly chastised myself. Nerves. Get a grip, Lyla! “Got it. Did Mr. Jenkins say where he’d meet me?”
“No, but I figured perhaps the cafeteria. You’ll blend in there.”
That made sense.
“Did you get anything on what the police have on Harper? It took a lot of effort not to question Rosa.” I shifted in my seat.
“I bet it did. Yes, I did get an overview from Jenkins, and you’re not going to like it.”
Chills spread across my skin, and I adjusted the heat.
“From the tox screen they ran on the victim, he discovered someone poisoned Leonard.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I’d imagined he was going to mention that the candlestick had been found in the house, with Harper’s prints on it.
“Yes. And the toxicologists never would have been able to search for the particular drug if the victim’s brother hadn’t turned over a bloody crocheted purse—” Blood thrummed loudly in my ears, so loud it drowned out my uncle’s voice. I’d seen Harper with her crocheted purse at the library. The image of what I’d thought was a rope in Leonard’s hand flashed in my mind. The remnant had been the perfect size for a purse strap.
As my breath came in small gasps, I muted the phone. Oh my God! That was why I’d found comfort in noticing Harper’s wristlet at the charity event. Subconsciously, I’d recognized the purse strap.
“Lyla!”
I cleared my throat. “I … I’m here. Sorry.”
“I told you that you wouldn’t like it. Do you recall seeing a torn strap near the body? Or did Harper say anything about drugs Leonard might have been taking?”
“Yes to the strap. No to the drugs.” I focused on his words.
“That’s not good. Not good for you or Harper.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t withhold anything.” I cringed and thought back to my conversation with Mother. “Not about the strap, anyway. I honestly believed it to be a rope or jacket tie. And another thing that doesn’t make sense is that when I saw Harper, she was carrying a clutch, not her crocheted bag.”
Uncle Calvin grumbled in irritation. “Tell me you included that in your original statement.”
“They didn’t ask me about her purse. And yes, I mentioned seeing something in Leonard’s hand. I told the detective everything.” Oh, Harper. “And Calvin, before you pull out of the case, Harper thinks Leonard’s family is trying to frame her. Anyone who’s spent time in that house and around that family would have no trouble finding the notion plausible. How did Leonard’s brother come to possess the purse?”
“I believe the brother, Felix, is on record as reporting finding the evidence somewhere in the house.”
I rolled my eyes. “See! If you killed someone, would you hide something of such importance where others could find it? No! You’d get rid of it. Another thing, Leonard’s brother, Felix, is a feeble older man in a wheelchair. He doesn’t have the capacity to search a house that size. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Okay. That’s something to dig into, right? Reasonable doubt is all we need to present if we take the case. And that’s a big if. Perhaps the family is on the side of justice, and Harper has fooled you.”
“Oh puhlease …” I put effort into debunking that ridiculous notion. “But to show you I’m on the side of justice, I’ll question her thoroughly. I met those people; you did not. I’m telling you, something is up with that family. And I’ll prove it.”
“Okay, okay. I hear how set you are on helping the girl, and if the family is ‘our reasonable doubt’ at present, we need to spend more time in that house.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem for me. LJ is cooperative.”
He grumbled again. “There’s truth about the rumors, then?”
“I don’t know, but I am suspicious they are true. I’ll find out from Harper for sure. It’s something we’ll need to get ahead of. I’m sure her attorney has thought of that. If he’s aware of it, that is.”
“We’ll find out. I’m not committing to anything. Yet. You need to be prepared for the DA to want to speak with you as well, and if something more damning comes to light—”
“I hear you. I’ll jump ship if I determine Harper’s guilty.” And I’d already thought of my deposition with the DA. “I’ll be prepared for the DA. But is Mother?” I said this only to show him I was thinking ahead.
“What are you getting at?” Calvin sounded wary.
“I’m just saying. Mother’s acting oddly.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the importance of having your father’s lawyer, William Greene, present.”
“No, Uncle Calvin, you don’t. Mr. Greene was present during my original interview. The police are aware if they need to speak to me again to go through him. I’ve got this. Relax.” I decided to keep to myself the meeting that I’d agreed to yesterday with Detective Battle, because it had never taken place. No harm done. However, I shuddered at the thought of what my reaction would have been if he’d posed the question about the purse. If Detective Battle had dropped that bomb, I’m not sure I could have held it together.
“Good. Your father will take care of making sure his household is represented.” That was true. “And you know the word ‘relax’ isn’t in my vocabulary. Call me when you’re on your way to his drop-in office.”
“Of course.” I disconnected the call.
As I walked through the dark, dingy parking garage, my heels echoed loudly, giving me a nervous alone feeling, and I sped up my pace. I’d never been a fan of parking garages and took a deep breath as the clear, bright blue sky greeted me. My thoughts drifted back to the case. If Felix had turned over the purse, what did the police need the search warrant for?
I spied reporters and a couple of uniformed officers standing around the front entrance, and my stomach lurched. The uniformed officers were doing their best to move the group back from the double doors. Slowly, the group begrudgingly retreated several yards back from their original position.
Come on, Lyla. I shoved my anxiety aside. Zipping my phone into my purse, I pulled my scarf up, put on my sunglasses, and made my way toward the crowd, being careful to keep my chin tucked down. As the entrance neared, no one stopped me, and my guard began to slip. Then a dark-headed woman shoved her phone in front of my face. “Miss Moody! Why did Mrs. Richardson murder her husband?”
Keep it together. I steeled myself, pivoted, and went to the left.
“Did Mrs. Richardson try to kill herself?” Oh sweet Jesus. Another pivot.
They swarmed, and I felt like a character in The Walking Dead, trying to make it to the safety of the building. “Is your family concealing evidence to protect a killer?”
“No. And I was under the impression that in this country a person is innocent until proven guilty.”
“Is the Richardson family involved in communal living?” someone shouted.
I got bumped but managed to remain upright. “No. What sort of question is that?” People were losing their minds.
“What does your mother have to do with this case?” Phones and microphones moved closer to my face. Lights flashed in my eyes.
With my hand up to block the flashes, I fought through the sea of extended arms. “Other than hosting a benefit, nothing.”
“Is it your statement that your mother has no prior involvement with Mr. Richardson? Were they lovers?”
The world had gone mad! Enough. I halted my advance and faced off with the reporters. There was no way I was going to allow these vermin to muddy my upstanding mother’s reputation. “No. Absolutely not. Lady, you need to get your facts straight.”
I spied Charles Hammond off to the side, watching. Wow, they must’ve flown here. He popped a stick of gum into his mouth. I didn’t see Piper, but she must be close by and waiting for her opportunity to pounce. I bet all these reporters beating her to the punch chapped her hide. I waded closer to the entrance, where a man stood in a red ball cap, glancing around suspiciously, his hands in his pockets. I thought he looked like LJ, but I couldn’t manage a better glimpse.
News cameras swung in my direction. “Lyla! Lyla! Are you helping the defense?”
“No comment. Come on, people. I need to get through.” I weaved my way between a shorter gentleman and a taller woman about my height, ignoring their questions.
My steps sped up as I navigated around reporters. The officers were seriously understaffed here—utter chaos.
Finally, the double doors were a few yards in front of me. The reporters were mostly held back, and I could breathe a little better. That was, until Charles faced me. I could see the whites of his eyes. His mouth opened wide. I stumbled and tried to discern what was going on with him.
He leaned forward, his arms pumping as he went to the balls of his feet. What was he doing? He started yelling. His hand flung forward as he pointed.
A loud shout went up to my left, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I turned to see Quinn running toward me as well. Odd, because I’d thought he was ill. What in the world?
Screams echoed around me as I turned to see who Charles had been pointing at, and before I could figure out what was going on, a man in a black ski mask barreled into me, holding me upright. Stale breath hit against my face. “Strike at the shepherd!” Something stuck into my side. Every muscle in my body seized up like a full-body charley horse. My teeth rattled in my head a microsecond before everything went dark.