She caught Josh’s expression and knew she was going to have to find a way to quickly convince him of the truth of what she’d just said, or he would end up walking out on her. Not that she’d blame him. He was probably still searching to find closure with his wife’s death, and now she was trying to blow the whole case open again. But her gut still told her she was doing the right thing.
“Please, let me explain.”
He hesitated before answering. “I’m listening.”
His response surprised her. She wasn’t sure she’d have been quite as open to listen if she were in his shoes. Unless he had his own doubts . . . “Nine months after Olivia’s murder, her immediate boss—and mine—died of a heart attack.”
Josh frowned. “I hadn’t heard about that.”
“A week ago, another one of our coworkers, Helen Fletcher, died. The medical examiner’s report classified her death as a suicide.”
“Okay, but I’m still lost. What does any of this have to do with Olivia’s death?”
“All three deaths seem like tragic, yet isolated events with no connection. But I believe that all three were working on the same project in the same lab. I believe their deaths are connected.” Caitlyn paused a moment to let him catch up. At least he was still sitting across from her.
“Wait a minute.” Josh shook his head. “I still don’t see a connection. Olivia’s murder doesn’t exactly fit in with a heart attack or a suicide.”
“You weren’t involved in the investigation of your wife’s murder.”
“I wasn’t officially assigned to the case, but I did my own investigation on the side. She was my wife, and I was determined that whoever murdered her was going to pay.”
“Did you ever have any suspicions during your investigation that the detectives were on the wrong track?”
His frown deepened. “Honestly? I did.”
So her instincts had been right. He’d seen his own inconsistencies in the case. Which was going to make it that much easier to get him to listen to what she had to say.
“There were a number of things about that night at your house that were different from the other break-ins, weren’t there?” she asked.
He took another sip of his coffee before answering her question. “Normally they made sure the owners were gone by studying their routines and schedules,” he said. “They took their time once they were inside. Everything they did was well thought out. But they entered our house even though the bedroom light was on and could be seen from the front yard. They only stole a handful of my wife’s jewelry that wasn’t even worth a hundred bucks.”
Caitlyn nodded. “Exactly. There were also two other instances where the burglars encountered homeowners, but both times they simply bolted, and there was never any evidence they had weapons or had any desire to harm the homeowners. And while I’m sure MOs might shift over time, I believe these inconsistencies are significant. On top of that, Rudolph Beckmann always insisted he had an alibi.”
“Not only are Dr. Abbott and Helen dead, someone just tried to kill me. I think it’s all related to Olivia’s death.”
He sat back against the seat. “But why?”
“I think they were killed to cover up something they’d discovered in the lab trials of one of the vaccines they’re testing. Then, when I started asking questions, I must have talked to the wrong person, because now I’m convinced someone wants me dead as well.”
“That’s why you were run off the road? You’re saying they were trying to kill you?”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I was run off the road by a hit-and-run driver. It looked like the same vehicle I’ve seen following me the past few days.”
She could tell he was trying to process her words. If she were in his place, she wouldn’t want to believe what she was saying.
“And then there’s Helen. We were close friends, which is why, despite the coroner’s findings, I don’t believe she committed suicide.” She leaned forward and caught his gaze. “If I didn’t believe what I was telling you right now, I wouldn’t have come to you, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. Not only were you Olivia’s husband, you’re a cop. I need your help.”
“This is a lot to take in.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “And to be honest, while I saw the inconsistencies in Olivia’s case, I just . . . I don’t know if I can go down that road again.”
“I understand your hesitation. Really I do.” She passed a slip of paper across the table. “But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t convinced I was right. Here’s my number. I’ll give you till noon tomorrow, but if you don’t call, I’m going to leave Houston and figure out a way to discover the truth on my own. In the meantime, I’ll leave you a file I put together of what I know, but if you want to know what really happened to your wife, I think we need to help each other.”
Caitlyn grabbed a file folder out of her backpack, slid it across the table, then headed for the front door of the diner without turning around. She’d tried not to show the depth of her fear when she was sitting at the table, but if she were honest, she was terrified.
She was used to spending her days in a lab, where everything she did was orderly and by the book. Life had settled into a routine over the past two years between work and church activities. Fearing for her life had left her feeling helpless and lost. She had friends and family she could call on for help, but she couldn’t put their lives in danger. At least Josh Solomon was already involved.
She’d tried to read his facial expressions, but at this point she had no idea if he’d agree to help her or not. Just like she had no idea where she’d go if he didn’t help her.
She’d pulled out all her savings, even though the money wasn’t going to last long. She was going to need another income. She could always fall back on waitressing in some small town as far away as she could get, but leaving wasn’t going to help her find out the truth. A blast of cold wind whipped around her as she stepped outside. She hoisted the emergency bag she’d kept in the back of her car and walked to a motel a couple blocks away from the diner. Three minutes later, she ducked inside the shady lobby of the motel, thankful for the blast of hot air, and walked up to the man sitting at the reception desk, who was chowing down on a bag of fast food.
“I need a room, please.”
“How many nights?”
“Just one.”
She glanced around the shabby lobby, suddenly second-guessing her decision. Paint was peeling off the walls, and there were a couple large stains on the carpet. Her main objective was to find a place to spend the night without giving a credit card. But the reviews were way off the mark and she wondered if she should have found something in a better neighborhood.
She handed the man cash.
He studied her, a little too closely. “I’m going to need a credit card for any . . . incidentals.”
“Sorry, I don’t have one.”
He frowned, then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Just sign here.”
She scribbled the name of an old friend from junior high.
“Martha Johnson?”
She forced a smile. She was never going to get used to this.
A minute later, she dumped her bag onto the foot of the yellow bedspread inside her room, trying to settle her escalated fear levels. Maybe she was making a mistake, but going to the police wasn’t an option. At least not until she had more solid evidence.
Which left her back at square one, with Josh Solomon.
A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts. If she’d been followed, if someone knew she was here . . . She moved to the door, her heart racing as she looked through the peephole. It was the maid with an armful of towels. She pulled open the door an inch, leaving the chain in place.
“I have your towels.”
“Thank you.” She undid the chain, took the towels, then quickly relocked the door.
She glanced at her phone, but there was still nothing from Josh. Had she been wrong to go to him? Beckmann and Nixon had been convicted by a jury with evidence presented by the DA. And now she was saying all that evidence was wrong, and he needed to listen to her.
She wasn’t sure she’d have believed it if she were in his shoes either.
If he didn’t help her, all she knew to do was run.