Dark Lady by Richard North Patterson Read Free Book Online Page A

Caroline cut in sardonically. “Even the occasional innocent one. And I’m quite certain that you know far more about what the police know than she does.” A first faint smile at the corner of her father’s mouth, remembered pleasure at the cut and thrust of their minds. Then the expression vanished, and he was grave, almost respectful. “Where would you care for me to start?”
    “With the first call from Jackson. After he saw that it was Brett they had in custody.” Channing folded his hands in front of him, pensive. “Jackson called around dawn,” he said at length. “Betty answered. She was already up, and worried.”
    “Where did she think Brett was?”
    “With him, I assume.” His voice went flat. “Long ago, Brett became quite sanguine about staying out all night, without feeling the need to explain herself …. ” He paused abruptly; only then did Caroline feel the chill smile on her face. Their eyes met, and then her father continued in a subdued tone. “Betty was too shaken to make sense of it. Moments later, I had to call Jackson back. He gave me only the barest details: the body, Brett’s condition, the blood and knife and wallet, that she’d made some sort of statement. Then he agreed that we could come for her in exchange for her passport.”
    “Which puzzles me. Can it be possible that Jackson doubts she killed him? Or is it that he expects she’ll make some mistake?” Her father gave her a sharp look. “Jackson knows our family, knew Brett as a child, though she couldn’t quite remember him. He can’t easily believe this.” He paused. “But, of course, he can tell me nothing.” Caroline cocked her head. “And the chief of police?” He gave a small shrug. “Told me, as a kindness, that Jackson is waiting for the crime lab results—blood type, fingerprints, and the like—while he checks on this dead boy’s background. I believe what bothers Jackson is that
    Brett waited to tell them what had happened. Or where.” His voice turned cold again. “But then James Case had fed her wine or marijuana. Neither of which she was used to.” Caroline found his anger an irritant; it was hard to keep her own thoughts clear. “That’s some comfort,” she answered in an arid tone. “It also cuts against premeditation.” He stood abruptly, looming over her. His voice filled with anger. “Brett did not do this, damn you. She’s compassionate to a fault, from stray animals to this stray boy.” Caroline stared up into his face, her own face hard, her tone even. “I once defended a serial killer, who cut his victims’ throats and then raped them while they bled to death.” Her manner became almost conversational. “After that, he went home and slept with his English spaniel. His biggest fear when they caught him was who would feed the dog.” There was a tremor in his voice now. “This is your own flesh and blood—”
    “And I’m a lawyer now. That’s why you asked me here, I assume. So spare me the childhood stories, please. This is painful enough.” Standing, Caroline faced him. “When we meet, I’ll show Brett all the compassion her aunt Caroline should. In the meanwhile, let’s return to the problem at hand. For example, have they traced the knife?” He turned from her, gazing out at the mountains. The rain of midday had become a mist, Caroline saw, settling into the valleys. “Not that I know of,” he said at last. “Did they search the house?”
    “Yes.”
    “And found?”
    “Nothing. At least nothing they took.”
    “What about witnesses?” He turned back to her. “As I understand it, no one in the area saw anyone come in or go from that trailhead, nor any car or truck. Not even Brett’s?” Caroline smiled a little. “Your friend the chief is not exactly a sphinx, is he?” she said, and then her smile faded. “They questioned all of you about the knife, I assume.”
    “The state police did. I told them I had never seen it.”
    He paused for a moment.