Part 35 (2/2)
”Hit-and-run is still murder,” Meredith said sharply.
Byers didn't blink. ”Yes, but not with the same priority.”
”Not even with the fact that my father was rather prominent?”
He gave her a wry look.
”Perhaps Ms. Rawson can change your mind,” Gage said.
”It's not my decision,” Byers said. ”I'm convinced it was intended murder, particularly after the attempt on Ms. Rawson's life.”
”There's a lot more.”
”I know about the Starnes murder,” Byers said.
Meredith broke in. ”My father visited me hours before his death. He was worried. He told me ... He said I didn't know what I had done.”
”What had you done?” Byers asked.
”My mother recently told me she'd had a child out of wedlock. She wanted me to try to find her. As soon as I started searching, someone tried to run me down. My home was trashed. I received anonymous phone calls. Records disappeared from my father's home.
”I talked to my father, and he warned me not to search for my sister, that it would destroy my mother's reputation. I thought he meant his own. I was angry.”
”Go on,” Byers said.
”I started trying to contact my mother's friends. Mrs. Starnes was one of them. She was killed before I could talk to her.”
”Have you contacted anyone else?”
”Mrs. Robert Laxton.”
”When?”
”Sunday. And I visited her on Monday.”
Byers looked toward Gage. ”Has anything happened to her?”
”No,” Gage said. ”I checked on her this morning.”
”Then I don't see a connection.”
Meredith had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Byers was obviously going along with what had to be a cover-up. She had the photos from the Starnes home in her pocketbook. She decided not to show them. She was not going to put the young man with her mother and Mrs. Starnes in danger.
She gave Gage a warning look, hoping he would not mention the photos.
He didn't. ”Let's go,” he said.
She stood.
”I have more questions,” Byers said.
”If you think it's a simple hit-and-run, why?”
”I didn't say simple.”
”Look, this is a waste of my time. I have funeral arrangements to make, an ill mother to see.”
”I may have questions later.”
”Talk to me then.”
She didn't have to stay. She was not a material witness.
He knew it as well. He stood. ”Thank you for the identification. We will keep in touch.”
”Only if my father's case is called what it is and treated as such,” she shot back.
She stalked out, slamming the door behind her. She couldn't remember being so angry. New Orleans had once been notorious for its corruption. She had thought that era had come to an end.
Her father had been a part of it. She knew that now. It hadn't been only fear in his eyes these past few days. It had been guilt.
Guilt for what?
Something to do with what happened to her mother.
She thought again of the smiles on her mother's face in the photos she had inside her purse, then of the caution that had always shadowed her face. Meredith had believed her mother just had not loved her enough, that she had cared about her causes more than she could care about fellow human beings. Now she wondered whether it hadn't been lack of caring, but fear of caring.
Meredith had that fear.
She looked at Gage as they reached his car. ”Thank you for not telling him about the photos.”
”It's called withholding evidence, Counselor,” he said as he quirked an eyebrow questioningly.
”We don't know that it 'is' evidence. I do know I don't want anyone else to die because of my search.”
”You can end it.”
She stared at him.
”You can drop it. Forget it.”
”But you said ...”
”I was wrong. And anyway there's no trail.”
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