Part 27 (1/2)
”No!” he shouted, just as the light went on next to the front door and Adrienne Russell appeared.
”What's going on?” she demanded.
”Nothing,” Jakes said. ”I was just asking your son some questions he can't seem to answer.”
”He's arresting me, Ma!”
”I'm not arresting him,” Jakes said. ”I'm taking him in for questioning.”
”What questions are you asking him?” she demanded. ”I'm sure I can help.”
”I doubt it, ma'am,” Jakes said. ”You couldn't tell me where he was today. How are you going to tell me where he was on the days of the murders?”
”I told him, Ma, I was either at an audition or at work,” Nate yelled, still trying to pull free from Jakes's hold.
”Let him go!” she said. ”I can give you the answers.”
”Can you?” Jakes reluctantly released Nate's arm.
”It's all in my book,” she said. ”Nate, go to my room and get my book off my dresser.”
”Your book?”
”Yes,” she said, ”the appointment book I keep all your auditions in.”
”Oh, that book.”
Nate went into the house. . . .
”Oh, Jakes.” I closed my eyes.
”I know,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. I think he was ashamed to look at me. ”I screwed up big-time.”
”Did you look-”
”I looked for him,” he said. ”He obviously ducked out the back door.”
”What about the mother?”
”She kept me busy out front. I guess I could've arrested her,” he said.
”Then why didn't you?”
”I put a man on her,” he said. ”She's all Nate has. If he tries to contact her or if she tries to meet him, we'll know.”
”And that book she was talking about?”
”There was no book.”
”Wait,” I said. ”This murder we're going to now . . . how could she be involved if she's being watched?”
”She's either in the clear on this one,” he said, ”or she got it done before I put a tail on her. Which means she had to have had it planned a while to pull it off in that short a time.”
”But that's only if this murder is the same as the others, right?”
”Right.”
”Have you been there yet?”
”No,” he said. ”I got the call and immediately I called you.”
”What about your partner?”
”He's going to meet me there.”
”What if it's not connected?” I asked.
”I hope it is,” he said. ”It'll give us something fresh to work on.”
”Wow, that's . . . terrible,” I said, ”but so . . . true.”
Chapter 50.
As we pulled up to the crime scene, I asked, ”Was your man in front of my house last night?”
”Of course.”
”Then you know I had a visitor last night.”
”I heard,” he said. ”I a.s.sumed it was Paul.”
”It was.”
He put his hand over mine, a gesture that I found both touching and comforting.
”Was it hard for you?”
”Actually, no,” I said. ”I mean, I was expecting a soap opera-esque breakup, but he made it very easy-easier than I deserved.”
”Don't think about it,” he said. ”It's over. Now we have to move on.”
He looked past me out the window at the house that was surrounded by both cops and yellow crime scene tape.
”Let's go then,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt.