“I paid him to give me the burner phone. He needed the money to pay for the last round of treatments for his son,” Mena explained.
“Damn it, Mena. Why didn’t you come to me the minute Uma called you?” Kendrick threw his hands in the air and stalked back toward the kitchen.
“Because Farouk Essa wouldn’t have admitted any of that to you and you know it. He was desperate to save his son’s life. Coming clean to the cops out of the goodness of his heart wouldn’t pay the medical bills at the Rakestraw Blake Center,” Mena insisted. “So, what does this mean? You can’t use the evidence?”
“I only have your word that Dumay used this phone. How do I know you didn’t place all these texts on here to make it look like Dumay set Julian up? That’s what Detective Francois is going to think.”
“Oh my God, Kendrick! You act like you don’t even know me. Do you really think I would do something like that?” Mena turned and walked toward the small kitchen. Two wine glasses sat on the edge of the glass table, one stained with red lipstick. Remnants of plates cluttered the kitchen sink. The bedroom door was slightly ajar.
Kendrick’s silence spoke volumes.
He walked toward her and steered her back toward the living room.
Finally, he spoke. “I know you’re worried sick about Julian since he went missing from Tiverton. The PIIB and every police station in the Palmchat Islands are searching for him with orders to bring him back alive. I want to prove that Julian is innocent just as much as you do.”
Mena glanced back at the bedroom door. “What are you going to do with the phone?”
“I’ll take it to the station and have it checked out. Let me ask you this. If I bring Farouk Essa in for questioning, what is he going to say?”
“Exactly what I just told you. He’s so grateful to have the money to pay for his son’s treatments that he doesn’t care about keeping secrets anymore,” Mena said.
“You asked me to trust you. Now I’m going to do the same. What you did, going to see Essa by yourself, was reckless. It could harm Julian’s case. You need to trust that I’m doing everything I can to clear his name.”
“Kind of hard to trust you when you’re too busy hooking up with someone while one of your closest friends is still missing,” Mena said, anger boiling within her. She jerked her arm from Kendrick’s grasp and stomped over to the kitchen table. Lifting the wine glass smeared with dark red lipstick, she shook her head. “Hope getting laid while Julian is fighting for his freedom was worth it.”
“Mena, come on, it’s not what it looks like,” Kendrick said.
“Mena?” A woman’s voice called from behind her.
Mena turned and stared at Stella.
A bitter laugh erupted from Mena’s lips as she looked at the woman, dressed in one of Kendrick’s t-shirts and leggings. “Stella. I guess you got your man. Normally, I would be happy for you, but your timing stinks.”
“It’s not like that,” Stella shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “Kendrick and I aren’t together. He’s trying to help me.”
Mena stared at Stella as she twisted the ends of the t-shirt between her fingers. Her makeup was smeared around puffy eyes. She’d been crying. “What happened?”
“Don’t say anything, Stella,” Kendrick warned.
“I have to. This pain that Mena is going through is my fault,” Stella said. “She deserves to know the truth.”
Mena stalked toward Stella, staring the woman in the eyes. “What is your fault? Tell me what you did.”
Stella’s body wracked with sobs as she leaned against the kitchen counter. Sniffing, she rubbed her hands across her face, gulping air as her tears subsided. Mena’s heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline flooding her veins in anticipation of what Stella was about to say. It had to be related to Julian. But what could Stella have done? And why was Kendrick helping her and not hauling her down to the police station?
“One of you better tell me what’s going on!” Mena said, glancing back at Kendrick.
Kendrick’s shoulders slumped as he joined them in the kitchen. He reached a hand toward Stella protectively as he helped her to a chair at the table.
“You probably should sit down for this.” Kendrick motioned toward the chair.
“Stop stalling,” Mena said.
Stella said, “I had an accident months ago. It was my fault, and I didn’t have enough insurance to cover the damages to the family that I hit. The family sued me. They wanted fifty thousand to settle out of court. Fifty thousand dollars that I don’t have. A man came by my house. I thought he was a lawyer or insurance agent, so I let him in. But he wasn’t. He knew about the lawsuit and handed me an envelope with fifty thousand dollars in cash to make all my problems go away,” Stella said, looking out into the distance.
“And what did you have to do in exchange for that?” Mena asked.
“I have diabetes and I carry syringes with me for my insulin treatments,” Stella said.
