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Maybe . . . if it went to motive.
Pescoli asked her a few more questions but got nowhere. When she said, “I think that’s it,” Lara straightened from her chair. But then she lingered a moment, one pink-tipped finger resting on the corner of Pescoli’s desk.
“So is Bianca going to that meeting? The Big Foot thing?”
“I don’t know.” That was an out-and-out lie. Bianca had made it very clear that she was meeting with the Big Foot Believers tonight. Pescoli had argued against it; Santana had backed her up. But as of eight o’clock this morning, Bianca had claimed she was attending.
?
?I heard that Barclay Sphinx was going to be there.”
“That’s the rumor.”
“That’s so awesome.” Lara actually beamed.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He’s like a big deal in TV. Reality TV. Does all these celebrity things. And he makes celebrities, too. Y’know, people get famous on his reality shows and then they do more and are on cable TV and suddenly you see them everywhere.”
“Wow.” Pescoli stood, indicating the interview was over, and Lara skated a glance down Pescoli’s body.
“Are you like due right away?” she asked, eyeing Pescoli’s baby bump.
“Pretty soon.”
“Wow. A lot of people pregnant, huh?” Lara said. “Destiny, I guess, and you, and Emmett’s stepmom.”
“Marjory Tufts?” Pescoli clarified, surprised. Marjory was about Jeremy’s age. They’d gone to school together, but the name Marjory sounded wrong. Ah. Marjory had gone by Madge as a kid. Madge Vadala. She’d changed her name somewhere along the line, but Pescoli didn’t know when or why. Not that it mattered. What was odd was the fact that Marjory/Madge was only a few years older than her stepsons, Emmett and Preston Tufts. If Pescoli remembered correctly, Marjory had married their father, Richtor, shortly after he’d divorced their mother, Terri. Richtor owned the Ford dealership in town and after over twenty years of marriage, he’d dumped Terri unceremoniously, then married Marjory, a woman half his age, in a huge wedding not two months after his divorce was final.
Lara said, “It’s kinda weirded Emmett out, to think he’s gonna have a little brother or sister like seventeen or eighteen years younger than him.”
“Hmmm.” Pescoli knew the feeling. Bianca and Jeremy, when first told that they were going to have a new half-sibling, had been mortified. It had been bad enough to think their mother was sexually active, but to get pregnant...
Lara was still staring at Pescoli’s belly as she slid her phone into the back pocket of her pants and picked up her keys. “You can still work? They let you?”
“Yep, they still let me,” she said dryly. Of course, there were some people in the department who thought she should already be on maternity leave. “Last I heard, pregnancy wasn’t classified as a disability.”
“Maybe it should be,” Lara remarked before gathering her iPhone and keys and leaving Pescoli’s office.
Pescoli shifted uncomfortably in her desk chair and had to admit, the sooner she birthed this baby, the better. The trouble was, she just had too much to do before a new little life took over hers.
* * *
“I’m scared,” Lindsay whispered into her smartphone. She’d heard that the police were still conducting interviews, even going so far as to talk to some of her friends more than once. It had been almost a week since Destiny’s body had been found, and in that time Lindsay thought she’d go crazy with worry.
Now, she was outside, near the old garage that had been converted into her father’s “man cave.” Inside, Roy Cronin was no doubt seated on one end of the couch that was really a series of recliners with a built-in table, cup holders, and even a mini-fridge. From there, he could smoke, drink beer, and have the volume on the fifty-odd-inch flat screen cranked as high as he wanted and didn’t have to hear his wife’s nagging.
So he wouldn’t hear his daughter’s conversation as she huddled in the bushes near the back of the building, the night closing in around her.
“Hey. Don’t be scared. Just . . . hang tough. And don’t say anything.”
“But the cops are going to find out,” she whined, nearly breaking down.
“They don’t know anything.”
“Yet, but they will. You know Bianca’s mom, right? Or know about her? How she’s like a great detective and has solved all of these murder cases, her and her partner, that Hispanic chick. They’ve been in the papers and in the news.”
“She’s just a cop. How smart do you really think she is? If she was all that great, she’d be working for the FBI or CIA or some big-ass police department. Don’t worry.”
