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Finley understood what the woman was doing then. Cagle was protecting Finley’s father. She bit her lips together to prevent herselfobjecting. He was her father—no matter what her legal training told her.
“What were your intentions?” Houser asked. “Why did you want to find him?”
“Don’t answer that question,” Jack said to Cagle. “Your motive at the time is irrelevant. You were overwrought with grief. Detective Houser is surely aware of this.”
Finley bit back a grin.Go, Jack, go.
Houser dipped his head in acknowledgment of Jack’s comment, but Cagle shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, but thank you, Jack.” She settled her gaze on the detective. “I intended to find him and force him to admit what he had done by whatever means necessary. Then I planned to call the police and turn him over.”
Finley doubted this had ever been her plan, but it was a good story. One with which a jury would sympathize.
Houser nodded. “When did you find him?”
“On November twenty-second. Ray had him stashed away in a warehouse on Trinity Lane. He was locked in a small storeroom or janitor’s closet. I waited for the right opportunity, broke in, cut the lock, and Ian came willingly with me. I took him to my home on Murfreesboro Road and locked him in the safe room. I bought this house, on Shelby Avenue, and started the necessary work to move him here. I became Helen Roberts, and my sole reason for living was to see that Ian never had a minute of freedom for the rest of his life.”
“You changed your mind about calling the detective in charge of your daughter’s case,” Houser pointed out.
“I think we can,” Jack said, “conclude as much from her statement without further explanation.”
“I knew what Metro would do,” Cagle said to Houser, ignoring Jack’s help. “He would go to prison. Have visitors. Get letters from family and fans. He would be able to interact with the other inmates. Take college courses. Go to the gym.” She shook her head. “I couldn’tlet that happen. He took Lucy’s life. I didn’t want him to have a life either. I wanted him to live so he could think about what he’d done for the rest of his days, but I did not want him to have a life. And I wanted him to have to look at me every day of his life and remember what he’d taken from me.”
Houser glanced at his notepad. “Why did you call Bart O’Sullivan to pick you up from the hospital? Had the two of you communicated about Ian Johnson previously?”
Finley steeled herself for what she feared would implicate her father. She told herself that whatever parts he was responsible for, he was obliged to own. Knowing this, she held her breath and waited.
“His daughter is her neighbor,” Jack reminded Houser.
Cagle nodded. “I had only met Bart once back when the private investigator told me about his interactions with Lucy. I asked him about my daughter. His kind words about how much she had admired me and wanted to be like me helped me get through the worse time in my life. I still had his cell phone number in my notes from the investigator. When I realized my new neighbor was his daughter and she seemed to keep getting herself into trouble, I put his number in my cell in case I ever had to call him for her. I felt I owed him as much since he had been so kind to my daughter.”
Emotion rose so sharply inside Finley that she had to fight tears. Even if Cagle’s words weren’t the whole truth, they hit their mark.
Finley needed to talk to her dad, and then she had one more thing she had to do before this was done and while Houser was still occupied. She withdrew her phone from her pocket, looked at the blank screen as if she’d received some sort of notification, then leaned toward Jack and whispered, “I have to go. I’ll be back in a bit.”
He was focused on Houser’s questioning, so he only nodded.
Finley slipped out of the kitchen and exited the house. Seated on the porch swing, her father stared up at her, his face pale with worry.
Matt walked over and hugged her. “You look exhausted.”
She kissed his cheek. “I am.” She looked to her parents. “Houser will be with you shortly. There won’t be much to cover. Louise has been very thorough.” To her father, she said, “She told Houser how you had helped Lucy with the research on her senior thesis. She also related how thankful she was that you relayed all that Lucy said about how much she adored her mother and wanted to be like her. Louise said your words were what got her through the worst days of her life.”
Ruth blinked, her perfect comportment a little shaky. “I’m unclear about her having called him to pick her up at the hospital.”
“That appears to have been my fault,” Finley said. “She witnessed all the stuff happening in my life. By then she had recognized who my father was and felt compelled to be able to call him if I needed help. He had helped her daughter, and she wanted to do the same. She had his number in her notes from the PI who worked on Lucy’s case. Dad has had the same number for like a quarter century.”
The relief on her father’s face was palpable. Her mother’s as well.
“Don’t worry,” Finley said. “Dad is still the same old good guy he’s always been.”
Ruth squared her shoulders. “I never thought otherwise.”
Finley turned to Matt and spoke quietly. “I have to do something before this is finished. Can you take care of them until I get back?”
This man she loved so much looked her straight in the eyes. “I think Jack and Ruth have this under control. I’m going with you.”
He knew her too well.
Johnson Residence
