More likely he’d call an attorney faster than I could reach for a Jelly Belly bag.
“Bet I know why you’re still here.” Dan looked from Perry to me.
I gave him a slow blink. I knew I looked dead on my feet. No matter, I’d push through. “One more car’s not going to hurt anything.”
“Chief Eddington wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t care what Chief Eddington likes.”
“Joanne, this is just pure revenge now.”
I pulled back my head. “No, Dan. It’s pure justice. For my best friend.”
They’d almost delayed picking up Baxter. Slater and Dan had discussed the pros and cons of allowing him to make the money drop-off first. They didn’t want word of his arrest to somehow reach Melissa. If she didn’t visit the drop-off site, she’d be harder to locate, and they’d have to hope she used her cell phone. But they couldn’t trust that Baxter wouldn’t take matters into his own hands and come after either me or Melissa. In the end Dan and Slater decided a quiet, early morning arrest would be the best choice. Chief Eddington would keep a lid on it as long as possible, giving them a chance to pick up Melissa.
Five minutes after my conversation with Dan, Perry and I headed out in the caravan toward Vonita. My 4Runner would be kept by police as evidence. No telling when I would get it back.
Small price to pay.
My head lolled as Perry drove his SUV away from the San Jose station. “I’m sorry you got pulled into this, Perry.” My mouth felt like mush.
“You kiddin’? I got to rescue two women from a killer and kick in a door, all in one night.”
I lay back against the headrest. “And you figured out the blackmail part.”
He stopped at a red light. “I’m good.”
“You and your detective novels.”
Perry turned his head and gave me a long, slow smile. “They filled the spaces.”
Filled—past tense. I held his meaningful gaze until my courage failed—and I looked away.
We rode the rest of the way in thrumming silence.
At the Vonita station Dan and Slater got out of their cars to greet Eddington. The chief looked none too happy. I wanted to scream and dance. I wanted to fall over and sleep.
Chief Eddington glanced at Perry’s car, then pointedly ignored us. My presence surely prickled him, but he would never show it.
We hit the Jackson driveway at 7:15. Two more vehicles, carrying the officers who would search Baxter’s house, had joined the procession.
A realization struck me. How few times I’d gone up that drive. Linda had always come to my house, even during the day when Baxter was at work. As if she needed to step out of her life to be with me. Perhaps within her own unhappy walls she knew in my presence her mask would have slipped.
Perry and I were last in the lineup. As the circular drive swept up toward the porch, Perry hung back. We didn’t need to be that close. Just close enough. Dan, Slater, and the chief stopped near the steps, the two other cars behind them. All three got out of their cars. Dan stayed by his while Slater and the chief mounted the stairs to the grand porch. Slater rang the bell.
An eternal, heart-stopping moment followed. Had Baxter somehow known we were coming and slipped away?
The front door opened. Baxter appeared, hand on the doorknob.
A rush of air escaped my mouth. I leaned forward, clutching the dashboard, and riveted my eyes upon him.
Baxter Jackson looked nothing like the king of Vonita now. Nothing like the respected head elder at church. His clothes were rumpled, his usually perfect hair out of place. Lines etched his face, as if he hadn’t slept.
Slater spoke. I couldn’t hear the words, but I knew he was informing Baxter of his arrest.
Baxter’s face turned wooden. He looked from his old friend Chief Eddington to Officer Slater. His hand slipped from the door, fell to hang limply at his side.
Slater took hold of Baxter’s arm and nudged him outside. Then turned him around and snapped cuffs on him.
In my mind I saw Linda lowering her shirt. “I didn’t get those bruises by running into a door.”
My hand fumbled for the car door. I opened it.
As they escorted Baxter down his own steps to Slater’s waiting car, I got out of Perry’s SUV and moved to stand by the hood. Arms folded. Like a soldier. Watching.
Baxter caught my movement. His head turned toward me. For a blazing moment our eyes met.
His head jerked away, his mouth twisting.
The last six years rushed over me. In that split second they were all worth it—every day I’d pounded walls because of Baxter, every minute I’d suffered. His expression said, You win, Joanne. I lose. And I’ll hate you to my dying day for it.
Good, Baxter. That’s just fine by me.
Slater put Baxter in his back seat. Shut the door.
The evidence team entered Baxter’s house.
I didn’t move until the three vehicles circled around the gracious driveway and turned onto the street, headed for the police station.
FIFTY-FOUR
AUGUST 2004
Melissa froze. The sudden light in the closet shown harshly on Baxter, crouched in the back.
Linda stilled, her hands up in front of her, fingers spread. She gaped at her husband as if he were some ghastly apparition.
No one moved. Baxter’s mouth opened but no sound came.
A growling cry escaped Linda’s throat, full of despair and hatred and rage. At the threshold of the closet she tilted to one side, nearly fell over. Her right hand gripped the door jamb, and she caught herself. Slowly she straightened, her knuckles blanching white.
“I knew it!” she screamed, her head tilted back, a throbbing pulse in her neck. “I knew it, I knew it!” She heaved herself backward, fingers dug into her scalp. Her wild, glazed eyes rose toward the ceiling. Abruptly she swiveled and hurtled out the door.
“I’ll ruin you both right now!” Linda’s threat shrieked through the air. Melissa heard her footsteps pound down the stairs.
Baxter jumped up. “Linda, stop!” He ran after her.
A terrifying sequence shot through Melissa’s head. Linda would call Joanne Weeks. Or jump in her car and screech over there.
Melissa raced out of the room behind Baxter.
They hit the stairs. Melissa slipped at the top one and crashed into Baxter. He cursed, grabbed the banister. Melissa righted herself, and they tore down the rest of the way.
From the kitchen rolled the sound of Linda’s wrenching sobs.
“Linda!” Baxter raced across the hall and around the corner into the kitchen. He skidded to a halt. Melissa nearly ran into him a second time. She swerved to his right and stopped in her tracks.
Linda stood six feet away, both hands pointing a butcher knife toward her husband. Her feet were far apart, her teeth bared like a feral animal. “Don’t you come near me.”
Baxter raised his hands. “What do you think you’re doing? Put that down right now.” He stepped toward her.
“Don’t!” Linda’s cheeks flamed. She jabbed at the air, hands shaking.
“Put it down now, Linda. Or I promise you’ll be sorry.”
Fear stretched her expression. She held on tighter than ever. Melissa took in Baxter’s slitted eyes, the rock of his jaw. She’d never seen him so angry. She looked back to Linda, unpredictable and crazed. Melissa knew how sharp that butcher knife was. Many a time she’d watched it glide through meat. Panic bloomed in her head.
Four diagonal feet away from Melissa sat the butcher block of knives on the counter.
“Linda, put it down!” Spittle flew from Baxter’s teeth.
“I’ll cut you, Baxter, so help me.” Linda brandished the huge knife. “You and your perfect little Christian self.”