“Sure. You do that and I’ll call the sheriff’s department and they can continue this conversation.”

Paula looked out the window. She crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Glanced toward the phone. Then said, “Why isn’t Chief Bruyn or the sheriff’s department here?”

“Because I haven’t told them.”

She peered at me, trying to gauge my motives.

“It wasn’t like that,” she said finally. “Carol called to tell me what she’d heard. I didn’t believe her. Ginny would never do such a thing. Clearly Carol was dead drunk. I almost went back to bed.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

I let the silence drag on for half a minute before saying, “You told yourself Ginny would never do it, but you couldn’t rest until you made ” sure.

Paula nodded. “I knew the building. When I got there and saw Brandi’s car out back—” She sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t have the gun. Obviously Ginny was drunk or stoned and not thinking straight and all I had to do was snap her out of it.”

She stopped again. I waited her out.

“I found them in the basement. Kayla ...” Her voice cracked, gaze shooting back to the window. “Kayla was on the floor. They’d pulled off her pajama bottoms and her panties and ...”

She couldn’t finish. Couldn’t go on for another minute, then said, “They were fighting. Brandi thought they needed to make it look as if she’d been violated ...” Another crack in her voice. “That’s when Ginny started having second thoughts. But Brandi had the gun. Ginny’s gun. She turned it on Kayla, and I thought—I thought Ginny would stop her. This was her daughter. Kill her own child? For a man? How could I raise—?”

She shook her head and took another deep breath. “I thought she’d do something, but when Brandi pointed that gun at Kayla’s head, Ginny stopped arguing and closed her eyes. Just closed her eyes. I screamed. I ran forward and there was a shot. It went past me. I hit Brandi. She fell and I jumped on her to get the gun and we were struggling and I saw Ginny standing there over us.

“I got hold of the gun, but Brandi wouldn’t let go. It fired. I don’t know who pulled the trigger. I yanked the gun away and I got up, and Brandi was lying there, dead, blood pumping out. I heard this sound and I thought it was Kaylawaking up and I turned and there was Ginny, bent over, hands to her chest, blood running through her fingers. The bullet had gone right through Brandi and into her.

“Ginny was still alive. I told her I was going to get help, that she’d be okay, but she started crying, saying she was sorry, it was Brandi’s idea, she begged me not to leave her. I tried to calm her down so I could get help, but she kept crying and then ...” Paula looked away and brushed a hand over her eyes. “And then she was gone.”

“So you called the only person you thought you could count on. Ginny’s father.”

She looked up sharply.

“Phone records,” I said. “One of the girls at the house saw him coming in late that night. He’d gotten a call on his cell from you.”

“Alastair’s a smart man,” she said. “I thought he’d know what to do. He knew Ginny was his daughter—he’d already figured it out and we’d agreed to keep it a secret. But for this ...”

“He owed you.”

She nodded. “I wanted to turn myself in. It was an accident. But Alastair said I’d lose custody of Kayla. I couldn’t bear that. So we left Ginny and Brandi there and he helped me take Kayla home. I hated doing that—leaving her in that apartment alone—but Alastair said I had to. We put her to bed and locked the doors. Alastair took the gun and my clothes. He said he’d burn the clothing and get rid of the gun. Then I sat up all night and waited for Kayla to call me when she woke up and her mom wasn’t there.”

“And then you sat back and watched as Bruyn zeroed in on an innocent man.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Innocent? That’s one word I wouldn’t use to describe Cody. Do you want me to say I felt bad about that?”

“You decided he deserved it. He gave Ginny the ultimatum that started everything.”

“No. Cody didn’t expect her to do that. He wanted to get rid of her, so he said the problem was the one thing she couldn’t change. Or so he thought. But would I feel guilty if he went to jail? Not for a minute. Did I push Chief Bruyn in his direction?” She met my gaze. “I did not. You know that as well as anyone. I told you the truth about Cody and how he treated my daughter. That’s it.”

“But then Claire found out the truth. You had to kill her, and when her brother got too close—”

“No. Absolutely not.” Paula’s eyes blazed. “I had nothing to do with that young woman’s death or her brother’s. The night Claire Kennedy died, I was at a friend’s in Portland. I had a job interview the next morning. Kayla was with me. And the night Detective Kennedy died, I was right here, playing bridge with my sister, Dorothy, and Lorraine from the diner. We heard the sirens when the police went by.”

I pressed her, but I knew she was telling the truth. It would be too easy to check her alibis. Besides, I’d never seriously thought she was responsible for Claire’s and Michael’s deaths. Even intentionally killing Ginny and Brandi to save Kayla had been a stretch.

“Alastair says whoever killed Claire Kennedy staged it to look like Ginny and Brandi’s deaths,” she said. “They wanted it to seem like we had a serial killer. Probably hoped Cody would be charged with Ginny and Brandi so they could pin her death on him, too.”

“Then it has to be someone who knew that Alastair planted that occult stuff at the original site. That was never released to the media.”

“Occult?” Paula looked genuinely confused.

I took the photos from my bag and pointed out the ritual circle and other signs. “Alastair must have done that after you left.”

“No, those things weren’t there.”

“You must not have noticed them. They’re too subtle—”

“No, I would have seen them. When I went to confront Chief Bruyn about his grandson showing those photos to Kayla, he tried to say they’d been in his desk all along. He shoved them in my face, the bastard. Made me take a good look at them, too. Those things weren’t there.”

thirty-three

As I stood, Paula eyed me warily. “Now what? Do I need to call lawyer?”

“Not unless you killed Claire or Michael Kennedy. Claire’s mother is my client, so her death is my professional concern. Her brother’s death is my personal concern. As far as I can see, you had nothing to do with either, so ...” I shrugged and put my notebook into my bag. “Not my concern.”

“What about the gun? If Chief Bruyn suspects I stole it—”

“He doesn’t. I lied. You’re in the clear.”

She let me get to the hall, then she called, “Savannah.”

I glanced back.

“Thank you,” she said.

“If it’d been me,” I said, “I’d have shot Brandi, and it wouldn’t have been an accident.”

I went outside and said good-bye to Kayla, then watched as Paula threw open the door and bent to hug her.

AS ADAM DROVE, I relayed Paula’s story.

“I can see how it happened,” Adam said when I was done. “It’s Alastair who’s full of shit. They wouldn’t take Kayla away for a clear self-defense case.”

I shrugged. “It might not have looked all that clear to him. But she’s wrong about the photos. She just didn’t see the signs—the cops didn’t, remember? If Alastair is into Santeria, he knows enough about rituals to fake one and give the murders a satanic cult angle.”

Adam’s fingers tapped the steering wheel, his gaze distant.

“What?” I said.

“He could, but would he? Wouldn’t anything cultlike have them looking in his direction? Then, if they found the Santeria—which he wasn’t hiding very well—he’d be the new prime suspect. Maybe the cops never noticed those ritual signs because they weren’t there. Where did Jesse get his set?”