“Just wondering. She did hire David to work for her.”
“Yeah, but she only knew him as Evan. Do you want to hear my story or not?” He seemed to bristle at her questions about his older daughter.
“Sorry, Jerry. Go on, please.”
“Like I said, I saw him at the restaurant and I followed him back to his office. I sat in my car for a long time, wondering what my next move should be. I had plans for dinner with Delia, so I decided to keep an eye on him and wait for an opportunity to confront him.”
“Then what happened?”
“A few nights later, I was driving by his office and noticed him through the lit window. I parked my car around the corner and snuck into his building. I opened his office door just enough to see him and stick the nose of my gun in. I took a shot, but the phone rang and he turned away toward the darn thing. The bullet must have whizzed past his head. Before I knew it, he slammed the door on the gun and my hand and wrestled it away from me. He fired a few shots at me, hitting me in the shoulder.”
“So he shot you with your own gun?”
“You don’t have to remind me. I ducked behind the next building and raced to my car. I phoned Delia to come to my hotel room and help me.”
“Why didn’t you go to her house?”
“She had that good-for-nothin’, pretty-boy husband. She didn’t want him or the housekeeper knowing anything about the gunshot. The bullet went through and through, so she brought all the medical supplies she needed to patch me up—and some painkillers, to boot.”
“But David had your gun.”
He nodded. “Afraid so.”
“Did you tell Delia what happened? Why you were there? That you had tried to kill David and he was defending himself?”
“Well, I tried not to involve her. I wasn’t a very good father when she and Natalia were growing up. Travelled a lot with the job, you know how that is.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“She’s a good girl and she’s all I’ve got left in the world. I didn’t want to burden her with the sordid side of my life. She deserves to be happy.”
“So you’re saying you never told Delia that Natalia died because of David Gerard?”
“What good would it have done, Isabel?”
“All right, let’s move on. So what did you do then?”
“After holing up in my hotel room for a week or so, I had to get back to Washington, back to work. I’d had my chance to avenge Natalia’s death and I blew it, so I high-tailed it back to DC, hoping David would never find out who the gun belonged to.”
“So tell me about David’s murder a year ago. Did you decide to come back and give it another try?”
“You think I killed David Gerard?”
There was a knock at the door before it swung open. Colin popped his head in and told Isabel he had some news.
Isabel turned her face toward the door, consciously keeping her chest pointed at Jerry.
“The lab said the ballistics are in on the second gun and they’re a match. The fingerprint results will be back within the hour. Just thought you’d like to know that.”
She thanked him and he left.
“Wow, did you hear that?” Isabel studied the man’s facial expression for any tells. However, as a seasoned agent, he had been trained to keep his feelings and outward expressions under control—his face remained still as stone.
“What second gun?” he asked in an emotionless tone. “A match to what?”
“A Ruger P345 pistol that was found on the riverbank Saturday night.” Again, she watched his expression, particularly his eyes, for even the most subtle hint. She thought she saw a flicker in his eyes, for the briefest moment, so she pressed him. “The gun that killed Evan Parker. Sorry, I mean David Gerard. Is there something you want to tell me about that gun?”
“Like what?”
“Jerry…are we going to find your prints? Did you kill David Gerard?”
He did not answer, his face twisted into a snarl. “Whatever he got he had coming to him.”
“Let me remind you we have the ballistics proving it’s the murder weapon, and confirmation of the prints will be in soon. If you admit it right now, I’ll see that you don’t go to prison for this. You don’t have much time left. Wouldn’t you rather