To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,26

he loved about me, wasn’t it?

If not, this would be one way to find out pretty quick.

NINE

CORY SUGGESTED I TELL Ray that he and I had to go to look at a car in Albany tomorrow. Since we’d taken that trip more than once in the past, Ray might buy the story. But I didn’t want to sell him lies. Of course, I wasn’t going to let on we suspected anyone of blackmail, either. So I told Ray about Cory’s continued turmoil over Brennan’s questionable past and the Volvo incident, hinting that Cory would not rest until he knew the truth about the alleged drunk driving incident.

“I knew the two of you weren’t going to leave it alone.” Ray tossed his holster onto the top of the refrigerator and took a seat on the stool at our granite breakfast bar. “Brennan probably knows it, too.”

I turned down the heat under the stir fry to avoid burning another dinner and rested my arms on the bar opposite him, leaning in so we were almost nose to nose. Danny was doing his homework in the living room nearby and I didn’t want him to hear us.

“Cory spoke to Brennan last night. Brennan hung up on him when he tried to ask about the crash. I saw how heated James Gleason got about it before he died. There’s something there, Ray.”

Ray’s gaze met mine and held it, his “good-cop, bad-cop, whoever-you-need-me-to-be cop” expression in place. It felt like we were having a contest to see who blinks first. I let him win.

He sighed and rested his forehead against mine for a moment before pulling away. “You’re not going to learn anything new. I called the Albany police and spoke to the lead detective from the case. Brennan’s father didn’t buy anyone off. The guy said there was not enough evidence to make a case.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Just that Gleason is a bit of a hothead. His wife called them a couple times before she left him last year. He never hit her, but he wouldn’t let her out of the house. She felt intimidated.”

“So maybe she had reason to kill him? We can’t be sure she didn’t give him a little shove, can we?”

Ray shook his head. “I don’t think so. Their kid was with her. He vouched for the fact she was nowhere near the scene.”

“How old is the kid?”

“High school age.”

I tried to visualize the crowd in the minutes before the accident. “I don’t remember seeing him.”

“He met up with her right after she walked away from Gleason and Brennan’s argument.”

Or so he says. “Is he their only child?”

Ray scratched his chest. “That I don’t know, darlin.’”

It surprised me Ray had taken the time to call Albany. I wondered if Catherine had put him up to it. “What made you decide to call the detective down there?”

He grinned. “Just trying to save you a trip. I knew after our conversation this morning that you and Cory might want to head down there.”

At least it didn’t sound like Catherine had put him up to the call. “Actually Cory and I are more interested in talking to the other passenger injured in the crash.” Too late, I realized her name had been withheld. Did Ray know that?

From the way his eyes narrowed, I thought he did, but if so, he chose not to question me, perhaps preferring simply not to know. Often for him, ignorance really was bliss, particularly as it related to my concerns. “She didn’t remember the crash. Last thing she recalls is getting in the car. She wasn’t buckled in, and from her injuries, they think she may have been lying down on the back seat, asleep at the time of impact.”

So she told the police she didn’t recall the accident. That didn’t mean it was the truth. Maybe she said that at first to protect Brennan then later to blackmail him. “What were her injuries?”

Ray got up and walked over to lift the lid off the pan and sniff the stir fry. “Extensive. She needed rehabilitation for her legs, which were partially paralyzed, and plastic surgery. The passenger side of the car hit the tree, killing Monica on impact. Elizabeth Potter went through the windshield. She’s lucky to still be alive.”

Ray replaced the lid and got the plates out from the cupboard, bent on eating and not the least bit distressed over the image of the poor girl flying through glass. It seemed to me the girl might