You Betrayed Me (The Cahills #3) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,171

had been converted into an apartment.

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Mendoza adjusted the hood of her thick jacket, faux fur framing her face, as they started walking down the long drive. She’d thawed a little toward him, and they were working as a team again. “We got lucky with Porter.”

“We’ll see.” They had more to persuade Jardine with.

The lab reports had come in on the scrapings beneath Charity Spritz’s fingernails; the skin had come back as male. They would have to compare DNA samples, of course, and Rivers doubted Jardine would give a sample of his spit voluntarily, but they had the bite marks, security footage, and Porter’s statement.

A row of arborvitae, branches dusted with snow, separated the backyard of the main house from the little garage. On one side of the hedge, the colorful lights of the main house twinkled and shone, and on the far side, the area surrounding Jardine’s home, the area was dark. Two vehicles, a truck and a small Honda, were squeezed into a small parking apron.

The garage was devoid of any Christmas decorations, but light filtered out from behind the blinds, and Rivers knew that Gus had been released from the hospital the day before.

He knocked, heard quick footsteps approaching, and the click of two locks before the door opened a crack, a security chain preventing it from swinging wide. A slice of Jennifer Korpi’s face appeared. “Oh.” She looked nervous. “Detectives.” The one eye that was visible moved so that she could see both Rivers and Mendoza.

“We’d like to talk to Gus.”

“Oh, well . . . he’s resting now.” She forced a smile, but the half of it Rivers could see trembled and fell. “I just came to take care of him for a few days until he can drive and get himself to physical therapy and appointments.”

“Still, we need to talk to him.”

She licked her lips. “I don’t know . . .”

Rivers waited.

“Well, I suppose that would be all right.” She closed the door for a second, the chain rattling as it was being released; then the door swung open.

Jennifer Korpi stood in a small vestibule, and she looked worried. “Come in . . . but please, don’t stay long. He just got out of the hospital yesterday evening.”

“And you’re staying with him?” Rivers stepped inside and followed Korpi into a compact living room filled with worn furniture and smelling of smoke from a wood stove where a fire was burning, fir snapping as it was consumed by flames.

“Yes. For a few days. The school’s closed for the holidays, and Harold is out of town on business until Christmas Day, so it only made sense that I help Gus out for a while . . .”

Nervously, she cast a glance at a plaid sofa that had seen better days, then at a worn leather La-Z-Boy, empty but still in the recline position. A cigarette was burning but forgotten in an ashtray on the coffee table. She frowned. “He was just here . . . Gus!” she called. And over her shoulder, to Rivers and Mendoza, “I think he might have—Oh! There you are.”

Gus stuck his head from around a partial wall separating the kitchen from the living room. “Just grabbing a beer,” he said, but didn’t step into the open space.

Jennifer scowled at her brother. “You know the doctor said no alcohol until you’re off the pain meds.”

Jardine let out a disgusted huff. “What does he know?” His eyes were focused on the two cops, and Rivers was getting a bad feeling about this. He saw Jardine’s right hand, wrapped in bandages, but the left, along with half of Jardine’s body, was hidden by the wall.

Not good.

Korpi stood, unmoving, in the middle of the living area, right next to the coffee table and directly between Rivers and Jardine.

“Back away,” Rivers said.

“What?” Korpi turned toward him.

Rivers didn’t let his gaze move from Jardine. “I’d like to talk to Gus alone.”

“Oh, well.” She inched backward, unsure.

“This way!” Mendoza ordered.

“We need a word with you,” Rivers said to Jardine. “Come on out.” His cop sense went into overdrive. “Come on out.” Rivers was already reaching for his pistol, but this closed space was no place to fire a gun, and Jennifer Korpi was still directly in the line of fire.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Jardine’s gaze shifted to his stepsister for an instant. “Didn’t I tell you not to let them in?”

“It’s okay, Gus,” she said, but she was nervous now as well.