The Murder That Never Was (Forensic Instincts 5)

“Oh, Emma, you’re such a breath of fresh air,” Lisa said. “I can’t tell you how much this visit means to me.”

“Enough to pay for General Tso’s?” Emma’s eyes were twinkling.

“I’m not a super-hot guy,” Lisa reminded her.

“Oh, well. You can’t have everything.”

“No, you can’t.”

“But, hey, I’ll settle for a free meal anytime.”

A pained expression crossed Lisa’s face, and Emma recognized it immediately. She herself had worn it many times, and it had nothing to do with the investigation. “It never completely goes away, does it?” Lisa murmured.

“The memory of being on the streets and grabbing anything you can because you’re afraid it won’t come around again—including something to fill your belly and make that horrible gnawing pain disappear?” Emma was right there with Lisa, connecting in a way that few others could. “No, it doesn’t.”

Lisa fidgeted with her water bottle. “Julie paid for my lunch the day I met her. She watched me wolf down a burger and fries like some kind of wild animal, and she knew my whole resume was bullshit. What’s worse, I knew that she knew, but I didn’t care. I was just so hungry.” Glancing up, Lisa met Emma’s damp-eyed gaze. “She was very good to me, better than anyone had been in a long time. I relive that day, and the day she was killed, and I feel guilty all the time.”

Emma reached over and squeezed Lisa’s hand. “But now you know her death wasn’t your fault. No one was after you. They were after her.”

“I know.” A pause, and Emma got the feeling that Lisa was about to say something she’d thought long and hard about.

Her next words proved Emma right. But their content stunned the hell out of her.

“When all this is over, I’m going to do the right thing.” Lisa’s tone was firm. “I’m not going to run. Neither is Milo. I’m going to give Julie back her identity, and all the respect that goes with it. Shannon isn’t the only one who cared for her. Her other students, maybe a bunch of friends—they all did, too. She deserves to be mourned, not resented for taking off without a word. And, once Forensic Instincts exposes whoever’s running this PED operation, Julie can be acknowledged for the brave and heroic woman she was.”

Emma blinked. “Lisa,” she blurted out. “You understand what that means for you, right? Leaving the scene of a crime is a felony. So is identity theft, stealing someone’s inheritance…”

“And I’ll probably go to jail for it all,” Lisa interrupted to finish Emma’s thought. “I know. But I won’t go on living a lie. And I won’t let the world keep thinking the worst of Julie. She didn’t take off. She was murdered.”

Before Emma could respond, a buzzer went off on Lisa’s iPhone, and she rose from her chair. “Spin class time,” she said, striving for a lighter tone. “Time for me to see what you’ve got.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Slava had found a dirt alcove diagonally across from Julie Forman’s apartment building, where he’d parked the van. The area was concealed by trees and scarcely noticeable. He settled himself behind the wheel and opened a newspaper, looking as if he were hanging out waiting for someone—which, in fact, he was.

He had three quarries: Julie Forman, Shannon Barker, and whatever security team was keeping an eye on them. His own new hires were hovering around the gym. They’d informed him that the Forman woman was inside. Now they’d wait, advising him immediately if she left.

So for now it was the Barker girl and the bodyguards he was looking for—more the latter than the former. He doubted the Barker kid would be coming out anytime soon. After nearly being kidnapped, she was probably quaking inside Forman’s place. Plus, she probably didn’t have any great insight into what she was being protected from. Feds, cops, and PIs weren’t in the habit of briefing teenagers on anything more than the basics. At least one of them had to be armed and stationed either right outside or inside the apartment unit. There’d be another couple of them in or around the parking lot, keeping a watchful eye.

Not a challenge for Slava. He’d spot them. Analyze them. Pick out the weakest link. Then he’d wait until the guy was heading off for a break. He’d drag him into the van and use whatever methods of torture were necessary until he got his answers.

After that, he’d slit the guard’s throat and take care of his body before reporting back to Max.

He hunched down in his seat and waited.

Forty-five minutes later, his plans changed.

A phone call from his guys told him that the Forman woman was on her way home. And she had a friend with her.

Surveilling the guards could wait. Something better was being delivered right into his hands. This was going to be one hell of a party.

Lisa was actually laughing as she and Emma approached the apartment. They were carrying bags of tantalizing-smelling Chinese food, and Emma had her backpack slung over her arm. She was telling Lisa a story about when she was a kid and had bitten into one end of an eggroll, squirting its contents all over the waiter.

“I’d never tasted an eggroll before,” she was saying. “How did I know it was filled with so much stuff, or that the shell was so breakable?” She wrinkled her nose. “It blew out of the back end like a cannonball. The waiter stumbled backwards, then slipped and fell. He was okay—he got up in one piece—but he was gritting his teeth and spitting out words in Chinese. I’m sure he was swearing at me. Anyway, my parents didn’t punish me, but we never went back to that place again. I guess we weren’t welcome.”

“Yeah, I’d guess not,” Lisa agreed.

Both women dissolved into giggles as they walked through the parking lot and into the apartment building.