Barclay, Linwood Novel 08 - Never saw it coming

you kid yourself. The police just want to close cases. It doesn’t matter to them whether they’ve got the right person or not. And I don’t even know what happened to Ellie. If they’re charging Melissa, what is it exactly they think she did to her mother? And what does it have to do with Wendell. I’m telling you—”
    “Please stop,” Keisha said.
    “What?”
    “I . . . I need to concentrate.”
    “Of course, of course you do. I’m so sorry. Here we are anyway. I’ll go in and get your money.” Gail left the motor running as she got out of the car and went into the bank.
    Take the car and run, Keisha thought. Or leave the car, but still run.
    But where would she go? How far could she get? How long would it take for the police to find her? And if she wasn’t already a suspect, wouldn’t running change that? And how could she even think of leaving Matthew behind?
    She’d never do that. Keisha was a lot of things—and she knew it—but she was not the kind of mother who’d abandon her child.
    I could take him with me.
    Sure, that was a plan. Go on the run with a kid. Keisha told herself to stop it. She was in this up to her eyeballs now, and she was going to have to see how things played out.
    Gail returned in five minutes, clutching a plain white banking envelope, the kind used for deposits at the ATMs. She got in the car and handed the envelope to Keisha.
    “There you go,” she said, doing up her seat belt. “Good thing I have my own account. Jerry would have an absolute heart attack if he knew I was doing this.”
    “Thank you,” Keisha said, putting the envelope into her purse. She’d had to grab one of her other ones as she was leaving, and toss her wallet into it.
    “You don’t want to count it?”
    “I trust you,” Keisha said.
    That made Gail Beaudry smile. She reached over and touched Keisha’s arm. “I trust you, too. I want to thank you for helping me.”
    Keisha couldn’t look at her.
    “Let’s go over to Wendell’s house now and see if any of the police there will tell us what’s going on. Maybe, as we get close, you’ll start picking up some signals or something,” Gail said.
    * * *
    They could see police cars as soon as Gail turned onto the street. Cruisers had been used to block off the street in both directions about a hundred feet each side of the house. Gail pulled the Jag over to the shoulder and said, “Watch your step. It looks slippery here.”
    They came around the front of the car and approached the house together. As they started walking up the driveway, a female uniformed officer came down to meet them.
    “Can I help you?” she asked.
    Gail said, “I’m Mrs. Beaudry, and this is my associate. We’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge here. Is that you?”
    “No, ma’am. What’s your interest here?”
    “This is my brother’s house. Wendell Garfield. The man who was killed.”
    The officer nodded. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll see what I can do.” Keisha watched her go into the house and close the door.
    Don’t want to go in there.
    Gail stood with her arms crossed. After a couple of minutes, she said, “This is what they do. They keep you waiting to wear you down. It’s all part of the game they play.”
    Keisha thought that if anyone was playing a game, it was herself.
    The officer came back out of the house and told them she had reached the detective in charge of the investigation, and she’d be coming by shortly.
    “Would that be that black woman?” Gail asked. “Wedmore?”
    “Yes.”
    “Fine, but can we wait in the house, where it’s warmer?”
    “I’m sorry, no, you can’t come in. Not without Detective Wedmore’s approval.”
    “We’ll be in the car, then,” Gail said, and the two of them turned to start walking back to it. They were just about to open the doors when an unmarked car pulled up and Rona Wedmore got out.
    She recognized the dead man’s sister from their meeting at the station. “Hello, Mrs. Beaudry.”
    “I want some answers,” Gail said. “I want some answers right now.”
    Wedmore cast an eye at Keisha, then looked back at Gail. “What would you like to know?”
    “What happened to my brother?”
    Wedmore’s gaze turned back to Keisha. “Who are you?”
    “I’m Keisha Ceylon.”
    The corners of the detective’s mouth turned up. “I was just talking to someone who knows you.”

Twenty-six
    “Excuse me?” Keisha said.
    “Terry Archer,” Wedmore said, giving Keisha a knowing look.