Murder Deja Vu

voice is disguised, but the cadence isn’t Robert’s. I’d guess it’s Klugh’s. He’s bribing a witness to recant his testimony in one of Robert’s cases. The case never went to trial because the defendant pleaded out, but the witness came to me with the tape from his answering machine. I told him to go to the police, but he refused. No names were mentioned on the tape, and he didn’t want to call attention to himself. The man had a closet full of skeletons. I bought the tape. Robert knows I have it. Of course he denied he was involved, but he’s never called my bluff, so I figure he’s lying.”
    “Bribing a witness is a federal crime, with no statute of limitations.” Payton fisted his hand to his mouth. “Jesus. There’s so much going on here on so many levels, I’m not sure where to start.”
    “Yes, but you’d have a hard time proving any of it. Like I said, it’s not Robert’s voice.”
    “But you know he’s behind it. Klugh wouldn’t do that on his own. Damn, Minette’s worse than I thought.” Payton took out a small notebook and wrote down something Harris couldn’t see. “I’m working another angle to get him and Klugh both. We’ll see how that works out before I get you involved.”
    “If it happens, I’m ready to take my medicine.”
    “First, we have to verify whether you actually killed someone. If Robert checked it out, which I’m assuming he did, he knows the truth. If you’re guilty of no more than hitting someone on a back road who later walked away, and Robert didn’t tell you, he’s been holding you hostage all these years.”
    “I thought of that and tried to find out myself. Remember I mentioned I drove the car one more time? I went back to where I thought I hit the man. But I couldn’t find any trace of blood or broken bicycle parts. I should have followed up, but I went home, parked the car, and it’s still there.”
    “But you’ve never known for sure?”
    “No.”
    “It’d be like Minette to find out nothing happened and keep it from you, wouldn’t it?”
    “Knowing him like I do now? Damn right.”

Chapter Forty-Two
Old Angers

    New England

    B oston traffic lived up to its reputation. It had taken Reece almost three hours to get to Portland, thanks to a couple of accidents that backed up traffic for miles. He thought of Dana the whole way. Her memory elevated his mood. After this visit, he wanted to get as far away from Maine as possible, back to his house and animals in North Carolina. Back to Dana. Then he remembered the present situation, and his high dissipated like the marsh fog that burned off on the road out of Cohasset.
    The trip north from Regal Falls had become a journey, not only in miles but in emotions. Other than the threat of getting caught and put in jail, this leg would be the most painful. But he decided it might possibly be the most important step toward freedom and the last step to put the past in its rightful place.
    He knew the location of his father’s private nursing home from Carl’s description. Wealthy patients went there to have around-the-clock pampered care while waiting to die. Reece didn’t know what to expect. He wondered if Carl had exaggerated his father’s condition to get him to visit the other day. His brother mentioned the word closure. Was that the word of the day? He didn’t know what it meant. Did it mean to tie up all the frayed strands of his life so he could forget the past ever happened?
    Reece found the two-story building set on a serene plot of land with a pond bordered by trees and flowers. He remembered the place from his childhood, the fun he and Carl had on the grounds riding their bikes, feeding the ducks in the pond. Visitors parked in front of the building, and he assumed employees parked in the rear. He searched for cars or vans that looked out of place, an extra antenna, a light on the dashboard or in the rear window. Nothing suspicious caught his eye, but that didn’t mean a cop wasn’t waiting.
    Carl mentioned his father’s room led onto a patio at the rear end of the building, near the woods. If that was supposed to make Reece feel safe, it didn’t. Not today. Fortunately, the single French door leading into the room offered easier entry than an impenetrable sliding glass door that came with security bars. Nothing compared to a little luck, he thought for the second time that day. He pulled to the end of the parking lot, as close to the building as possible, and parked next to