CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

I stare at Clara in shock. Julian stares at Clara in shock. Detective Ramirez stares at Clara in shock. I can't see the other cop's face, but I think it's a good bet that he's staring at her in shock too.

Julian is the first to recover. "This confession is under duress! I demand that you leave my house!"

Detective Ramirez is the next person to recover. "Harris, search the house for the diary."

"You have no right—" Julian starts.

"Your wife just confessed to a murder, and both of you corroborated the existence of a diary possessed by the victim that could provide material evidence to a motive for such a murder."

Julian blinks. "You said you…" Then he reddened. "We're not speaking without a lawyer present."

"Feel free to call one. Your wife can make her own decisions. Mrs. Kensington? Would you like to talk to us?"

Clara nods, and Julian says, "Clara! Don't talk to them without—"

"You speak again, and I'll arrest you for obstruction of justice."

Julian's shade deepens until it matches the color of a ripe tomato. Then he laughs and looks around, his eyes wild. He can't accept that he's not in control.

I'm not surprised to see his eyes settle on me. I'm the least powerful person here. He must be able to find a way out through me.

"I'm going to ruin your life, you meddling little asshole. How dare—"

"Mr. Harlow," Detective Ramirez asks sweetly. "Would you like to press charges against Mr. Kensington for making criminal threats?"

I meet Julian's eyes and say, "I'm not sure yet."

"We were arguing," Clara begins.

"Clara, shut up!"

"I think I might press charges, actually," I say.

Julian turns to me. "You…" then he laughs again and grins. He thinks it's an angry and intimidating grin. It looks to me more like a cornered and wounded animal realizing he's about to be eaten. How ironic that it's his own fangs that will consume him.

Speaking of, here comes the other cop. He's holding the diary. What's left of it anyway. It's been burnt, and all that's left are the spine, the cover and a few charred pages.

"Any reason why you burnt your daughter's diary, Mr. Kensington?"

Julian looks sick. "Lawyer."

Detective Ramirez shrugs. "Works for me. Harris, take him to the car."

"We won't speak without a lawyer, right Clara? Clara!"

Clara looks away from him. "I'm sorry, Julian."

"Clara. Listen—take your hands off me!"

"Nope. You're under arrest."

"You can't… you… Clara!"

"I think I'll press those criminal threat charges after all."

Julian looks at me and says, "You fucking shit stain. I will ruin you. You little…"

Anything else he wants to say is cut off by his own front door closing in his face.

I turn back to Clara, and Detective Ramirez says, "You have to go too, kid. This is an official statement. You can't be here."

My anger flares up at that. I'm finally about to see justice done for Lila. I want to hear it. I want to hear her killer confess. I want the satisfaction I never got with Annie.

But I know better. I nod and head outside.

The other cop, Harris, I think Lena called him, is on the porch smoking a cigarette. He offers me one, and I decline.

"Smart kid. These'll kill you."

"Then why do you smoke?"

He shrugs. "Everybody dies."

He's not wrong.

I look at the police car to see Julian shaking with fear. He"s done for, and he knows it.

Isn't he?

I turn to Harris and ask, "You think they'll put him away for this?"

He shrugs. "I don"t know. His political career is over, for sure. Folks draw the line at murdering your own kid. But if by put away you mean prison time?" He shrugs again. "Clara's copping to the act of murder. She's probably going to say that he helped cover it up, and he obviously did, but his legal team is going to fight hard to make her look untrustworthy and him look like a caring husband duped by a drug addict wife. They're probably going to succeed. I think he gets hit for obstruction of justice, attempt to destroy evidence, and maybe conspiracy after the fact. Unless we find something that unequivocally connects him to Derek Hill, he gets a suspended sentence of eighteen months and a few years of probation." He hooks a thumb back into the house. "She's going down though. Involuntary manslaughter at best, but since Julian's legal team is going to want to paint her as a banshee to make him look good, I think she'll get murder in the second. She'll get twenty-five and serve fifteen."

"That's it? That's all she gets for killing her child?"

Harris gives me a tight-lipped smile. "You were wrong about cops not giving a shit about the victims of rich people. But you were close to right about the fact that rich people get away with murder. It's one of the shitty things about the world that hasn't been fixed yet and probably won't be fixed for a long time. But she'll come out broken. She's forty-three, and if her record is to be believed—and I think it is—she's been on cocaine for most of her life. Fifteen years without in a maximum-security prison, and she'll come out a shell. If she's lucky."

"Still seems like a cakewalk compared to what Lila got."

Harris shrugs once more. "We take what we can get."

I look back at Julian. He's crying now, but I doubt it's guilt. He's shown no guilt at all. Clara's shown guilt, but Julian? Nothing. I don't even think he's capable of worrying about anyone else. The tears he cries now are for himself.

"So what happens now?"

"We take them to jail and book them. They post bond before the day's over. Then they confer with their fancy lawyers, who try to intimidate Clara into walking back her confession and claiming duress. They file a motion to dismiss, then a motion to delay, then a motion to transfer jurisdiction. When all those motions are denied, we finally get started with the court process."

"How long does all that take?"

"Two years at least before a verdict."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. Be grateful you don't have to deal with that part."

We fall silent for a while. Harris finishes his cigarette and lights another. "You don"t want to be inside?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "Nah. I've seen it all before. They're so sorry for what they did, they'd give anything to take it back, they were so upset they weren't thinking clearly. It was the drugs, it was the alcohol, it was everything but their own fault. Lena will fill me in on the details I need to know. Besides, I think Mrs. Kensington will be more comfortable talking to her without us men in the room."

"Ah. Got it."

He looks at me and says, "You got damned lucky, kid. There are a thousand reasons why you should be either dead or in jail right now. You very nearly ruined our chances of finding justice for Lila Kensington."

I lower my eyes, and he puts his hand on my shoulder. "But, that little bit about the diary probably saved our asses. Officially, I can't condone your choice to burglarize someone's home, but unofficially, you did good."

I lift my head again and smile at him. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. One more thing: quit using. Seriously."

I chuckle sheepishly. "Yeah. I will."

"I mean it. That's a one-way street to the only kind of life that I can confidently say is worse than death. Drugs don't fix anything. They just numb you so you don't have to face the pain. But they eat away at you until all that's left is pain.

"You just have to face the pain. It sucks. Bad. I know it. I lost my sister when I was fifteen. Ex-boyfriend caught her kissing a new boyfriend. Shot her, the new boyfriend and my mother. My mother survived, but my sister and her new boyfriend didn't."

My eyes widen. "Damn. I'm sorry."

"Me too. But you get through it. Maybe you don't ever get over it, but you get through it. But only if you choose to."

The door opens and Clara Kensington walks out, hands cuffed behind her back, head bowed. She doesn't look at me.

Harris grimaces. "Shit. I forgot to call for another car."

"Take her inside," Detective Ramirez says. "You can wait for the other car there. I don't want her anywhere Julian can see her. I'm going to talk to the kid."

Harris nods and turns Clara around. With surprising gentleness, he says, "We'll take a seat on the couch, ma'am."

Maybe the gentleness isn't surprising. Maybe I just don't like that she's receiving anything even close to sympathy.

Detective Ramirez waits until the door closes, then grabs my arms and leads me to the side of the house. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"Somewhere, no one can read my lips."

She keeps going until we're behind the house and out of view of the neighbors who at this point are all taking pictures of Julian Kensington in his car. I wonder how many they took of me on the porch talking to Harris.

Detective Ramirez looks at me and says, "If you repeat anything I'm about to tell you, I will a) deny that I talked to you, and b) have you arrested for possession, burglary, obstruction of justice, harassment and every other charge I can think of. Are we crystal?"

"Crystal."

"Good." She sighed. "The only reason you're hearing what I'm about to say is that you might have been the last person to put a smile on Lila Kensington's face. Despite the fact that I'm a cop and clearly only value rich people with power, that matters to me."

"Yeah." I shuffle my feet. "Sorry about that."

"Shut up. Clara Kensington was on meth when she killed Lila. Lila caught her and they got into an argument over her drug use. At some point, Lila accused her of covering up Julian's murder of Derek Hill. According to Clara, she threatened to go to us with evidence that could prove all of it. Clara said that at that point, she grabbed Lila and threw her to the ground. She says her intention was to scare her. Instead, Lila hit her head on the edge of their coffee table."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. Anyway, she—Clara—freaked out and called Julian. Julian came downstairs and stripped Lila into underwear and a t-shirt, then dumped her body in the pool while Clara cleaned up the blood. Then they called their friend and arranged the alibi."

"Why did he strip her first?"

"Probably because she got blood on her sweater and pants."

"Got it. That makes sense."

I look back toward the front of the house. "Harris told me that Julian will probably get away without prison time."

"Harris didn't know that Clara was going to confess to his involvement in Derek Hill's death when he said that. It's still going to be an uphill battle, and we probably will only get him for conspiracy unless we get lucky and find tangible physical evidence, but I think we get him for five to ten."

I chuckle bitterly. "Five to ten for two murders, huh?"

"And the destruction of his reputation and political career. Not to mention financial ruin since Scimitar will vote him off of everything even remotely attached to him. It's not everything, but it's not chopped liver."

"Yeah. I guess not."

"You take what you can get, kid." She looks at me. "Did Harris give you the ‘good job but do it again, and you'll probably go to prison' speech?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Good. What about the ‘quit using' speech?"

"Yeah. That one too."

She nods. "Good."

I hear cars approach the house, and Detective Ramirez says, "That's my cue, kid. One last piece of advice: Walk to the street back over there. A lot of people are going to want to talk to you if you follow me out to the front of the house."

I smile. "Sounds good. Thank you. For everything."

She returns my smile. "Thank you. Now scram."

I head through the houses behind the Kensington home and come out on a much quieter cul-de-sac. There are a few people out walking around, but I"m in my uniform, and no one cares what the pool boy"s doing. Almost certainly, it"s not anything interesting enough to warrant gossip.

I cast one last look at the Kensingtons' backyard. I can just see Lila's bedroom window over the fence. I smile wistfully and allow myself one final memory of Lila's smile.

Then I look ahead and make my way out of Autumn Downs.