Chapter Forty-Three SCARLETT

Chapter Forty-Three

S CARLETT

Saturday, July 20, 2024

11:00 a.m.

I sat in the gray interview room bathed in shadows, windowless and stifling. Soundproof walls smelled of fear and worry, and the single table and two chairs were both stark and uncomfortable. Glancing up at the ceiling, I noted the wads of paper that had caught in the square white panels. How many people had sat in this chair and waited for someone like Dawson to ask difficult questions designed to incriminate?

I’d waited in a dark room before, but when the door opened, there was always a monster lurking. I closed my eyes, refusing to picture myself locked in a cell for the next three decades. If Della’s goal was to reincarcerate me, she was well on her way.

Nerves tightened as my panic ticked up several notches. I had done nothing wrong. Della was the villain of this story. I should be cleared. Anger balled in my belly. Who was I kidding? Life didn’t play fair.

I glanced down at the clean scrubs that swallowed my body and at my bandaged right hand. Margo’s blood had made the knife handle slick, and the blade had cut my palm. Her blood and mine dotted my hands and neck, and the prongs of the Taser had left two angry red marks. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in this room.

After Tanner, the cops had been kind to me. They didn’t keep me waiting in a room like this. They’d brought me water and coffee often when they spoke in soft tones. No handcuffs. They’d not been trying to intimidate me.

When footsteps echoed in the hallway, I sat a little straighter and closed my eyes. The door opened, lights flipped on, and as I slowly lifted my lids, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Dawson had a file tucked under his arm and two cups in his beefy hands. He took a sip from one, set the second one filled with water in front of me, and tossed the file on the table. He angled the chair on a diagonal near me and sat. Our knees were inches apart.

I threaded my fingers and sat back. If he thought he was scary, he’d have to try harder.

“How did we get here, Scarlett?”

“I want my lawyer.” I was in over my head and needed his help.

“I’ll call your lawyer soon.”

“I’m only talking to Luke Kane, Detective Dawson.”

“It could be a while. I’d hate for you to sit here any longer than necessary.”

Maybe. Or maybe he wouldn’t come at all. My life had been messy. Now it was a shit show. And my bench was shallow. “I was locked in a basement for eighty-eight days, remember? You’ll have to try harder to intimidate me.”

Margo must have still been in surgery. That knife had sliced through her silk blouse and into her flesh. I had no idea if I’d hit a major vessel and done real damage. I’d just wanted to stop her.

“Scarlett, let me help you. I want to get this sorted out so you can go home. Talk to me.”

We were best friends now? He was my buddy? My pal? I’d sliced up his partner and girlfriend. I had no doubts about his objectives. “Lawyer first, Detective Dawson.”

“We have footage of you speaking to your latest victim, and we’ve also confirmed you were one of the last people to see her alive. You also stalked and kidnapped a second woman. You’d have killed her if you’d not been stopped.”

My chest was so tight, I could barely breathe. Had I been the last to see Tiffany alive?

“And I can also link you to the human remains found entombed in a wall.” He tipped forward until his knees almost brushed mine. He knew I didn’t like to be touched. “What set you off? Why call in the location of the first body that’s been hidden for a decade? Why kill again after all these years?”

I didn’t respond.

He sat back, as if he had all the time in the world. “Tell me about Della. Tell me how she hurt you.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Not talking.”

“You and me have history, Scarlett. You don’t want another cop handling your case. I’ve seen you at your worst. Others won’t understand you like I do.”

“You understand me?” His words buzzed around my head in swirls of bullshit. My anger boiled through the ice and surfaced in my expression.

“Not talking.”

“We must talk, Scarlett. You helped kill a woman, murdered another, and tried to suffocate a third. You put a cop in the hospital with a vicious stab wound. You called that officer Della multiple times. And this isn’t the first time you’ve confused a woman with this Della.”

My fingernails dug into the soft white Styrofoam.

Inhaling slowly, I replayed those last moments. I’d shoved my fingers into Tanner’s eyes and the van had veered off course, hitting a ditch and falling on its side. I’d been thrown backward, my body pinging around in the metal van like a bouncing ball. When the van came to a stop, my bones hurt, blood dripped from my temple, and Tanner had been screaming, I’m going to kill you! And then he had stumbled out of the van, gun drawn, and shots had been fired. I was aware of Dawson talking now, but I wasn’t paying attention until his tone sharpened.

“Nineteen stitches. Your knife left a nasty gash on your victim’s neck and chest. The doctor said a few more centimeters to the left and you’d have severed her carotid artery. If she’d bled to death, you would be facing another murder charge.”

My fingers tightened around the cup.

I’d passed out on the van floor, crumpling into a heap. I’d never asked who had killed Tanner. I’d simply been grateful he was dead.

“I was there when the van crashed a decade ago. I shot and killed Tanner Reed when he drew on me. I helped pull you from the wreckage,” he said. “I’m on your side.”

I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Dawson had killed Tanner. He’d set me free. And now he was trying to lock me away.

“Breaks my heart when I think about pulling you out of that torn metal. What happened to you in that basement should never have happened to any person.”

His jaw pulsed as he leaned forward, his knees brushing mine. The contact sent a softening wave through my body, and though I knew it was a ploy, the tenderness was comforting. “Were you always like this?” he asked. “Withdrawn, I mean? As a girl, were you outgoing?”

“You want to talk about my middle school years?” The question was almost amusing.

He tensed. “I want to start a dialogue with you. I want to help you.”

“Then call my lawyer.”

“At some point you and I are going to have to talk, Scarlett. You need to tell me what you know.”

I’d been alone for a long time. I didn’t love or embrace it, but solitude kept me safe. Now I realized how removed I was from the world.

“When did you first meet Officer Margo Larsen?”

I moistened my lips. “Is this information for the case or your own personal reference, Detective?”

He tensed and then slid back behind a blank stare. “What does that mean?”

“You know.” I smiled, closed my eyes as I released the cup. As I drew in a deep breath, the muscles in my arms and hands eased. He was on the defensive now.

“When did you decide to stalk Margo Larsen?” he pressed. “I’ve seen the portrait you left for her in her apartment. Odd.”

“Her name isn’t Margo. It’s Della.”

“She’s Officer Margo Larsen.”

“When did you start screwing Della? Did you find her, or did she find you? What itch do you have that she scratched?”

His jaw tensed. “What’s that mean?”

“Della found me. Her smile was so bright, it banished all my fears and worries. That smile lured me into Tanner Reed’s van. That smile ruined my life.”

He shifted and those knees retreated. “Margo Larsen isn’t Della.”

Frustration scraped under my skin. He didn’t believe me and likely thought—like everyone else—that I was confused. “You’re wrong. She’s Della, and she’s come back for me.”

“You?”

Dawson didn’t see what Margo was doing. His shocked gaze told me he didn’t believe me. I sounded crazy, but I knew how clever Margo was and how well she calculated her moves. She’d flawlessly planned her own escape from Tanner’s house, even willing to endure one of his beatings for her chance to run. And her vanishing act after the house fire had been flawless. It made perfect sense that she’d plan her return with such careful detail. How long had she been tracking Lynn, Tiffany, me, or even Dawson? Months? Years? “Does Margo know you killed Tanner?”

He sniffed, shifted his stance. “That information is in the files.”

All easily accessible to another cop. “I bet she’s read it cover to cover. That’s exactly why she chose you.”

He sat back, his expression blank. “What set you off? You had gotten on with your life and no one suspected you of anything. And then the call about the body.”

Slowly, I shook my head. “You should be asking Della that question.”

A sad smile tipped the edges of his lips as he reached in his pocket for a plastic evidence bag. He tossed the bag on the table between us. “Does that look familiar?”

I didn’t look immediately, but his smug expression lured my gaze down. It was a silver chain hooked into either side of an engraved oval. The letters were SC . Seeing the piece of jewelry took me back to the house I’d shared with my mother. She’d given me the bracelet on my fourteenth birthday. It had been a rare moment of happiness for us both. “Tanner took all my clothes and jewelry.”

“So, this is yours?”

Yes danced on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t dare utter it. I dropped my gaze and drew in a calming breath.

“Is that a yes or no?”

I didn’t respond.

Dawson laid his hand on the bag, slowly dragged it toward him, and pocketed it. My heart sank as the one positive connection to my mother vanished.

“Getting Tiffany alone would’ve been easy, given your history,” he said softly. “But what did you say to Lynn to lure her to your house? We have footage of you parked in front of her house early this morning.”

“I thought she sent me a text.”

I couldn’t say now I’d been with Luke all night. I had been sitting in front of Lynn’s house. Luke and I might not survive this, but he was decent enough not to abandon me. I hoped.

Dawson’s chair creaked as he leaned back. “There’s no record of a text on her phone.”

“ Someone sent me a text. Have you checked Della’s phone?”

He sighed. “Margo said you kept calling her Della.”

There was no point trying to convince Dawson. “When Luke arrives, then we’ll speak.”

“You confronted Lynn in a coffee shop. She said you were openly hostile.” He stared into his coffee cup. “Hair fibers were pulled from Tiffany’s body. DNA test results came back. Guess who’s a match?”

I wasn’t talking any more. More words led to more distortions and traps.

“Your DNA was found on Tiffany’s body,” Dawson said.

That wasn’t a surprise. I’d driven her to her car, hugged her. However, Dawson fired questions for nearly thirty minutes as I repeatedly asked for and then demanded my attorney.

He chuckled as he shook his head. “How many times have you seen Della over the last decade?”

“I don’t care if you believe me. Test Margo’s DNA against the samples on Sandra’s body. You’ll find a match.”

He shook his head. “Why would I go to the trouble?”

“Because under all the bluster, you care about the truth. Not many cops would put as much effort into Sandra’s and Tiffany’s murders.”

It was his turn to stew in silence.

“Della was smart. Tanner ‘had control’ of her initially, but she learned manipulation from him and turned the tables. She had a way of getting in his ear. Maybe she’s doing the same to you. She intentionally goaded him, so he’d beat her up. She convinced him she was broken and then waited for him to leave with me. It was her chance to escape. She knew he’d set bombs around the house. She set them off because she knew the fire would erase all traces of her.”

Again silence.

“Does she make you feel special?” I asked.

Dawson closed his file folder and stood. “I’ll let you know when your attorney calls, if he does.”

When the door closed behind him, I stared at the four walls. My breath caught in my chest and constricted into a hard ball. I had survived Tanner. I would survive this.

Another two hours passed before I was moved to a larger room. This one was split in two by a glass wall, and the halves were linked by phone receivers. The door on the other side opened and Luke stepped inside. He was dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and red tie. His face was stern, with no hint of the familiarity that I’d seen last night. He took the seat across from me and raised the phone to his ear. I did the same.

“Luke, thank you for coming. I know this is a lot to ask.”

He shook his head, as if trying to wrap his head around all this. “Tell me what happened.”

This meeting was all business, and as much as that stung, I had to suck it up. I needed him. He pulled out a yellow legal pad, and I explained everything I knew about Della/Margo, Sandra, Tiffany, and Lynn.

“Dawson is saying my DNA is on Tiffany’s body. I drove her to her car and hugged her before I left. But I haven’t seen her since that moment.”

His stoic expression was impossible to read. “I doubt he has results yet. What about Lynn Yeats?”

“I looked her up online. I found out where she lived. Followed her to a coffee shop.”

His jaw pulsed. “Why did you follow her?”

“I wanted to know what she knew about Tanner. I wanted to know if she knew I was in that basement.”

“Do you believe she knew?”

I shoved out a sigh. “She knows more than she’s admitted to the police. I don’t think Tanner’s secrets were that secret from her.” I flexed my fingers. “Tiffany thought she heard the two of them arguing at the diner. Lynn said she was tired of helping Tanner with his ‘shit.’”

“Tiffany is dead, and anything she told you about something she overheard ten years ago will be torn apart in court. She was an addict, and right now you have every reason to lie.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t hurt Lynn or Tiffany.”

Luke’s gaze narrowed into a hawkish glare. “This won’t work if you lie to me. The first sniff I have of a lie, I’m leaving.”

I raised my chin. “I’m not lying.”

He stared through the glass for a long moment, the silence interrupted only by the closing of a hallway door and the tapping of my foot. As physically close as Luke was, the glass, coupled with his cool demeanor, wedged miles between us.

“Margo is Della,” I said. “Della was smart, cunning. And not above shattering the rules to get what she wanted.”

“Margo is a decorated police officer.”

“Who specialized in human trafficking and assaults. Going after criminals like Tanner must have helped her get some sense of revenge against the man who hurt her. Go back and look at her cases. She told me how much she enjoyed watching a human trafficker suffer. There could be complaints against her buried under the arrest records.”

“I’ll dig into her file. But you understand how this all sounds, right?”

“Her mannerisms, her sense of humor, and her lack of boundaries—it’s all Della. I know I’m right.”

“Why is she back?”

“Unfinished business. What business, I don’t know exactly.”

His gaze held mine for a long moment. “I’ll arrange bail. It might take time.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

His gaze lingered, and I could see the scrutiny. He was wondering if he’d been played. He was wise to worry. I’d learned so many tricks from Della.

Luke shook his head slowly before he rose and left.

I was released an hour later. When I stepped into the crowded lobby, Luke was waiting for me. He didn’t say anything as he guided me out of the building and across the lot to his car. Silent, we got into the car, and he didn’t speak until we parked in front of my building. “Why are we here? Your apartment is a crime scene.”

“I want to show you something.” I got out of the car, walked to the front door, and tore the seal on my back door.

He followed quickly. “I am not seeing this.”

I unlocked the doors. When we were inside, I locked them.

His gaze skimmed the locks on the doors, but he said nothing.

I guided him to my art studio, flipped on a light, and uncovered the painting I’d been working on for the last couple of days. He stood back and stared at it. “I just started this one. I’ve been painting this face for years. I think this is the fifty-sixth version of it. I gave the last painting like this to Margo.”

“What do you mean gave ?”

“I left it in her apartment. The desk clerk let me in.”

He muttered an oath. “You entered her apartment without permission.”

“I’d told her I’d give her a piece of art. We didn’t agree on when.”

He faced me. “When did you tell her this?”

“We had drinks a few days ago. It was her idea, not mine. She’s moved in across the street from me. Her unit overlooks my place. She came to me.”

“Or she moved into a new apartment and her new neighbor began to fixate on her.”

“It could be spun that way.”

“Is Margo the woman you saw when you fell off the rock wall and also bolted from the restaurant?”

“Yes.”

His lips pursed as if he were holding back comment.

I shifted my focus back to the painting, wondering why I hadn’t seen the truth earlier. “I’ve never been able to get the eyes right on all my versions of Della. I always painted her as a kind of victim. But she wasn’t a victim. She willingly moved in with Tanner. She knew about Sandra Taylor, and I think she tried to save her by luring me into the van. But Sandra vanished, and when Della ended up with a ringside seat to my suffering, she realized Tanner was a monster she couldn’t control. Something in her changed, and she started planning her escape. Maybe she hoped I’d escape Tanner at the diner; maybe she didn’t care as long as she had time to get out of the house and set off Tanner’s explosives. Either way, when Tanner and I left the house, she set the fires and vanished.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”

“Because it sounds outlandish. It sounds like I’m obsessed with a past I desperately can’t release. I want to live a normal life. But knowing she was out there made it impossible.”

He glanced at me and then back at the painting. “It’s a haunting image.”

“That’s how I remember Della.” I folded my arms, suddenly feeling raw and vulnerable. “She wasn’t nearly as polished as she is now. She had long dark hair. Now she’s cut it short, dyed it, lost weight, and had her nose changed. But it’s her. Test her DNA against all the samples found on Sandra, Tiffany, and Lynn.”

“You said this is the fifty-sixth version. Where are the other paintings?”

“I burned them. It’s turned into a crazy ritual. I paint, obsess over remembering, and then when I can’t look at the image anymore, I burn it.”

His fingers flexed. “Tell me it’s a controlled burn.”

That prompted a slight smile. “Metal trash cans are a favorite. I’m odd, but not stupid.”

“Why did you try to kill Officer Larsen?”

“When she came toward me, I saw Della. I felt trapped. And I struck out in defense.”

“She’s an officer of the law who found you with a potential victim.”

“How did she know to come to my warehouse? What made her suspect that Lynn was here? I’d been with you the entire night. And then suddenly she appears, gun drawn, and finds Lynn tied to my bed.”

“You left my place shortly before six a.m. The police report said the attack happened at six thirty a.m.” The devil’s advocate in him couldn’t let go of the counterargument. “The timeline will not help your credibility.”

I drew in a breath. “Margo must have been watching me from her apartment. I’ve seen her looking this way before. She saw me leave. And I’ll bet she followed.”

“The prosecutor will say that’s guesswork.”

“She appears in town just before the anonymous call that led cops to Sandra’s body. And then she lands in the investigating officer’s bed.”

“Again, that’s circumstantial. I’d argue that Margo took a new job, you saw her, and it triggered you. You made the 9-1-1 call, killed Tiffany, and kidnapped Lynn.”

“No. Margo is orchestrating all this.” I shook my head. “Margo has gotten under Dawson’s skin. He has a protective vibe for her. You said he bent the rules to shield his wife.”

“If they are sleeping together, it wouldn’t bode well for him.” He shoved out a breath. “And it won’t help your defense when it’s disclosed that we’re sleeping together.”

“For the record, I slept with you because I like you. Not because I needed a lawyer.”

“I want to believe you and Della aren’t playing a version of the same game.”

“I’m not playing.” I shook my head. “The Della I knew was clever and smart. She knows how to manipulate. She sent me a text luring me to Lynn’s town house so she had time to transport Lynn to my warehouse.”

“What’s Margo’s endgame?”

“Clean up loose ends. Lynn, Tiffany, me.” The statement sounded outlandish.

“Why wait ten years?”

“Maybe she needed time. Escape, recover from her stretch with Tanner, and build a new life. Maybe working human trafficking cases was enough until it wasn’t. She returns out of a sense of guilt or maybe justice for Sandra? I don’t know.”

“Why move in across the street from you?”

“Obsession? Or maybe she likes elaborate games and living on the edge. I don’t know.”

He didn’t respond.

“Dawson showed me a bracelet. It was found with Sandra Taylor’s body, and I didn’t admit this to Dawson, but it was mine. Tanner took it from me. Took everything from me.”

“Not everything,” he said softly.

I wanted to take his hand in mine and tether myself to the present. “I’m sorry I pulled you into this. I didn’t know who else to contact.”

He was silent for a long moment. “Let me make calls. Find out what’s happening.”

“I’m sorry.”

His gaze met mine. “We’ll talk soon.”