Page 49 of Little Last Words
He stared up at me in a stupor, like he recognized me but didn’t at the same time.
“I think he’s losing consciousness,” I said. “We need to get the paramedics here—now.”
While Whitlock made some calls, I readied my own firearm and started clearing the room, checking behind the curtain, under the bed, inside the closet.
I found no one.
Given the hotel room was small, I’d checked everywhere except the bathroom. The door to it was closed and locked. Inside, I heard some rustling around.
Whitlock heard it too.
“Seems the answers to our questions are behind this door,” I said. “Someone’s in there.”
I’d saidsomeone, but I knew who I’d find when the door opened.
I stood to the side of the door, raising my voice as I said, “I saw your car out front, Angelica. I know you’re here, and I’m guessing you shot Dean. You may as well come out. There’s nowhere else for you to go.”
It was silent for a time, and then she said, “I … I can’t.”
“What do you mean youcan’t? Why not?”
“I’m stuck,” she stammered.
She may have locked the door behind her, but it was cheap, made of fiberboard, from the looks of it. With a bit of force, I knew I could get it open.
I turned toward Whitlock. “I’m going in.”
Before he had the chance to respond, I rammed the door with my boot as hard as I could. It burst open. Inside, about a quarter of the way out a small bathroom window, a window too small for an adult to climb out of, was Angelica.
Whitlock took one look and shook his head.
It had already been a long day, and it wasn’t over yet.
CHAPTER19
Dean had been shot once in the chest at point-blank range. The bullet lodged in his right ventricle between the supraventricular crest and pulmonary valve. In layman’s terms it meant the bullet had penetrated Dean’s heart. And while the surgeon remained optimistic, he was reluctant to go over any details until after the surgery. If Dean pulled through, he was looking at a lengthy recovery time. He wouldn’t be leaving the hospital anytime soon.
Angelica was being charged with attempted murder—and the charge would become a lot more severe if Dean didn’t survive. It took no time for her lawyer to join her after she was taken into police custody. His swift arrival at the police station caused Foley to wonder if the lawyer had been tipped off beforehand and had prior knowledge of Angelica’s plans to confront Dean. The lawyer denied it, of course, claiming he was unaware of her intentions. But I was skeptical too.
I decided to hang around the police station for a while as Angelica was being questioned. Several minutes into the interrogation, the door opened, and Whitlock headed toward the kitchen, leaving Foley with Angelica and her lawyer. He shuffled past me, mumbling something about Angelica requesting a cup of coffee.
I asked if she’d said anything of note yet, and he replied, “Not much.”
Angelica was certain Dean had murdered Penelope, but earlier in the day, Foley received a tip that exonerated Dean, a tip Whitlock said was being passed on to Angelica right now. Surveillance footage in Dean’s hometown showed him leaving a bar the night of Penelope’s murder, a bar that just so happened to be three hours away in Fillmore. The bartender confirmed Dean was there between eight and eleven that night, as did two of Dean’s friends who’d been there with him.
Silas placed Penelope’s time of death before 10 p.m., so there was no way Dean could have been responsible for her murder. The news was a tough blow for Angelica to swallow. She surmised the man on the surveillance footage must have been someone else. To convince her, Foley showed her the video. There was no denying it was him.
Given the immense dislike Angelica had for Dean, it hadn’t occurred to her to consider how she’d feel about what she’d done if he turned out to be innocent.
That’s where I came in.
With no cards left to play, Angelica clammed up, saying she’d speak to no one except me. While Whitlock delivered the coffee she’d requested, Foley took a minute to warm to the idea. He decided to observe our conversation through the one-way mirror.
I grabbed a bottle of water and walked into the interrogation room. As soon as I entered, Angelica turned to her lawyer and said, “You can wait outside. I’d like to speak to Georgiana alone.”
He advised her against it, but she’d made up her mind.
The lawyer made his exit, and Angelica faced the mirror. “For those of you out there watching, get lost. And turn the camera in this room off while you’re at it.”