Page 57 of Memory of Murder
Anne made the call, staying close behind him as he entered the house. He didn’t have to go far before he spotted the first sign of trouble.
A suitcase on the floor by the table where a car fob lay in a glass catchall.
“In here.”
The voice, male, was one Jack recognized. He moved toward the entrance to a great room, where Preston Reed sat on the sofa. A few feet away Carin Wallace lay on the floor, blood pooled around her middle.
Anne gasped, and though Jack wanted to rush to the wounded woman’s side to check her vitals, he held his position in front of Anne. He had to protect her at all costs. He surveyed the man seated on the sofa. “Do you have a gun, Mr. Reed?”
He nodded, gestured to the floor.
Jack walked closer, saw the handgun on the floor. He kicked it away, sending it under the coffee table. With the immediate threat out of the way, he checked Carin Carter Wallace for a pulse. Considering her eyes were open, pupil’s fixed and dilated, and her chest wasn’t moving, he didn’t hold out much hope that she was still alive. Her skin was cool, no pulse at the base of her throat. He shook his head at Anne, who stood a few feet away, staring in shock.
Jack stood and approached the man on the couch. “What happened, Mr. Reed?”
“Your visit—” he looked beyond Jack to Anne “—got me to thinking. The more I thought about all that you said, the more I questioned what I thought I had always known. About seven I went to the senator’s house and demanded answers. He wasn’t there, of course. Or if he was he was hiding.” He shook his head, his face and posture weary. “So I guess I took out my emotions on his wife. I grilled her. Even shook her. She’ll probably charge me with assault, but I didn’t hit her.”
Anne moved closer. “What did she say?”
“She said it was Carin. That Carin was the one who killed my son. She’d been having an affair with him, and when he refused to leave Mary, she disappeared.” He exhaled a big breath. “Except then she came back to try one last time. But Neil wouldn’t change his mind.” Preston’s gaze settled on Anne’s. “He loved your mother too much. He wasn’t giving up her and you for anything or anyone.” His jaw tightened. “He always was hardheaded, just like his mother.”
Jack and Anne shared a look.
“Then you came here?” Jack suggested.
The older man nodded. “She had a gun, but I took it away from her. She was in a big rush to get out of here. We argued and I tried to force her to tell me the truth, but she just kept laughing at me. She repeated two or three times that it would all be over after tonight.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t understand. Then we struggled and the gun went off.”
He glanced at the woman on the floor. “She killed my son.”
Anne’s hands went to her face.
Jack considered the man again. “Did she admit this to you, Mr. Reed?”
“She did.” He nodded. “She laughed when she said it. She said it was time I knew the truth but it was too bad no one else everwould.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “I had to stop her…to see that she paid for what she had done.”
Sirens blaring outside drew their attention to the windows.
“The police are here now.” Jack slid his arm around Anne’s waist and pulled her closer to him. “You can tell them what you just told us, and they’ll figure it out.”
Reed pushed to his feet as if he were eager to do so. “I’m ready.” He stared at Anne. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe Mary.”
While he continued to speak to Anne, Jack studied him closer. Something about this didn’t feel right. Then he spotted the oily-looking stain on his shirt around the left shoulder area. For such a warm night he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and the right sleeve was torn.
“Mr. Reed—” Jack ushered Anne behind him “—I’m sure this has all been a shock. Did Carin also tell you about the fire at the Fairlawn house?”
Reed’s gaze swung to Jack. “What? What fire?”
Jack was close enough to smell the odor of gasoline clinging to his clothes. And the faintest scent of smoke.
Anne suddenly stepped around Jack. “It was you. I smell the gasoline. You tried to kill us.”
Reed dove for the gun.
Jack was on top of him before his fingers could wrap around the grip. Anne snatched up the gun and tossed it across the room.
“It was all her fault,” he railed, his face twisted with fury as he tried to glare up at Anne. “Mary didn’t want him to take the job with BioTech. It was too risky, she claimed, so he turned down the offer. I tried to change his mind. We were set to make a fortune. I’d invested heavily when he told me about Smith and his offer, and I needed him on the inside so he could feed me information. But he refused.” He turned his gaze to the floor as if the rest was too awful or too humiliating to say with anyonestaring at him. “He refused,” he repeated, the words muffled by the rug beneath his face. “He was my son, and he refused. He chose her over me.”
“What happened?”
