Page 20 of Witness To Murder
Of course there was. Leah didn’t want to believe it, but this was bad, and somehow she was connected to it.
“Sometimes our words can be misconstrued or taken out of context—especially when we’re emotional,” Owen explained. “It’s obvious to me that someone is setting you up. We just need to proceed with caution until Lambert understands that as well.”
The bottom dropped out of her stomach right after the wordssomeone is setting you up. Who would do that? She had friends. But only one close friend, and that was Isla. There was no way Isla would be setting her up. Besides, Leah had no real money or other marketable assets that anyone might want. She had a job, but she barely made enough to keep her head above water. She owned nothing except a few odd pieces of furniture, and she had no social life. She’d just appropriated the better part of her savings to figure out this insane mess.
“Why?” She searched his eyes in hopes of finding the answer there. “Why would anyone pick me for this, whatever it is?”
“Two reasons, as far as I can see,” he said. “You have a record—however distant—of being involved with unsavory types.”
Leah groaned. “I’m a model human for most of my life, and no one notices. I screw up once and get involved with a thug, and I’m a suspected criminal forevermore.”
Owen shrugged. “Look at it like getting hacked on social media. It’s the people who would never dream of or even know how to hack an account who get hacked. It’s the same people who want to believe the best in everyone they meet. Those who trust maybe more than they should. Sometimes we just don’t see what’s right in front of us.”
“You believe this comes down to Isla.” He didn’t have to say it outright. She got it. At this point, even she was admittedly having difficulty denying the possibility. But why would her friend do all this? What did she have to gain?
“It’s the most logical possibility, given what we know at this time,” he confirmed. “But remember, we’re going on only a small amount of knowledge. There is still a lot we haven’t figured out. Many things can happen in seventy-two hours. We are only aware of a few of those events. This entire situation could change direction at any moment.”
He didn’t say change for the worse, but she understood that was what he meant.
This could get exponentially worse.
JUST OVER ANhour later, a dark sedan arrived at the lake house. Not the black car that had been following her; Leah hadn’t seen it since arriving at the safe house. Owen had made sure the driver was unable to follow. The man had evasive driving tactics down to a science.
While she watched, Detective Lambert emerged from the sedan. Before he’d closed the door, a white van sporting the Chicago PD logo arrived, and an official police cruiser as well. Leah wondered if this location was still in Lambert’s jurisdiction. Maybe it didn’t matter, since the situation was related to his ongoing case. Or so it would seem.
“Ms. Gerard,” he said as he approached her, “this isn’t an address I had associated with you.”
“This lake house belongs to Isla’s family.”
“You’ve been here before,” Lambert suggested. A reasonable assumption.
Before Leah could answer, Owen explained, “We visited Mrs. Morris this morning to see if she has heard from her daughter. She has not. She suggested we look here. She gave us the location of the house and the key to go inside. As soon as we discovered the blood, we called you and came outside.”
“Had you been here before?” Lambert asked Leah again.
“No.” She shook her head. “Mrs. Morris seems to think I have. She said Isla told her on several occasions that she was coming to the lake house with me, but that isn’t true. I’ve never been here before today.”
“We suspect,” Owen said, “that Isla was giving her mother Leah’s name to conceal the identity of the person she was actually bringing here.”
“Any motive you’re aware of that would prompt her to take such a step?”
“We have found no motive as of yet,” Owen admitted.
“How long will it take,” Leah asked, “to figure out whose blood that is?” Her heart squeezed. Someone would have to talk to Mrs. Morris. She needed to be aware of what was happening. What a nightmare this would be for her until she knew what had actually happened.
“It’s difficult to say,” Lambert conceded. “We’ll need to find out her blood type, as well as that of Raymond Douglas, and then we’ll do DNA testing using Isla’s mother and, I suppose, one of Douglas’s children, assuming all involved will cooperate. If not, we have other ways. Hair from a brush or comb they used. A toothbrush.”
The worry would eat Leah alive before then. “Can your forensic people determine how long the blood has been in that room?”
She had seen both Isla and Raymond on Saturday evening.
“That, we can do, and fairly quickly.” Lambert hitched his head toward the house. “I should get inside and see what we have.” He hesitated. “If you would wait here, I’m sure I will have more questions.”
Oh yeah. Leah was confident he would have plenty more questions. Questions she could not answer.
As she and Owen sat in the quiet of the outdoors for a few moments, she thought about what she had seen in that room besides the blood. Handcuffs. Someone had presumably kept Isla or Raymond against their will. Or it was a part of some sex game gone wrong.
Either possibility made her feel sick. Worse, it was possible he or she had been tortured—she thought of the blood—and killed.
