“Can you do me a favor? I’d like to borrow Vicky’s phone to call Kimberly Foster. She isn’t returning my calls, but she may answer Vicky.”
“I’ll get her phone.”
“And, Dad? Thank you for being here for her.”
Her dad squeezed her arm. “I’d do it for anyone.”
Ten minutes later, Regan had Vicky’s cell phone, and she stood outside the hospital entrance. She wasn’t surprised to find Kimberly’s contact information in Vicky’s phone, which made this even easier: Kim would see Vicky’s name pop up.
Regan was right. Kim answered on the second ring.
“Hello, Vicky?”
“Vicky is in the hospital.”
“Who is this? What happened to Vicky?”
“My name is Regan Merritt. I left several messages for you this week. Vicky’s roommate, Nicole Bergamo, was poisoned and is clinging to life, and Vicky won’t leave her side. I’m calling you because you are in danger. You know what Rachel Wagner is capable of, and apparently, you’re the last living person who knows the truth about Adele Overton.”
She laid it all out, hoping to shock Kim into talking.
“Hold on.”
Regan feared she’d hung up on her, but a minute later Kim came back on the phone. “I needed privacy. What is it you think I know? Why am I in danger?”
“I read Candace Swain’s journal. I know what happened to Adele. The police now have the journal and they will be calling you. You told Candace at the Spring Fling that you were willing to come forward about what happened to Adele but wanted to get a lawyer to protect yourself and the others. It was an accident. I think you’re smart enough to know that you wouldn’t have been prosecuted for a crime, maybe get a slap on the wrist. Rachel talked you out of it. Now, you have no choice. If you don’t speak up and tell the truth, Rachel will come after you. She killed Candace, she killed Taylor, and she poisoned Nicole.”
“Killed? You think Rachel killed Candace? No, she wouldn’t. That homeless drunk killed Candace. That’s what the police said.”
“That’s what Rachel told you the police said, and I think she steered the police in that direction. She’s dating the lead detective.”
“Do you have proof of any of this?”
“Candace’s journal is proof of what happened to Adele. Rachel’s not walking away from that. She’ll lose her job, at the minimum. But I want to get her on murder. I want to give Candace’s family answers. And if Nicole Bergamo dies, that’s another murder charge.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“No, which gives me a lot more leeway in finding the proof I need to put that woman away for a long, long time. I have enough circumstantial evidence that the police are going to revisit Candace’s homicide and go back to Adele’s disappearance. If you don’t come forward now, Rachel could consider you the only loose end. You need to do the right thing.”
“You’re saying because Candace was going to come forward about Adele that Rachel killed her. God, that’s insane.”
Regan couldn’t tell whether Kim believed her or was dismissing her.
“I can give you the name and number of the detective in charge—the detective who replaced Rachel’s boyfriend. He’ll tell you exactly what I’m saying.” A slight exaggeration, no cop would share such theories, especially over the phone, but maybe Kim didn’t know that.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’m calling my lawyer,” Kim said, “then I’ll have him contact Flagstaff police. Is that good enough?”
“For now, but you need to do it sooner rather than later.”
Kim hung up without another comment.
Forty-Three
Rachel was angry. A slow boil that had been percolating for weeks was now about to explode.
Steven kept declining her calls.
They’d had plans for tonight because his daughter had a sleepover at a friend’s house, but he only responded to one of the many text messages she’d sent today.
Sorry, busy, important case, talk to you later.
No kiss emoji or frown emoji or anything.
She drove slowly past his house. It was Saturday, and the weekends he had to work he usually had a babysitter for Wendy or took her to her friend’s house for a sleepover. Today maybe he took her there early. No one was home.
Feeling bold, she went inside. She had a key—he’d given her one more than a year ago—and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place. Yet…