He Will be My Ruin
Page 94
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“And his lawyers will argue that you were ‘not of right state of mind,’ pumped full of drugs. Best thing the prosecution can do now is build a strong enough case that Jace finally accepts that he’s not getting away with it and confesses.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“I do.” Childs pushes his plate away and leans back in his typical relaxed demeanor that used to anger me. Now I get that it’s how he has to be to face these kinds of things day in, day out. “It sounds like he killed Celine out of fear and opportunity. He’s not a psychopath. He’s still human. Soon that side of him will prevail, when he sees how much he’s hurting his parents. When he realizes that his life as he’s known it is over. Until then, we’ll keep building a case. We’ve got Ling Zhang cooperating with us now.”
The Bone Lady. Another piece of the puzzle that didn’t add up in Doug’s eyes, so he had Zac dig deeper into her. She may not be a high-end auction house, but she sure has connections with black market art trade in China.
From what she told the police, Jace showed up one day with a cardboard box containing the blue-and-white Ming bowl that she had already appraised for Celine and a vase with a red dragon on it— and a shockingly authentic-looking seal. He wouldn’t tell her where he got the vase from, and he wouldn’t allow her to contact anyone about it yet for additional appraisals, to authenticate what she already believed might be the real deal. He simply asked her to track down the collector who owned the other one, and to not say a word about the vase, or he’d be taking his business elsewhere and she could kiss a sizeable dealer’s cut good-bye.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew how much it could be worth.
When we went in there on the very same day and asked about a red dragon vase, she began to suspect something might not be right.
“Where is Jace now?” I ask.
“Out on a ten-million-dollar bail.”
While the fact that he’s out doesn’t make me feel great, I’m not worried that he’s going to come after me. He was only a killer when he needed to cover his tracks. Now that those tracks are exposed, I’m confident he’ll lay low. He doesn’t need anything else to incriminate him.
I take a long draw of my tea—it doesn’t taste as good from the diner’s porcelain mug as it does coming from Ruby’s dainty china cups. “So, now what?”
Childs levels me with a rare solemn look. “Now you let us do our jobs and close this case the right way. And you go back to helping people who are still alive.”
Doug clears his throat.
“And let me guess . . .” I don’t hide my sarcasm from my voice, though in truth I owe the overpriced PI and his basement-dwelling hacker for my life. “I need to write some more checks?”
EPILOGUE
Maggie
August 9, 2016
“Where’s Hakeem?”
“It’s me!” The little boy runs to me, squealing, carrying a fistful of wildflowers.
“No . . . Hakeem is only this tall.” I measure against my thigh.
He giggles hysterically. “I grow. I am big now!”
I drop my duffel bag and reach down to wrap my arms around the gangly little boy’s body, his skin slick from playing in the warm sun. “And your English has improved.”
Hakeem’s mother calls him from the doorway of their little home, one of several I helped build with my own hands almost a year ago now. She waves hello to me with a smile, and then herds him back with a string of Amharic. I was just beginning to learn enough of the language to communicate before I left.
“Soccer, later?” he asks, a hopeful look on his adorable little face.
“Definitely. As soon as I’m settled.”
He scurries off to his mother, and I continue on, appreciating the changes and growth in the village since the last time I was here.
I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder, groaning under the weight of the four-hundred-page manuscript that arrived in San Diego just before I left, care of Ruby. I should have expected she would be hammering away at the keys on her typewriter, capturing the mystery of Celine’s death as it unfolded. As soon as I found out, I bought her a computer with a twenty-inch monitor to make it easier on her eyes. I’m equal parts petrified and curious to see how the shrewd old lady translated the recounting I gave to her over tea, on several trips back to New York since December.
She already has a publisher signed on. Given that the book is based on a true story, it can’t be published until after the court case against Jace is over. The murder trial doesn’t start until next year, so it’ll be years before this book ever sees a store. I’m sure when it does, it’ll be a big seller. I just hope Ruby’s alive to see the day.
With each day that passes, I’m more and more confident that Jace will be punished for his crimes. He has fancy lawyers, but I have one of the best private investigators, working alongside the NYPD, state police, as well as the FBI, who got involved because of the value of the vase and because this is such a high-profile case. His lawyers will try to dismiss my testimony about the night in the Catskill Mountains when Jace tried to kill me—I was heavily drugged, after all—but they can’t dismiss the stolen dragon vase and Celine’s missing diary, which were found in Jace’s hidden safe. Which I pointed the police toward before any search warrants were procured.
Doug said that the diary is apparently chockful of details that will help the prosecution piece together the truth. He warned that it’s also the daily ramblings of an emotionally distraught and psychologically ill woman and it’s not an easy read for anyone. I equally dread and long for the day that the trial is over and the diary is returned to me, her benefactor.
And then there’s Grady’s body, which washed up along the Hudson River in the spring. I’d be lying if I said that, hiding somewhere beneath my overall shock and disgust for the building super, I didn’t feel a slight pang of sorrow the day Doug phoned to tell me.
Unfortunately, there was no evidence left to secure from it, but the bit of chain still wrapped around his legs suggested that someone had weighed him down. Childs won’t tell me what they’ve found on that side of the investigation, but Doug has hinted that there are video surveillance cameras near one of the bridges that may help tie Jace to the death.
Ironic, if it’s Grady’s favorite criminal pastime that will help bring some closure to his death.
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“I do.” Childs pushes his plate away and leans back in his typical relaxed demeanor that used to anger me. Now I get that it’s how he has to be to face these kinds of things day in, day out. “It sounds like he killed Celine out of fear and opportunity. He’s not a psychopath. He’s still human. Soon that side of him will prevail, when he sees how much he’s hurting his parents. When he realizes that his life as he’s known it is over. Until then, we’ll keep building a case. We’ve got Ling Zhang cooperating with us now.”
The Bone Lady. Another piece of the puzzle that didn’t add up in Doug’s eyes, so he had Zac dig deeper into her. She may not be a high-end auction house, but she sure has connections with black market art trade in China.
From what she told the police, Jace showed up one day with a cardboard box containing the blue-and-white Ming bowl that she had already appraised for Celine and a vase with a red dragon on it— and a shockingly authentic-looking seal. He wouldn’t tell her where he got the vase from, and he wouldn’t allow her to contact anyone about it yet for additional appraisals, to authenticate what she already believed might be the real deal. He simply asked her to track down the collector who owned the other one, and to not say a word about the vase, or he’d be taking his business elsewhere and she could kiss a sizeable dealer’s cut good-bye.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew how much it could be worth.
When we went in there on the very same day and asked about a red dragon vase, she began to suspect something might not be right.
“Where is Jace now?” I ask.
“Out on a ten-million-dollar bail.”
While the fact that he’s out doesn’t make me feel great, I’m not worried that he’s going to come after me. He was only a killer when he needed to cover his tracks. Now that those tracks are exposed, I’m confident he’ll lay low. He doesn’t need anything else to incriminate him.
I take a long draw of my tea—it doesn’t taste as good from the diner’s porcelain mug as it does coming from Ruby’s dainty china cups. “So, now what?”
Childs levels me with a rare solemn look. “Now you let us do our jobs and close this case the right way. And you go back to helping people who are still alive.”
Doug clears his throat.
“And let me guess . . .” I don’t hide my sarcasm from my voice, though in truth I owe the overpriced PI and his basement-dwelling hacker for my life. “I need to write some more checks?”
EPILOGUE
Maggie
August 9, 2016
“Where’s Hakeem?”
“It’s me!” The little boy runs to me, squealing, carrying a fistful of wildflowers.
“No . . . Hakeem is only this tall.” I measure against my thigh.
He giggles hysterically. “I grow. I am big now!”
I drop my duffel bag and reach down to wrap my arms around the gangly little boy’s body, his skin slick from playing in the warm sun. “And your English has improved.”
Hakeem’s mother calls him from the doorway of their little home, one of several I helped build with my own hands almost a year ago now. She waves hello to me with a smile, and then herds him back with a string of Amharic. I was just beginning to learn enough of the language to communicate before I left.
“Soccer, later?” he asks, a hopeful look on his adorable little face.
“Definitely. As soon as I’m settled.”
He scurries off to his mother, and I continue on, appreciating the changes and growth in the village since the last time I was here.
I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder, groaning under the weight of the four-hundred-page manuscript that arrived in San Diego just before I left, care of Ruby. I should have expected she would be hammering away at the keys on her typewriter, capturing the mystery of Celine’s death as it unfolded. As soon as I found out, I bought her a computer with a twenty-inch monitor to make it easier on her eyes. I’m equal parts petrified and curious to see how the shrewd old lady translated the recounting I gave to her over tea, on several trips back to New York since December.
She already has a publisher signed on. Given that the book is based on a true story, it can’t be published until after the court case against Jace is over. The murder trial doesn’t start until next year, so it’ll be years before this book ever sees a store. I’m sure when it does, it’ll be a big seller. I just hope Ruby’s alive to see the day.
With each day that passes, I’m more and more confident that Jace will be punished for his crimes. He has fancy lawyers, but I have one of the best private investigators, working alongside the NYPD, state police, as well as the FBI, who got involved because of the value of the vase and because this is such a high-profile case. His lawyers will try to dismiss my testimony about the night in the Catskill Mountains when Jace tried to kill me—I was heavily drugged, after all—but they can’t dismiss the stolen dragon vase and Celine’s missing diary, which were found in Jace’s hidden safe. Which I pointed the police toward before any search warrants were procured.
Doug said that the diary is apparently chockful of details that will help the prosecution piece together the truth. He warned that it’s also the daily ramblings of an emotionally distraught and psychologically ill woman and it’s not an easy read for anyone. I equally dread and long for the day that the trial is over and the diary is returned to me, her benefactor.
And then there’s Grady’s body, which washed up along the Hudson River in the spring. I’d be lying if I said that, hiding somewhere beneath my overall shock and disgust for the building super, I didn’t feel a slight pang of sorrow the day Doug phoned to tell me.
Unfortunately, there was no evidence left to secure from it, but the bit of chain still wrapped around his legs suggested that someone had weighed him down. Childs won’t tell me what they’ve found on that side of the investigation, but Doug has hinted that there are video surveillance cameras near one of the bridges that may help tie Jace to the death.
Ironic, if it’s Grady’s favorite criminal pastime that will help bring some closure to his death.
