“Everyone keeps talking about college like it’s a great big do-over card,” Myron said. “Like the first eighteen years of your life don’t count.”
“In a way, they don’t.”
“That’s crap, Claire. What about her baby?”
Claire moved back to the door. “With all due deference—and no matter what you want to think about our decisions—that’s not your concern.”
Myron nodded to himself. She had him on that one.
“Your part in this is over,” she said, and again he heard the steel. “Thank you for what you’ve done. I have to get back to my daughter now.”
And then Claire closed the door on him.
CHAPTER 56
A week later, Myron sat at Baumgart’s Restaurant with Livingston police detective Lance Banner and Essex County investigator Loren Muse. Myron had ordered the Kung Pao Chicken. Banner had ordered a Chinese fish special. Muse was having a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Grilled cheese at a Chinese restaurant?” Myron said.
Loren Muse shrugged mid-bite.
Banner used chopsticks. “Jake Wolf is pleading self-defense,” he said. “He claims that Drew Van Dyne pulled a gun on him. Said that he made wild threats.”
“What kind of threats?”
“Van Dyne was ranting that Wolf hurt Aimee Biel. Something like that. They’re both a little vague on the specifics.”
“Both?”
“Jake Wolf’s star witness. His wife, Lorraine.”
“That night,” Myron said, “Lorraine told us she pulled the trigger.”
“My guess is, she did. We did a powder residue check on Jake Wolf’s hand. He was clean.”
“Did you check his wife?”
“She refused,” Banner said. “Jake Wolf forbade it.”
“So he’s taking the hit for his wife?”
Banner looked at Loren Muse. He nodded slowly.
“What?” Myron asked.
“We’ll get to that.”
“Get to what?”
“Look, Myron, I think you’re right,” Banner said. “Jake Wolf is trying to take the hit for the whole family. On the one hand, he’s claiming self-defense. There is some evidence to back it up. Van Dyne had a bit of a history. He also had a gun on him—it’s registered in his name. On the other hand, Jake Wolf is willing to do some time in exchange for giving his wife and kid a pass.”
“His kid?”
“He wants a guarantee that his son still goes to Dartmouth. And that Randy will be cleared of all subsequent allegations, including anything related to the shooting, the cheating scandal, and his possible relationship with Van Dyne and drugs.”
“Well,” Myron said. But it added up. Jake Wolf was an ass, but Myron had seen the way he looked at his son at that graduation party. “He’s still trying to salvage Randy’s future.”
“Yep.”
“Will he be able to?”
“I don’t know,” Banner said. “The prosecutor has no jurisdiction over Dartmouth. If they want to rescind their acceptance, they can and probably will.”
“What Jake is doing,” Myron said. “It’s almost admirable.”
“If not twisted,” Banner added.
Myron looked at Loren Muse. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“Because I think Banner has it wrong.”
Banner frowned. “I don’t have it wrong.”
Loren put down the sandwich and brushed the crumbs off her hands. “For starters, you’re going to put the wrong person in jail. The powder residue test proves that Jake Wolf didn’t shoot Drew Van Dyne.”
“He said he wore gloves.”
Now Loren Muse frowned.
Myron said, “She has a point.”
“Gee, Myron, thanks.”
“Hey, I’m on your side here. Lorraine Wolf told me she shot Drew Van Dyne. Shouldn’t she be the one on trial?”
Loren Muse turned to him. “I never said I thought it was Lorraine Wolf.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sometimes the most obvious answer is the right one.”
Myron shook his head. “I’m not following you.”
“Go back a second,” Loren Muse said.
“How far back?”
“All the way to Edna Skylar on the streets of New York City.”
“Right.”
“Maybe we had it right all along. From the moment she called us.”
“I’m still not following.”
“Edna Skylar confirmed what we already knew: that Katie Rochester was a runaway. And at first, that’s what we all thought about Aimee Biel too, right?”
“So?”
Loren Muse said nothing.
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you think Aimee Biel ran away?”
“There are a lot of unanswered questions,” Loren said.
“So ask them.”
“Ask who?”
“What do you mean, who? Ask Aimee Biel.”
“We tried.” Loren Muse smiled. “Aimee’s lawyer won’t let us talk to her.”
Myron sat back.
“Don’t you find that odd?”
“Her parents want her to put it behind her.”
“Why?”
“Because it was a traumatic experience for her,” Myron said.
Loren Muse just looked at him. So did Lance Banner.
“That story she told you,” Loren said. “About being drugged and held in some log cabin.”
“What about it?”
“There are holes.”
A cold pinprick started at the base of Myron’s neck and slid south down his spine. “What holes?”
“First off, we have the anonymous source who called me. The one who saw her tooling around with Drew Van Dyne. If Aimee were kidnapped, how could that be exactly?”
“Your witness was wrong.”
“Right. She happened to pick out the make of the car and described Drew Van Dyne to a tee. But hey, she’s probably wrong.”
“You can’t trust anonymous sources,” Myron tried.
“Fine, then let’s move on to hole two. This late-night abortion story. We checked at St. Barnabas. Nobody told her anything about parental notification. More than that, it’s not true. The laws might change on that subject, but either way, in her case—”
“She’s eighteen,” Myron interrupted. Eighteen. An adult. That age again.
“Exactly. And there’s more.”
Myron waited.
“In a way, they don’t.”
“That’s crap, Claire. What about her baby?”
Claire moved back to the door. “With all due deference—and no matter what you want to think about our decisions—that’s not your concern.”
Myron nodded to himself. She had him on that one.
“Your part in this is over,” she said, and again he heard the steel. “Thank you for what you’ve done. I have to get back to my daughter now.”
And then Claire closed the door on him.
CHAPTER 56
A week later, Myron sat at Baumgart’s Restaurant with Livingston police detective Lance Banner and Essex County investigator Loren Muse. Myron had ordered the Kung Pao Chicken. Banner had ordered a Chinese fish special. Muse was having a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Grilled cheese at a Chinese restaurant?” Myron said.
Loren Muse shrugged mid-bite.
Banner used chopsticks. “Jake Wolf is pleading self-defense,” he said. “He claims that Drew Van Dyne pulled a gun on him. Said that he made wild threats.”
“What kind of threats?”
“Van Dyne was ranting that Wolf hurt Aimee Biel. Something like that. They’re both a little vague on the specifics.”
“Both?”
“Jake Wolf’s star witness. His wife, Lorraine.”
“That night,” Myron said, “Lorraine told us she pulled the trigger.”
“My guess is, she did. We did a powder residue check on Jake Wolf’s hand. He was clean.”
“Did you check his wife?”
“She refused,” Banner said. “Jake Wolf forbade it.”
“So he’s taking the hit for his wife?”
Banner looked at Loren Muse. He nodded slowly.
“What?” Myron asked.
“We’ll get to that.”
“Get to what?”
“Look, Myron, I think you’re right,” Banner said. “Jake Wolf is trying to take the hit for the whole family. On the one hand, he’s claiming self-defense. There is some evidence to back it up. Van Dyne had a bit of a history. He also had a gun on him—it’s registered in his name. On the other hand, Jake Wolf is willing to do some time in exchange for giving his wife and kid a pass.”
“His kid?”
“He wants a guarantee that his son still goes to Dartmouth. And that Randy will be cleared of all subsequent allegations, including anything related to the shooting, the cheating scandal, and his possible relationship with Van Dyne and drugs.”
“Well,” Myron said. But it added up. Jake Wolf was an ass, but Myron had seen the way he looked at his son at that graduation party. “He’s still trying to salvage Randy’s future.”
“Yep.”
“Will he be able to?”
“I don’t know,” Banner said. “The prosecutor has no jurisdiction over Dartmouth. If they want to rescind their acceptance, they can and probably will.”
“What Jake is doing,” Myron said. “It’s almost admirable.”
“If not twisted,” Banner added.
Myron looked at Loren Muse. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“Because I think Banner has it wrong.”
Banner frowned. “I don’t have it wrong.”
Loren put down the sandwich and brushed the crumbs off her hands. “For starters, you’re going to put the wrong person in jail. The powder residue test proves that Jake Wolf didn’t shoot Drew Van Dyne.”
“He said he wore gloves.”
Now Loren Muse frowned.
Myron said, “She has a point.”
“Gee, Myron, thanks.”
“Hey, I’m on your side here. Lorraine Wolf told me she shot Drew Van Dyne. Shouldn’t she be the one on trial?”
Loren Muse turned to him. “I never said I thought it was Lorraine Wolf.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sometimes the most obvious answer is the right one.”
Myron shook his head. “I’m not following you.”
“Go back a second,” Loren Muse said.
“How far back?”
“All the way to Edna Skylar on the streets of New York City.”
“Right.”
“Maybe we had it right all along. From the moment she called us.”
“I’m still not following.”
“Edna Skylar confirmed what we already knew: that Katie Rochester was a runaway. And at first, that’s what we all thought about Aimee Biel too, right?”
“So?”
Loren Muse said nothing.
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you think Aimee Biel ran away?”
“There are a lot of unanswered questions,” Loren said.
“So ask them.”
“Ask who?”
“What do you mean, who? Ask Aimee Biel.”
“We tried.” Loren Muse smiled. “Aimee’s lawyer won’t let us talk to her.”
Myron sat back.
“Don’t you find that odd?”
“Her parents want her to put it behind her.”
“Why?”
“Because it was a traumatic experience for her,” Myron said.
Loren Muse just looked at him. So did Lance Banner.
“That story she told you,” Loren said. “About being drugged and held in some log cabin.”
“What about it?”
“There are holes.”
A cold pinprick started at the base of Myron’s neck and slid south down his spine. “What holes?”
“First off, we have the anonymous source who called me. The one who saw her tooling around with Drew Van Dyne. If Aimee were kidnapped, how could that be exactly?”
“Your witness was wrong.”
“Right. She happened to pick out the make of the car and described Drew Van Dyne to a tee. But hey, she’s probably wrong.”
“You can’t trust anonymous sources,” Myron tried.
“Fine, then let’s move on to hole two. This late-night abortion story. We checked at St. Barnabas. Nobody told her anything about parental notification. More than that, it’s not true. The laws might change on that subject, but either way, in her case—”
“She’s eighteen,” Myron interrupted. Eighteen. An adult. That age again.
“Exactly. And there’s more.”
Myron waited.
