The Other Side - J. D. Robb [121]
“Perhaps, if the results had been different.”
“Different?” She arched a brow.
He indicated a chair. “Perhaps we could sit?”
“Of course.” She settled herself into a chair by the window, oddly touched by his courtly gesture of standing until she was seated before he perched on the edge of the nearby sofa.
She waited a beat before asking, “What did the tests reveal?”
“That the brakes on your father’s car had been tampered with.”
For long moments she was speechless. Finally finding her voice, she said in a barely audible breath, “Are you saying this was a deliberate act?”
“Without a doubt.”
She blanched and sucked in a sudden breath. “But . . . that can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is. And now I must ask. Did your parents have any known enemies?”
“No. Of course not.” She fought tears. “Everyone loved my parents.”
“Most children believe that.” He chose his words carefully. “Your father was a very successful businessman. Could he have angered someone? Perhaps won an important account that someone else was counting on winning?”
She shook her head. “Dad was successful, but not at the expense of others. He would never cheat or scam a competitor. He was good and honest and decent. And my mother was actively involved in several charities, not because she was some bored, wealthy matron but because she honestly cared about people. Nobody could possibly want to harm my parents.”
“It appears that someone did. I’m afraid I must ask you this, Miss Crenshaw. Who benefited from their deaths?”
She simply stared at him. Then, as his question became clear, her eyes widened. “Are you asking who inherited their estate?”
When he nodded, she said simply, “My little brother and I are their only heirs.”
“There’s nobody else?”
“Nobody.”
Henry Wickham pointed to his card in her hand. “Keep that handy. If you think of anyone else who might have benefited from the death of your parents, or who may have had a grudge to settle, I’d like to hear from you at once.” He paused. “You should realize that anyone willing to go to such lengths once, will do so again. You and your little brother could be targeted for the same fate. If I were you, I’d stay close to home and stay close to your brother.”
“I’m sorry, Detective.” He saw the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You must be wrong. Nobody could be that cruel. Not to people as good and kind as my parents. And certainly not to a little boy who suffers the way Tyler does.” She looked away. “He’s a special child, locked in his own world. But though he doesn’t communicate, I can sense his grief. He . . . ” She struggled to speak over the tears that clogged her throat. “He means everything to me. Tyler is my whole life.”
“Then keep him close.” Wickham got to his feet. “Call me day or night. I’ve written my private number on that card.” When she started to get up, he shook his head. “I’ll find my way out, Miss Crenshaw.”
As he walked to his car, he realized that he was relieved by her reaction. He’d come here thinking that he could be meeting some rich kid who’d wanted to do in her parents in order to fatten the pot. It was seen too often in his line of work. Not even an Oscar-winning actress could have faked grief as real, as deep, as Christina Crenshaw’s. She’d been not only stunned by the revelation that the brakes had been tampered with but had been completely unable to imagine anyone doing harm to her parents.
So, if it wasn’t the daughter, who was it? He sighed as he turned the ignition and started away from the lovely mansion in the hills. The truth would come out eventually. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later. His retirement was coming up at the end of the month, and he hated the thought of any unsolved cases he’d have to leave behind.
Furthermore, that young woman had touched a chord in him. He’d been prepared to meet a spoiled, pampered socialite. Instead, he’d met a lovely young woman who was dealing with a great deal of grief.
“Ted, what are we going to do now? The work on Christina