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Yeah, in that part of the neighborhood, it wouldn’t have stayed in the parking lot long. And since no one had reported it stolen, the cops wouldn’t have been looking for it.
“Did you lie when you said Kenton was trying to set us up with the hat and knife?” Mia asked.
Birdie’s mouth tightened. “Partly. Kenton did have Angel’s hat that he’d taken from his room.” She paused a long time. “But I put the knife there after I got back from, well, disposing of the body. Yes, I know it was petty,” she snapped, “but I was angry with him. And angry with you for him wanting you. Hell, for everyone wanting you. You were the princess of the house, Mia, and I hated you for it.”
Angel hadn’t seen that hatred in Birdie’s eyes back then, but he sure as heck was seeing it now. He was seeing a lot of things.
“I hated you,” Birdie repeated, “but I swear, I went back to the room to get the knife. And I nearly got caught. By you,” she added, looking at Angel. “I saw you coming out of Kenton’s room, and I waited until you were gone before I went in. The knife wasn’t there.”
“Because I took it,” Angel said. “How did your blood get on it?”
Birdie lifted her right hand. “I cut myself on the lamp. It had a sharp edge around the base. I thought I’d cleaned all the blood off, though before I picked up Mia’s knife.”
Apparently, she’d missed some, enough for the blood to show up after all this time. But for a teenager, Birdie had done a damn good job of covering her tracks. Still, if Kenton’s disappearance had been investigated as a murder, the CSIs would have almost certainly been able to piece together what had happened because they would have processed every inch of the room. Kenton’s car, too, if they’d been able to find it.
“I didn’t want Melanie to notice Kenton’s lamp missing so I put the one from my room in Kenton’s,” Birdie added. “Then, the next day I bought a nearly identical one to replace mine.”
So, there it was. All spelled out. Well, mostly anyway. But there was one huge question he needed answered.
“Why try to kill us?” Angel demanded.
Birdie glanced away, and her mouth trembled. She quickly steeled herself back up though. “Because I thought you knew I’d killed Kenton and had some kind of proof that would get me locked away. And I had no doubt that none of you would be on my side. You’d be on Mia’s. You’d throw me under a bus to protect her.”
“Yes, I would,” he snarled, the anger shooting through him. “But it turns out, the only person I needed to protect Mia from was you. Why did you believe we had proof you’d murdered Kenton?”
Birdie opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of someone shouting stopped him.
“I will see my wife now,” Roger bellowed.
“Roger,” Birdie shouted, and the woman moved as if to get out of the bed before Angel and Mia moved in to stop her.
On a heavy sigh, Walker went to the door and opened it. Roger was right there, his face tight with anger and determination. Walker simply stepped back and let him come in.
“Roger,” Birdie repeated. “Where have you been? I thought you’d be here sooner.”
The man stopped at the foot of her bed, and he ignored Birdie’s outstretched arms that were beckoning for him to come to her. “I was dealing with the cops who showed up at the house and my office. At my office,” he repeated in a snarl. “Do you know how humiliating that was? It’ll take years for the gossip to die down about this.”
“It’ll take longer than that,” Angel informed him. “Your wife just confessed to murdering Kenton Barker.”
Roger whipped back around to face Walker. “You questioned her without a lawyer and while she was in a hospital bed?”
“She waived her rights, said she just wanted the truth out in the open. The truth,” Walker emphasized. “Got anything you want to confess?”
“Like what?” Roger snapped.
“That you hired those gunmen who tried to kill Mia, Angel, Presley, and your wife,” Walker was quick to say.
The color drained from Roger’s face. “I didn’t hire them.”
That rang true to Angel. The man seemed stunned that the cop would have even suggested it.
“He didn’t,” Birdie spoke up. “Roger’s innocent in this. I’m the one who hired them to set the fire and eliminate any witnesses. I sold some jewelry to pay them in cash.”
“You have proof of that jewelry sale?” Walker asked.
She nodded. “A receipt in the glove compartment of my car from the pawn shop.”
Walker fired off a text, no doubt to the CSIs who were already likely going through the vehicle.
