by Rachel Grant
“Certainly. I can be there in a half hour. What’s going on?”
“I’d rather wait until you’re here to explain.”
Nate hit the accelerator. Instinct told him whatever Brown had to tell them was bad. But then, good news could be delivered over the phone, so it wasn’t exactly a brilliant deduction.
When they reached the townhouse complex, he drove toward the back, finding the road blocked off by a police car and crime scene tape before he could get to Leah’s street. He didn’t think this was a result of the fire the other night.
He pulled to the side and parked right in front of a “No Parking” sign. He and Leah climbed out and approached the white male officer standing in front of his vehicle behind the yellow tape.
“Leah Ellis,” she said to the officer. “Detective Brown called me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked at Nate. “And you are?”
“Nate Sifuentes.”
The officer spoke into the radio clipped to his collar, then said, “Detective Brown is on his way.”
A moment later, a Black man in plain clothes but visibly wearing a holster and badge rounded the bend in the street. At seeing Leah and Nate, he waved them through, and the white officer nodded, allowing them to pass.
“I don’t like this,” Leah said, anxiety in her voice. “I think if they’d decided to treat Ainsley’s death as a homicide, this isn’t how they’d go about it.”
Nate agreed and didn’t like it either. “Something else happened.”
They shook hands with the detective, then he turned and headed toward Ainsley’s street, which was around another corner. “With the irregularities and questions behind your firing, I came back to the townhouse this morning to have a look around. I’m not comfortable with the accidental fire determination but need evidence to support opening a murder investigation given the initial finding.” He waved toward the townhouse as they rounded the corner and it came into view. “My first surprise when I got here this morning was seeing a car parked in your driveway.”
Leah let out a gasp, which could have been triggered by the ring of police cars, the sight of the burnt structure, or the crime scene unit, but she didn’t leave Nate wondering. “That’s my company car.”
“I thought so and wanted you to confirm. The plate is wrong—probably stolen. I was going to run the VIN, but got sidetracked by my next discovery.”
“You found something inside,” Nate said, nodding to the scorched and water-stained townhouse. Given the array of police cars, he’d have expected to see more people outside, perhaps combing through the sedan that shouldn’t be in the driveway. But they weren’t here, which meant they must be inside. A precarious decision, considering the charred structure with holes cut into the side of the building, which must have been done by firefighters in their effort to stop the blaze. The back half of the second floor couldn’t be structurally sound, but at least a half dozen people were inside.
“Yes. This morning, I found someone inside.”
A flash behind the front window caught Nate’s eye, and he saw the back of a person taking photos of something deeper inside the room.
Detective Brown continued, “A nude white male, probably early thirties, dark hair, medium stature, is hanging from the center beam in the living room. The body was still warm when I discovered him an hour ago.”
“Oh my God,” Leah said.
“I was here last night, going over the scene with the arson investigator, and there was no car in the driveway nor a dead guy hanging in the living room. Given that and the temperature of the body, he was hanged sometime in the night.” The detective’s gaze fixed on Leah. “A suicide note was taped to his chest. It was addressed to you, Leah. Among other things, it says ‘Ainsley was an accident. I’m sorry.’ I can’t share the rest of the contents of the note at this time.”
“Your description of the body could fit either Dexter Lowery or Rick Carson,” Leah said.
“Knowing Carson has a record for assaulting Weisz, we were able to find him pretty quick through his attorney. He lives in Baltimore now. I spoke to him this morning, and he’s got an alibi for Sunday, but I still plan to interview him in person later today.” Detective Brown nodded toward the upper window. “As far as the body inside, there was no ID on him, and his face is—let’s just say hanging isn’t a pretty way to die. Blood and DNA will tell us definitively. For right now, we’re just looking for a preliminary ID to get the ball rolling.” The detective glanced from Leah to Nate and said, “From the contents of the note…I have reason to believe you can describe Dexter Lowery’s tattoo?”
Leah gripped Nate’s hand and squeezed. “Dex has a blue frog on his”—she closed her eyes and paused before adding—“left buttock.”
Nate felt a twinge in his chest area. The hand in his squeezed tighter. He squeezed back, telling his shitty ego it was none of his damn business.
“Thank you. I need to speak with one of the investigators. I’ll be right back. I have more questions.” The detective jogged the short distance to the front door, then hurried up the steps to the main floor, where Dexter Lowery hung like a chandelier in the remains of Leah’s burned-out townhouse.
She turned to face him. “I can explain.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation at all.” And she didn’t. Although it might have been nice if she’d told him the exact nature of her relationship with the man she’d named as her prime suspect in this ordeal.
“I do. And not because I slept with him, but because I didn’t tell you about it.” She sighed. “Last December, after the company holiday party. I’d just wrapped the Peacemaker project and we were making plans to launch it this season if the betas went well. The military was in talks with HH to hire me. I’d just fired Rick, and my mom had just died. I drank too much and broke my number one rule and slept with Dex.” She ran a hand over her face. “It was so stupid. I didn’t even like the guy, but he was being all nice and I was lonely. I woke up the next day with a splitting headache and horrified. I reported it to Michelle—the company doesn’t have fraternization rules, so I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble, but he’s my subordinate, and rules or no rules, I shouldn’t have done it. I also wanted it on record with HR so we’d have a process if disputes arose. I did everything by the book, and it pissed Dex off that he couldn’t use it against me. He’d hoped I’d try to hold it as a dirty secret he could blackmail me with.”
“He took advantage of you when you were grieving and drunk so he could have leverage over you?”
“Grieving and drunk were factors—which is why I mentioned them—but it’s still something I did. I wasn’t too impaired for consent. He doesn’t get a pass—he shouldn’t have done it either—and once I realized his motives, I was even more appalled, but it only made my own guilt worse. I was so stupid.”
“I think you need to cut yourself some slack.” He meant it even though it bothered him she’d held back this not so fun fact.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s…part of being ashamed it happened.”
“It could be another motive he had to be after your job.”
“Yes.” She turned to face the townhouse. “Did Dex kill himself because he’d accidently—or purposely—killed Ainsley? Or were they both murdered?”
13
Detective Brown managed to get confirmation from the Navy Yard MPs that Dexter Lowery had arrived at the Navy Yard to claim Hathaway-Hollis property including Leah’s company cell phone and vehicle. The MP who signed over the property remembered the man had argued for claiming the sketchbook and copy of Leah’s Mt. Vernon ticket, but the MPs had refused on the grounds that neither were HH property.
After answering the rest of Detective Brown’s questions, they were free to go. Leah was not under suspicion in Dex’s death, as the man had strangled to death within the last several hours and cell phone records could prove she and Nate were in a cabin two hours away during the window of opportunity.
They returned to the ca
r and settled inside, but Nate didn’t start the engine. He just stared at the police car blocking the road.
“What are you thinking about?”
“If Dex was at the Navy Yard trying to get your notebook, he couldn’t be the guy in the gray sedan.”
She stiffened. “I hadn’t thought of that. Dex has an alibi of sorts.” She bit her lip, remembering that night. She’d thought the gray sedan was made-up bullshit invented by Nate to get her to go along with him. She’d assumed he was after military secrets or something. What a long road they’d traveled in a few short days.
“I never actually saw the sedan,” she admitted. “Not even when it tried to run me down. I saw a blur and trees and bricks when you tackled me, and heard the screech of tires.”
“I didn’t really see it then either. I heard the engine gun and…it’s something I train soldiers for. The sounds that happen right before things go to hell. We run simulations to hone instincts and reduce reaction time.”
“It saved my life.”
“Maybe. Or maybe the driver just wanted to scare you.”
“I don’t buy the accidental-fire-and-death finding. Could the gray sedan have gotten from Mt. Vernon to the townhouse with enough time for the driver to kill Ainsley and start the fire before we got there?”
“Easily. We spent a lot of time talking before we hit the road, then we parked several blocks away from the townhouse and walked. The gray sedan had forty-five minutes on us, give or take.”
“But it’s also true that Dex could have left the Navy Yard with my car and driven straight to the townhouse and killed Ainsley.”
“Yes. He doesn’t have an alibi for that, and his suicide note takes the blame.”
“Yeah, always convenient when a supposed suicide confesses to an unsolved murder that’s been deemed an accident.”
“Detective Brown didn’t seem to be buying it either—but investigators have to consider every possibility. I gathered that the fact you could describe the frog tattoo confirmed a reference to your relationship in the suicide note.”
“It wasn’t a relationship,” she said under her breath. Damn Dex for making it an issue even in death. There were few things she regretted as much as that awful night. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the window. “At least they’re going to thoroughly investigate Ainsley’s death now.”
Nate’s hand found hers. “We’re cool, Leah. Past is past. I’ve slept with people I wish I hadn’t too. You don’t need anyone’s forgiveness except your own.”
She squeezed his hand. If only it were that easy. About the only thing worse than sleeping with a prick like Dex would be taking advantage of one of her more vulnerable subordinates, like Kevin.
“There’s something really messed up going on with your company,” Nate said.
“I can’t believe they’re going to go on with the event at Nationals Park tomorrow, but at the same time, there’s no way they can stop it.”
“It seems like someone is trying to sabotage the company. Your firing. Ainsley’s death. Now Dex’s supposed suicide. I mean, it could be a simple power play by Dex gone wrong. Maybe he did commit suicide—but he still had reason to believe Ainsley’s death would be written off as an accident, so the timing doesn’t make sense in that scenario.”
“None of it makes sense. No one on the inside has motive to sabotage the company—least of all Dex, who was making a play for my job with Tim’s full support.”
“The disgruntled former employee angle seems a little too pat, but it’s not lost on me that Carson is nearby in Baltimore. Did he have a beef with Dex too?”
“Not that I know of.”
Nate put the car in gear and made a U-turn and headed for the main road.
“Where are we going?” she asked. They didn’t need to go to the Navy Yard now that they knew what happened to her car and other confiscated items.
“The compound, unless you’ve got a better idea?”
“Nope. We can leave interrogating Carson to the professionals.”
“You think it’s him?”
“Honestly, no clue. He always claimed he didn’t send the gif to Ainsley, but forensic examination of his computer proved otherwise.”
After a mile of driving, Nate said, “Detective Brown said Dex was nude with the note taped to his chest. The thing about a hanging death while naked is it’s usually determined to be autoerotic asphyxiation resulting in accidental death. There’s an extra humiliation factor to being found that way. But this guy died in a house that was already a crime scene, and he was wearing his suicide note. So it can’t be an accident. Yet the humiliation is there.”
Leah gasped and sat up straight. “You’re right. Dex Lowery never would have killed himself that way.”
“Whoever killed him hated him. Intensely. Wanted him to take the blame for Ainsley’s death and be humiliated at the same time.” He pulled into a parking lot at a strip mall, parked, and faced her. “And this is personal, directed at you too. You lost your job. Your home. Your car. Your friend. And I don’t think the killer hated Ainsley. She wasn’t humiliated. She might’ve been incidental—even accidental, which argues against Carson. But still, two murders happened in the townhouse you were living in. Dex didn’t have to die there, but it sure as hell sends a message that he did.”
Nate was right. It was all directed at her, including an email that called her traitor, whore, bitch, and slut. Plus, the suicide note had been addressed to her.
“After taking away your job, friend, and home, what’s left?”
“I don’t have family. So all that’s left is—” Her body went cold at the obvious answer. “My reputation.”
“Yes.”
Her heart pounded at the implication. “The drones. The show. The Christmas Day Peacemaker protocol.”
14
“Could the protocol be altered?” Nate asked.
“Dex could do it. His job was to ensure the firmware could handle the flood of updates that will happen tomorrow and make sure the code for the December 25 Drone Dance works. He pushed a lot of that on me, and I did it because I didn’t want him to screw it up. But he had access to everything.”
“We can’t rule out that Dex was working on his own. He got you fired. He altered the code and killed himself once his work was done.” Nate didn’t believe it, but he knew ruling things out too soon was the best way to miss something important.
“It’s also possible that once the Peacemaker code was altered, Dex was no longer needed,” Leah said.
“Agreed.” To him, that was the most likely scenario: Dex had outlived his usefulness, but not for very long. A few hours at most.
“Dex, or whoever, could have taken my computer and Peacemaker notebook from the townhouse on Sunday and surprised Ainsley—I’d finished my last update at two a.m., and my notebook was right next to the laptop. With the schematic, it would be easier to break down what I’d done and change it.”
“Does Rick Carson have the skills to change the protocol?” he asked.
“Yes. He worked on Peacemaker from the start.”
Nate pulled back onto the roadway. “Can you check the protocol, see if it’s been altered?”
“If I had drones. I need at least three.”
Nate called Keith as he drove and gave him a brief rundown of the situation and requested permission to bring Leah into the compound and give her access to the computer network. Keith agreed and said he was fairly certain his wife got him a drone for Christmas, which he’d bring to the compound.
Next, Nate called his brother and asked if the twins were getting HH drones for Christmas. Freddy hemmed and hawed and finally admitted he’d purchased two at the beginning of the holiday frenzy and had debated selling them on eBay as demand grew, but then the twins had seen the commercials and wanted to go to Nationals Park—with or without drones, but of course, the kids made it clear all their Christmas dreams would come true if their own drones were part of the Christmas Day extravaganza.
/> Over the speakerphone, Freddy added, “By the way, damn you, Leah. I wanted to spend Christmas Day at home, drinking spiked coffee, eating treats made by my kids in the new Easy Bake Oven, and crushing Nate in the video game I know he got me for Christmas, but instead I have to take the Metro to Nationals Park with my family to watch drones dance. And I know it will be amazing, but I’m still pissed. It’s Christmas. No one wants to leave the house on Christmas.”
Leah laughed. “Sorry. The Christmas Day events weren’t my bright idea. I designed the dance, but I’m not in marketing.”
“So now you want to steal my kids’ biggest Christmas presents. The ones Santa was going to get credit for. While I smile and point to the Easy Bake Oven to prove Daddy loves them.”
“Hey now, Santa taking credit definitely isn’t my fault. And I need drones but I won’t steal them. I’ll give both your kids an entire platoon of drones and every Easy Bake Oven ever made, new-in-box, if you help me.”
“So basically, you want to outdo me and Santa combined. Now, I’m generally opposed to this idea, but I do love spoiling my kids, so I’m willing to negotiate.”
“I will set up college funds for both of them. Four years. In state, out of state. Private, public. Doesn’t matter. My accountant will handle it.”
“The drones are yours.”
Nate laughed. “That’s a little more than the going rate on eBay.”
She shrugged. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my money.”
To Freddy, Nate said, “Bring the drones to the compound. We’re almost there.”
“See you soon, bro.”
Nate hit the End button on the phone and gripped Leah’s hand, a warm feeling hitting him at the idea she was about to meet his brother.
“You and Freddy are close,” she said.
“Yeah. We’re only two years apart in age. Growing up, he was my big brother and best friend.”
“I’m jealous. I always wanted a sister or brother.”