by Marcia Clark
She sighed and shook her head. “I guess you’ll have to burn that bridge when you get to it.”
I nodded. I looked at her across the table and—for the millionth time—acknowledged the wonderful person Michy was. Though she hadn’t been certain whether I’d killed her attacker, in her heart, she believed it might well be true, and she’d kept the secret all these years—without telling me—for my sake. “You are probably the best person I’ll ever know. I couldn’t love you more.”
She smiled. “Back at ya.”
Closer than sisters. That’s what we used to say when we’d first become besties in junior high. And I knew we always would be.
When I got home that night, I got a call from Alex. “I’ve got it.”
I couldn’t resist. “Shouldn’t you be sharing that news with Paul?”
He ignored me. “The place Iris told us about.”
“The villa in Puerto Vallarta? How in the hell did you do that?”
He reminded me of how much detail Iris had given us—which was true. “And I had a little help from my friend Google Maps.”
It must’ve been more than a little help. But still. No one else could’ve pulled that off. “Where is it?”
“It’s in a town called Fresnillo,” he said. “The owner’s name is Sergio Paz. His dad’s a billionaire. From what I can tell, Sergio seems to be your typical do-nothing rich kid. Daddy paid for everything. Including the villa.”
That sounded promising. “If his daddy owns the villa, then how do you know he’s the guy?” Tanner’s business associates, AKA suckers, came in all shapes, sizes, and ages.
“I’ll explain later,” Alex said. “But the profile fits, don’t you think? Rich kid who wants to show Daddy he can make money, too. Throws in with a flashy jerk like Tanner.”
It did fit. And I’d get a trip to Puerto Vallarta out of it. Win-win. “So what are we waiting for? Book the flight.”
Alex tsked. “Sorry to burst your vacay dream bubble, but he also has a place in Carmel Valley, San Diego, and according to his Facebook page, that’s where he’s staying now.”
Bummer. And it was a three-hour drive, so I knew what was coming next. “I suppose we’re taking my car.”
“Damn straight,” he said. “I’ve done my share.”
He had. “Fine, but you drive on the way back.”
Alex said, “Happy to. We should get an early start. Pick me up at seven a.m.”
Ugh. I hate early mornings. “Why so early? What’s wrong with nine o’clock?”
“Traffic,” he said. “It’ll take us twice as long if we leave that late. And I want to make sure we catch him before he gets started on his day. I’ll give you a wake-up call.”
Wake-up calls make early mornings even worse. They feel like a dousing with ice water. “No, thanks. I can manage.”
But as we ended the call, I had a feeling he’d do it anyway. So I set my cell phone for a quarter to six.
A good thing I did. Alex called at five minutes to six the next morning. I was glad to be able to sound legitimately awake—and get the jump on him. “I’m just about ready to leave, so get the lead out.” I wasn’t, but I knew it’d chap him to be rushed.
And it did. He was clearly—and unpleasantly—startled. “What? You’re lying.” I told him I definitely wasn’t. He said, “Fine. I’ll be waiting outside.”
Ha. Gotcha. But I had to race to finish dressing and fill my giant travel mug with coffee. Just to be a gracious winner, I filled a regular-size travel cup for him.
True to his word, Alex was ready and waiting at the curb when I got there, his own travel cup in hand. He glanced at the one I’d brought for him. “I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a backup.”
I was willing to bet we’d wind up fighting over it. Alex slid into the passenger seat and typed on his cell phone. “I just put the address in Waze. We should get there in about three hours.”
We clinked travel cups and headed for our meeting with Richie Rich.
THIRTY-NINE
Carmel Valley is arguably the richest neighborhood in San Diego, a city that sports a number of high-end communities. As we drove through the hills on the way to Sergio’s house, I got a panoramic view of the city and gorgeous coastline. The wide streets were lined with palm trees and mini mansions, and I noticed that many of the homes looked relatively new—and very expensive. “Fair to say Daddy paid for this place?”
Alex was looking out the windows at our surroundings. “For sure. As far as I could tell, Sergio specializes in a lot of nothing—other than living off the family money.”
We hadn’t met him yet, but Alex’s guess that Sergio saw Tanner as a proving ground for his own business acumen seemed dead-on. “Do we know where the family money came from? Is it literally Daddy’s? Or did Daddy inherit it, too?”
“I didn’t get into that,” he said. “I figured if it turned out to be important, Sergio might give us some answers himself.”
Probably true. It didn’t matter right now. I’d just been curious. “So now tell me, how’d you figure out Sergio was the friend Tanner mentioned to Iris? Why not the father? He owns the place in Fresnillo.”
Alex gave a dismissive wave. “Please, piece of cake. Sergio likes to chat. A lot. The boy’s got nothing but time on his hands. Among Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, I could map out his whole life for the past five years if I wanted to.”
That figured. I was no fan of social media myself—I’m a classic noncommunicator—but it had definitely made my life, and especially Alex’s, a hundred times easier.
Alex told me to turn left onto Torrey Hill Lane and gave me the address number. After a few seconds, he told me to slow down, then pointed to an amber-colored Spanish-style house with a red-tiled roof. The heavy wooden garage doors were closed and the driveway was empty, but I parked at the curb in front of the house. Better not to take a chance of blocking someone in or out—and better if we needed a fast getaway.
As we headed up the tiled walkway, I noticed a variety of palm trees—large and small—that filled the front yard. It didn’t get much more maintenance-free than that. A possible testament to Sergio’s lack of either the skills or the interest in upkeep. I glanced at my cell phone as we approached the windowless double doors. It was ten thirty. If Sergio was a partier, this might be the middle of the night for him. I whispered to Alex, “Do we happen to know what Sergio was up to last night?”
Alex whispered back, “According to his Facebook page, it was a beer and pizza night at home. We should be okay.”
We’d decided to play two concerned friends of Tanner’s who’d invested with Gold Strike and were worried about where he’d gone. I’d see where that took us and adjust accordingly. I reached for the black iron knocker, but Alex shook his head and pointed to the Ring doorbell. He pressed it and looked up at the camera.
The voice of a young male with a mild Spanish accent asked, “Who are you?”
Alex gave me room to step closer to the camera. Sergio was an out-and-proud hetero, so I’d been designated to run point on this one. I smiled. “Hi! I’m Samantha, and this is Alex. We’re friends of Tanner’s, and we’re kind of worried about him. He told us all about you, so we thought maybe you’d know what’s going on?”
There was a long pause; then he said, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
It was more like five minutes. Long enough for me to wonder whether last night was more than just beer and pizza. Or whether he was going for his gun. Alex and I exchanged a look. Maybe this was too risky. I’d just jerked a thumb toward my car when the door finally opened. The photo Alex had found of Sergio on Instagram had shown a dark, brooding type with heavy eyebrows, thick black hair, and the clichéd five-o’clock shadow. But the photo hadn’t done him justice. He was an eleven on a scale of ten. Sergio was model-level handsome, and his V-shaped body—revealed to great effect by an open white linen shirt and tie-waist linen pants—showed a great deal of devotion to the gym.
He gave Alex a pas
sing glance, then raked his eyes over me from head to toe before motioning for us to come in. We followed him into a simply furnished but spacious living room with glass accordion doors that provided a view of the ocean and access to a beautiful infinity pool, built-in separate hot tub, and outdoor kitchen. On a sunny, clear-sky day like this, it was a distracting place to do an interview. But we’d just have to muscle through.
Alex and I sat on the couch. Sergio sprawled on the chaise across from us. His expression was guarded. “How do you know Tanner?”
I gave him our prepared spiel about having met him at a party he’d thrown and hanging out together a few times, then becoming investors. I didn’t want to overplay the friendship angle. He might wonder why Tanner had never mentioned us. Or why Sergio had never seen us at any of Tanner’s parties. I wrapped up by saying we hadn’t heard from him in a month or so, and we’d really taken a bath on our last investment. “Frankly, we’re not just worried about him, we’re also kind of pissed off that he left us in the lurch like this. Didn’t say a word, just totally ghosted on us.” We’d decided that story was the best way to get him to open up and air his own gripes with Tanner. From what we’d seen so far, it seemed a fair guess that everyone involved with Tanner would have something to bitch about.
But Sergio didn’t take the bait. “I haven’t seen him in a few months myself.”
Technically, in terms of being in the same physical space, that might be true. But it was a dodge. We knew they’d been in close contact via Facebook and Instagram. Alex pinned him down. Gently. “Yeah, Tanner gets around a fair amount. We’re just wondering if you’ve heard from him.”
Sergio stretched out on the chaise, offering an extended view of world-class abs. “Not really. I mean, not, like, in real time.”
Two could play this game. I leaned back and crossed my legs. The move hiked up my skirt a bit, which got his attention—as I’d intended. He was acting pretty cagey. “You mean, not on the phone?” He nodded. “How about Facebook? Or Twitter? Did you guys DM?” Direct messaging on Twitter was just about as fast as talking on the phone. But again, technically, if that’s how they communicated, it was true. It wasn’t in real time. Still, his reaction was pinging all my bullshit meters.
I heard a buzzing sound. Sergio pulled a cell phone out of his pants pocket, gave it a quick glance, then put it back. “Yeah, we DM’d a few weeks ago.”
Alex asked, “You mean just before he disappeared?”
A flash of anger crossed his face. “I don’t know exactly when he fell off the map. I just know the last time I heard from him was right after that friggin’ cryptocurrency deal went south.”
So Sergio was pissed off. If my guess about the reason was correct, this visit could turn out to be much more productive than I’d expected. “Did you invest in that trade? Because we did, and we lost a bundle.”
There was a look of real fury on his face now. “Yeah, I sunk two hundred K into that damn thing. Lost every penny.”
That wasn’t the biggest outlay of all the investors, but it wasn’t the least, either. I wondered why his name hadn’t shown up on any of the investor lists. “Have you been contacted by the cops?”
He shook his head. “No, why? Have you?”
It was probably safe to lie to him about this. “Yes. But I’m sure they’ll get to you soon. Did Tanner tell you he was planning to go somewhere when you last DM’d him?”
He sat up, plainly agitated. “No, he never said anything about that.” His jaw tightened. “I don’t know where that jerk is, and I don’t care. That cryptocurrency trade was supposed to double my investment. I was finally going to be able to pay for my share of the place in Fresnillo—show my father that I could make money on my own. Now, thanks to that asshole, I look like a fool.” He shifted his gaze between Alex and me. “So if you guys find out where he is, I’d sure like to get some goddamn answers.”
A very angry investor. One who was young and strong—and one who had money to pay for his revenge if he didn’t want to exact it himself. Sergio was looking like a better suspect with every word out of his mouth. “We all would, believe me. By the way, where were you when you last DM’d with him?” If Sergio had been here in Carmel Valley, that’d put him close to Tanner right around the time he dropped off the radar.
He paused a moment before answering. “I was in Puerto Vallarta.”
He might not be the sharpest knife in the box, but he’d figured out where I was going. I had a feeling this interview was at an end. And I was right.
Sergio stood up. “I don’t know where Tanner went. So you two—whoever you are—can get out of here.”
I held up my hands. “Hey, no offense. I didn’t mean to accuse you or anything like that. We’re just trying to get our money back.”
“Yeah? Well, me too.” Sergio’s flat expression said he wasn’t buying it. He gestured to the front door. “I’ve got things to do, so . . .”
So much for my dreams of shrimp on that massive barbie and cocktails in the hot tub. Alex and I left. Swiftly but with dignity.
When we got back to the car, I handed the keys to Alex. “You promised you’d drive back.”
He said, “I’ll be glad to drive. But don’t you want to know whether Sergio lied about being in Puerto Vallarta when Tanner went missing?”
I sighed. I did. I got into the driver’s seat. When Alex settled into the passenger seat, I asked, “How are you going to manage that from the car?”
He picked up his iPad. “It’s a three-hour drive, and I’ve already got his cell phone number.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Don’t ask me how.”
I pulled away from the curb. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He’d hacked into cell tower databases before, so if he had the number of Sergio’s cell and the name of the service provider, he could certainly do it again.
It took the better part of the drive, but as we crossed the boundary into Los Angeles County, he raised a hand to high-five me. I shot him a look. “You know I won’t do that.” It feels so lame when I miss. “What’ve you got?”
Alex sighed, then said, “Our friend was most definitely not in Puerto Vallarta.”
“Was he in Carmel Valley?” That’d be good. Very good.
Alex smiled. “No. He was in Beverly Hills. At the Four Seasons.”
So he’d been close to both Tanner and Bryan. And he’d lied about it. That was better than good. That was great. Finally, we had a viable straw man. I raised my hand and gave Alex a palm-stinging high five.
FORTY
We took a long lunch on the way back to the office and spent the whole time talking about what Sergio might’ve been doing at the Four Seasons. I thought about a best-case scenario. “Would it be too good to be true that he was hanging out with Tanner?” If so, I could make a credible argument that he’d visited Tanner after Niko left.
Alex gave a short laugh. “Probably. But may as well dream big.”
It was after six o’clock when I pulled into the parking garage and dropped Alex off at his car. “Go home and have a nice dinner with Paul. You’ve earned it.”
He tucked his iPad under his arm. “I’ve earned a hell of a lot more than that.”
True, but I had no intention of admitting it. “Has anyone ever told you humility is not your strong suit?”
Alex smirked as he opened the door. “You’re confusing self-awareness with arrogance.” He put one foot out, then paused. “Hey, have you asked Niko about that Voltech place yet?”
The place Tanner had last called. I hadn’t. Because I’d been avoiding Niko just as much as I thought he’d been avoiding me. “I’ll call him tonight.”
Alex got out and leaned down, his expression sympathetic. “We’ll get our answers, Sam. They may not be the answers we’re hoping for, but I have a very strong feeling that you won’t have to be in limbo forever.”
That was a sort of comfort—I supposed. “Thanks, Alex. I’ll let you know if I find out anything useful.”
He turned to g
o, then stopped and leaned down again. “Almost forgot. You have Angelo’s plea and sentencing on Monday, don’t you?”
I checked the calendar on my phone. “Yeah.” I wasn’t looking forward to it. I hate to let a client plead straight-up. I took in Alex’s flat expression. “I’m guessing you didn’t find anything helpful.”
“Not a thing. Want me to go with you?”
“Nah. Why should both of us suffer?”
Alex sighed and headed to his car. As I drove out, I decided I may as well call Niko now. If he was at the hospital, I could do what any decent girlfriend would do and go keep him company. Lately, my last couple of calls had gone to voice mail. This time, he picked up.
“Hey, Sam. Sorry I’ve been a little MIA. Work’s been crazy, and I’ve been spending every spare second with Mom.”
His tone was light—but was it forced? I couldn’t tell. “No worries. How’s she doing?”
He sighed. “About the same, I think.” His voice dropped. “But the doctors think she might’ve slipped a little more in the past couple of days.”
“Are you with her now?” I assumed that’s why he’d lowered his voice.
“No,” he said. “I’m at the editing facility. Trying to wrap the last video.”
I noticed he didn’t ask what I was doing later. Even though I wasn’t keen on seeing him, it made my heart sink to realize the feeling was probably mutual. I did my best not to let my sadness show. “I need to ask you a question. Have you ever heard Tanner mention the name Voltech?”
“Voltech?” He paused. “No. Sounds like some tech company. Why?”
I wasn’t surprised he didn’t know. Tanner seemed to have played everything as close to the vest as possible. Except for those bacchanalian parties. “It was the last number he called.”
“Huh,” he said. “Interesting. Well, let me know what you find out.”
Still no invitation—to lunch, to dinner, to anything. “You mean what Alex finds out. That’s way above my pay grade.”
He chuckled; then his voice grew softer. “I’ve been missing you. Seems like I haven’t seen you in about a year. What about this weekend? Are you busy Saturday night?”