by Karen Rose
“We’ll just have to ask him, won’t we?”
“I guess we will.” She closed her laptop and slid it in her backpack. “I did locate Winston Heights High, the school that the class ring came from. It’s outside Hagerstown, where Crystal was arrested on the prostitution charge.”
“The neighbor said she thought Brittany had family there.”
“She also said the family wasn’t close. Given that it came with the checkbook, my gut says it’s connected to the prostitution. Have you heard from Barb at the bank about who owns the account on Crystal’s check register?”
Grayson looked at his phone. “No messages from her, but it’s only been two hours since I called.” He’d asked Paige to find Barb’s phone number in his contact list on the way to Betsy’s rehab center. That Paige’s eyes had narrowed when she’d heard him decline Barb’s offer of a late-night drink hadn’t hurt his ego, he was forced to admit.
“Think she’ll still help after you blew her off for drinks?”
“I think so. She’s one of Joseph’s old girlfriends, actually. If she invited me out, it’s because she’s angling to get Joseph back.”
“Ah, my babysitter. Brother Joseph. I don’t see him as the type to bend to angling.”
He lifted his brows. “What do you see him as the type to do?”
“I don’t know exactly and I think he likes it that way. He’s got that broody, this-tape-will-self-destruct-Jim thing going on. A little dangerous.”
His lips twitched. “He’d like hearing that.”
“I kind of thought so. I also don’t think he’s as mean and bad as he wants everyone to think he is. If this Barb chick doesn’t want to help us, maybe he’ll sweet-talk her.”
“Oh, he can be every bit as mean and bad as he looks. But I think she’ll come through. She’s not as astute as you. She thinks she can still get him back.”
“What did she do to lose him?”
“She was uncomfortable around Holly. Ignored her and made her cry. Nobody disses Holly and gets welcomed to the family.”
“I would hope not,” she said quietly.
“You passed with flying colors. Lisa and Holly are singing your praises.”
“I didn’t do anything special.”
“You treated Holly like she was… not different.”
“Like I said, nothing special.” She shouldered her backpack. “Ready, Counselor?”
“Absolutely.” Grayson felt a hum of anticipation as he walked into the building’s lobby, Paige at his side. After five years, Grayson was going to get some answers out of the spoiled rich boy.
He gave their names to the security guard manning the front desk, who copied their IDs and waved them through to a bank of elevators. Rex McCloud’s condo was on the twenty-fifth floor. Grayson pressed the up button while Paige scanned the directory of businesses with offices on the lower floors.
“Ninety percent of these aren’t McCloud family businesses,” she noted.
“The McClouds own a lot of real estate here in the city,” he said. “Most of it they lease. The top three floors are condos. My interview with Rex regarding the party was here, in his condo. Six years ago they were only using the estate on weekends. The family lived here during the week. I don’t know if they still do that or not.”
“I knew about the condos,” Paige said. “The senator and his wife and youngest daughter, Reba, live here full-time now. I found an article about Reba in the society page archives. She was throwing an intimate soiree for one of her charities. They still use the estate for the really big functions. Seems wasteful, though, maintaining that big house when no one lives there.”
The elevator took them to Rex’s floor and they stepped into a lushly decorated hall.
“House arrest,” Paige muttered. “Such hardship. Money certainly talks.”
“I know.” The earlier hum of anticipation he’d felt had leveled out, becoming grim determination. This was it. His chance to set things right, to bring the real killer to justice. He lifted his fist to knock on Rex’s door, but was surprised when Paige stayed his hand. “What?” he asked.
“You can say ‘fuck family connections,’ and I can cheer you on, but you realize that this will get out. If we start asking questions about that night, Rex will almost certainly contact his attorney.”
“Who will contact my boss,” he said evenly. Who might follow through on his threat to expose… everything. He’d let every possible scenario play out as he’d driven. With the exception of Anderson keeping his mouth shut, none of the scenarios were good.
But he knew that he stood at one of those crossroads that defined a life. I will not look back with regret. And he would not be blackmailed. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”
Worry flickered in her eyes. “Be sure. This could mean your career.”
He wasn’t sure whether to be touched by her concern or angry that she thought he’d put his career ahead of justice. “My career would mean nothing if I let this slide.”
She frowned. “I never thought you’d let it slide. But there may be ways to manage this through more… diplomatic channels.”
“Which could take months if not years, if they work at all. While Ramon sits rotting in jail and a killer walks free, smug in the knowledge that he got away with it.” He saw the worry disappear, the approval return. “I know what I’m doing, Paige.” At least I hope to God I do. “But thank you.”
She smiled and gestured to the door. “Then have at it. I’ve got your back.”
His knock was answered by Rex himself, wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of gym shorts, his ankle bracelet, and a cocky smile. “Well, well. I thought the doorman had made a mistake. I don’t often get visitors.” He raked Paige with an openly suggestive leer. “Especially ones that look like you.”
Years of drug use had not been kind to Rex’s face. Despite the smile, he looked hollowed out. Gaunt. He’d been a handsome young man. Now he looked pathetic.
Grayson could find no pity. “I’m Grayson Smith with the state’s attorney’s office.”
Rex’s lip curled. “I know. I remember. I did a stint in rehab because of you.”
Paige looked up at Grayson in question.
“It was a deal in exchange for the security video of the pool party,” Grayson said. “His family said they would give it to us if we didn’t press charges for the drugs.”
“I wasn’t using that night,” Rex insisted. “Booze, yes. Coke, no.”
“We’re not here about that,” Grayson said. “Exactly.”
“Then what are you here about? Exactly?”
“Let us in and I’ll tell you.”
Rex waved them inside. “By all means. Come in. Not that I could stop you.”
“No, you can’t,” Grayson agreed. As a condition of house arrest Rex had to submit to unannounced searches and visits from cops and the court. Rex turned on his heel and left them to follow him into a very expensive room complete with an impressive home theater and a pool table. To be incarcerated in a place like this… Why even bother?
Rex gestured to a long leather sofa. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to get a shirt. If that’s okay.”
“Just make it fast,” Grayson said. “We don’t have all day.”
Paige said nothing as she sat on one end of the sofa. Grayson stood beside her, close enough to touch. Except he didn’t, only because he’d shoved his hands in his pockets. Together they waited until Rex McCloud sauntered in, fifteen minutes later. He’d shaved and changed into a silk shirt and pants, looking every bit the rich heir to a large fortune. He flopped in a chair and propped his feet on the coffee table.
“Sorry it took so long,” he said mockingly, flicking his wrists where diamonds winked. “Had to find my cuff links. So to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“Crystal Jones,” Grayson said.
Rex put on a frown of confusion. “Who?”
“The woman who died while attending your pool party six years ago,” Paige said.
“Oh, you mean Amber. I keep forgetting her name was Crystal. You know, since she lied to get into my party and all. So what about her?”
“I’m looking into what really happened that night,” Grayson said.
Rex’s jaw cocked, his eyes dark with anger. “What happened is the bitch, who lied to get into my party, went trolling where she shouldn’t have been and did it with the gardener. Who fucking killed her, probably in that order.”
Paige stiffened, but said nothing.
“If I thought that was true, I wouldn’t be here,” Grayson said evenly. Rex’s eyes flickered. Panic? Fear? “I have reason to question your alibi for that night, Rex.”
“It’s Mr. McCloud,” Rex snarled, then visibly calmed himself. “I wasn’t anywhere near the garden shed that night. The tape showed I stayed in the pool all night long.”
“It might have,” Grayson said, “had it been the right tape.”
Rex’s brows crunched. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The tape wasn’t made the night of Crystal’s murder,” Paige said. “It’s indisputable.”
Rex gave her a condescending sneer. “And who the hell are you, Pocahontas?”
Grayson wanted to knock the sneer off Rex’s face, but Paige only smiled at him placidly. “The tape was switched, Mr. McCloud,” she said. “It’s not up for debate. Do you want to know how I know? Or do you want to waste your words on lame taunts?”
“You’re bluffing,” Rex said flatly.
“Oh, no, I’m quite serious. ‘Pocahontas’ is a lame taunt.”
Rex gritted his teeth. “About the tape, bitch.”
“Betsy had a boob job,” Paige commented as nonchalantly as if she spoke of the weather. “Six weeks before that night. It’s documented in her medical record.”
Rex stared at her in confused anger. “What?”
“She had her breasts augmented,” Paige said. “But on the tape—which exhibits very impressive acrobatics on your part, I must add—she’s really small. Plus the moon is the wrong size.”
“What moon?” he demanded.
“The one in the sky,” she explained, pointing upward as if Rex were a child. “Wrong phase for the night Crystal was killed.” She shrugged. “But, you know, that’s only, like, science and shit.”
Rex was visibly seething. “You’re lying.”
“Somebody switched the tape,” Grayson said harshly and Rex’s eyes whipped up to meet his. “My only assumption at this time is that it was you. Your alibi is worthless. So maybe you’d like to tell me what happened that night.”
“Maybe you’d like to get the hell out of here.”
“I’m an officer of the court. You are under house arrest. There are consequences here if you choose not to talk to me.”
Rex’s temper was ready to explode. “Fuck you, Smith. I was in that pool the whole fucking night. I. Never. Left.”
“We have witnesses that say otherwise,” Paige said.
Rex’s feet came off the table. “Who?” he demanded.
Paige’s body went still. She watched Rex like she’d watch a cobra, ready to strike. “That’s privileged information,” she said. “But our witnesses say you were mad that night. And that you went off to search for Crystal. Because you were so mad.”
“Who?” Rex said furiously. “Who said that?”
“What did you do when you found her, Rex? Tell me. Did you try to make her put out? Did you try to make her pay for her party invitation? Because you were so mad?”
“Dammit, I did not. It wasn’t like that. Who told you that? Was it that bitch Betsy?”
Paige ignored him, keeping her tone smooth in stark contrast to her words. “Did Crystal tell you no? Did you strangle her then? Did it feel good, Rex?”
It happened so fast that Grayson would have missed it if he’d blinked. Rex charged Paige, his hands outstretched and his mouth forming the word, “Who?”
But what came out was a muffled shriek because Paige had risen in a move so fluid it was fucking ballet. She bent Rex over the sofa, his arm pulled behind his back, her fingers squeezing the pressure points on his hand while she stood relaxed, not even breathing hard.
It was the hottest thing Grayson had ever seen in his life and for a moment he could only stare. And be very glad he wore the jacket to his suit because he was suddenly and almost painfully erect. God.
“Get off me!” Rex was screaming. “I’m calling my lawyer. This is police brutality.”
Paige leaned close enough to snarl in Rex’s ear. “I’m not a cop, asshole, and you can’t sue me for squat. You came at me and I defended myself. So you’d better hope that I don’t press charges against you.” She tightened her grip on Rex’s thumb when he continued to fight. His body jerked, going rigid in pain. “This is what’s going to happen, Rex. You’re going to quiet the fuck down and listen to me.” His struggles ceased. “Okay. I’m going to let you go and you’re going to behave yourself, as novel a concept as that might be. You understand, Rex?”
He nodded, still furious. “Let me go.”
She kept the pressure on his hand. “One move toward me or Mr. Smith and you are done. And next time, you might want to reconsider that temper. It’s going to get you into trouble. Oh wait, it already did. You are in trouble. That’s why we’re here.”
“I didn’t kill her,” he gritted. “Let me go.” He gasped. “Please.”
She released him and Rex shuddered, breathing hard. She offered him a hand, but he shot her a look of hateful contempt and pushed himself to his feet. “Fucking cunt.”
“Sticks and stones,” she murmured. “What a fine, fine opinion of women you have.”
He rubbed his hand, glaring. “I didn’t kill the bitch. Somebody else did.”
“That’s real original,” she said sarcastically. “Sit down, Rex.”
He looked like he’d argue, but he sat. “I did not kill her. You have no evidence that I did.” He looked up at Grayson, belligerence burning in his eyes. “Your career is over, Smith. When my lawyers get through with you, you’ll be lucky to keep your license.”
“I’d be more worried about a murder charge, were I you,” Grayson said. “I know the tape was falsified. I know you have a temper. You have a history of drug use and now a documented display of violence against women. You came at Miss Holden with your hands reaching for her throat. A jury will eat that up. And then you’d go to real jail. No cuff links required.”
“Anything you have on me is only circumstantial,” Rex blustered.
“Maybe. There were prints in that shed that we never matched because you didn’t have a record at the time. We didn’t fingerprint you because you had an alibi, which you no longer have. So maybe they’re yours. Plus, we can’t forget the note that was found on Crystal’s body. ‘The gardener’s shed, midnight.’ It was signed ‘RM.’”
Rex rolled his eyes. “Ramon Muñoz, you retard.”
Grayson heard the offensive word used often, but it still steamed him. “I don’t think so, Rex McCloud.”
Rex’s eyes flickered as if he was realizing the gravity of his situation for the first time. “I didn’t do it.”
“Famous last words,” Paige murmured.
Rex opened his mouth to say what would be undoubtedly unprintable, then reconsidered. “If you’re going to charge me, then charge me. Otherwise I want my lawyer present. See yourselves out.” He rose and walked from the room.
“You should ice your hand,” Paige called after him.
Rex flipped her the bird without turning around.
Grayson pulled the door closed behind him, his heart pounding in his chest. Paige had been magnificent. And Rex was guilty as hell.
“Grayson,” she whispered. “Grandparents, dead ahead.”
Indeed they were. Both the former senator and his wife stood in front of the elevator. Mrs. McCloud looked coolly reserved. The senator looked tired. And sad.
Only one elevator served the penthouse suites, so Grayson
and Paige would not be able to avoid a confrontation with them if they wanted to exit the building.
“Security guard must have told them,” Grayson whispered back. Preparing himself for trouble, he walked toward them, his expression blank. “Senator. Mrs. McCloud. I’m Grayson Smith with the state’s attorney’s office.”
“We know,” the senator said. “We remember you from the trial.” He leaned on a cane that he grasped in his right hand. His left hand was tucked in the pocket of a gray cardigan. Grayson remembered Paige telling him that the senator had had a stroke years before that had weakened his grip.
“Can we ask why you’re here?” Mrs. McCloud asked. Her hair was blond, pulled back elegantly from a face that was nearly wrinkle free. She was in her early sixties, but she didn’t look it. Her dress was tasteful and timeless, as Grayson’s mother would say. A string of pearls completed her look. She was ever a politician’s wife, even though her husband was long retired.
“I came to speak with Rex.”
The senator lifted bushy white brows. “About?”
“That’s between my office and Rex. Of course, should he choose to share it with you, that’s his business.”
“Is our grandson in any trouble?” Mrs. McCloud asked. Her voice was composed, but her eyes held an underlying despair she didn’t quite hide.
The senator’s shoulder’s sagged. “What has he done this time? What possible trouble can he get into on house arrest? I swear, he’s going to be the death of us.”
“My business was with Rex, sir,” Grayson repeated, keeping his tone respectful.
The door to Rex’s condo opened behind them. “He thinks I killed Crystal Jones,” Rex said in a loud, scornful voice. “Can you believe it?”
The senator’s brows snapped together, shock in his eyes. “Crystal Jones? That’s simply not possible. This is a mistake. She was killed by our gardener. Roberto.”
“Ramon, dear,” Mrs. McCloud murmured. “It was Ramon Muñoz.”
“Of course,” the senator said. “Ramon. He was convicted of her murder. You were there. You convicted him. Why would you tell Rex you suspect him?”