“Ivy and Amanda didn’t get along. You’re aware of the lawsuit, the civil suit filed on behalf of Heather Brock?”
“Yes.”
“Amanda didn’t know Heather well, but after the poor girl’s death, Amanda told me that Ivy had posted all sorts of things about people on the Internet. True things, but embarrassing. Amanda said she didn’t want to go to her dad’s house because she didn’t want Ivy to embarrass her online. That was one talk I did have with Bill and Paula, and it did not go well.” She hesitated then asked, “Do you think Ivy was killed because of something she posted on the Internet?”
“I don’t know,” Max said truthfully, “but I think her behavior may have created the situation she found herself in, and someone snapped. The manner of Ivy’s death suggests it was spontaneous. But I still believe that Ivy deserves justice. Tommy deserves to get his family back. And a killer needs to be punished.”
Jenny nodded, but still looked troubled. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” Max said. “I’m not leaving until I find the truth.”
“What if you don’t?”
“I will. I may not be able to prove it to the police, but I will know what happened.”
Jenny glanced away for a moment, then said, “Come by the house tonight after seven. That will give me time to talk to Tommy and Amanda. But if they don’t want to go through with it, that’s that.”
* * *
When Travis grabbed his shit from his locker at lunch, he’d found another text message on that stupid burn phone. He was sick and tired of all the game-playing. The bitch wanted to meet at midnight in the preserve!
Are you fucking kidding me? Where Ivy died? No way.
No response.
Bailey, I know it’s you. I’ll come to your house. Now. I’m out until practice.
He was 95 percent certain it was Bailey who’d been communicating with him through ChatMe for more than a year. Last summer he’d been 100 percent certain, but after talking to her yesterday, he had a small, niggling doubt.
Finally, an answer.
You can’t come to my house.
Gotcha, bitch.
I’m not going anywhere near the preserve. We have to talk. Today.
It took her a few minutes but she replied.
I can’t do anything until late tonight.
Well, he was done taking orders.
Tomorrow morning, the coffeehouse on Main, 7 A.M.
She didn’t respond.
Well, screw her. This was out of control. Two reporters, that article, everyone at school looking at him, talking behind his back … he couldn’t live like this. They had to do something. He wasn’t going to lose his football scholarship over this.
Meet with me or I’m telling that reporter everything.
Nothing. Fine, if that’s the way she wanted to do it, he’d do it.
He hesitated.
He wasn’t about to lose everything he’d gained this last year. He hadn’t even been up there when Ivy died. It was an accident, plain and simple, but how could Travis convince the reporter of that? He had no archives of the messages he and Bailey had exchanged because he’d used the phone she’d left for him last year. And she wasn’t like a cop who could get a search warrant or anything. He didn’t even think the ChatMe program kept an archive of old messages, it’s why everyone used it.
Except he’d read about how some data could never be erased.
Would he be in trouble because he didn’t tell the police he knew Ivy was going up to the preserve? Why should Travis get in trouble when he wasn’t even there?
He rubbed his head. He felt sick. Really, like he was going to puke.
But he had this phone. He could use that, it would be something. Maybe he could tell someone anonymously to talk to Bailey Fairstein. Like the reporter.
Right. Which reporter? The one from New York or the guy? The guy of course … he really believes that Ivy’s death was an accident. Because it was.
It had to be.
He was about to call the reporter when the bitch finally got back to him.
Fine. I’ll be there.
He didn’t know why he was so relieved. He didn’t want to ruin anyone’s life, not Bailey’s or his, but he wasn’t going to lose his scholarship or worse—go to prison—for something he didn’t do. They could finally talk about what really happened when Ivy fell off the cliff.
If Bailey came clean, what’s the worse they’d do to her? She wasn’t even eighteen, it had been an accident, and her family had a fortune. It wasn’t like she needed a scholarship like he did, or that she had meant for anything to happen to Ivy. Lawyers would get her off or maybe she’d do community service, something like that.
But with two reporters digging around, Travis could no longer risk keeping quiet. If Bailey didn’t tell the truth, he’d leave an anonymous tip for the police and if they were halfway good at their jobs, they’d figure it out.
Chapter Eighteen
After ten years in the Army Rangers, two years working as a bodyguard, and nearly two years working with Max—who seemed to have a knack for finding trouble—David Kane’s instincts were sharp.
Lance Lorenzo was up to something.
David also knew that Max had good instincts. She could practically smell a lie, which sometimes surprised David. She had a knack for pushing the right buttons, usually making someone so angry that they spilled the truth. Her hunches paid off virtually every time, and David enjoyed seeing her proven right over and over again.
But her instincts about danger were pathetic.
Someone had wanted to get to Max last June, and they were willing to kill her driver to do it. It had taught David the uneasy lesson that even with the best-laid plans and procedures, if a bad person really wanted to hurt somebody else, they could—with enough time, money, patience, and cunning.
David didn’t yet know if Lorenzo was dangerous, but he was certainly acting suspiciously. The newspaper he worked for managed several local weekly and daily newspapers with dwindling circulation. The Web site was clean and functional, and that evidently funded the business. Looking at the stats, David noted that Lorenzo was neither the most popular or least popular reporter or blogger, but he was the most prolific. Max had read everything he wrote regarding Ivy Lake and the Brock family, but David spent more time combing through his other blogs to figure out what made him tick.
Lorenzo was a rabble-rouser—creating controversy where there was none. Not that he wrote anything patently untrue, it was how he shaped his arguments, casting blame or aspersions on the motives of others. He was the consummate devil’s advocate on various issues, taking first one side then the other, as if he got points for pointing out the flaws in every position. He had a deep disdain for anyone in a position of authority; as if simply by being in authority, they were either corrupt or corruptible. But he viewed authority as virtually anyone who had control over other people, from cops to teachers.
The comments on his blog fanned the flames but, surprisingly, Lorenzo stayed out of that end. Yet the anger and animosity in the uncivil debates in the comment section seemed to egg him on. Bitter and vindictive comments fueled more articles on that topic.
How was Lorenzo different than Ivy Lake? Under the guise of reporting news from all sides of an issue in the most confrontational way possible, he generated heated opinions from the community—similar to how Ivy’s photos of her peers generated extensive comments from her smaller community.
David’s disdain for the political process had only grown during his time in the army. Too often, elected officials made decisions that had affected his unit—and they had no idea nor did they appear to care about the negative repercussions. Most who made the decisions didn’t listen to those in the field or even commanding officers, but instead often made choices that jeopardized the lives of soldiers and innocent civilians. It made David angry, but he had always been an angry man. He understood anger, and didn’t know if he could live without it.
Controlling it was the victory, and David controlled himself exceptionally well.
Lance Lorenzo’s anger seemed manufactured. David couldn’t put his finger on it, maybe because he didn’t understand why someone would try to be angry. As David watched him that afternoon, it seemed clear Lorenzo was more excited than angry, as if controversy pushed him forward. This bastard would play both sides, then watch from the balcony with popcorn as opponents battled.
David tracked Lorenzo from a coffee shop. He followed the reporter as he drove to the Brocks’ house. Mrs. Brock opened the door but didn’t invite him in. They spoke for several minutes before Lorenzo left and drove to the police station. He parked on the edge of the parking lot. He didn’t go inside but seemed to be waiting, on his phone most of the time. Ten minutes later, he pulled out and drove two blocks away, where he parked in a half-empty grocery store lot. Five minutes later, a patrol car pulled parallel to Lorenzo, so their driver’s windows faced each other.
David photographed Lorenzo and the cop, a young, uniformed officer. David took a picture of the back of the squad car which included the unit number. Through the zoom lens, he noted Lorenzo typing rapidly into his phone but David couldn’t make out any details. A few minutes later the cop pulled away and Lorenzo got back on his cell phone. Ten minutes passed before Lorenzo abruptly drove out of the grocery store lot. David followed.
Across from the high school, Lorenzo parallel parked next to the city park and turned off his car. David drove around the block, then found a space where he could observe Lorenzo’s vehicle.
It was nearly two thirty. David suspected Lorenzo’s plan and was ready to intervene. When the special ed students came out of the trailers, David almost opened his door, but Lorenzo didn’t make a move. He simply watched.
Tommy walked his bike across the street and through the park. Lorenzo got out of his car and followed, but made no move to approach the young man.
David drove around the block again and saw Tommy sitting on a bench across from the middle school. He had a half smile on his face and looked around as if he had no worries. Several squirrels ran across the path in front of him, and he followed their progress with his whole body, tilting his head up to watch as they disappeared in the leaves. He grinned when the squirrels ran back down and then up a different tree.
Lorenzo was sitting on a bench three over from Tommy. Tommy had no idea he was being followed. David took a couple of photos, then drove around the block again and parked not far from Lorenzo’s car. He had a clear line of sight to Tommy, and a partial line of sight to Lorenzo.
The middle school let out a few minutes later, and Tommy’s attention shifted to the kids who came out of the school. Max had said that Tommy waited for his stepbrother every day.
A few minutes later, Tommy jumped up and waved. It looked odd, a grown man over six feet tall with shaggy blond hair and a bright green backpack on his shoulders waving like a little kid. Now David understood why Max was so protective of Tommy. He needed protection. She had often told David she never wanted children, but when it came to those who couldn’t take care of themselves her protective instincts were well developed.
David looked at Lorenzo. He hadn’t moved, but his attention was diverted to where Tommy was waving.
Austin Lake crossed the street, holding hands with a familiar blond girl.
His daughter, Emma.
David got out of his car as soon as Lorenzo stood up. But Lorenzo was closer and met up with Austin and Emma before David could get there.
“Hey, Austin, do you and your brother have a minute?” Lorenzo said. “I’m working with Max Revere and have some follow-up questions.”
To Austin’s credit, he narrowed his gaze and said, “Really? She didn’t tell me she was working with another reporter.”
David walked up to the group, putting his body between Emma and Lorenzo. “Go. Now,” he said to Lorenzo.
Tommy glanced at David, eyes wide, and took a step back.
Emma’s mouth dropped open.
“Excuse me, sir,” Lorenzo said, not intimidated. He should be. He had no idea what David could do to him. “I’m a reporter following up on a story.”
“I’m not asking again,” David said, not taking his eyes off him. David stepped a fraction closer to Emma, in front of her, and was surprised when Austin did the same. The kid had good instincts.
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re scaring these kids,” Lorenzo said. “Leave, and I won’t call the cops.”
“Dad,” Emma said and put her hand on his arm, “let’s go.”
Austin stared at him. “Oh, shit.”
Lorenzo looked confused. “Sir, I’m not here to talk to your daughter. Feel free to take her. I’m working on a story, and—”
It was Austin who spoke up. “Bullshit,” he said to Lorenzo. “You said you worked for Max Revere? That’s a fucking lie. Get out of here, and don’t talk to my brother again.”
“I’m just trying to—”
“You heard the kid,” David said.
“But—” Lorenzo took a step back, looking even more confused. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, I’m just—”
David stepped forward. He didn’t need to do anything else. As he shifted, his gun was visible under his jacket. None of the kids saw it, but Lorenzo did, and the reporter stared, eyes wide, before walking quickly away.
David made sure that Lorenzo got into his car before he turned to face the teenagers. He was about to speak when Tommy said, his voice shaking, “He-he said he worked for Max Revere. W-why did you do that?” He stepped away from David. David felt like crap that he’d scared the kid, but he had to protect him. At times he forgot how intimidating he was. David didn’t know how to be anything else.
Before he could explain, Emma took both of Tommy’s hands and said in a quiet voice, “Tommy, that man doesn’t work for Max. I know Max very well, remember? This is my dad, David Kane. Remember, I told you about him? My dad works for Max.”
“B-b-but why would h-he lie?” Tommy refused to look David in the eye.
“No good reason,” Austin said. “Don’t talk to him. Ever. Promise me.”
Tommy looked at his feet, a deep frown on his face. “Okay, Austin, I promise.”
Austin turned to David. Both worried and defiant, the kid was not at all cowed by David. The brief moment of panic that had crossed his face when he realized David had seen him holding hands with Emma was gone. “Who is he, Mr. Kane?”
“Lance Lorenzo, a local reporter.”
“So he is a reporter.”
“But he’s not working with us,” David said. “Max doesn’t trust him.”
“Lorenzo—I think I’ve heard about him.”
Emma said, “He’s that blogger who wrote all that stuff about Ivy last summer.” She turned to David. “Why are you here, Dad?” Emma glanced around. She was nervous, and for a split second David thought she was embarrassed of him, and his heart twisted painfully. Then he remembered what Max had said—that Emma was worried that Brittney would screw with their custody agreement if David saw Emma without prior permission. He hated that his daughter was trying to protect him. He hated his arrangement with Brittney, but there was not one damn thing he could do about it.
“I was following Lorenzo,” David said. “He’s gone—I’ll catch up with him later.” He turned to Tommy. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Tommy.”
Tommy nodded rapidly, but still wouldn’t look at him.
David was getting a headache. “Austin, may I have a word with you alone?”
He phrased it as a question, but there was no question in his tone.
“Dad—” Emma began.
David discreetly winked at her, then steered Austin twenty feet away. Emma still didn’t look happy.
“Sir, I promise I’m not involving Emma in this situation. We’re just friends.”
“I know you’re just friends,” David said in a low voice. “Emma will be thirteen on Sunday. There can only be just fr
iends.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Max says you’re a smart kid.”
He shrugged, but looked up at David. He had to give the kid points for not averting his eyes. Austin Lake was one tough teen. But David also recognized the anger in his stance and his eyes. It was all too familiar, and this was a potentially volatile situation.
“I’m going to give it to you straight. I don’t know what Lorenzo is up to, but he’s working around Max and causing problems in our investigation. You told your brother to stay away; you do the same.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you see him again, call me or Max, anytime.” David handed Austin his business card. “That’s my cell phone, I always answer it because I don’t give the number out to many people.”
“Um, thanks.” Austin put it in his pocket.
“I’ll give you a heads-up—Max and your mother had an argument this morning about the interview tomorrow. I don’t know how it’s all going to play out, but if Lorenzo thinks he can mess things up for Max, he’ll do it—and approaching your mother might be his next move.”
“Why?” Austin asked. “Max is trying to find out who killed my sister, why does another reporter care?”
“Good question, and I will find out. Not you.”
“Is that it?”
“If my daughter is hurt in any way, you will answer to me. Understood?”
Austin nodded and shifted on his feet, the first outward sign that he was nervous.
David smiled. Not a big smile, but he liked this kid. So he gave him a bone. “By the way, Austin, I appreciate how you stepped up a few minutes ago and were looking out for my daughter.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You have good instincts. Listen to them, and you won’t go wrong.”
“Okay,” Austin said, though it was clear he didn’t know what David meant.
“Take your brother home.”
“Thank you.” He turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at David. “You’re the only one who’s ever called Tommy my brother, not my stepbrother. Thanks for that.”
David watched the three teenagers talk, then Emma ran over to him and gave him a spontaneous hug. “I love you, Dad.” She smiled and waved goodbye as the three of them walked off, Tommy walking his bike alongside.
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