“Is that a scientific fact?”
“Might as well be. There are no such things as coincidences.”
She took a sip of her beer. “Randall Brock leaves the party two hours before his wife. The party ends later than it was scheduled to end. Randall is supposedly thirty minutes away at the office on the Quarim campus. So how could he get to his wife without being seen by any other partygoers, without knowing the party had run late, kill her, and drive her car over the edge of the cliff?”
Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he never went to the office. Maybe he was parked somewhere, and it didn’t matter when the party ended because he was staking her out. Maybe she went home, and he killed her there and drove back up. We’ll never know because the info system on her Mercedes was taken out. Probably by the husband.”
Casey walked into the kitchen holding her cup. “Mommy, I need milk.”
Susan took the cup. “There’s milk in here, honey.”
“That milk is yucky. I want new milk.”
Susan smelled the milk and shook her head. “Smells fresh to me. Drink this. I’m not wasting it.”
“Are you looking at bad-guy stuff?”
“Yes. For work.”
“Can we help?”
Tim jumped into the kitchen from the dark hallway. “It’s the husband!”
Tommy laughed as Susan took her kids and guided them back into the living room.
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I love it. The boy and I are in agreement.”
Susan snatched a pen and pad from the table and started jotting notes. “What I was going to say was that we’re waiting on the university to give us surveillance footage to see if Dr. Brock was there when he said he was. I’ll also contact the alarm company the Brocks use for their home to see if the alarm was deactivated between the time the party ended and Amanda’s death.”
“I’m sure the husband covered that trail too.”
“And what about motive?” Susan asked. “What’s the motive for Randall killing Amanda?”
“She was rich, right? Her money, not his. He killed her for the money.”
“But he already had the money with her alive.”
“Maybe she was giving too much of it away through her charities, and he had to put a stop to it. Maybe she didn’t care about being rich, but he did. Maybe he was just selfish and wanted the cash to himself so he could control it.”
Susan shook her head. “You’ve seen the 990s. The foundation was making six times more money through donations and fundraisers. Her personal giving was a small fraction. In fact, as the foundation grew, her personal donations decreased.”
Tommy finished his beer and placed the bottle on the table. “Okay, then maybe he was just screwed up in the head. Maybe there was no grand motive, and he just up and killed her. Any way you slice it, it’s him. I can feel it.”
“We’ll draw up a profile on Randall and see what we can find. In the meantime, we have to keep digging. We can’t distract ourselves with a suspect who really isn’t a suspect. Amanda’s phone records should be in tomorrow. We’ll start there.”
“Why do you think he’s clean?” Tommy asked.
Susan shrugged. “You should’ve seen him when he had to identify her body. He couldn’t do it. You can’t fake the shock and despair I saw. If he killed her, his reaction would’ve been different. I saw real loss. It wasn’t an act. Even when I came by for follow-ups the next day, he was in this daze, like he couldn’t tell if he was in the real world. I’ve seen it before. It’s PTSD. That’s genuine. I don’t think he did it, but if he did, it still doesn’t matter at this point. We don’t have anything that proves anything.”
“In that case,” Tommy said, “how about another beer?”
“Coming right up.”
Susan got up and took another beer from the refrigerator. She popped the top and handed it over.
Tommy took the beer and leaned against the counter by the sink. “Your kids are great,” he said. He waved to them, and they dove back behind the couch.
“Thanks.”
“Single-mom thing must be rough.”
“It has its moments. My mom’s a huge help, though. Some days are easier than others.”
“How long you been single?”
“Two years. Officially divorced for one.” She sat down and began separating papers and documents, putting them in different piles. “How about you? You leave any broken hearts behind at Lake Ontario?”
Tommy laughed. “Me? Nah. Too busy doing what I had to do to get this promotion. Being an investigator means a lot. My father was a detective with the NYPD back in the day, and my uncle was a lieutenant with the Albany PD.”
“So it’s in your blood. Can’t escape.” Susan leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “What else?”
“What else what?”
“Tell me your story, Investigator Corolla. If we’re going to be working together, I need to know your story.”
Tommy walked back over to the kitchen table and sat down. “Pretty boring. I already told you I grew up on Long Island. I’m the youngest of three. My brother is the oldest. He’s a CPA in a big firm on Manhattan. My sister’s married with two girls of her own. She lives just outside of Charlotte, North Carolina, near Lake Norman. Right now she stays home with her kids, but before she got pregnant she was a shipping coordinator for some pressed-steel manufacturer down there. Her husband is an ER trauma nurse.”
“You were the only one bitten by the badge?”
“Yup. My parents had me late in life. My brother was already out of the house, and my sister was on her way out. The only ones around to influence me were my mom and dad, and I knew I wasn’t going to follow in my mom’s footsteps working at the cosmetics counter at Macy’s, so police work it was.” He took a swig of his beer. “My dad used to bring home old cases that were solved from like the eighties, and we’d walk through them. Suspects, procedures, clues at the scene. It was our version of playing catch in the yard. When I graduated high school, I went to the University of Delaware to study criminal justice. Minored in psychology so I could figure out how these guys think. After that, I was recruited by the state police. I wanted the NYPD like my dad, but now that I’m state, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I did my time in uniform and then got this promotion. The end.”
Susan raised her bottle. “Here’s to Tommy Corolla, part-time psychologist, full-time investigator. Cheers, my friend.”
Tommy held up his beer. “Cheers.” He cradled the bottle in one hand and started working the corner of the label with his other. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“You already know about the single-mom part,” Susan began. “I’m an only child. My dad was a union guy. Pipe fitter. Died a few years ago from mesothelioma. All those years working in the city. All that asbestos in the buildings. It did him in. I miss him.”
“I bet.”
“I think my mom helps as much as she does to keep her mind busy. She tries to act tough, but I know she’s hurting. They were married for over forty years. Can’t give up someone that easy when you’ve been around them that long. So the kids keep her busy, and I get great childcare. It’s a win-win for both of us.”
Tommy paused for a moment. “I know I said this earlier, but thanks again for being cool with taking me on. I didn’t know what to expect when I got down here. You made it easy, and I really appreciate that.”
“I’m happy to show you the ropes,” Susan replied. “But from what I see, I don’t think you’ll need much hand-holding for long.”
“I’d really like to catch the guy who did this to Amanda Brock. First case and all. It’d be nice to get a win right out of the gate. And maybe when it’s over, when we’re not partners anymore, you’ll let me take you out to dinner to thank you?”
She could feel her cheeks flush and smiled as she looked at the younger man sitting across from her. “Are you asking me out?”
“Maybe,
” he replied, grinning nervously.
Susan tapped the pile of papers that was sitting on the kitchen table. “Let’s catch this guy first; then we’ll talk about drinks. Maybe even dinner. Deal?”
Tommy nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Deal. We’ll start with the husband.”
20
His ride home from the city was nothing more than a blur. Randall was standing in the kitchen, but he couldn’t remember actually arriving at the house. He’d been on autopilot the entire way. One minute he was walking along the streets of Manhattan, and the next, it was past midnight and the BMW’s headlights were illuminating the workbench at the end of the garage.
The house was quiet. No call from Amanda that she was upstairs. No television blaring from the family room. No music streaming or warm fireplace raging after a tough day in the cold. It was just him.
His stomach rumbled, and he went to the refrigerator, grabbing a Tupperware full of chicken parmigiana one of the neighbors had made the other night. He threw it into the microwave and set it for three minutes.
A light came on in the family room. Randall spun around in shock, almost tripping over his feet. He let out a small whimper of surprise when he saw Sam sitting in the armchair closest to the fireplace, hood up over his head, the shadows from the lamp hiding his features.
“What are you doing here?” Randall demanded once he got himself under control again. He could feel his voice crack, and he swallowed. “How do you know where I live? How did you get in here?”
“Do you really want to know?”
The digital chime of the microwave sounded, but Randall ignored it. He walked into the family room and turned on the rest of the lights. His heart was beating ferociously in his chest. His breath came in short stutters. “Get out of my house.”
“You found what you needed to see in Amanda’s phone. Now you know she was keeping secrets. Just like you.” Sam lowered his hood and stared into Randall’s eyes. “What were you planning to do to Mr. Landsky if I hadn’t called?”
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Randall snapped. “I just wanted to see him. I wanted to see the man who was having an affair with my wife. In person.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You wanted to harm him.”
“No.”
“You wanted to hurt him. Make him suffer for stealing Amanda away from you.”
“That’s not true.”
“You wanted to kill him.”
“Shut up!” Randall closed his eyes and grabbed at the bottom of his sweater, squeezing and twisting it as if he were wringing out a wet sponge.
“Do you feel a headache coming on?” Sam asked.
Randall didn’t answer.
Sam rose from the chair and crossed the room, his boots thumping on the floor, which creaked under his weight. “I showed you her first truth,” he said. “Amanda wasn’t the woman you thought she was, just like you’re not the man everyone thinks you are. We all have secrets, Dr. Brock. I want you to come to grips with yours.”
Randall opened his eyes and gently knocked the back of his head against the wall he was leaning on. “Did you kill my wife?”
“No.”
“But you know who did.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me. Please. Just tell me so I can go to the police. No more games. Was it Hooper? Is that why you told me about the affair? Did Hooper kill Amanda?”
“I want your truth,” Sam said.
Randall rubbed his temples and fought back tears. “My truth about what?”
“You know.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t!”
Sam sighed, his gaze piercing. “We’ll start with your brother.”
“What about him?”
“I want to know the truth about what happened to him, and I want to hear it from you. I have to hear it from you. This is how our arrangement will work. I’ll give you a truth, and you’ll give me a truth, until we’ve uncovered everything about the manipulated and artificial life you’re living. Once that happens, you’ll never have to hear from me again.”
Randall stared at his uninvited guest. He searched for a response but couldn’t find the strength to say anything. It felt as if his world were crumbling. The world he’d worked so hard to construct, brick by brick, lie by lie, was falling apart around him. Sam knew. And that was all it took. One person. One person to bring it all down.
“I want to hear about the hike in the woods,” Sam continued. “I want to hear about the stream. It was rapid that day. All that runoff from all that rain made the pull of a little stream turn into a monster. What a perfect alibi.”
“Go . . . away.”
“When you lay down at night, and the house is quiet, and your thoughts start to drift, can you still hear him calling for you? Do you still pretend he slipped and fell?”
Randall leaped off the wall and tackled Sam to the floor, wrapping his hands around the stranger’s neck, trying to get on top of him so he could squeeze the life out of him. He wanted to kill this man. He wanted to end him. For a flash of a moment, he saw no other way. If he killed this man, he could keep his secrets. And if he could keep his secrets, he would never have to relive any of it ever again.
Sam grunted once, then pulled his right leg back and twisted it around Randall’s neck, instantly flipping Randall off of him and immediately gaining the upper hand. He let their momentum rotate their bodies until he was sitting on Randall’s chest, his thumbs digging into Randall’s eyes. Randall instinctively grabbed at Sam’s wrists and pulled, but Sam pressed harder until Randall cried out from both the fear and the pain.
Sam suddenly pulled away and stood up. “I’m no threat.”
Randall rolled onto his side, covering his face, keeping his eyes shut. The pain in his skull was intense. He was afraid he’d been blinded.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Sam said. “A truth for a truth. That’s all I want.”
“Leave me alone!”
“I will give you Amanda’s second truth, but that’s all I can offer until we talk about your brother. And Rose. And Lily.”
Randall froze when he heard those names.
“I’ll remind you one last time. No police. If you tell the police about me, I’ll incinerate everything you hold sacred. Your life. Your reputation. What’s left of your career. Your friends and their wives and their children and their grandchildren. And then, once you’ve seen all the death and you know you’re the one responsible, I’ll kill you. Slowly. But by then you’ll be begging me to end you. Like those women begged you.”
Randall opened his eyes into slits and watched as Sam turned and left. Footsteps thumped down the hallway, through the mudroom, and out into the garage. He scrambled to his feet and staggered into the kitchen.
A small green envelope had been placed on the counter. Randall picked it up and examined it, flipping the top of the envelope open and sliding a thin copper key into his palm. It was a key to a safe-deposit box.
Amanda’s second truth.
A newspaper clipping had been under the green envelope. He unfolded it, reading the bold headline. For a moment he was back there, feeling everything all over again, knowing then that no matter how far he tried to run, how deeply he tried to bury them, his truths would find a way to the surface. There would never be any reprieve. There would never be any escape.
Horror House in Queens!
21
Susan immediately noticed the woman’s flat nose and eyes that looked out of place on her round face. Tiny moles dotted her skin from the head down. Her hair was up in a bun, accentuating her puffy red cheeks. “Gina Pellori?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
Susan held up her badge. “I’m Investigator Adler from the New York State Police. This is Investigator Corolla. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Amanda Brock.”
Gina thought for a moment, absently biting her t
humbnail. “Any chance this can wait?” she asked. “I’m getting ready for Amanda’s wake. It’s today at four.”
“We’ll only be a second.”
Gina backed up into the house, and Susan and Tommy walked inside. Their eyes were instantly drawn to the three-story cathedral ceiling in the foyer and the grand staircase that curved its way up to the second floor. The three of them walked into the formal living room, where a collection of modern art adorned the walls. Susan and Tommy sat on a camel-leather couch.
“We ran Mrs. Brock’s cell phone records as part of our investigation,” Susan began. “One of the numbers she called most was yours. You two were close?”
“Yes. I was her best friend.” Gina hugged her bare arms as tears formed in her eyes. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I really can’t. And Randall. Oh my god, I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through.”
“How long had you known Amanda?”
“She moved here in oh-six. The entire development was going up then, so it was customary for the people who were already living here to throw a welcome party for those just getting built, and me and Amanda hit it off. She was alone here in the complex for a while, so I kept her company. We’ve been like sisters ever since. She married Randall two years ago, but he’d moved in about a year earlier.”
“Do you know if the Brocks had gotten any work done on their home or were planning a renovation? Something where they’d need an architect?”
Gina shook her head. “No. I’m on the homeowners’ board. If they were planning anything, we’d know about it. We have to give permission, interior and exterior.”
“What about any other properties? Do they own anything else they might be working on? A winter spot or summerhouse? Something like that?”
“No. Amanda had her dad’s place for a bit, but she sold it.”
Susan made a note. “Does the name Hooper Landsky ring a bell?”
“No.”
“Hooper’s number was the other one on Amanda’s phone records that came up the most. He’s an architect, which is why I thought she might be working on something. Maybe something for the foundation?”
I Know Everything Page 10