Lights inside flickered on, and Corbin reappeared. “We have a problem.” He pushed the door wider.
The condo looked fine to me. The stack of mail on the table beside the entryway was much higher than before, proof that Neil had been occupied with other things.
“How many dogs does he have?” Jennifer asked.
I followed her gaze. Six empty bowls were neatly lined up against the wall. “Only one, believe it or not. He sent her to a dog retreat so she wouldn’t be negatively affected by his stress.”
“This way,” Corbin said, motioning us toward the dining room. He stepped aside.
“Shit,” Rob said.
I had to push past my brother to see. The barely touched plate of food—an oily mess of cheese, fried onions and potatoes—and overturned chair told a story loud and clear. Or at least the beginning of a story, and not a pleasant one.
Rob crossed the room and held a hand over the plate. “Cold,” he said.
“As are the pans in the kitchen,” Corbin said. “Audrey, do you have Oswald’s number?”
“No,” I said, “but maybe I can get it.” I started to reach for my phone, then remembered I didn’t have it. Rob tossed me his, and I dialed Sara.
To my surprise, she answered. “Who is this?” she slurred.
“Your favorite PI. Do you remember where your husband was Labor Day Sunday?”
“My husband is a worm. He has a tiny pecker—”
“Sara…”
“At home? I don’t know.”
“It was the morning of your brother’s death.”
“Right,” she said slowly. She sounded tired. Apparently, being reminded of a sibling’s brutal murder could sober someone up quickly. “Business trip. In Phoenix.”
My heart sped up. “He was in Phoenix? Are you sure?”
“Phoenix, Arizona. Not New Mexico, Audrey. None of my girlfriends wanted to come out with me tonight.” She hiccuped, then giggled.
So maybe she wasn’t sober.
“Thanks, Sara. What’s his number?”
She recited it. I thanked her, hung up, then started to dial, but Corbin covered my hand.
“Not like that,” he said. His fingers flew over the screen of his phone. “This will take a couple of minutes.”
“What are you doing?” Rob asked.
Jennifer crossed her arms. “He’s tracking Oswald’s phone.”
“Huh,” Rob said. “Do you have any idea how much easier it would be to track fugitives if we had that kind of tech at our fingertips?”
“It would be illegal,” Corbin said.
Jennifer snorted. Rob asked, “What? It isn’t illegal?”
“Oh, it is,” Jennifer said. “For him, too. Corbin wants all the perks of working for us but none of the responsibility.”
Corbin cut her a look that chilled the blood in my veins. “I’ve earned it. Keep pushing me, and I’ll stop consulting for you.”
Jennifer held up her hands.
While Rob peppered Corbin with questions, I rifled through Neil’s things, hoping to find a set of keys.
Corbin’s phone beeped, and he consulted the screen. A frown furrowed his forehead. “No current signal, but as of ten minutes ago, he was on the road to the nature preserve.”
“How would Oswald know about that?” Rob asked as everyone except me headed for the door. “He’s not from here.”
“The Internet,” I said. I found a spare car key in a kitchen drawer full of odds and ends, then hurried after the others, closing the door behind me.
“Oswald’s lack of familiarity with the area works in our favor,” Jennifer said as the four of us reassembled in front of the condo. “I doubt he would be able to scrounge up a gun.”
“He seems to prefer knives,” I said dryly. I held up the key. “We should also take Neil’s car, in case we need to split up.”
Corbin treated me to a pointed look. Right. He wasn’t going to let me out of his sight on what I was coming to think of as Henry Held A Gun To My Head Day.
That was unfortunate; I wanted to talk over some aspects of the case with Rob. Instead, my brother took the key and Jennifer.
“Rob and I had things to discuss,” I said as Corbin accelerated down the street.
“I’m sure he would take a bullet for you,” Corbin said, “but he doesn’t have the training to pull it off.”
“Exaggerate much?” I turned on the satellite radio and listened to an interview with a Mexican singer I’d never heard of. After twenty minutes, I turned down the sound. “Why Bowlst?”
“I don’t know. Maybe JD wanted to give his sister a name that would stop her from asking more questions. You said that Sara has been running around with a politician herself, so she’d understand the need for secrecy.”
“If it were me, I’d have chosen a movie star.”
“Is that so?” Corbin asked, amused.
“If this gets out, imagine the headlines. ‘Congressman not involved in shocking sex scandal—constituents dismayed.’”
We drove through the nature preserve’s main entrance, bypassing a sign that announced the hours as dawn to dusk. Farther up the road, the barrier gate had been pulled closed across the access lane to the parking lot. Corbin stopped in front of it and consulted his phone again.
“No further signal. Either his battery died or he shut off his phone in an attempt to cover his tracks if he was ever investigated.” He began driving again, slowly.
I borrowed Corbin’s phone and dialed Rob. “No location on Oswald,” I told him. “Corbin and I will continue up this way looking for Oswald’s car. You two can backtrack, go to the overflow parking lot—”
“Bingo,” Corbin said soberly, and then I saw the rental car, too, up the road a bit and pulled off to the side. “Tell your brother to kill his headlights.”
“I heard,” Rob said, and his lights went dark.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust. Corbin’s SUV continued to roll forward.
“You’ll find flashlights under the seats,” Corbin said. “Some up here, some in the back.” He glanced over at me. “If I ask you to stay in the truck while Jennifer and I investigate, what are the odds you’ll do it?”
“Between zero and zero,” I said. “With a zero-point margin of error.”
He sighed deeply. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I guess Jennifer is on her own.” He pushed a button on the SUV’s center console. “Anonymize number. Dial 911.”
There was a beep, then ringing. “This is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?”
“I’m at the nature preserve, and there’s a crime in progress. A terrorist act.” He hung up.
“Terrorist act?”
“Even if they think this is a hoax, they’re obligated to investigate all allegations of terror. It’ll also get them out here sooner.”
“Not soon enough,” I said. “Are you and I really going to sit here and do nothing?”
“Oswald could be armed. Neil deserves to live, but I’m not risking your life. If you don’t know that by now—”
Someone rapped on my window, and I jumped. Corbin rolled it down, letting fresh air fill the interior.
“Flashlight,” Jennifer said. “I know you have some.” Behind her, Rob looked like a redheaded ghost.
I relinquished the flashlight that had been under my seat, then climbed into the back to find a second and then third. “Corbin called the cops,” I said, sliding back into my seat.
“So did I.” Jennifer passed a flashlight to Rob. “Ready?”
“Audrey and Rob are civilians,” Corbin said.
“As are you,” Jennifer said.
“Good point,” Corbin said, taking the third flashlight from me. “The three of us will wait for the professionals to arrive.”
“I’m going to find Neil,” Rob said. “Come if you want, Audrey.”
I thought about it. Corbin wouldn’t lock me in the SUV again; this situation was nothing like earlier. But he’d compromised quite a bit for me,
had been compromising all along, even when I didn’t realize it.
I met my brother’s gaze. “You know what? I’ll sit this one out.”
Corbin grabbed my hand, squeezed it. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re—”
A blood-curdling scream ripped through the night.
Chapter 29
I shoved my door open, pushing Jennifer and Rob back and out of the way.
“Dammit,” Corbin muttered under his breath, then he was out, too.
“Which direction did the scream come from?” Jennifer asked. “Everyone point at the same time.”
We all jabbed our fingers at a stand of trees about forty feet away. With only a sliver of a moon overhead, it was impossible to gauge the density of the foliage in that direction, but it looked sparse. Oswald would be able to see us coming without too much trouble.
“Unanimous. Good.” Jennifer flicked on her flashlight and muted the glow by cupping her hand over the bezel. “Rob and I will check it out. I’ll signal when Neil is safe. I’ll signal twice if Oswald has a firearm.”
“Just go,” Corbin growled. “Audrey, you’re with me.”
Jennifer pivoted, then took off, Rob on her heels.
I started to follow, but Corbin pulled me back. “They’ve got this. You and I will approach via an indirect route. There.” He indicated a hiking trail.
I knew when I was being patronized. “Corbin, I swear I’m not going to throw myself in harm’s way, but Neil needs our help—”
“I know these trails,” Corbin said. “I used to run here last year. This one loops toward where we heard the scream. Ready?”
“Yes.”
He moved into the woods.
“You don’t have to go slow because of me,” I said.
He swept the flashlight across the ground, illuminating rocks and jutting roots. “It’s uneven. The last thing Neil needs is for one of us to break an ankle.”
Yeah, Corbin could blame the terrain, but he was keeping me slow deliberately.
There was a short trilling sound, a woman’s voice.
“She’s got Neil,” Corbin said. “We should head back…” He stopped walking, and I stood beside him. He extinguished his flashlight.
Christ, it was dark under the trees. But I saw what had caught Corbin’s attention: a faint glow swinging back and forth much higher up on the hill. I guessed Oswald was using his cell phone to light the way.
“He’s on an upper trail,” Corbin said. “If we cut straight to him, the noise will warn him off. If we follow the path, it’ll take longer.”
“I’m surprised you’re not making me turn back.”
“Notice that you’re behind me,” he said, moving off again.
Oh, yeah, I’d noticed just fine.
The bobbing light above us was getting more difficult to follow, sometimes disappearing completely. But now I could hear him; Oswald had gone off the trail.
“Corbin!” I strained my throat trying to whisper loud enough for him to hear.
“I know,” he said. “We’ll cut through. If that light stops moving, you stop. Got it?”
“Yeah.” But I remained behind him, figuring that if Corbin wasn’t worried about me, he’d be better able to focus on Oswald.
Oswald, I had to admit, was in pretty good shape to be able to maintain his current pace. I was starting to see how he could have violently stabbed two men and still had the energy to cover his tracks afterward.
The light stopped moving, then vanished. I froze. Corbin’s hand touched my arm.
I didn’t know what he meant, if anything, but he was being quiet, so I figured I should be, too.
“Who’s out there?” Oswald was breathless, making it difficult to guess his emotional state. “I know someone’s there. Who are you?”
I inhaled, and Corbin squeezed my arm in warning; he knew what I was about to do.
“It’s Audrey,” I called out.
“Audrey?” He sounded incredulous. “How did you find me?”
I was tempted to make a joke, to say I’d been out for a late run, but thought better of it. “I know who murdered JD,” I said.
“Fuck off!” Oswald yelled, his voice booming.
Corbin tightened his grip as he leaned in close, his lips on my ear. “Don’t antagonize him. He didn’t get Neil out here through persuasion. He may not have a gun, but he’s likely armed. He’s trying to find us, moving closer every time you speak. The next time he talks, we’re going to move, too, so be ready.”
I nodded and licked my lips. “Why’d you do it, Oswald?” I paused after the first word. Corbin was right; Oswald was walking when he thought I wouldn’t hear. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint Oswald’s location, but I trusted Corbin.
Corbin clenched my elbow, and I felt tension travel between our bodies. He seemed more worried than I would have expected, and I wondered if he’d picked up on something I’d missed.
“Why’d you do it?” I called out again.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Corbin pulled me back two steps. Silence descended on the woods. The whole thing—the darkness, the setting, the fact that I was having this insane conversation with a murderer—was tipping toward the surreal. If not for Corbin’s touch, I might have floated into the air. At least, that was how it felt, like a dream.
“We have the painting,” I said. “It was in the storage unit, but you missed it. That’s proof of you and JD having an affair. Your DNA is on it. You murdered him. Why?”
“I didn’t murder anyone,” Oswald said. He was so quiet I barely heard him. He had not, I noted, denied anything about the painting or screwing his brother-in-law.
After getting so much wrong, it felt good to be right.
“You killed JD,” I called out. “Tell me, do you miss him? Do you regret it?”
“We were having an affair, but I didn’t kill him.” Oswald’s voice shook. “I loved him.”
“You lied to me earlier. You weren’t with your family that morning. The police pulled video footage from the gas station across from the hotel. Their analysts had to clean it up, but now we can see you, clear as sin.”
Oswald was quiet for a long time. My mind filled in all sorts of details: that he was moving nearer, that he was in fact close enough. What kind of knife did he have? Long and wicked, able to slice through skin like it was butter?
“It must have been someone who looked like me,” Oswald said.
His excuse was so pathetic that I almost laughed. If that was the best he could do, this was going to be a slam dunk.
Corbin pulled me back several more steps.
“You left hair on the scene,” I said. Oswald was rattled, and I was going to use that to my advantage. “Fibers from your clothing. Now LAPD knows who to match it to. But worst of all, you left a witness. Neil.”
“Neil lies,” Oswald yelled. He sounded terrified.
I kept pushing. “He’s giving a sworn statement to the police tomorrow. Now, if this is a misunderstanding, let’s go back to the cars and clear it up.”
Corbin grabbed my arm and jerked me backward. He wasn’t trying to be quiet now, and when Oswald spoke, it was from a few feet away.
“Then Neil is lying.” His voice had stopped trembling. In fact, he seemed steady with resolve.
“Then let’s confront him,” I said, allowing Corbin to continue towing me. We’d reached the trail; I knew by the relative smoothness of the ground under my sneakers and the lack of bushes whipping my legs. “Let’s go down there and talk to him about it. The last thing I need as a PI is to accuse an innocent man of murder. So let’s sort this out like reasonable adults. Maybe you even know who the killer is.”
“Leon Bowlst.”
“The congressman?” I asked, feigning surprise.
“He didn’t want their affair getting out,” Oswald said.
Corbin had managed to put some distance between us and Oswald, which I was grateful for. He pressed the flas
hlight into my hands. He moved my left hand down, making sure I knew where the power switch was. His lips tickled my ear. “Keep moving back down the trail. If anyone touches you—even if you think it’s me—I want you to crack their skull with this. When they go down, switch on the light and run.”
I nodded; he couldn’t see it, but he’d be able to feel it.
Then he was gone. A single snapping twig, but otherwise completely silent, like he was floating over the forest floor.
“Audrey Stroop! Are you there?”
“Yes, I am.” I continued moving. I needed a confession out of Oswald. Right now, I knew he was the killer, but I had no proof. There weren’t any fibers or hairs or incriminating videos, and I couldn’t assume there was a paper trail that might link Oswald to the scene of the crime.
I didn’t know how far we were from the trailhead, but I sensed I was running out of time to make him talk. There were only two motives I could think of: jealousy or greed. If I gambled and guessed the wrong one, then Oswald might conclude I’d lied about the other points as well.
Money or love?
Oswald was vain and superficial, and Sara had hinted that a divorce would hurt him financially. So that was money.
But what if JD had been cheating? Oswald had gotten jealous of JD’s short-lived relationship with the man from six months ago, the one who hadn’t even really looked like Rob. So that was love, or something masquerading as it.
I decided to go for both. “Did it bother you to know that JD had fallen in love with Bowlst?” It felt ludicrous, so over the top that he’d never go for it. If I hadn’t been walking, I would have held my breath.
“What?” Oswald sounded genuinely confused.
Well, fuck. This was why I didn’t gamble. I couldn’t change course now, so I doubled down. “Oh. JD didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Oswald hissed. He sounded like he was pissed, but not because I was close to guessing what had happened that morning. No, I’d made him jealous over a phantom affair.
“About the other guy. Maybe it wasn’t Bowlst. It’s hard to keep them all straight. I guess that’s the problem with dating someone who has sex for money. You can never know—”
“He stopped,” Oswald snarled. He wasn’t taking enough care to be quiet. Branches snapped. Rocks clunked together. He hadn’t found the trail yet, apparently.
Protected by a Dangerous Man Page 18