She shrugged, fighting back disappointed tears. “Hopefully I can make use of something—possibly these phone numbers. Thanks again for letting me look at this stuff.” She handed the box over with a twinge of regret. When the case was finally solved, she’d make sure her sister’s diary made it back to her parents’ house, where it belonged.
“Thanks again for meeting with me last night,” he said in his easygoing manner as he escorted her to the front of the station. Cops and other personnel buzzed around them, talking about cases, their walkie-talkies buzzing in a near-constant static. “I had a lot of fun. I’m just sorry to hear it ended so awfully for you.”
A twinge of guilt flared up in her chest again. Yeah, the dinner hadn’t been a real “date,” but she’d left him and had practically jumped right in Andrew’s arms that night. “I had fun at dinner too,” she said, knowing she sounded lame but not sure what else to say. He’d asked to date her, had left it up to her, but that so wasn’t going to happen now.
So much had changed overnight.
David’s walkie-talkie chirped, then a staticky voice filled the space between them, talking about some sort of domestic violence incident happening a few miles away, on the outskirts of Avon. He pushed the station doors open and let her by then gave her a jaunty salute. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”
She nodded, heading to her car. David would make someone very happy someday. He was a perfect guy.
But not quite the right one for her.
***
The rest of the morning passed fast. Maggie contacted the private investigator—a guy who’d been recommended by her dad—as soon as she got home and sent him scans of everything she’d found in the evidence box, plus the list of party attendees. He said he’d get back to her with any information he dug up, though she knew he probably wouldn’t find much beyond what the police had already discovered. Desperation still made her try.
In the meantime, she had to put her sister’s case aside for a bit and work on a website for a big client. She’d been neglecting her day job, so today would be catch-up day. Thankfully the PI was able to give her a hand on her research.
Elbow-deep in code, Maggie let herself fall into her work and shed her stress for a bit. She liked web design, enjoyed bringing a client’s vision to life. It was a lucrative industry, one that gave her the freedom to exercise her artistic side. Today’s work involved creating the official web page template she’d use for the rest of the client’s website.
As she tweaked the background color, her phone rang. She jumped a bit from the noise disturbing her bedroom’s silence.
“Hello?” she asked, glancing at the time on her laptop. Almost two thirty. She’d worked right through lunch.
“Miss Willings, this is Albert Slater,” the older man said. His voice was gruff, no-nonsense.
Her PI. The pulse at the base of her throat picked up in a nervous flutter. Did he have information for her already? “Oh, I hadn’t expected to hear back from you yet.”
“My assistant had a lull in her schedule today, so I had her get on the phone numbers you sent me from your sister’s cell phone contact list,” he explained. “We cross-checked it against the list of party attendees and uncovered an updated cell phone number for a key witness.” Papers rustled on the background. “It’s for a Mr. Scott Macomber.” He rattled off a ten-digit number, which she jotted down. “He moved a few times plus changed cell phone numbers as well, which was probably why you couldn’t find him through a regular online search. Might be a good place for us to start.”
The guy from high school who’d been with Joel and her brother at the party. Her breath hitched in excitement. Finally, something happening. “Oh God, really? That’s great! I’ll give him a call, then.”
“We’ll keep looking for updated contact information on party attendees you haven’t talked to yet. And I’m working on background checks as well.”
“Thank you so much,” she gushed.
He grunted, “You’re welcome,” and they hung up.
Maggie saved her work progress and closed down the documents. Her fingers were unsteady as she punched in the numbers on the phone. Before she finished typing them, she paused.
Things had gone horribly wrong with Joel. Did Scott know about it? Had they still been in touch? How could she help ensure Scott’s safety while she talked to him—assuming he’d even be willing to talk? God, she hoped so.
She spent a few minutes sorting out and discarding possibilities. She should meet him in a public place, during the day. No clandestine nighttime meetings anymore. And perhaps if she didn’t tell him on the phone why she wanted to meet, just saying she wanted to catch up on old times, it would keep them both safe.
Because it was obvious that Joel had spilled the beans about the meeting to someone before driving out to see her last night—how else would he have been murdered? She hadn’t told a soul, not even her family, so she knew the secret hadn’t come from her.
Keeping Scott out of the loop as much as possible and off everyone else’s radar was the only bet she had at ensuring his safety.
Then a sudden, horrific thought hit her. Maybe Joel hadn’t told anyone at all. Maybe someone had been listening on her cell phone. Could it have been tapped? Or could his have been?
She bit her lip as she stared at the phone, stifling the panicked urge to smash it to pieces. A shiver of fear crept up her spine. But if she were being listened in on and stopped using it altogether, her silence might tip the person off that she knew about it. Maybe she should keep using it for everyday purposes, but she could buy a burner phone to use for her investigatory work.
Anger burned fresh. This was getting jacked up—the whole situation was making her paranoid, and she hated feeling like someone was watching her, eavesdropping on her conversations. The precautions were a necessary evil, though.
Plan decided, she deleted the numbers from her cell and stuck it in her pocket, tucking her computer and all her case notes in a new navy blue bag she’d bought with her replacement laptop. Then she tucked her phone in her purse and headed for Target, where she could get a disposable phone.
Forty-five minutes later, Maggie had her new phone and had fired it up, plugging it into an outlet at a nearby Panera. She sipped her latte and gave the phone a few more minutes to charge, then dialed Scott’s number.
The phone rang several times. Just when she’d been convinced she’d be forwarded to voice mail, someone picked up. “Hello?”
She sucked in a steadying breath. “Hello. Is this Scott? Scott Macomber?”
“Yes,” the guy said, his voice bearing a wary tone. “Is this a bill collector or something? ’Cause I already told you assholes I was on a payment plan.”
“No, no,” she rushed to say. “It’s Maggie Willings. Not sure if you remember me or not, but we went to high school together.”
“Holy shit,” he said, his voice turning light as he let out a shocked laugh. “Talk about a blast from the past. Of course I remember you—and Robert.” He paused, and she knew he was remembering Cassandra too. “Um, how the hell are you doing? And where did you find my number?”
Her stomach tightened. Time to lie. “I’m visiting with my folks for a bit, and one of our old friends gave me your updated contact info. I wanted to give you a call, say hi. Maybe see if we could get together and catch up on old times.”
“Uh, sure. Of course we can.” He sounded surprised, but not displeased about the prospect.
It had worked. The knot in her stomach loosened, and she swallowed, glancing out the massive windows. Cars pulled in and out of the parking lot. No one was paying her a moment of attention.
“So, when can we meet?” she asked, fingers crossed under her table.
“What are you doing today?” he retorted. “I’m actually off right now.” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, got laid off a few months ago, so I’m job hunting. But I have some great prospects.”
Oh God, was he trying to impress her or somethin
g? He’d already thought she was a bill collector. Her stomach sank. Scott wasn’t doing too well, it seemed. If she got her grandfather’s inheritance, maybe she could give him a little bit of money in thanks for his help.
“I’m just chilling at Panera in Avon,” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “Where do you live now?”
“I moved out of town a few years ago,” he responded vaguely. She heard some rustling in the background, drawers opening and closing. “I can meet you in . . . a half hour, if you want.”
She felt horribly guilty, leading him on like this. It was painfully obvious he was expecting the conversation to go one way—one that was favorable for him. But if she was going to get information out of him, she needed to do it in a way that made it look like she wasn’t being too aggressive. She couldn’t scare him off before she picked his brain.
So, flirting it would be.
She lightened her voice. “I’ll hang tight here,” she replied.
“Okay, see you soon.”
They hung up. Maggie put her phone on the table and sipped at her latte, mind whirling. This was going to require a deft hand, getting information out of him without making it look like she was. How the hell was she going to pull this off?
She straightened her back, filled with resolve. Fate was giving her another chance. She couldn’t afford to blow it now, not when so much was on the line. After digging into her purse for her old phone, she sent Andrew a quick text saying she looked forward to seeing him tonight. If there was spyware on her cell, she couldn’t reveal anything about her meeting. And surely Andrew wouldn’t be pissed when she explained her suspicions about her phone.
Then she sat back and waited with bated breath for Scott to arrive.
Chapter 16
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Scott proclaimed as he slid into the booth. He, however, looked like the strain of the last few years hadn’t been kind to him. He had a paunch, and had thinning hair on top of his head. His eyes were hooded, with bags under them. Still, he bore the same swagger she remembered from high school.
Maggie shifted a bit in her seat and gave him a warm smile, nudging a plastic cup filled with coffee across the table toward him. “So glad you made it. I got you a coffee—figured you might be ready for a pick-me-up.” She had decided she’d move away from the window, just in case. So they were nestled at a table in the back of the room, where she kept her back to the wall. Able to see everything as they talked.
He took a sip and sighed. “Perfect. So, what can I do ya for?”
Her pulse kicked up a notch as her heart fluttered in her chest. “Oh, geez,” she said with a giggle, sipping her own coffee and peeking at him over the rim of the cup. He was staring hard at her. “I just wanted to catch up on old times. Find out what happened to you since I left.”
He shrugged. “Moved around after school to look for work. I came back home and went to work for my dad for a while, then got a job in telecommunications. Stayed there a few years until . . .” He gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “Well, you already know how that ended up.”
“How is your dad?” she asked politely.
“Still as mean as ever.” He snorted.
Time to start working their way back to the past. “Remember that time he grounded you from leaving the house, so you waited until he was asleep and stole his car? And then you and Robert went on a mini–road trip to the country?”
He let out a full belly laugh. “Oh my God, I forgot about that. Hell, I think we were only thirteen or fourteen at the time. He was pissed when I got home.”
“Probably because you hit the tree as you were pulling in,” she replied drolly, taking another measured sip of her coffee. Her pulse steadied just a bit as she saw him visibly relax into their conversation.
“Shit, Robert told you about that, huh?” he said, giving a chagrined smile and rubbing his free hand across the back of his neck. “We got into some really stupid things back then.”
“Oh, Cassandra and I had our flare-ups of being dumb too,” she said casually.
His spine stiffened just a bit, his gaze skittering off to the side, but he recovered fast from the mention of her sister and took a big gulp of his black coffee. “She was a wild one, from what I remembered.”
How wild had she been? Were there things Maggie didn’t know about Cassandra? The DNA results throbbed insistently in the back of her mind. “She loved hanging out with you guys,” she said in what she hoped was a light tone.
His eyes hooded with a pinch of sorrow. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he replied. “About . . . you know.”
She made herself reach over and squeeze his hand, like she was stealing a bit of comfort from his presence. Something in his eyes turned dark and fixed on her, and she fought the creepy shiver that slid across her skin. “I know. We all are.” She sighed and withdrew her hand before he noticed anything off. “I just . . . I feel like I never got any resolution. Andrew and I had broken up that night, you know, so I wasn’t at the party.” She made herself pause and stare down at the table, then look up at him in surprise. “Oh, you were there, weren’t you? With Robert?”
He shifted in his seat, his lips thinning as his gaze scattered across the room. “Yeah, but I was so trashed. I barely remember anything.”
The drunken part correlated with what the police officer had written in the report. She fought the urge to lean across the table and demand he tell her everything. Patience, she chastised herself. Forcing him to talk wouldn’t work. “Oh, Robert doesn’t either,” she said soothingly. “No one blames you guys for what happened.”
He turned his attention back to her eyes, and in their depths she saw an emotion she couldn’t identify. “Yeah, that’s true. We told the cops everything we knew.”
“Oh, I know you did,” she continued, patting his hand again with the tips of her fingers then dropping it down to her lap, wiping her damp palms on her jeans. She was suddenly sweaty, nervous energy pouring off her in waves. Could he tell how she felt? “So . . .” She paused. “What do you recall from that night? It just kills me that I wasn’t there, and maybe if I heard your story, it might help me be able to let this go and move on.”
He sucked in a deep breath and remained silent for several painstakingly long moments. Maggie made herself casually sip at her coffee, despite the sense of urgency thrumming in her veins. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk. Well, too damned bad.
Scott shrugged and slipped his heavy black jacket off. He had on a faded flannel shirt, a rectangular bulge in the front pocket. She saw his fingers twitch toward the pack of smokes, then touch down on the table.
An idea came to Maggie.
She gave a light laugh. “But before we get into all of this heavy talk, do you . . .” She gave a coy smile and glanced away. “Please don’t tell anyone, but I started smoking a few years ago. Helped to ease my stress, yanno. I don’t suppose you do? Haven’t had a chance to get a new pack yet, especially with my folks always around.”
The tension streamed out of his body and he chuckled. “Actually, I do. Was just thinking of grabbing a smoke myself. Wanna go outside?”
“I’d love to,” she gushed, like he’d just done her the biggest favor.
They got their things, donned their coats and headed through Panera’s back door, walking in the chilly afternoon air toward the far wall. No one else was outside. Behind them was a dense row of trees.
Privacy.
Now Maggie just had to fake like she was a natural smoker.
He whipped out two cigarettes from his pack and pressed his back against the brick wall, lighting both and handing one to her. She rested it between her fingers and mimicked his body language, leaning beside him and taking a few small puffs. The air was so cold it made her look like she was breathing out more smoke than she really was. For once, she thanked Ohio’s brisk fall air.
“Maggie, I never would have guessed you were a smoker,” he finally said, sighing in relief as he took a long drag and e
xhaled.
“I’m a surprise a minute,” she replied. Hell, she was even surprising herself.
“I don’t actually remember a lot about that night, you know.” There was a note of sadness in his voice.
Maggie made herself stay still, just listening. Letting him speak at his own pace.
“Your brother showed up with your sister,” he continued, his eyes fixed straight ahead at the trees. “She looked so cute in that pink shirt and skirt, and several guys were checking her out.” He shot her an apologetic glance. She tamped down the swell of protective anger that surged and responded with a go-on nod. “Your brother and I were in the far corner of the barn, getting wasted on the keg one of our other teammates had brought.”
She swallowed, making herself take a hit of smoke that she pulled into her cheeks then blew out. Hopefully Scott wouldn’t notice how awkward she was with it—but if she drew the smoke deep into her lungs, a coughing fit would instantly give her away.
“The night went on. Your sister was dancing with a lot of people—guys, girls, just having fun and being . . . you know, her.” He took a puff of his cigarette, breathing out the smoke as he continued talking. “She had several beers in a short time, if I remember right.” He gave Maggie an apologetic glance. “Plus she took a few hits from some other . . . recreational things.”
Her heart slammed in her chest, but she made herself nod. “Yeah, I remember hearing about that,” she lied.
No one she’d interviewed so far who had gone to the party had told her that her sister had done drugs too. Was it really true? The ground beneath Maggie was constantly shifting as she learned more and more truths about that night. She was a little afraid of what information would crop up next.
His shoulders drew up, and a line marred his heavy brow. “We were all a little . . . jacked up. The last I remember of your sister that night is that she slipped outside with some guy after a group of people had taken the party out into the woods. It was late, after midnight then. I think.” He dropped his cigarette to the concrete and smashed it beneath the toe of his worn tennis shoes. “I ended up passing out on a raggedy old couch—not sure what time that was. Next thing I knew, it was early morning, and Cassandra hadn’t come back inside. She was just . . . gone.”
The Inheritance Part III Page 3