Notorious

by Allison Brennan

  She wanted to believe him. She could hardly breathe thinking he could have done that to Lindy.

  “As long as you’re not lying to me, I’ll keep the information to myself. But if you’re lying, William, by what you say or don’t say, all promises are off.”

  Chapter Ten

  Max parked her rental across the street from Atherton Prep because it was technically in the city of Menlo Park and not Atherton. There was no street parking allowed in Atherton except in rare, designated areas. After her run-in with Grant and Sherman she didn’t want to tempt fate. And parking in the construction area after seeing the security in place, no way. She wasn’t even certain she wouldn’t be caught on camera along the west fence, except that she hadn’t seen any outside of the construction zone.

  She took off her colorful scarf and slipped on the black blazer she’d worn to Kevin’s funeral. No reason she needed to stand out, considering that now she truly intended to trespass.

  One of the benefits of having gone to school at ACP was that Max knew all the secret pathways. The school itself was a sprawling campus with six separate, architecturally attractive buildings. The two original buildings, which had been built more than a hundred years ago and renovated to maintain their old, early twentieth-century appearance, housed the administration offices and the English classes. The other four buildings, built over time from the late 1940s until the most recent state-of-the-art math and science lab that had been built during Max’s first year at ACP, highlighted the contemporary style of the decade in which they were built, while keeping details of the past.

  The sports complex was on the opposite end of the campus, and that’s where Max was headed, but she hadn’t wanted to park near the construction entrance because of the security cameras she’d noted when she spoke with the project manager earlier. Instead, she walked along the bike path that wove around the perimeter. Max stayed on the side, among the elm and birch trees, until she reached the backside of the old gym.

  She surveyed the buildings looking for security and found it—every door to the old gym was secured with a keypad. Definitely new since she’d graduated.

  Max walked around the back of the gym to where a door led to a corridor connecting the other athletic buildings, including the locker rooms and the indoor swimming pool, where Lindy’s body had been found.

  Max had come for one reason—she wanted to see how close Lindy’s backyard and clubhouse was to the pool. She walked from the pool house to the back fence. It was thick with trees, even though the grounds and foliage were well groomed. Fifty feet to the fence.

  Max took out her cell phone and retrieved a map of the area. She pinpointed the Ames house and the school. A blue dot showed Max where she was standing, the wonders of GPS. It wasn’t accurate to the foot, but it was close.

  The Ames property shared a rear property line with the school. The Ames’s vast backyard was on the other side of this stone fence.

  Max walked along the ten-foot-tall fence. It would be difficult to scale and impossible to see through. Plus, she didn’t know if the Ames family had security on the fence, but she had to assume that they did.

  She stopped walking and pictured Lindy’s clubhouse, her sanctuary, and where it was located in relation to the yard. She looked again at her map and walked back toward the pool house, then stepped away from the fence and looked up.

  It was dark, the security lighting from the school building shining down, not up at the trees. But there was a structure there, surrounded by a dense group of redwood trees. The trees were so familiar, Max was certain she was right, but she needed to confirm her memories. It had been a long time since she’d been a regular visitor to Lindy’s clubhouse.

  Max pocketed her phone and surveyed the area around her. No bright lights, no sign that anyone was around. There were several magnolia trees to the left, not directly behind what Max believed was the clubhouse, but close enough that if she got high enough, she’d be able to confirm she was right.

  Climbing trees was like riding a bike, but unwise to do in heels. She slid out of her two-inch pumps and pulled herself up to the first thick branch. Her heart raced, exhilarated, reminding her of when she first became an investigative reporter. When she didn’t have the obligation of the cable show, when she didn’t have staff who depended on her, when she didn’t have any responsibilities to anyone, only to herself and her drive to learn the truth. She’d been reckless, brash, and free.

  She missed it.

  She climbed higher than she needed to, mostly because she could and the sensation of height was freeing. The headache that had plagued her since she’d left the Ames house had disappeared and in a moment of clarity, Max saw what she might have been doing had she said no to Ben two years ago. More undercover work. Fewer responsibilities. More freedom.

  Max didn’t like supernatural anything, from movies to television to the plethora of ghost hunters and paranormal activities people claimed to have witnessed. But she’d been drawn to the television show The X-Files because of Fox Mulder’s tagline: “The truth is out there.” She didn’t believe the truth was in outer space or in some military complex doing experiments on aliens, but she did believe that the truth was knowable, that it would set those trapped by lies free.

  And from her vantage point halfway up the magnolia tree, Max saw the truth.

  Lindy’s clubhouse was directly behind ACP’s pool house. Behind the clubhouse, Max could see the lights from the Ames’s sprawling home. Ground lighting, lights in the trees, lights from the deck, lights from the windows.

  And behind the house, a well-lit, black-bottomed swimming pool.

  What if Lindy had died in her own pool and someone moved her body to the pool house? Why? Forensic tests could have proven which pool she’d drowned in. But because her death had been ruled strangulation, had either pool been tested? Television shows showed the cops and CSIs going through every possible permutation of the crime, leaving no stone unturned, but reality was much, much different.

  Kevin’s attorney had said the Atherton Police Department had bungled the case and not turned it over to Menlo Park for twelve hours after the body was discovered. If there had been evidence in Lindy’s clubhouse, had it been removed or contaminated? Not by the cops specifically, but perhaps by someone who shouldn’t have had access. There was no way of knowing, short of tracking down the responding officers and asking them. And that would hardly work, considering Max’s accusations of incompetence wouldn’t make them willing to talk.

  Max’s instincts twitched again. If William was telling the truth and he’d left Lindy alive at twelve fifteen the night she died, there was no reason for her to go to the high school pool. She had her own swimming pool. Her parents hadn’t been home. Her older brother was in college on the East Coast. So why would she leave her property to meet someone?

  Yet, if someone had strangled Lindy to the point of unconsciousness on her own property, how would they get her body to the high school? If the killer was trying to destroy evidence, why not dump the body in her own pool? Had he or she intended to make it look like an accident?

  What had seemed so clear a moment before was now murky.

  Max’s vibrating phone startled her. She balanced her body against the trunk and pulled it out.

  “Hello,” she answered, her voice low and quiet.

  “Um, is this Maxine Revere?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Dru Parker, we met this morning at Evergreen? Why did you call the police?”

  Max had pegged the situation from the minute she talked to Nick Santini. She would have patted herself on the back if she wasn’t up a tree.

  “I’m a reporter. I talk to a lot of people.”

  “That detective was waiting at my house when I got off of work! Do you know what this means?” She sounded both angry and scared. “You’re messing with my life. I’m freaked. I told him I didn’t know what you wanted, but that you scared me because you were following me.”

  �
�I didn’t follow you.”

  “You know what I mean. If they find out the police are talking to me—oh, God, I don’t know what to do!”

  “So you do you know something about Jason’s murder?”

  Her voice cracked. “You gotta help me. I’m scared.” She sniffed loudly and that’s when Max realized Dru was on the verge of hysterics.

  “Dru, calm down.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Yes, you can. Where do you live? I can meet you there.”

  “No! I have roommates.”

  “Dru, listen to me,” Max said sternly. “I’ll help you, but you have to get your act together. Calm down.”

  “Okay, okay,” she repeated.

  “Where’s someplace you feel safe?”

  “I’ll go visit my mom—that’s it.”

  “Hold it. If you have information about Jason’s murder, you need to tell someone. If his killer thinks you’re a threat, you’re in danger unless you tell someone what you know.”

  “I’ll tell you—I don’t know who killed Jason, okay? But there were some weird things going on the week he died, and I think it might be connected, okay? But I don’t know how…” Her voice trailed off.

  Max thought she’d hung up. “Dru?”

  “My mom lives in San Francisco. I’ll meet you at the Caltrain station in Redwood City—you know where that is, right? By Sequoia High?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Good. There’s a Starbucks there. Twenty minutes.”

  “Wait for me,” Max said. “It’ll take me thirty.”

  She hung up and looked down. Getting down from the tree was going to be harder than climbing up.

  Chapter Eleven

  It took Max thirty-five minutes to get out of the tree, walk to her car, and drive to the Starbucks across from the Caltrain bus terminal in nearby Redwood City. She didn’t see Dru when she entered. She waited a few moments in case the girl was watching from outside, then Max walked to the counter and ordered a half-caff latte.

  She asked the clerk, “Did you see a girl about nineteen or twenty with long, straight blond hair and brown eyes?”

  He stared at her blankly. “We get a lot of people in here, ma’am.”

  “She would have been here not more than twenty minutes ago.”

  He shrugged.

  Without looking up from the machine, the barista asked, “What was her name?”

  “Dru.”

  The woman nodded. “Iced white mocha with caramel. First drink I made after my break.”

  “Did you see her leave?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Max put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar, collected her drink, and sat down at one of the tables where she could watch the door.

  A text message from David popped up.

  Evergreen was on the verge of bankruptcy before Jasper Pierce put together the deal with Archer Sterling and Cho Architectural. There was no bidding process—seems odd.

  Definitely worth noting. And based on what Uncle Archer said tonight, the whole idea was Jasper Pierce’s. Archer was just the money guy. She needed to talk to Pierce—there might not be anything to the story, or there might be a secret worth killing to keep. She’d seen it far too many times to make the motive original.

  She sent David a note about what Dru had told her over the phone and that she was meeting her at Starbucks.

  She tried Dru’s cell phone. It rang five times, then voice mail picked up. Max didn’t leave a message.

  Her phone rang almost immediately. She thought it was Dru; caller ID told her it was David.

  “Hello, dear,” she teased.

  “I looked into the Parker girl, too, after you sent me her last name. Parents divorced. One older sister named Gina who lives in L.A. She lives with two other college girls, all working part time and going to school part time. I’ll send you her address and the names of her roommates.”

  “Thanks.”

  “One interesting thing I learned—her car is registered to a business, DL Environmental.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  “They have a Web site. Not much on it. Pictures of college-aged kids protesting this and that.” She could practically hear the eye roll in his voice.

  “If you have time tonight, see if you can dig into them a little deeper.” She stepped outside of the coffee house and looked around the parking lot. She didn’t see Dru’s bright yellow VW parked anywhere. Damn, had she really left to stay with her mother? Was she now avoiding Max’s calls because she changed her mind?

  She asked, “Anything about Roger Lawrence?”

  “He’s been with Evergreen for over fifteen years. Married twenty years. Two kids, both in high school. Nothing that seems out of place. Doesn’t live above his means.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You’re skeptical?”

  “Curious.” Max saw a sign that indicated there was underground parking. “Okay, you’re officially off duty, Kane. If I hear from you again, you’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me.”

  “I can make your life a living hell.”

  He laughed, then said, “Watch your back with Parker.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Max hung up and tossed her empty cup in a nearby trash can as she approached the parking lot stairwell. It was well lit and there were security cameras on the door. She went down the stairs. The lot, primarily for Caltrains parking, was built under a discount drugstore. She immediately spotted Dru’s car next to the stairwell, where most of the cars were clustered.

  Dru wasn’t in it.

  Inside the car was a half-empty Starbucks cup, the ice still solid.

  Dru had ordered her drink then what—gone to her car to wait? Why park down here? Max could think of one good reason—if Dru really was scared of someone, her car stood out. Parking down here would minimize being seen.

  Caltrains parking. Dammit, she must have left on a train. Max pulled out her phone to find the train schedule. She hadn’t heard one since she pulled into the parking lot twelve minutes ago.

  There was no train scheduled until after nine that evening; it was eight thirty now. Max walked around Dru’s car and looked in the back. There was a suitcase on the backseat.

  The hair on her arms rose. Car, suitcase, melting drink—no girl. She dialed Dru’s cell phone again.

  She heard a musical chime three cars over.

  Max took out the stun gun she had carried with her since college. Not the exact same Taser, she’d upgraded, but it was the only weapon she’d ever felt comfortable carrying. She’d only used it once before, but she wouldn’t hesitate if she had cause.

  She saw the blood before she saw Dru’s body, lying between two parked cars. Before she could check her pulse, headlights flashed bright and tires squealed from a car parked directly opposite her.

  Max had little time to react. She could see nothing, blinded by the high beams, but while she jumped between the two cars where Dru’s body lay dying, she tried to picture the car. Dark. Tinted windows. Four-door sedan.

  The sedan turned rapidly to avoid a collision, but fishtailed and the rear driver’s side hit the back of one of the parked cars. Max ducked, in case the driver had a gun. She peered carefully over the trunk of the vehicle, blinking rapidly to get rid of the flashes of light the high beams left in her eyes. She couldn’t make out more than a B and 8 or 3 in the license plate, and even then she wasn’t 100 percent certain she read it right. The attacker drove rapidly out of the parking garage.

  Heart pounding heavily in her chest, Max leaned over Dru and felt for a pulse. She had one. Max pulled out her cell phone to call 911, then put the phone on speaker. Carefully, she turned Dru from her side to her back to find out where all this blood was coming from. The girl moaned, but didn’t regain consciousness. Blood had soaked her T-shirt, but it seemed to be coming from her lower abdomen. Max took off her scarf, wadded it up, and applied pressure on Dru’s stomach while talking to the dispatcher, identif
ying herself and telling her to send an ambulance and the police.

  “Dammit, Dru, why’d you park down here? What were you thinking?” Max muttered.

  “Ms. Revere? I missed that.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Max told the dispatcher.

  “Can you apply pressure to the wound?”

  “I’m doing that.”

  “Is the victim conscious?”

  “No.”

  “Does she have a pulse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know what type of injury?”

  “Someone either shot or stabbed her in her lower abdomen, there’s a lot of blood, she’s going to die if the ambulance doesn’t get here immediately.” The warm blood had seeped through Max’s scarf and coated her hands. She thought the flow had slowed, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “An ambulance has been dispatched and is en route.”

  “ETA?”

  “Three minutes.”

  Max didn’t know if Dru had already lost too much blood to survive.

  She glanced around, making sure there wasn’t anyone else she had to worry about sneaking up on her. Her Taser was on, but she’d put it on the ground next to her to tend to Dru. Max glanced under all the cars and didn’t see anyone lying in wait. She heard voices coming down the stairwell. Laughter, male and female. When the couple walked by, they jumped at the sight of Max huddled over a bleeding body. The man stepped in front of the woman and said, “Are you okay?”

  “Does it look like I’m okay?” Max snapped. She took a deep breath. “Police are on their way.” She was definitely on edge. It didn’t help that she had a throbbing headache and an edge of adrenaline clinging from the near miss with the black sedan and holding Dru’s life in her hands.

  Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, dammit!

  Dru was so young, her life just getting started, Max willed her to survive, to be strong.

  “If you have a blanket in your car, that would help. And if one of you could run up the ramp and flag down the ambulance so they know exactly where we are, that would be great.

  They glanced at each other, then the man said, “Okay.”