Notorious

by Allison Brennan

  She was surprised and pleased at his thoughtfulness. “And here I didn’t think to get you anything.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “I’m surprised you’re in such good humor.”

  “You caught me at the right time then. And I had pen and paper.” She smiled at the guard. “Thank you for that.”

  “Thank the detective,” the guard said.

  Now Max didn’t know what to say. How did he know she needed an outlet to keep her from going stir-crazy?

  Nick leaned over and whispered, “You can thank me later.”

  Nick didn’t look like he’d gotten much more sleep than she did. He walked her through the release process, and drove her back to the hotel through a thick morning fog. “Beck was pulled from the Ames case; I’m working it. I sure didn’t make any friends in the process.”

  “I appreciate it. Fresh eyes—you’ll solve it.”

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence, but knowing who killed her and proving it are completely different things.”

  “Boy, do I know that.”

  He glanced at her. “What does that mean?”

  “My college roommate, Karen—I know who killed her, the FBI knows who killed her, but there was no evidence, nothing but circumstantial evidence at best. And no body. They wouldn’t take it to trial. He’s walking free today, the bastard.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want that to happen here. If my cousin is guilty, he needs to be charged.”

  “I can’t talk to you about this case, not anymore.”

  “I understand.” She understood on an intellectual level, but emotionally she had a hundred questions that she knew Nick wouldn’t answer.

  Nick pulled into the Stanford Park parking lot and turned off the ignition. “I’m meeting with William first thing this morning, I agreed to go to his office.”

  “That’s more than he deserves, if he’s a killer.”

  “He’s cooperating. Andrew Talbot isn’t. I have your statement about what Talbot said—are you okay with this?”

  “Yes. And I’m sure a half-dozen other people heard our conversation at the airport.”

  “Family can be complicated—”

  “Just prove it, okay? No doubts. William is a kind person. He’s also weak. He’s never stood up to anyone, not when they pushed back. I can’t reconcile what I know about him with someone who can strangle his girlfriend to death. He’d known Lindy his entire life. She was my friend.” Max unconsciously rubbed the tattoo on her lower stomach, a tangible memory of one of the best weeks of her life.

  “If he doesn’t talk, unless we find physical evidence—highly doubtful this long after the murder—there’s not going to be anything to charge him with.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “I’m not going to fabricate evidence.”

  “That’s not what I mean!” She turned in her seat and took his hand. Squeezed it, to show she was serious. “Kevin O’Neal’s life was ruined because nearly everyone in this town thought he was a killer. I don’t want that for William. Andy already believes William is guilty.”

  “Unless he’s the one who killed Lindy and is trying to confuse us.”

  “But it will be hanging over William and his family for the rest of his life. He has two young boys. You know how kids are—they’ll be teased and talked about and grow up hearing all these things about their father. I don’t want that. Either William is guilty, and you need to prove it, or he’s innocent, and you need to prove it!”

  “You may be asking for the impossible.”

  “I’m not leaving until the truth comes out.”

  “And what if it never does?”

  “I can’t accept that.”

  “You should know that Beck searched your hotel room and took the boxes from the storage unit and your boards.”

  He reached back into the rear seat and pulled up her laptop. She stared at it. “He went through my laptop?”

  “No—the lab had it. He tried, but couldn’t crack your password.” Nick was trying to make light of the situation, but Max was livid.

  “Those were my personal boards. He had no right.”

  “They’re in my office, and I will return them tonight. I would have done it this morning, but I got sidetracked—”

  “It’s okay,” she snapped. She tried not to be angry with Nick. It wasn’t his fault Beck got the warrant—illegally—and went through her things.

  “I understand how you feel.”

  “I don’t like anyone going through my notes. My ideas. That’s my life.”

  Nick’s phone rang and he said, “Damn, I have to take this, stay—we’re not done with this conversation.”

  He got out of the car and paced. Max watched. He was angry. His face was hard, his body all angles and rigid lines. When he was done with the call he stood outside in the fog, not seeming to care that it was cold and damp.

  She used the time to control her anger at the violation she felt. She had to separate Nick from his job, from Harry Beck.

  He finally got back into the car. “I have to go. I’ll tell you what I can, but don’t expect all the answers.”

  “Was that about the case? Bad news?”

  “It was personal.” He added, “It’s not about the case.”

  Max made no move to get out of the car. She was intrigued by Nick Santini, and she wanted to know what made him both lose his temper and look like he’d lost his best friend.

  “My ex-wife,” he finally said. He wasn’t looking at Max, and his eyes were damp. He took a deep breath. “She’s moving again. Says she’s getting married.” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

  “You still love her?”

  “Hell no. I couldn’t care less about her remarriage. But she’s taking my son. Again.”

  He took a deep breath. “I moved here three years ago because she wanted to raise Logan closer to her parents. I get that, even though my family is in L.A. We were divorced, she wanted to be with her mom and sister. I didn’t like it, but I made it work. I knew unless I moved close to her, I’d never see my son except a couple of times a year. I couldn’t fly or drive up every other weekend, not with my crazy schedule. Now I have to do it all over again. After I finally get settled here, I’m going to have to try to get into Denver. It’s not that easy to transfer, especially out of state.”

  “When is she leaving?”

  “Right after school’s out. Six weeks.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Yeah. Well, I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you.”

  Max saw a side of Nick that she hadn’t before—or that she’d only caught glimpses of. That he would change jobs, forsake promotions and seniority, to be with his son showed his true character. She said, “Denver’s nice. Do you ski?”

  “Not for years.”

  “When you get settled, maybe I can come for a visit and reteach you. I’m a wicked good cross-country skier.” She smiled, though it felt forced.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” But he was looking at his phone again. “Max, this is the lab.”

  “I’m gone.” She got out of the Bronco and went into the hotel. She glanced back over her shoulder and Nick was writing something frantically in his notebook, his cell phone propped up by his shoulder.

  He had news.

  Max itched to know what it was, but she understood that her personal connection to the suspect kept her out of the loop.

  When Max stepped in her hotel room, the anger returned. Housekeeping had straightened the mess, but dammit, it wasn’t fair, having her privacy violated by that jackass Beck.

  She closed her eyes. “Grow up,” she told herself. Life certainly wasn’t fair, and she had to trust that Nick would bring back her notes. She plugged her laptop into its charger, relieved that at least her primary work was protected.

  She showered, then changed into clean clothes. The bed looked inviting, but she had work to do. She typed up the notes she’d written last night for the article she wanted to wri
te about Jason Hoffman and his senseless murder. She talked to Ben, then her attorney, then David. She repeated everything three times, and wished she’d just put them all on a conference call. She was fine. She was out of the loop because her cousin was a suspect, she was safe. Ben pushed her about doing a show on the Lindy Ames case, and she refused, but told him about the article she was writing about Jason Hoffman. That marginally satisfied him. David was boarding a plane in Hawaii and offered to cancel the Giants game that night; Max said that wasn’t necessary and to call her tomorrow.

  The only thing she didn’t tell anyone was that she wasn’t leaving until she had answers. If it took a year, it would take a year.

  And they would all just have to live with it.

  By the time she was done with the shower and calls, it was nearly noon. She called William’s cell phone; he didn’t answer. She called his office; his secretary said he was gone for the day. Max didn’t know whether to believe her, but she was inclined to—if Nick had interviewed William, it would throw her cousin off enough where he wouldn’t be able to concentrate. She’d check his house.

  She really didn’t want to confront him with Caitlin hovering around being the worried, protective, passive-aggressive wife, but she didn’t have much of a choice, especially if he wasn’t answering his phone.

  Max still had her grandmother’s Jag. Driving in it reminded Max how much she loved sporty cars, and missed having her own. But in New York City, she didn’t need a car, and she didn’t want the headache of storing one. When she traveled, she rented. When she was on a long-term assignment, she leased.

  The attack that totaled her rental, however much it wasn’t her fault, was going to make leasing future cars far more expensive.

  William and Caitlin lived in a grand house around the corner from Eleanor’s estate. The estate was definitely more Caitlin, with luxurious everything—though William made a six-figure salary at his law firm, plus ample bonuses, he couldn’t afford to buy or maintain the house. The house had been a wedding present from Caitlin’s family, and William’s trust fund ran the place. It bordered on ostentatious, unlike the quiet money of her grandmother’s home.

  Max walked up to the front door and knocked.

  Caitlin opened it and slapped her.

  Max would have stopped the blow had she been expecting it, but even she was surprised at Caitlin’s sudden move.

  “Touch me again, and I will put you on the ground,” Max said.

  “Get out of here. You’re not welcome.”

  Max walked in. “Where’s William?”

  “He doesn’t want to talk to you.” Caitlin tried to push Max back out the door, but Max grabbed her wrist and held tight.

  “Caitlin, Maxine, please stop.” William stepped into the entry and stared at Max. His eyes were bloodshot and he had a Scotch and ice—mostly Scotch—in his glass. It was twelve thirty.

  “She’s destroying our family!”

  Max ignored her and stared at William. She really, really looked at him.

  For years, she’d trusted her instincts about people. Perhaps, fighting her inclination to distrust people, she relied on her gut feelings.

  But family was different. Family members weren’t strangers, they had history and baggage and secrets. With all their shared history, the dreams they’d discussed, the times they snuck out of their houses and met up to swim in the lake under the moonlight, long before they were truly aware of who they were, their similarities and differences, could Max stand here and look at William as a killer?

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  William nodded and turned toward his study. Caitlin tried to follow, but Max stopped her. “This is between William and me,” she said.

  Caitlin ignored her, until William nodded. His wife looked pained and betrayed. Then she stomped down the hall, angry. A moment later a door slammed somewhere in the house.

  William closed the double doors, refilled his half-empty glass, and sat down heavily on the couch. His normally impeccable suit was rumpled, his tie misaligned. This was her GQ cousin, who never had a hair out of place, looking like a worn salesman.

  Max didn’t know what to say.

  “Andy thinks I killed Lindy,” William said bluntly.

  “Did you?”

  He shook his head and looked like he was going to cry. William had always been sensitive, even when being a cad. He teared up at movies. He didn’t like violence. He told Max two years ago, when she visited for Thea’s wedding, that the best thing about having two boys was that he could be here for them like his father wasn’t there for William. Except for college, William had never lived more than two miles from his father, yet Brooks Revere might as well have lived on another continent for all the attention he paid to his son.

  Except William was falling into the same patterns as Brooks. Infidelity being the number one similarity. Did William not see that he was becoming his dad?

  “I told you before, and I’ll tell you now, and I’ll tell anyone who asks, I didn’t kill Lindy. I’m stunned and hurt that Andy thinks I did. That he thinks I’m capable of, of strangling her. You know me, Max. At least, I thought you did. I always thought you could read my mind when we were younger, that you knew what I was thinking even if I said something different.”

  “So did I.”

  “You did. Really. I don’t like my sister. Nora’s rigid and judgmental and mean. You were always more of a sister to me than she ever was.”

  “Nora used to rat us out for breaking the rules. Like when we snuck out and took Brooks’s car to San Francisco for the day.”

  “Neither of us had our license.”

  “We had a blast.”

  “I was grounded for a month.”

  “A month? I was grounded for two.”

  “They like me more.” He gave her a wistful smile.

  “Tell me what you and Lindy were fighting about the night she died.”

  “I told you—I wanted to go public with our relationship.”

  “Weren’t you dating Caitlin?”

  “Not then—we’d broken up after prom, remember?”

  “Why’d you and Caitlin break up?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “William, you know, this will all come out eventually. If you can’t tell me, you’re only going to make everything worse. Let me help you.”

  “Caitlin was clingy—I wanted to end it before college. So I told Caitlin we needed time apart. She was cool with it, and then she started dating what’s his name, um—”

  “Peter something.”

  “Right. He was at Stanford.”

  “She wanted to make you jealous.”

  William dismissed that. “I told Lindy that I was going to break up with Caitlin, and when she and Kevin broke up I thought she was ready to be with me. Because Lindy and I knew when we left for college, that would be it. But, she was mad about this other girl I dated for a while. It wasn’t serious, I swear, and it was over, but she wouldn’t let it go.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wasn’t always faithful.”

  “You still aren’t,” she said. He looked stricken, but Max knew that finally, now was the time that William needed to turn his life around. “I love you, William. I always have. You’re going to get through this, and you need to make some changes. Like firing Minnie.”

  “This has nothing to do with that.”

  She didn’t know what to say to make him understand, maybe he never would.

  He stared at her, his eyes pleading with her. “Do you believe me, Max? Do you have the faith in me that you had in Kevin O’Neal?”

  What was she supposed to say? No? Yes? I don’t know? She wanted desperately to believe William. But she didn’t understand him. She didn’t understand why he cheated on Caitlin, why he had slept with Lindy when she was dating Kevin, and all the other girls he’d been with in high school and presumably in college. She didn’t understand why he was sleeping with his secretary, and why he didn’t see that he was becoming just like Brooks.<
br />
  But she knew him, and he was gentle. Could he strangle Lindy with his hands? Never showing regret? Never questioning where Lindy’s body had been found? Not say anything when another man was tried for her murder?

  The William she knew might have—might have—killed Lindy if he snapped in anger, but it would have been an accident. The perpetual silence would have eaten him up. He was a mess now, knowing what his best friend had done, what his best friend believed about him. That Andy had destroyed evidence because he thought he was protecting William. If he had killed Lindy, he would have been a far worse mess thirteen years ago.

  There was another car, an unfamiliar car, in the driveway.

  “I believe you, William,” she said before her brain decided to say it.

  Then he started crying and Max didn’t know what to do. She walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him.

  * * *

  Max drove by Kepler’s and found Jodi working. “Do you have a minute?” Max asked her.

  “You have news.” Jodi looked hopeful.

  “Yes, I have some information. Let’s get coffee.”

  They walked next door, but because of the chill in the air, they sat inside the coffee shop. After ordering coffee and a muffin, Max said, “The police know that Kevin didn’t kill Lindy.”

  Jodi looked at her skeptically. “I don’t understand.”

  “They don’t know who killed Lindy, but they found the anonymous caller who placed Kevin at the school the night she died, and he lied. Detective Beck has been removed from the investigation. I don’t have all the answers, but his name will be cleared.”

  Tears were streaming down her face. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything.” Max sipped her coffee because this second part was going to be harder.

  “Who did kill her?” Jodi asked.

  Max considered telling her, but that would simply start even more rumors. She didn’t know what would be in the press tomorrow, if anything, about Nick’s investigation into William and Andy, but that was something she would deal with tomorrow.

  “The police are questioning several people, and when I know for certain, I will tell you. But I don’t want to spread a rumor that might not be true.”