by Merit Clark
Chris started to say “I can’t believe” again and Evan held up a hand to stop him.
“We’re at a stalemate. You can’t see what Shaun is capable of. Although you have no trouble believing”—Evan emphasized the word sarcastically—“that I’m capable.”
“My mom saw the blood when she went up to clean. She thought she was doing you a favor.”
Evan’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open, a pantomime of wounded pride. “Unbelievable. Does your whole family think I’m a killer?”
Chris couldn’t meet Evan’s eyes. He looked down and unrolled the napkin that was wrapped around his silverware. He scraped at something on the knife with his thumbnail. “I don’t know what to bel—think.”
“The detective seemed smart, didn’t he? You think it took some kind of brilliance to figure things out the way he did? You’ve been around small-town losers too long. Those big city homicide detectives don’t screw around. You’d best figure out how to be professional and offer him all of the cooperation that you can muster. Now if there’s nothing else—”
“Corie was there.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Evan’s stomach lurched. He thought about all of the blood and he tried to remember exactly how he left the cabin.
“She was there with my mom cleaning when the deputies showed up to serve the warrant.”
“Cleaning? What the fuck?”
Chris shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know why she was there. She told my mom she came to get some of her things.”
With an effort, Evan kept his breathing even. “Tell me exactly when Corie got there and how much your mom had gotten done. And why, in God’s name, she let my wife clean.”
Chris licked his lips. “I don’t know. Mom said Corie didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong. So I guess she’d had enough time to get the place straightened up. Now it looks like she was cleaning up after her son. Is she going to be in trouble, too?”
“You’re in a better position to know that than me. No wonder they placed you on leave. They don’t want you too close to the investigation.” Jack was smart taking Chris out of play. Emotions warred within Evan. A surge of adrenaline at having an intelligent adversary. Amusement that his plan appeared to be working. Insane worry about Corie. “What did they find when they searched?”
“Not much. Mom had started mopping the floor. They used luminol and found blood spatter that Mom had wiped off the walls. There was some tape residue on the bed and her—Vangie’s—purse is missing. So they figure Shaun robbed her in addition to cutting her up.”
“That’s what you consider ‘not much?’ What did they do with Corie? Did the police detain her?”
“No. Detective Fariel talked to her for a few minutes and then let her go.”
Evan remembered Jack’s words at the wine tasting. Everything else Jack had done so far was smart; that was stupid. He had to get out of there. “Let me know what else you find out.” He stood and threw a twenty down to pay for Chris’s breakfast.
Chris looked up at him, panicked. “What should I do now?”
Evan thought for a disgusted second that Chris might cry. “Your job. As well as you’re able. For as long as you have it.”
Evan wished he could call Corie. He felt weak thinking about her almost finding that mess at the cabin. He didn’t want her to know. More than anything, he didn’t want her to know. Why in hell would Corie go up there? She hated the place. Was she running and telling everything to the detective? Was she fucking Jack? Evan hadn’t believed it when he’d said it to her on the stairs; still didn’t want to believe it. Believe. Christ. He was losing it.
Getting rid of Vangie was supposed to remove risk, not add it. He thought he’d found the leak. He’d found out who borrowed Vangie’s gun. He’d dealt with everyone who was causing him trouble and everything was going his way. But suddenly, the carefully constructed barriers between the different parts of his life were coming down. And that couldn’t happen.
Chapter 51
Jack called Corie while he waited for the apprehension team to assemble to go with him to pick up Len. He heard traffic noise in the background and was instantly on alert.
“Where the hell are you?”
“I went out for coffee. Why? Am I a prisoner?”
“No. Of course not.” His nerves were raw; he’d been overreacting to everything and everyone today. Sleep deprivation was part of it, but that wasn’t a novelty and certainly no excuse. He couldn’t expect her to stay holed up in his house indefinitely.
He softened his voice. “What are you up to today?”
“I’m going to continue getting my affairs in order. I asked for a password reset on our business bank account. Now that I’ve got my computer back, I’m going to look and see what’s been going on in my life for the last couple of years.” Her tone was ironic.
“I don’t have to say it, right?”
“Jack, I have no idea where Evan is, and if I had my way, I’d never see him again.” She was quiet for a moment and then added, “What about you?”
“I don’t want to see Evan either.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I have two active homicides. I’ll be lucky if I ever sleep again.”
“What about your radiation? You only have a couple left.”
“No way. No time.”
“Jack.”
“Corie.”
“I’ll make you a deal.”
Inwardly, Jack groaned.
“I’ll be very careful and give you hourly updates if you promise you’ll go to your radiation this afternoon.”
Serena walked up to his desk and looked at him expectantly. Jack stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, juggling the phone from one hand to the other as he put it on.
“Can’t possibly.”
“Well then, I can’t possibly remember to call you,” Corie said.
“You’re comparing two things that can’t be compared.” Jack consciously filtered his conversation now that Serena was within earshot.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I can’t promise something like that.” He and Serena reached his car.
“Neither can I.”
Serena got in the car and Jack stood outside a moment longer. “Corie, you don’t understand. I’m buried in work. Everyone needs something from me and it would be helpful if I could be in, like, twenty places at one time.”
“You don’t understand how tedious it is to have you for a babysitter.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive, you stubborn, beautiful woman.”
“Right back at you, minus the woman part.”
This time Jack’s groan was audible. “I don’t have time for this. Serena’s here with me and we’re on our way to make a—to go check something out.”
“Then stop wasting time arguing.”
“Fine. But I expect to hear from you every hour on the hour.”
Jessie opened the door and stared at the cruisers angled in at the curb and the officers swarming the front yard wearing bulletproof vests and armed with assault rifles. Her right hand flew to her chest and her green eyes widened.
“My word,” she managed.
“I have a warrant for the arrest of Leonard Funderburk,” Jack said.
“Jessie, we need you to step aside.” Serena took Jessie by the arm and led her towards the kitchen.
Jessie didn’t resist. She wore an oversized gray shirt over black leggings, flats, no discernible makeup, and her hair was a little more unkempt than usual. Jack had come to think of Jessie’s colorful clothes as costumes, which made it hard for him to take her seriously, but today she was subdued.
“It won’t do you any good,” Jessie said. “But you’re welcome to look around.”
Jack looked at Jessie’s face more closely and could tell she’d been crying. “What do you mean?”
“He’s gone,” Jessie said.
They searched anyway but found no sign that Len
had ever been there. Jessie had collapsed onto a loveseat in front of the fireplace in the kitchen. Jack crouched down in front of her, and she looked so sad, he was tempted to take her hand.
“Is it okay if we ask you a couple of questions?” Jack asked.
He thought of Evan’s fleet of lawyers and fully expected her to invoke, but Jessie’s face, full of misery and absent of guile, turned up to Jack’s and she nodded.
Serena sat down on the loveseat next to her and set a recorder on the low coffee table. “Can you tell us where he went?”
Jessie shook her head. She tucked a hank of hair behind her ear and sniffled.
“All right,” Jack said. “You don’t know where Len went, but can you tell us when he left, Jessie?”
“We had a fight.” Jessie bit her lip. “He packed up while I was asleep sometime Saturday night or early Sunday. He took everything.”
“What did you fight about?” Serena asked.
“It was Evan. He’s so overprotective. He positively grilled Len and then Len accused me of taking Evan’s side.”
Jack and Serena exchanged a look. “Does Len have any friends or relatives in the area? Anyone he could stay with?” Jack asked.
“No. He might try to go back to North Carolina.” Jessie took a shaky breath. “I know I should think ‘good riddance to poor rubbish.’ That’s what Evan says, but I can’t.”
Jack’s pulse quickened. “Evan knew Len was gone?”
“Yes.” The word broke into two syllables. Jessie blinked furiously but couldn’t seem to stop the tears. “Evan stayed here last night because I was afraid to be alone. He’s so kind. I’m grateful I have such a good son, but I miss Len dreadfully.”
Once they were outside again, Jack blew out a deep breath. “Let’s notify the airports, train stations, bus stations—that is, if he hasn’t already left town.” Unspoken in the air between them was the awareness that Len had had a thirty-six hour head start.
“What did Evan grill Len about, do you think?” Serena asked.
There was a connection. Jack knew it. Sometimes it felt like it was right there in front of him, and then, like a quicksilver fish, it darted away again, out of conscious reach. “Evan could have found out Len murdered Monique and was protecting his mother. God knows, Evan’s not going to come to us with whatever he has.”
“Why is it everyone seems to have figured out who the murderer is except us?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You sound like Mike. You think Len’s alive?”
Before Jack could answer, his phone rang. It was Aranda and he answered abruptly. “Tell Roger I’ll need the files a little bit longer.”
“Nice to hear your voice, too.”
Aranda’s silky alto made Jack laugh. “Sorry. I’m always happy to hear from you. What’s up?”
“Actually, it is a work call. I wanted to tell you Roger is planning to have a conversation with Evan.”
“A conversation? Or handing him the billionaire version of a pink slip?”
“I told you Evan’s consulting work is almost complete on the golf resort in the foothills. Roger doesn’t see any point in waiting. I thought I should warn you.”
That was funny. She was calling to warn him. “Can you get Roger to hold off?”
“As a favor to you? What’s going on?”
“And you might want to steer clear of Evan yourself in the meantime.”
She let out a derisive snort. “Hmph. I’m not afraid of Evan. Wait how long? Roger will want answers.”
“I can’t give you a definite. We’re working some leads. We’re very close.”
“Now you sound like you’re giving a press conference.”
“A couple of days. Tell him to wait until the end of the week.”
“That’s four days. You’re cute but you can’t count.” Aranda huffed out a breath. “I’ll see what I can do, but Roger’s very determined once he makes up his mind.”
Chapter 52
The office complex was located in an industrial area of Commerce City not too far from the Denver airport. The building was U-shaped, with parking all around the outer edge and some token landscaping near the office entrances. The inner side of the building featured loading docks and large, corrugated metal doors for receiving deliveries.
Corie chose the left side of the U to start her search. There were six office suites on that side and she struck out at the first four. As she walked to the fifth, Corie stretched and circled her head in a vain attempt to work some of the tension out of her shoulders.
As she told Jack, she’d gone online and studied transactions in and out of the business bank account. She was surprised Evan hadn’t removed her from the account yet. Was that an oversight? Or did he still trust her? Once she logged on and started reviewing the account activity, she knew for certain that she couldn’t trust him. There were deposits she knew nothing about from names she didn’t recognize. Transfers to Perez and Associates. And payments to a property management company. It had taken a few phone calls but Corie learned Evan had been renting an office. She’d gotten the building address but not the suite number.
What she hadn’t told Jack was that Evan’s older tax records, from before everything was computerized, were missing. She felt a grim certainty that wasn’t an accident, and when she saw the office complex, her sense of dread only deepened. Warehouses in the back with office space in the front. Why the hell did Evan need warehouse space? What else was he into?
In the fifth office, Corie encountered a receptionist sitting at a desk inside the front door. The sign on the wall behind her read “Gorham Properties” in nondescript gold lettering. The payee from the business bank account. The young woman behind the desk had limp, mousy blond hair and was wearing a thin, black cotton cardigan over a dull gray t-shirt and polyester slacks.
Corie caught a glimpse of CNN on the computer screen to her left before the receptionist hit the combination of keys to invoke the screen saver: a photo montage of a baby, a Labrador Retriever, and a smiling couple—the receptionist and a young, dark-haired man—on vacation someplace tropical.
The young woman seemed resentful of the intrusion. “Can I help you?”
Her voice implied she could not. Corie didn’t imagine there were a lot of visitors and wondered why Evan bothered with the expense of a receptionist. “Yes, hi, I’m looking for Evan Markham’s office. I think he rents a space here. Do I have the right office? Are you Laura? He said to ask for Laura.” Corie was getting better and better at lying as the day wore on.
“I’m Mallard, the office manager. Are you sure you have the right suite?”
“Oh, sorry, I must have gotten the name wrong.” Mallard? Like the duck? Corie had heard of people resembling their pets, but this took it to a whole new level.
Mallard looked at Corie suspiciously. “I haven’t seen you before. His assistant usually comes with him.”
“You must mean Vangie. Dark hair, a little overweight, about this tall?” Corie put her hand out at waist level and immediately felt guilty for being a smartass. The woman was dead.
“I’m Evan’s wife. Hi. Corie Markham.” She extended her hand, which Mallard shook limply. Evidently Evan had kept his marital status to himself. Hell, maybe he’d fucked the receptionist too, although she really didn’t look like his type.
Corie spoke too brightly. “Evan told me you could let me into the office. I hope that’s okay. There’re some papers I need to get. Taxes, ugh. The CPA gave me a checklist as long as your arm: 1099s, P&Ls, 10Ks, alphabet soup.”
“No one let me know you were coming.” Mallard didn’t move from behind her desk.
“He said you had a key and could let me in.” Corie was bluffing, of course. She folded her arms across her chest and tried to look stern and impatient.
Mallard didn’t seem the least bit intimidated.
“Would you like to see some ID?” Without waiting for an answer, Corie opened her wallet, pulled out her license, and held it
up several inches from Mallard’s face. “See? I can show you our wedding pictures if you’re still not convinced.”
Corie shoved the wallet back in her bag. Why was she being such a bitch? Duck Girl was only doing her job. A job she probably wanted to keep.
Mallard bit her lip. “I’ll have to call him.”
“Okay.” Corie tried not to sound excessively sarcastic. “Do you have his number handy? Or would you like me to call him? When I do, I’ll tell him what a fabulous job you’re doing. I mean, jeez, what’s in there? The crown jewels?”
With a heavy sigh, Mallard opened her center desk drawer and pulled out a big ring of keys. Corie followed meekly down the hall and forced herself to bite back an apology.
“Damned accountant’s got me crazy. We filed some kind of extension, and now the deadline’s looming and the IRS is breathing down our necks. It’s got me a bit frantic. I’ll make sure and get a copy of the key from Evan so I don’t have to bother you again.” Stop talking. Corie realized she’d make a terrible criminal.
Mallard hesitated in the doorway, as if she was going to stay and supervise.
“I won’t be long.” As gently as possible, Corie closed the door in Mallard’s face.
What Corie didn’t know was whether or not Mallard was going to run right back to her desk and call Evan. Corie needed Evan’s old appointment Day-Timers and, as tempting as it was to snoop, she figured she’d better hurry.
Two old-fashioned, wooden filing cabinets stood along one wall. Next to them sat a set of bookcases with glass doors that folded up and out of the way, the kind lawyers used to use. There was a massive, carved oak desk, a high-backed leather office chair, an Oriental rug on the floor, and in the corner by the window, a pedestal on which sat a bronze sculpture of an eagle taking flight.
For some reason, the place felt familiar. Then it hit Corie that Evan had copied Roger’s office. She let out a disgusted laugh. Did Evan have no taste of his own? What a poser.