by Alex Finlay
“Are we waiting on anyone else?” Milbank said.
“Just me,” Keller said.
He nodded as if he were impressed by that. Or maybe relieved: the meeting couldn’t be anything serious if they’d sent a woman all by her lonesome.
They sat near the end of the long glossy table.
Milbank began. “It’s not every day we get a visit from the FBI. How can we help you, Agent Keller?”
“I’m here about Evan Pine.”
The lawyer next to Milbank seemed to relax immediately. He sat more naturally, less stiff in the leather chair.
Milbank said, “We couldn’t believe it. What a tragedy.”
Keller nodded. “It looks like an accident,” she said, “but when an American dies abroad under unusual circumstances, we need to look into it.”
“I get it,” Milbank said. “We’ve received several calls from reporters. After that TV show, Evan was something of a celebrity.”
“How long did Mr. Pine work here?” Keller already knew this, but needed to begin somewhere, get him talking.
“In this office, about seven years. Before that, he was with the Omaha branch for nearly twenty years. The firm let him transfer because of that business with his son. The family needed a fresh start.” He didn’t mention firing Pine.
“Could you tell me who Mr. Pine’s closest friends were in the office?”
Milbank let out a breath. “Evan wasn’t really close with anyone here. That was sort of the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Evan never really engaged with the office. He was always distracted, preoccupied. The first couple of years we just thought it was the transition. But it didn’t change. Until the documentary aired, we didn’t understand the extent of his struggles.”
“But you kept him on for several years.” Keller said this as an observation, not a question.
“He had a major account,” Milbank explained. “Adair Irrigation was pretty loyal to him. Stuck by him for nearly all of that time, even after the Netflix show. An executive there apparently was an old friend of Evan’s father-in-law.”
“I gather something changed? I mean, I understand you let him go recently.”
Milbank shifted in his chair. “Evan’s contact at Adair retired and the new person shuffled the deck chairs and a different team took over finance. Evan had delegated nearly all the day-to-day work to others at our firm, and when the new Adair team came in…”
“Did the documentary have anything to do with it?” Keller asked. She didn’t have to say why. Evan Pine came off like a man obsessed, a little unhinged, even. Not someone you’d want handling your finances.
“It didn’t help,” Milbank said.
Keller considered Milbank. His gray suit complemented his thick gray hair. He wasn’t trying to rush her, wasn’t impolite or arrogant. But Milbank was still on edge, she could sense it.
“When was the last time you spoke to Evan?”
Milbank thought about this. “It’s been probably a year.”
Keller gave an expression of surprise.
“His direct supervisor told him he was being let go,” Milbank said, anticipating the question.
How gracious, after more than two decades with the company. Keller felt a surge of anger. Evan had a family, four kids, and they’d unceremoniously shown him the door.
Keller examined her notes. She could go on asking all her questions, but it would be a waste of time. She’d conducted hundreds of interviews during her career. Continuing down this path would just be spinning her wheels.
Devin Milbank was smiling again, playing the cooperative corporate executive. Keller thought about Evan Pine’s internet searches again. His plan to kill himself to save his family from financial ruin. And she thought of this man not even showing the courtesy of firing Evan to his face. Keller decided to take Stan’s advice: no more analysis paralysis. She glanced at the lawyer, who wasn’t paying attention, eyes on his phone.
“Just a couple more questions, and I’ll let you get back to your day,” Keller said.
“Of course,” Milbank said. “Anything to help.”
“How long has the Sinaloa been a client at the firm?” Keller held Milbank’s gaze.
The man was still for a long beat, as if forcing himself to show no reaction. The lawyer wasn’t staring at his phone anymore.
“I thought we were here to talk about Evan Pine,” the lawyer said. “As I understand it, Mr. Pine had only one major account, so I don’t—”
“It relates to Mr. Pine,” Keller said. It wasn’t a lie. She had intended to talk to Pine about whether he knew anything incriminating against the firm that had fired him. But it didn’t matter whether it was true. What a lot of people didn’t know was that law enforcement can lie with impunity to suspects.
Milbank spoke: “I’m not familiar with that name, but in any event we keep our clients’ affairs in confidence. I’m not sure I understand why—”
“It’s a simple question.”
Milbank’s eyes moved to the lawyer.
“Agent Keller, we’d be more than happy to set up an appointment and discuss anything the FBI would like, but I’m going to advise Mr. Milbank not to answer any more questions.”
“Need to call Mexico first?” Keller said. She clicked her pen one time.
The lawyer stood. “I’m afraid this interview is over.”
Another thing people usually didn’t know about the system: a suspect who isn’t under arrest can walk out of an interrogation and even be outright rude to law enforcement.
Keller shook her head. “And we were getting along so well.” She didn’t leave her seat.
The lawyer and Milbank were both standing. “I’d like to know the name of your supervising agent,” the lawyer said. “I don’t think he’d appreciate how you’re—”
Keller held up a hand to silence him as she casually glanced at her phone. She just scrolled her feed, finally looking up at them.
The two men stared at Keller, not clear what to make of her. She wasn’t getting up to leave. She just sat there like she didn’t have a care in the world.
The lawyer started to speak again, but Keller held up a finger, shushing him a second time.
“Hold on.” She tilted her head, cupped a hand around her ear as if she were trying to hear something. After a long moment she said, “There it is.”
Milbank and the lawyer looked baffled.
Then came the sound of heavy footsteps. The door burst open, the glass walls vibrating, and in charged a tall man in a suit and cowboy boots, followed by half a dozen men and women in blue windbreakers.
Keller tried not to gloat as Cal Buchanan handed the lawyer a search warrant. The lawyer read the document and turned as white as the papers.
“Call everyone to the conference room,” Buchanan barked at the head of Marconi Chicago and its general counsel. “Now!”
Stan was right about Cal: BSD.
Standing at last, Keller held out her hand, gesturing to Milbank. “Please give me your phone.”
The lawyer moved his heavyset frame between Keller and Milbank, his face red with anger.
“Please step aside,” Keller said calmly.
The lawyer held his ground.
“Have it your way,” Keller said. She whirled the lawyer around and cuffed him.
She’d likely hear about this later. Pinstriped lawyers didn’t take kindly to being physically restrained. Out of the corner of her eye she caught an admiring look from Cal Buchanan. Who’s the BSD now? Keller thought.
Keller left the agents to do their thing. The files, she hoped, would reveal dirt on the lower-level people, who would turn on their bosses, provide the human factor her case against Marconi was lacking. If not, they’d have to go with just the documents.
Keller navigated around the employees shuffling to the conference room, and made her way to the elevator. On the ride down, she thought about the interview, how the temperature in the room had changed w
hen she’d switched the topic from Evan Pine to the cartel.
Her instincts told her two things: First, the Chicago office of Marconi LLP would be shuttered within the year. Second, the firm had nothing to do with the death of the Pines.
CHAPTER 31
OLIVIA PINE
BEFORE
Liv drove home from Lincoln feeling excited, giddy almost. Her father would be allowed to stay in the nursing home. She’d come to Adair to solve a problem and she did it. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. She felt a sense of accomplishment. She called Cindy to give her the news and check in on Tommy, and even her morose sister sounded impressed.
Liv’s thoughts meandered as she cruised the interstate. She opened both front windows, and flashed to an image of herself as a teenager, driving too fast in her father’s station wagon, the wind blasting through the cabin, her hair dancing in the tornado. She didn’t crank up the music—that was Evan and Danny’s thing. Instead she listened to the howl of the wind.
She thought about Noah. As a boy, his master plan had been to move up the ranks in local politics, become governor, then make a run for the big leagues—the Senate, or even president of the United States. He looked the part. More handsome now than when he was younger, with the perfectly symmetrical face and Clark Kent curl in his hair. The slow movements and gait of confidence. As if he’d grown into the part. He’d become mayor of Adair in his early thirties, and everyone thought he’d be on the national political scene by now. But life got in the way. Having a child, his wife’s cancer. But he’d scrapped his way through farm-belt politics to become the number two man in the state. And now he’d be governor.
The elevation had personal significance for Liv—not the nostalgia of seeing her old boyfriend achieving his dreams, but the fact that Noah would lead the pardon board. In Nebraska, the governor didn’t have the unilateral power to pardon. There was a pardon board made up of the governor, the attorney general, and the secretary of state. Governor Turner had shut down any prospect of a pardon, but Noah could make it happen. He just needed the courage to do so. Would he have it? Liv felt a pang of doubt. Noah was a born politician. He’d test the winds, see what the polling said about it. Would voters expect him to use his newfound power to correct the injustice he’d rallied against on-screen? One would hope. All she could do was try.
If Noah convinced the board to pardon Danny, maybe, just maybe, life could go back to something resembling the days from Before. It wasn’t perfect back then, of course. And even before Danny’s arrest, she and Evan had grown apart. She’d betrayed her husband. And her children. Guilt engulfed her, but she decided to shake it off.
Not today.
She took the ramp into Adair and cruised through town until she hit the familiar country road that led to her childhood home. Her mind went again to herself as a teenager. The curve leading to the property was coming up and she planned to accelerate right at the arc, as she had done since she was sixteen, when she’d come home with a shiny laminated driver’s license.
Before she reached it, she tried Evan’s cell again. She was excited to tell him the news. But it went straight to voicemail. She listened to his recorded greeting amid the sound of the wind. Evan hadn’t changed his voice message in years. He sounded upbeat, friendly. Like the man she’d fallen in love with.
After the beep she said, “Hey, it’s me. Give me a call when you get time. I have news.” She paused. “Good news.”
Good news. It had been so long since she’d had any of that. She pushed down on the accelerator, and the rental car picked up speed. The wind blew more fiercely as she hit the famous curve, her hair lashing around the car.
That was when she saw the red cherries in her rearview mirror.
CHAPTER 32
“Seriously?” Liv said aloud as she pulled the car to the shoulder. There wasn’t another vehicle on the road, probably not one for miles, yet the small-town cop had pulled her over for going a little above the speed limit. What was the cop even doing here? In her entire childhood Liv couldn’t recall a police car ever patrolling the desolate winding road.
She started digging through the glove box, looking for the rental car’s registration papers, when there was a loud tap on the glass.
Lifting her gaze, she was blinded by a flashlight beam directly in her face. It made no sense. It wasn’t even dark outside. The ray finally swung away and all she saw for a moment was the afterglow. Finally her vision cleared enough to make out the officer’s face.
Liv’s blood went cold.
It was her.
There was no mistaking it. She still had the same frizzy eighties hair with the bangs. The same tomboy demeanor. One of the stars of Danny’s interrogation video, Officer Wendy White.
“You know why I pulled you over?” the officer asked.
Liv took a deep breath. She needed to hold her anger. She’d heard enough of her husband’s talks to know that little good came from lipping off to a cop. But with this woman, this foul creature, Liv wasn’t so sure she could bite her tongue.
“I have no idea.”
“Speeding.”
“Well, I’m glad the deer and squirrels are safe now.”
Officer White’s expression turned dark. “Step out of the car, ma’am.”
“Pardon?”
“I said step out of the vehicle.”
“I don’t understand—”
“I’m not gonna ask again, ma’am.”
Liv let out a loud, exasperated breath, and slowly climbed out of the car. “This is harassment,” she said.
The officer—she was a good six inches shorter than Liv—made a sour face. “Harassment? You don’t have a clue what real harassment is.”
Something about the way the officer said it sent another jolt through Liv. She looked around. Just the winding road and grassland.
“Look,” Liv said, her tone conciliatory. “We got off on the wrong—”
“Shut up,” the cop said. “Turn around and put your hands on the vehicle.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re not actually going to—”
Liv’s breath was taken from her as the officer spun her around and shoved her against the hood.
“Hands on the car!”
Liv complied. The officer’s hands ran up and down her body, roughly frisking her.
“Hands behind your back.”
She wasn’t really going to handcuff her? Liv was breathing heavily, thoughts reeling. She put her hands behind her back and flinched when the hard metal hit her wrists.
“Ow, you’re hurting me,” she said as the officer clicked the cuffs too tight.
“Turn around.”
Liv turned slowly. The two women’s eyes met. Was she really going to arrest Liv? She couldn’t possibly. It would be all over the news: COP WHO COERCED WRONGFUL CONFESSION FROM DANNY PINE ARRESTS MOTHER WITHOUT CAUSE. Liv felt acid rise from her stomach. It wasn’t happenstance that the officer was on this road. She must have heard Liv was in town.
Lying in wait.
If that was the case, maybe she had no intention of arresting Liv. She felt a trickle of sweat roll down her side.
Then, a sign of hope. Up the road, an old Humvee, one of those weird military trucks, headed toward them. Liv recognized it—her father’s friend and neighbor, Glen Elmore. A quirky vehicle for a quirky man. Liv’s dad was always a sucker for people who bucked convention.
The cop looked over her shoulder at the Humvee, which was taking the curve fast. Something about that section of asphalt inspired a heavy foot.
Turning back to Liv, the cop said, “When an officer asks you to do something, you best do it.” She had deep wrinkles around her mouth and lining her forehead, too many for a woman her age.
“That hasn’t worked out so well for my family.” Liv felt anger in her chest. She shouldn’t have said it, but Glen’s truck was getting close. He’d surely recognize Liv, stop to see what was going on.
Officer White stepped into
Liv’s personal space. She smelled of cigarettes and sour coffee. “At least you still have a family. Sampson’s wife and kids aren’t so lucky.”
Sampson. This wasn’t just about how the documentary had skewered White’s reputation; it was about the death—the suicide—of her partner, Ron Sampson. The news speculated that it was the pressure from being villainized in the documentary. The calls and threats to the station house. The public shaming.
Mercifully, Glen’s Humvee pulled behind Liv’s rental.
“Get back in your vehicle,” White called to Glen as he climbed out of the tanklike cabin.
“Olivia, I heard you were in town. It’s good to see you, dear,” Glen said, ignoring White. “How’s your dad?”
Liv smiled. “He’s okay. Getting himself into some trouble at the home.”
Glen smiled back. “As I’d expect. I need to get over to see him. It’s been too long.” He turned to the cop. “Wendy White, what in the Sam Hill are you doin’?”
“I said get back in your vehicle, Glen.”
“Young lady, I knew your daddy when you were a glint in his eye, so don’t you tell me what to do.”
White’s mouth turned to a slit. “This is police business.”
“Like hell. Uncuff her before you ruin what’s left of your career. For Pete’s sake.” Glen shook his head. “I’d hate to call Sheriff Graham.”
White drew in a breath, bunched her face. She yanked the keys from her belt and unlocked the handcuffs.
Liv massaged her wrists, which were red from the shackles.
The officer walked angrily to her patrol car without saying a word. She revved the engine, then tore off, throwing dirt in the air.
Liv hugged Glen hello.
“I’m sorry about that,” Glen said. “She’s been a mess since that TV show. Whole town’s been outta sorts.”
“I’m sorry about all that,” Liv said, unsure why she was apologizing for holding this shithole town accountable for what it had done to her family.