Chapter 16
“What do you mean, it’s missing?” Jane asked early Monday morning at work, wishing the news surprised her.
The woman in charge of evidence collection shrugged. “I’m sorry, Agent Cannon. The book was here, but it’s been checked out. I can’t read the name on the sign-out roster.”
“What about the cameras? We should be able to track who signed it out.”
“We had a power outage yesterday. At about the same time the evidence was signed out.”
“Damn.” Jane thanked the clerk and left, knowing she wouldn’t find it. She wished she’d paid better attention to the codes in the thing, but at least she’d copied down the names alongside those that included her victims.
Every single one of them were multi-millionaires. And every single one was now on her suspect list.
Rook might be one of them. He or she might be behind the Collective or apart from it, pulling strings for someone else. There were too many unknowns behind Rook, except that the individual had intelligence, strategic foresight, and connections.
No, she had to focus on what she knew right now.
And who better to talk to than David Duvall?
She hoped to get to him before he disappeared to France. But when she called his phone, the number refused to connect. She called Sherry for help and got the same thing. Thinking hard, she made a few more calls and knew she had to move.
Jane dialed Detective Ray Ryan.
“Good morning, Jane. What can I do for you?”
“David Duvall’s number has been disconnected. He never boarded his flight to Paris. I’m not getting through to Sherry Duvall either,” she said as she rushed to her desk, grabbed her piece and her keys, and hustled out to her car.
“I’ll send a car to Sherry’s house. Where are you headed?”
“To David’s house.” She had his address from the file on her desk. “I have a bad feeling.”
“I’ll bring backup and meet you there.”
She put on her lights and made the drive in half the time it would normally take her. A sense of wrongness pervaded, and she knew even before arriving she wouldn’t find David alive.
The front door of his home stood ajar. She had her gun out as she approached. “FBI. Is anyone here? David?”
Jane cautiously entered, weapon at the ready, and said again, “FBI. Is anyone home?” She paused in the doorway and listened.
The house felt empty.
More, it felt dead.
Even as she heard approaching sirens, she ventured deeper inside for a quick run of the house.
Upstairs, David Duvall lay in his bathtub, fully dressed, his wrists and throat slit while blood pooled on the shiny, white tile on the floor.
* * *
Ray Ryan rubbed a hand over his head and paced in David Duvall’s kitchen, out of the way of the forensics team, while swearing.
“Ray?”
“Sorry.” He came to stand by her, his anger palpable. “My guys found Sherry and her mother dead. Gunshots to the head. Simple and quick, but damn. We just talked to her Friday! She didn’t know anything.”
“No, but David did. Someone obviously worried he might tell her what he knew.” Jane sighed. “We couldn’t have known they’d go after him. Maybe if David had been more open when we did talk to him, we could have helped. But it’s too late now.”
The Rook at work? The killer? Or were they one and the same?
“What now?” Ray asked.
“What about the dog?” Jane had a feeling Bubbles had been taken somewhere else.
“We found her running around in the backyard, covered in blood. She must have run through the mess left by Sherry and her mother’s bodies. She’s freaking out. Officer Thomas has her.” Ray looked ill. “I really hate this.”
“Me too.”
“Sherry seemed like such a nice woman.”
People thought LEOs grew so used to death and crime that they weren’t affected by tragedy, but Jane knew the opposite to be true.
It took effort to disconnect, so she waited while Ray got himself together.
She’d already locked down her feelings on the matter, letting the rage build, tired of being a step behind their killer.
“Ray, I need us to mobilize. We need to visit the other names on the list. I don’t give a crap how high and mighty our suspects might be. They’re going to talk to us, or we’ll take them to your precinct and question them there.”
“I’m in. Who do we talk to first?”
They managed to visit three more names on the list without a problem. The Browns, Jacobsons, and Connetts didn’t put up any roadblocks.
All three patriarchs seemed genuinely shocked to hear about the recent Duvall murders and expressed sadness over the loss of their friends, the Coatneys and Strands. Because yes, all of them knew each other.
They hit a speedbump at the Malk estate. Real estate mogul William Malk seemed genuinely shocked to hear about the recent demise of Jim Duvall’s siblings and mother.
Malk explained, “We’ve all been friends for years.
It started when we’d meet at the Castle Club, back when we’d made something of ourselves, oh, a good fifteen years ago.
” In a haughty tone, he added, “You’ve probably never heard of it.
The Castle Club is exclusive, a member’s only organization for those with an interest in policy, an ability to make change, and a keen sense of moral responsibility for those who have so much less.
It’s a place for movers and shakers to come together and try to do good. ”
Jane read between the lines. The Castle Club catered to the extremely wealthy who needed purpose and wanted to play God.
“I just can’t believe the Duvalls are gone.”
They sat in his study, where she focused on the shakiness of his words, the trembling of his hands. If he was acting, Will Malk was doing a heck of a job. The man seemed genuinely shocked. Apparently, he’d been friends not only with Jim Duvall, but with David as well.
Jane asked him, “When you say try to do good, what do you mean?”
He sat behind his desk, sipping from a decanted substance that looked and smelled like whiskey. Probably some bottled spirits worth more than her monthly income.
“We pulled together for charities and city planning to help the homeless and less fortunate. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon, Agent Cannon. Though my family has been blessed more than most, we acknowledge the disparity between our grand wealth and the majority of Seattle’s citizens.
Just because I didn’t come from modest beginnings doesn’t mean I don’t want to make the world a better place. ”
Ray muttered, “How about paying your fair share in taxes, then?”
Jane ignored him. “What did you think when three of your friends died within the span of a month and a half? Are you worried you might be next?”
Malk gaped at her. “Me? Why should I be worried? I haven’t done anything.”
Jane leaned forward. “And they have?”
“What? No. I don’t mean that.” He paused to guzzle more alcohol.
“I just meant I’m not involved in anything that high stakes.
We don’t do government contracts or work with NDAs.
My wealth is more, well, common, I’d have to say.
And because of it, Malk Holdings doesn’t face the challenges my poor friends dealt with. ”
Jane didn’t believe him. “Really? Because you’re known for a vast real estate portfolio. I can name a dozen people who would love to be in your position right now. And I’m not even in the property business.”
“Well, yes. I suppose that’s true.” Malk flushed. “I just meant it’s a normal industry. Real estate people are cutthroat, but they don’t kill for listings.”
Jane wasn’t sure what glass tower he was living in, but he seemed to believe what he said.
Malk continued, “We compete for the thrill of the sale. I’ve amassed a fortune, yes. But I’m surrounded by friends and friendly rivals because I’m constantly giving back and helping others reach their potential. I can’t think of anyone who’d want to kill me or my family.”
“Who do you think wanted to kill Jim Duvall and his family?” Ray asked.
A good question.
Malk pondered it. “Any number of his competitors wanting his government contracts. Do you have any idea how lucrative his deals with the DoD are? Were?”
Jane added, “And the Coatneys? The Strands?”
“I assumed they were killed due to their consortiums with overseas investors. Like I said, I have nothing to do with anything so elaborate. My family’s wealth comes from our assets in the States, our many hotels and rental ventures around the Pacific Northwest. Especially now, when real estate is at an all-time peak. ”
Jane studied him and sensed an underlying tension beneath his words. Will Malk was trying very hard to appear saddened by his friends’ loss but not concerned about his own well-being.
“What can you tell me about the Collective?”
He bobbled his drink on the way to his mouth, spilling a drop onto his tie. “I’m sorry. What?”
Ray and Jane shared a look before Ray added, “It’s a group of rich people who are being targeted by a killer who doesn’t just stop at the CEO. He kills their entire family.”
Malk started to sweat. Before he could say anything more, his wife entered the room. Jennifer Malk stalked forward and stood behind her husband, one manicured hand clutching his shoulder, like the talon of some great bird of prey.
“Will has some meetings he has to attend.” She had a posh accent, but Jane couldn’t place it. “I’m sorry, Detective, Agent. But we’re going to have to cut short this interview. Please direct all further questions to our attorney. I’ll see that he sends you his contact information.”
She led her husband from the room, and an older man in a nice suit entered the study to escort them out.
Once back at the car, Jane paused, lost in thought.
“What the hell was that all about?” Ray growled.
She shook her head. “How much do you want to bet they call and warn the others we’re coming? We’ll be lucky to get in the front door of the next three places.”
“I don’t want to take that bet. But it might not be a bad idea to put a unit on the house and see who comes for a visit.”
“Great minds think alike.” She grimly conceded they could do no more with the Malks.
Unfortunately, they were also right about the remainder of their list. It took the rest of the day into the evening.
No one would let them in, directing their inquiries to the business end of attorney double speak through cell phones.
Before they parted, Ray said what sat at the forefront of Jane’s thoughts. “I wonder which one of them will be next.”