Chapter fifteen
Everyone looked up when Amber reentered the room. Juan winced on her behalf. She wasn’t one for attention, but there was no way of avoiding it. Not right now.
She flashed them a chagrined smile, then headed toward him. Never before had a woman made him feel twenty feet tall just by walking toward him. Beside him, Mantis chuckled. The man adored his wife; no doubt he recognized the signs.
“So,” Amber said, taking the seat he’d saved for her. “How do we do this?” she asked, her gaze darting between Ryan, Callie, and Leo.
“Clara has been showing us some pictures of people who visited your ex,” Leo started. HICC was a private sector firm, but they stayed on retainer with the Mystery Lake PD and the FBI. Probably the CIA and NSA as well, but Juan had never asked.
“Let’s back up and start at the beginning,” he said, dropping into the seat beside Amber.
He hesitated to reach for her, unsure if she needed more time to process what he’d shared in Zoe’s room.
A quiet breath stole through him when she showed no qualms. Three seconds later, their hands rested on his thigh.
“The beginning is that I’m a nosy biddy. Which,” Clara said with an inclination of her head, “is how I got involved in the first place.”
“And we’re all grateful for it,” Callie said.
Clara nodded. “After we found Zoe, you can imagine that I took an interest in Anthony Ely. I started watching his comings and goings from my attic perch. I even installed some cameras to keep an eye on him.” She paused and met Ryan’s eye.
“Overboard, possibly. But they were all pointed to the street, not at the house. Couldn’t see it anyway through the trees. ”
“Then one day, I recognized one of the cars,” Adrian chimed in.
“Rolly Masterson. He has a vanity plate and is on the board of one of the hospitals I frequently sub in at. I didn’t really think anything of it since he and Anthony run in the same circles.
But then a week later, I heard that his mother—his very wealthy mother—died while on a short stay at their coastal property. ”
“What was the cause of death?” Ryan asked.
“Officially, it was suicide,” Leo said, his eyes fixed on his computer screen as they often were. “But the house was so torn apart that at first, they suspected someone else was involved.”
“What changed their minds?” Callie asked.
“There’s CCTV all around the building and a state-of-the-art alarm system on all the windows and doors. Nothing tripped during the night. They found fingerprints of the women who cook and clean, but not in places you wouldn’t expect, and both had ironclad alibis for the entire night.”
“So they decided she went into some sort of psychotic event and ended up killing herself?” Juan asked. “Did she have a history of that?”
“What about drugs?” Callie asked.
“Yes to your first question, Juan. No to the second. As to yours, Callie, I’ll pull the full tox report and see what they tested for,” Leo replied.
“The police report confirms a call from her son, Rolly, shortly after she arrived. It lasted twenty minutes and, according to his statement, he wanted to check in and make sure she arrived safely. Then they chatted about a few upcoming social events.”
“Not really the actions of someone who’d have a mental break—with no prior history—and commit suicide,” Callie said. “Then again, we only have his word on what they said.”
“Okay, so the situation was weird, but there’s hardly enough to point to murder, let alone a murder scheme involving Anthony,” Amber said. “There must be more.”
Clara snorted, then took a sip of tea. “Two weeks after Rolly’s visit, we recognized another car. Beatrice Collier. She has a burgundy Mercedes SUV with a matte paint job and pink lights that circle her license plate.”
“She, too, runs in the same circles as Anthony, but we know her through her husband, who is a donor to the local St. Vincent De Paul society that my mom is on the board of,” Adrian said.
“Her husband, who died four days later in a car accident on a rural mountain road. Again, single-car accidents aren’t uncommon, but we found it weird since Jacob probably hadn’t ever set foot in the mountains in his life.
I liked the man, but he was fastidious, and nature wasn’t his thing. ”
“What about his autopsy report?” Ryan asked Leo.
“Injuries consistent with a fatal impact. No medical event. I’ll pull the full tox screen on him, too,” Leo replied. “His car showed no signs of tampering, and there were no skid marks on the road. It took them two days to find him.”
“What did the wife say?” Stone asked.
Leo tapped a few keys. “According to the accident report, he told her he was visiting a friend in Nashville and decided to drive. She didn’t know why he took the back roads over the mountains rather than the interstates and didn’t think anything of it when he didn’t call.
It was common for them not to talk when they traveled.
Officially, they concluded he fell asleep at the wheel and drifted off the road and down the embankment. ”
“After that, we took more notice of who came and went from the house,” Adrian said.
“I have a friend in the local police department, and she ran a few plates for us,” Clara added. “I won’t tell you who it is as we’re well aware she was outside the bounds of her duties, but I’m glad we did. I’m glad she did.”
“And what did you find?” Juan asked. The possibility of retribution hummed under his skin, but so far, he hadn’t heard anything that would definitively nail Anthony’s ass to the wall.
Clara leaned forward and sorted the pictures she’d laid on the coffee table. “These weren’t his only visitors, but these are the ones who had someone close to them die within a couple of weeks of visiting.”
Juan glanced at the images, most of them just the backs of cars, license plates visible.
The number shocked him, though. Nine images lay spread across the table.
Adding in the first two, that was a total of eleven people.
What he wouldn’t give to place the murders of eleven people at Anthony’s feet.
“This one’s sister fell off a bridge,” Clara said, pointing to the first image.
“This one’s uncle tried to rob a bank and was killed.
The family members of these three died in car accidents, and these two by suicide,” she said, pointing as she went.
“This one’s mother died in her sleep, and this one’s son,” she said, pointing to the last image, “died in a fire the department believes was started by knocking a candle over.”
“What makes you think Anthony had something to do with these?” Ryan asked, his tone curious rather than questioning. Juan gave him credit for that. What Clara and Adrian were implying seemed far-fetched. Even to him. As much as he wanted it to be true.
“All of the deaths resulted in a financial windfall for the person who visited him, to start,” Clara responded.
“You’re certain about that?” Callie asked.
Adrian nodded. “The only thing that flows faster than gossip in those circles is the alcohol. Mix the two and it’s nigh on impossible to keep a secret.”
“And if you’re wondering how we heard that gossip, my granddaddy invented a couple of features used in most modern manufacturing. The money from those has ensured we’re invited to every high society event in the surrounding three counties,” Clara said. “We don’t tend to go.”
“Not really our thing,” Adrian chimed in.
Clara nodded. “But we decided to show up at a few over the past year.” She paused. “Not that there aren’t some good folks out there, but frankly, I’d rather spend my time covered in honey near an anthill.”
Beside him, Amber’s lips twitched. It was hard not to like the pair. He hoped that whatever happened next, they would stay a part of their lives.
Adrian exhaled. “We admit, it’s possible that we’re seeing what we want to see, but it’s not just the money that makes all these stand out.” She gestured to the photos.
“What else?” Callie asked.
“The suicides, the bank robbery, the car accidents? All of them were out of character for the deceased if you talk to anyone other than the person who benefited,” Adrian said.
“Why rob a bank when you have millions at your disposal? The woman who fell—or jumped—from the bridge was afraid of heights, and the man who shot himself—one of the suicides—wasn’t a hunter.
Not to mention, he used an antique rifle from the 1800s.
Those require different handling, and there are easier ways to do the job if that was his intent.
The other suicide, well, she slit her wrists, but even I know Maggie Rose fainted at the sight of blood. ”
“And the car accidents all happened on sparsely traveled roads. Now, Virginia isn’t lacking in back roads, but why would any of these people be driving on them?
Let alone in their fancy cars? They aren’t farmers, and while some own swaths of land, the accidents didn’t happen on the way to their country properties. ”
“We’ll grant you that the one who died in her sleep and the one who died in the fire might not be related, but that seemed a stretch when considering everything else,” Adrian finished.
Leo frowned. “I don’t know if it means anything, but it’s interesting that most of the victims—if we’re calling them that—except the bank robber, weren’t processed quickly.
Other than him, the soonest an autopsy occurred was thirty-six hours after the time of death.
A few are longer than that based on how long it took them to find the body. ”
“Same ME?” Juan asked.
Leo scanned the files on his screen, then shook his head.
“Seven of the eleven were the same. Those deaths happened in the same county, and it looks as though there’s only one ME.
Masterson’s mother’s death, and three of the four car accidents, including Beatrice Collier’s husband, happened in different jurisdictions. ”
“Who’s the ME who did the seven?” Amber asked.
“Dr. Georgia Lansing,” Leo replied.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amber and Adrian share a look. “What?” Juan asked.
“She was one of the many women Anthony had an affair with,” Amber replied.
“She was also fired from two prior jobs for dereliction of duty,” Adrian added.
“She failed to catch diagnoses, and while doctors aren’t infallible, in both cases, she was found negligent.
She didn’t perform even the most basic of tests.
By the time the patients got second opinions, the diseases were so far progressed, one died and the other spent two years in treatment. ”
“How’d she become a medical examiner?” Amber asked.
Adrian shook her head. “Probably figured she couldn’t get a job anywhere else as a pathologist, so applied for an ME residency.
Doesn’t matter as much if she cuts corners on an autopsy.
” Adrian paused, then smiled. “I have to admit, for run-of-the-mill stuff, that’s generally true. But when it matters, it matters.”
“How’d she meet Anthony?” Juan asked, hating having to dredge all this up.
“He sits on the hospital board that houses the county morgue,” Amber said. “One of the many pieces of leverage he had to keep what he did to me under wraps. Not that I went to the hospital that frequently.”
“I don’t advocate for killing people, but I wouldn’t be upset if he died. Accidentally or otherwise,” Clara said, echoing Juan’s earlier thoughts and drawing a chuckle from several folks in the room.
“You are not alone,” he muttered, drawing a wink of approval from the woman.
“If he is behind all this, how do we figure it out?” Amber asked.
“Does he have alibis for the times of their deaths? Could he have caused the car accidents, set the fire, those sorts of things?” Stone asked, then added, “Although that wouldn’t explain the bank robbery or Rolly Masterson’s mom. Those ones are weird.”
“They are definitely outliers,” Callie concurred. “I can check into his whereabouts during those time periods, although I doubt he’s the one who pulled the metaphorical trigger.”
“I agree,” Amber said. “He has too much self-preservation instinct to be directly involved. Indirectly, though, that’s a different story. For a number of reasons,” she murmured.
Juan hesitated, then asked, “A number of reasons?” As much as he loathed pulling Amber deeper into this conversation, no one in the room knew Anthony better.
Amber’s eyes fell to their entwined hands.
After a beat, she took a breath and answered.
“Yes. Remember, he’s a master manipulator.
One who craves money and power and doesn’t give a crap who gets hurt.
If he provides the means for other people to kill their relatives, at a cost, of course, he doesn’t get his hands dirty and he gets paid.
But in addition to the financial benefit, he knows who actually caused the death—who committed the crime.
And being the keeper of that secret is a form of power he wouldn’t be able to resist. It doesn’t make him any less guilty in the eyes of the law, but in his warped mind, he is less guilty. He’s not guilty at all.”
Juan grimaced. “A sort of, I gave the man the gun, but how he decided to use it is up to him, in the first place?” Amber nodded.
“And we all know the kind of power secrets can carry,” Mantis said, nodding.
“I’ll look into the money angle,” Callie said.
“But what ‘means’ is he providing these people? What’s actually killing them?
” Hawkeye asked. “There’s no clear common thread tying the deaths together.
The suicides, robbery, and the woman whose house was torn apart have mental aspects to them.
But then we have four car accidents. The locations might be out of character, but as Adrian said, it’s not unusual for folks to fall asleep at the wheel. ”
“How old was the woman who died in her sleep?” Stone asked.
“Seventy-one,” Leo said.
“Young, but not as uncommon as, say, a thirty-year-old,” Stone conceded. “It could have been natural. And the fire really could have been an accident.”
“I’ve given this a lot of thought,” Adrian said. “If he’s involved, which I’m assuming he is, then it can only be one thing.” Everyone looked at her. “I don’t know how or what, but the only thing I can think of that might have a hand in so many different kinds of deaths—”
A picture clicked together in Juan’s mind. A puzzle still missing pieces but the image clear. “Drugs,” he said. “Anthony is selling a drug. One that I’m betting won’t show up on a standard tox screen.”