Chapter 22
Outside on the sidewalk, Gabe looked around to be sure he was alone with El. Satisfied no one could overhear them, he took hold of her arm to slow her down. “What happened back there with the girl? Your demeanor changed completely.”
“That’s because of what she said to me.” El’s troubled gaze looked up at him. “She said, and I quote, ‘They take kids who don’t have anyone. Kids like me.’”
“Wow!” Gabe shook his head. “Do you think she was legit?”
“She seemed legitimately scared but could just be a good actor. However, the other girls didn’t say anything, but their expressions seemed to confirm what she told me.”
“So do you want to follow this lead or stick with finances?”
“I’ll have to refer it to social services but as for us, I don’t think we have enough information to go on. For now we stick with finances, then we go back to Hayden. See what he’s learned about Safe Harbor and New Tide.”
He nodded his agreement with her plan when he just wanted to charge back to Tinsley and shake him until he admitted what they were doing with these children.
El shifted to stare across the parking lot. “Since we’re here, we’ll try to interview Sloan and Trent.”
“Lead the way,” he said, honoring her decision again.
She started to cross the parking lot to the New Tide office, also a house, but this one was very contemporary.
A black van whipped into the parking lot. The front side door held the Safe Harbor logo. She turned to Gabe. “Is that a Ford—”
“Transit 350? Yeah, it is, but the plates don’t match the ones in Mason’s pictures.”
“They could’ve switched plates, or they have additional vans. And we don’t even know if the van in Mason’s pictures is the one that ran Kenna off the road.” El ended their conversation and raced toward the vehicle.
A guy with slicked back blond hair wearing greasy gray overalls and a stained T-shirt slid out.
She stepped in front of him and blocked his path. “Do you work for Safe Harbor?”
He cast her a quizzical look. “Nope, just a mechanic returning the van.”
“What was wrong with it?”
He crossed his arms. “Not sure that’s any of your business.”
She displayed her credentials.
“Why didn’t you say something?” He shook his head. “We had it in for an oil change and routine maintenance.”
“No body damage?” Gabe asked.
“Nope. They keep their vehicles pristine.”
If El was disappointed, her expression didn’t show it. “If they did incur any body damage, would they bring the van to you?”
He relaxed his arms. “We don’t do bodywork. Refer everybody out to Al’s Bodyshop.”
She jotted down the name in her notebook.
“Look.” The mechanic grabbed a piece of paper from the seat. “I gotta go. I got jammed up in traffic and my ride will be here in a minute.” He slammed the van door and started across the lot.
“One more question,” Gabe called after him. “Do you know how many vans they own?”
“Not sure, but we service three of them.”
“And they usually park them here in the lot?” Gabe asked.
He nodded. “Now, seriously, I gotta go, or I’m gonna get canned.” He took off jogging toward the home.
El looked at Gabe. “So where are the other two? We can’t go in and question Tinsley, or we’ll give him a heads-up that we’re looking for a damaged van, and it might disappear.”
“Guess we call Al’s Bodyshop,” Gabe said. “But odds are, the killer wouldn’t take it somewhere near here.”
“When we get back to the car, I’ll get the registration information for your team, and they can call around with this new information.”
He nodded, and they started across the lot to the New Tide office.
He pulled the glass door open and held it for her.
The foyer was even more posh than the group home.
A professionally dressed woman with her hair twisted up in the back gave them a practiced smile from behind the wooden reception desk.
El held up her credentials. “We’re here to see Patrick Sloan.”
Her smile evaporated. “Can you tell me what this is about?”
“No,” El said.
Gabe assumed she hoped the one word would discourage additional conversation.
“Let me see if he’s available.” She punched a few buttons on her console and talked into the handset. “I will,” she said, then hung up and turned her attention to El. “Have a seat. He’ll be right down.”
El tilted her head. “I’m a little confused and maybe you can help me. Is this foundation related to the group home across the parking lot?”
“Yes.” The young woman’s broad smile returned. “Most of the money we raise goes to Safe Harbor, so we’re very connected.”
Gabe rested his elbow on the counter. “But not legally.”
She looked up at him, her smile broadening. “No. However, our chairman of the board is very involved with their director. So is Patrick.”
Gabe gave her a flirtatious smile. “Friends or just involved in the business together?”
“Not just the work, but friends. Good friends.” She returned Gabe’s smile with a wide one, her eyes alive with interest in him.
“Honestly, I don’t know where Patrick fits socializing into his crazy schedule.
By the time he was thirty-five, he’d already sold two startups, and venture capitalists were drooling over him and his third company when he started working here. ”
“Thank you, Trudy,” a booming male voice came from behind them. “You’ve told them quite enough.”
Gabe spun to see the man with the big voice but was surprised by the lean mass of the tall blond guy standing there. His sleek black suit with a tailor-pressed cut screamed taste. The gold cufflinks on his starched white shirt and his Rolex watch spoke to money, maybe ambition.
He strode with extreme confidence toward them. He stretched out his hand to Gabe. “Patrick Sloan. Detective, what can I—”
“Sorry, man.” Gabe held up his hands. “Wrong choice.” Gabe’s comment briefly ruffled the guy. “I’m Gabe Irving with the Lost Lake Locators, and this is Detective Elaina Lyons.”
Sloan turned on a megawatt smile and fired it and his hand in El’s direction. “I’m so sorry, Detective Lyons.” His gaze fixed on her, looking at her as if she were the only woman in the world. “Can you ever forgive me?”
El wasn’t in any way affected by his overdone charm. She maintained her professional posture and firmly grasped his hand to shake. “Nothing to forgive. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
His smile evaporated. “What’s this about?”
“It’s better if we discuss it behind closed doors.”
“We can go to my office.” He performed a razor-sharp pivot and marched to a door he quickly unlocked with a key card. It led into a long hallway with offices on both sides.
“So many offices,” El said. “New Tide must be doing very well to need all these employees.”
“Indeed.” Sloan led them to the end of the hallway and swung into a doorway on the left.
The corner office. Decorated in an ultra-modern style. Glass everywhere. Expensive artwork and objects all around the room, and beautiful views of a large wooded area. The office, combined with his attire, sent red flags flying for Gabe.
Of course, if what the receptionist had said was true, he would’ve come to this business with money, and his pretentious display might not have anything to do with his current salary. Hayden’s deep dive would tell them if that was true.
Sloan gestured with a manicured hand at a round table. He waited until they were seated, then joined them, crossing his long legs and leaning back as if he were king.
“Now, what’s this all about?” he asked, sounding as if this conversation was beneath him.
El took her time retrieving her notebook and pen. “We’d like details on how payments are handled between New Tide and Safe Harbor.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure that’s information I should provide to you.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’re giving me trade secrets or anything.”
“No, but—”
“I can get a warrant if I need to.”
He snapped his chair forward and planted his feet on the floor. “What’s this about, anyway? Why do you need the information so badly that you’d get a warrant?”
“We believe it relates to an investigation we’re working on.”
“That was a perfect non-answer.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t share information for an ongoing investigation. Please answer my question, Mr. Sloan, and stop wasting our time.”
He sat back. Pondered for a while. “I guess it won’t hurt to tell you. It’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Each month, Mr. Trent tells me how much money to transfer to Safe Harbor, and I write a check. Simple as that.”
Gabe thought he was either lying or sharing a half-truth. If paying the home was so simple, why was Sloan making such a big deal of keeping it from them?
El finished writing a note and looked up. “Does the money vary every month?”
Sloan nodded. “They’re guaranteed a basic amount each month, but we often raise additional funds, and that money is passed on directly to them.”
“What is the basic monthly guaranteed amount?”
He scrunched his forehead. “Now that’s private information, and I’m not free to share it without that warrant you mentioned.”
El didn’t appear flustered at his answer. “I can respect that. How about an approximation? Is it less than fifty thousand a month?”
He shook his head.
“Between fifty and one hundred grand a month?”
“On the upper end of your range. But that’s all I’ll say about exact finances without that warrant.”
El tapped her pen on her notebook but kept her gaze on Sloan. “That’s a large chunk of change annually. Tell me how you raise the money.”
“Thank goodness that’s not part of my job description.
” He laughed and swiped the back of his hand over his forehead.
“But seriously, I don’t know all the details.
I just show up at fundraising events when I’m told to by the board of directors, who are in charge of the fundraising.
Basically, that means Jonas Trent does it. ”
They would have to go to the top to get complete answers.
“How often are your books audited?” El asked.
“I guess it was a little less than two years ago. We don’t receive any federal funds, so we aren’t subjected to annual audits.”
“But you do receive payments for the children from the state, correct?” Gabe asked, hoping to disprove Tinsley’s statement.
“Actually, no. We’re funded solely by money raised by the board.”
So Tinsley had told the truth, but Gabe didn’t know why they wouldn’t want any money from the state. Maybe Sloan could tell them. “Why would you turn down the state’s money?”
“Again, another question for the board of directors.”
El eyed him in her practiced interview stare. “Which you said is basically Jonas Trent.”
“I mean, yeah, in most things.” He paused, his gaze darting around the room, as if looking for a way out of this situation. “But I figure the entire board makes decisions like that.”
“Is Mr. Trent’s office in this building?”
“He has the whole second floor.”
Excellent. Gabe liked the idea of marching right up there and putting him in the hot seat next. “Do you know if he’s in?”
“I saw him this morning, but it’s not my job to keep track of him.” He smirked. “Is that all the questions you have for me?”
“Are you familiar with a man named Howard Mason?” Gabe asked.
He immediately shook his head, his expression blank. “No. Don’t know the guy. Now if that’s all…”
El didn’t move a single muscle toward leaving, but kept her gaze raptly fixed on his. “One more question. Do you know a Kenna James?”
“Kenna James?” He narrowed his gaze in direct contrast to his innocent response to knowing Mason. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t know where to place her.”
Gabe got out his phone and flashed Kenna’s picture at Sloan.
Sloan shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do know her.”
“She worked as an admin volunteer for Safe Harbor,” Gabe said.
“Oh, yeah. That’s probably where I saw her name. On an email or something.”
He was hiding something. Gabe was sure of it. “But you never interacted with her in person?”
“No. Never.” His adamant expression should indicate he was telling the truth, but Gabe’s gut told him not to believe the guy.
El sat silently for a moment. “What would you say if I told you she was murdered Friday night?”
He sat up, his body rigid and every muscle in his face locked into place. “Well, I’d say I’m sorry that happened. Exactly what I’d say if anyone was murdered. And I’m especially sorry because she was a volunteer at Safe Harbor. I’m sure everyone over there is upset and will miss her.”
El held her pen poised over her notebook. “Where were you on Friday evening between seven and ten p.m.?”
“Me?” He lurched forward. “You’re asking me for an alibi? Like you think I might have killed a woman I don’t even personally know?”
El’s outward appearance didn’t reveal any emotions. “Please just answer the question, Mr. Sloan.”
He crossed his arms. “Fine. Friday night I was at our fundraiser at the Lakeside Ballroom. Tons of people can confirm I was there, including our chairman of the board.”
“Jonas Trent was at the fundraiser?” she asked, for the first time showing a minor crack in her armor.
“Both of us were. Arrived an hour before it started and left a half an hour after it ended. That would be from six until midnight. That’s our standard procedure so not a single donor who wants to talk to us is missed.
” He cleared his throat and stood. “Now if that’s all, I really do need to get back to work. I’ll walk you out.”
He didn’t give them an option, but briskly strode to the door and into the hallway.
They had no choice but to follow or wait for him to throw them out. There was something else Gabe would like to push him on, but he didn’t.
On the way to the door, El eased close to him. “He’s hiding something.”
He peered down at her. “Agreed. The big question is, what?”