Chapter 16 #2
He started the car and pulled out of the lot.
Boone Properties wasn't too far, so he headed in that direction.
He could park near her car and confirm that she was still inside without making his presence obvious.
If she finished before he arrived, she would text.
If she was still in the meeting when he got there, he would wait.
During the drive, he reviewed the situation.
Kal Davis had wanted the conservatory property for development.
He had approached Celia Ann multiple times with offers to buy, and she had refused.
When persuasion failed, Kal had resorted to manipulation.
He'd identified Olivia Stewart as someone he could exploit.
He'd cultivated a relationship with her, paying her regular sums of money and encouraging her to believe they would be together once the obstacle was removed.
It was methodical and cold-blooded, and the criminals might have gotten away with it if Celia Ann had not possessed the instinct to leave instructions with her attorney.
That single act of self-preservation had set everything in motion.
But knowing the truth and proving it in court were different things.
Barrett turned the corner and slowed down as he approached the building. He spotted Cadie's rental car parked along the curb and pulled into a nearby space. Then he called Weston Lang.
The call connected after the first ring. "Hey," Weston said. "What do you need?"
"A financial update," Barrett said. "Sullivan is building the case file and wants to know if any additional money has changed hands since Celia Ann's death. Have you found anything new?"
There was a brief pause, and Barrett heard the rapid click of a keyboard. "I flagged something yesterday," Weston said. "There was another transaction. A deposit in Olivia's account, ten days after the death. It was five thousand dollars, larger than previous amounts."
Barrett processed that. The earlier payments had ranged from five hundred to a thousand dollars at regular intervals. A single payment of five thousand after the death suggested a bonus. A reward for completing the job.
"Can you trace the source?"
"I'm working on it," Weston said. "The routing is different from the earlier deposits, but the timing and the account match. I'll have the full documentation for you within the hour."
"Send it as soon as you have it."
"Will do," Weston said, and the call ended.
Barrett looked at the entrance to Boone Properties. Cadie deserved to know the details about her aunt's death. But sharing the truth was going to be difficult.
The front door opened and Cadie stepped out.
Barrett straightened in his seat. Her posture was upright and her stride was confident, suggesting that the meeting had gone well. She scanned the street, spotting his car. A smile crossed her face, and she walked toward him.
Barrett got out to meet her on the sidewalk. She came to him without hesitation, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "I have a lot to update you on," he said.
Cadie pulled back and looked up at him. "I have to fill you in on what Boone Properties can do. It might just work out."
"That's good," he said. "Let's go somewhere we can talk."
Cadie turned toward her car. Before she had taken two steps, her phone rang. She pulled it from her bag and looked at the screen. The caller ID read: Davis Commercial Realty.
"That must be Kal," Barrett said, keeping his voice even. "Go ahead and answer. Put him on speaker."
She answered the call. "Hello, this is Cadie," she said, then held the phone between them with the speaker activated.
Kal's voice came through smooth and confident, the practiced tone of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. "Ms. Ladd. Kal Davis. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
"How did you get my number?" Cadie said.
"I've known the concert director for years," Kal said. "He thought you'd be glad to hear from me…under the circumstances."
Barrett realized that must be how Kal had known the hotel where Cadie was staying, prior to setting up that break-in.
Cadie rolled her eyes. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm prepared to make a very generous offer for the conservatory," Kal said, "more than market value. I think you'll find the number quite attractive."
Barrett watched Cadie's face. She didn't flinch.
"I'm not selling to you," she said, her voice steady. "I might have other plans for the conservatory."
There was a pause on the line. Barrett recognized the brief silence of a man recalculating. When Kal spoke again, the smooth tone had vanished.
"That would be unfortunate," he said. "Maintenance can be a hefty expense…or there might be code violations."
"Yes, you mentioned that when I met you," Cadie said. "I'll deal with it."
Kal pressed the issue. "Buildings like that, well…accidents happen."
Barrett didn't miss the threat.
Kal continued to speak in an aggressive tone. "You should really reconsider before serious problems arise."
Barrett had heard enough. "Back off," he said. "The lady said no."
Silence followed. Barrett could feel it through the phone, the shock of an unexpected voice. He pictured Kal on the other end of the line, processing the fact that Cadie was not alone.
"Anson," Kal said, the salesmanship gone. "Still playing hero?"
Barrett did not raise his voice. He didn't need to. "Still targeting people who can't fight back?"
The line went dead.
Barrett stared at the phone in Cadie's hand for a moment after the call disconnected. "I probably went too far," he said. "But the guy's an asshole."
Cadie stared at him for a beat, then the tension in her face broke and something between a laugh and an exhale escaped her. "Let's get out of here," she said.
But the call had left a bad feeling. It was clear to him that Kal Davis was desperate—and desperate men were dangerous.