Chapter Seven
From her front door Brenda waved again as Mallory drove away.
Her chest felt so tight she could barely breathe.
She hoped this had been the right decision.
Having Mallory take her child a four-hour drive away was terrifying.
No matter that she trusted the woman implicitly.
Brenda had spent two nights in Los Angeles with Janey here under the nanny’s careful watch.
Why worry about a fraction of that distance now?
Because everything was different now. Vastly more uncertain and no little bit terrifying.
Brenda wasn’t sure who or what to trust. She stared at the man standing on the sidewalk that led from his house to the street. He paced back and forth, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Could she trust him? Was the mere idea a mistake?
He’d given every indication that she could…but so had Scott. She’d been married to him for six years and hadn’t realized what he was capable of beyond the cheating until only yesterday.
She had never considered herself a fool. But she had definitely been fooled by Scott. A repeat of that mistake was not something she wanted to make—ever.
Despite understanding this reality, she also recognized that she needed help.
She could not do this alone. At least, it wouldn’t be smart to attempt an investigation of her own without help. This was serious…dangerous.
Frankly, she wasn’t entirely sure where to start.
At this point, Detective Shelton was being overly secretive.
He’d asked her plenty of questions about Scott and his business this morning, but he’d sidestepped her every attempt at questions of her own.
Like what would Scott be doing in Los Angeles?
Was he hiding there? Shelton couldn’t answer the question. Or wouldn’t, was more like it.
No matter that she and Janey were victims in this bizarre situation, she had a feeling Shelton saw her as a potential suspect.
Which was ridiculous. Yes, she had lived with Scott for five years.
Yes, they had a child together. But obviously that didn’t mean he shared every detail of his business life with her or that he told her the whole truth with anything he did share.
In all honesty, she had no idea if anything she knew about her husband was real, much less true.
Who hadn’t seen situations like this in the movies? A wife who discovered all manner of bad things about a suddenly missing husband. The wife always ended up facing conflict. And the horrifying realities always came as a surprise.
Brenda rolled her eyes. She was a writer, for heaven’s sake.
She made her living coming up with scenarios not unlike this one and still she hadn’t seen it coming.
No doubt her career made her look all the more suspicious to the authorities.
Shelton hadn’t said as much yet but that didn’t mean he wasn’t already considering the possibility.
Sadly, it happened. Wives killed husbands… husbands killed wives.
Not only did she need to find whatever trouble Scott had gotten himself into, she needed to protect herself and Janey. That was the bottom line of her current reality.
Ben’s call ended and he headed her way. At the same time a dark four-door sedan eased to the curb in front of her house. The urge to stamp her foot and demand “What now?” proved nearly overwhelming.
The driver’s-side door opened, and a figure emerged from the car. Dark suit jacket…dark hair.
The FBI agent.
What was his name?
Cummings. Special Agent Jarrod Cummings.
She was supposed to call him about an appointment today. Apparently he had grown impatient and decided to just show up. Or maybe Shelton had given him a heads-up about the latest developments in the Devers saga.
Perfect. Just what she needed. She suddenly felt utterly weary.
Ben was already halfway up her sidewalk by the time the agent opened her gate.
As Ben stepped up onto her porch, he asked her, “The FBI agent, right?”
She nodded. “He was supposed to wait for my call.”
Ben glanced at her. “They can be pushy sometimes.”
Just her luck.
As he had yesterday, Agent Cummings wore a dark suit that looked slightly rumpled. He was clean-shaven this time, though his hair looked a little tousled. Weren’t federal agents supposed to be known for their pristine attire and presentation? Evidently not this one.
“Ms. Devers,” the agent said as he approached her steps. He glanced at Ben and gave him a subtle nod.
“I planned to call you,” Brenda explained, “but we’ve had a rough night around here, so I haven’t gotten around to it.”
“The break-in,” he said as he stepped up first one, then the next step.
So he had heard. Shelton must want to be rid of this case if he was in such a hurry to pass along the latest updates to a federal agent.
“Yes. It was quite an ordeal.”
He glanced at Ben once more before settling his gaze back on her. “If you’re available now, I would like to get started with our interview.”
Why put it off? “Sure. We can talk now.”
The agent’s gaze settled on Ben yet again. “The neighbor,” he said. “Ben, isn’t it?”
Ben thrust out his hand. “Ben Clark.”
Cummings shook the extended hand. Brenda didn’t bother to ask how he knew Ben’s name or that he was her neighbor.
Before the agent could suggest otherwise, Brenda announced, “I would like Ben to sit in on the interview.”
“Are you an attorney, Mr. Clark?” Cummings asked.
Ben smiled. “No. Just a friend.”
“Do you know Mr. Devers?” the man prodded.
“No,” Brenda interjected. The question infuriated her because she understood what the agent was getting at. “Ben is new to the neighborhood. Scott was already dead—missing—when he moved in next door.”
Cummings bobbed his head in a noncommittal nod that blatantly declared he didn’t believe her. “Very well, shall we get started?”
Brenda turned her back on him and walked into her house. Cummings came in behind her and Ben right after him. She settled on the sofa and let the two men sit where they would. She was too tired and too angry to summon any manners.
“Your husband,” Cummings began.
“He stopped being my husband nearly a year ago,” Brenda countered, setting the record straight. “He just hadn’t signed the divorce papers yet.” She was sick to death of everyone calling Scott her husband. He’d stopped being her husband when he cheated for the third time—that she knew of.
“Scott,” Cummings amended with a look that suggested what she’d said ticked some box in his brain.
Brenda struggled to tamp down her fury. She did not want to end up making herself look more suspicious. He was probably already putting two and two together and coming up with Ben as Brenda’s new lover.
She was so sick of this.
“The point Brenda is making,” Ben said during the ensuing silence, “is that Scott had stopped sharing details of his life, business or personal, with her one year ago. Perhaps even before that. She is only aware of what he allowed her to know. He was clearly keeping secrets well before their separation.”
Cummings eyed him speculatively. “And you know all this how?”
Ben smiled patiently. “Last evening—over pizza as you’ll recall—Brenda shared her concerns about Scott’s behavior over the past year or so. I’m certain if you interview Mallory Lawrence, the nanny employed by Brenda for the past two-plus years, you can confirm as much.”
Brenda was pleasantly surprised at her neighbor’s ability to summarize the situation so accurately and concisely.
Cummings nodded then turned back to her. “Your—Scott Devers was deeply involved with money laundering. A South American branch of the Jalisco cartel, with whom he and his partner were doing business, is most unhappy with this recent turn of events.”
He’d lost her at money laundering. No matter that she and Ben had discussed the possibility, to have it confirmed by this FBI agent was unnerving.
Obviously she had known given the events of the past couple of days that whatever Scott had done was bad…
but she hadn’t wanted to believe it would be this bad.
On a scale of one to ten this was a clear twelve.
“Has the Bureau,” Ben asked, “confirmed these accusations or are you speculating?”
Excellent question. Brenda was so grateful to have an objective view of the situation on her side.
Cummings swung his attention to the man seated on the sofa with Brenda. “The Bureau has been watching Scott Devers and Tate Jenner for fifteen months. We have documented their criminal behavior all this time.”
Brenda felt sick to her stomach. But then her anger stirred. These people had allowed her and her daughter to live here in this house—in this town—like sitting ducks while they orchestrated an investigation that involved a South American cartel. What the hell?
Before she could demand to know why she and Janey hadn’t been protected or at least warned, Ben spoke once more.
“Then you’re aware that Brenda is not involved with the firm.
She has no knowledge of the clients or the activities of the firm.
And certainly she has no information about any cartel dealings. ”
“That may be,” Cummings admitted, “but there’s just one problem.”
Brenda held her breath. She couldn’t imagine what was coming next.
“Ten months ago Scott Devers agreed to be an informant for the Bureau. He made a claim that if anything happened to him there was an insurance policy to back up all that he had shared with us. Obviously, based on the message left on your garage door last night—” he directed this to Brenda “—someone else is aware of his backup plan.”
“Insurance policy?” Brenda repeated. “What does that mean?” She had an idea. The creative side of her brain was spinning wildly. A list, she presumed. Details of accounts or money transfers. Something that would be a problem for the cartel.
Cummings turned up his hands. “No idea. He never expounded on the comment.”
“Then he didn’t make this comment to you,” Ben suggested, or maybe it was more than a suggestion. The way he was staring down the agent it was as if he knew exactly what Cummings meant.
“He did not.”
“His handler,” Ben said. “He has a handler and this is who he told.”
“Had,” Cummings corrected. “The third victim, Special Agent Clinton Pratt, was his handler.”
Brenda’s jaw dropped. She didn’t need to ask…
She didn’t even need to hear more. Wherever Scott was—if he wasn’t dead—he was in the crosshairs of more than just the cartel.
The FBI wanted him in all probability just as badly.
As if she’d said her thoughts aloud, Cummings turned his attention to Brenda.
No matter that she was certain she didn’t want to hear whatever was coming next…
She’d already heard enough for a dozen lifetimes.
“Do yourself a favor, Ms. Devers,” the agent said.
“Make sure you really know who your friends—” he glanced at Ben “—and your neighbors are before you trust them. I think the hole you’ve dug for yourself and your daughter—whether by design or out of obliviousness—is already deep enough. Don’t keep digging.”
With that he rose from his chair. “You have my card. Call me when you’re ready to talk further.” Then he walked out.