Chapter Fourteen #2
None of the neighbors at his address had any idea about surviving family or even friends.
The home was empty, the maintenance taken care of by a local company called Home Corp.
A trip to the office proved futile. The employee at the desk wouldn’t discuss the specifics about who paid for the service.
No matter that more than one neighbor insisted the owner whose name went with the address was deceased.
One neighbor had even been home the evening the owner was taken away by the coroner—after a fall down the stairs.
A stop at county records downtown showed that the property was still owned by the name on the list Brenda had found. Taxes were paid promptly by the same maintenance company.
When they drove away from the courthouse, Brenda couldn’t hold in the frustration any longer. “This is getting stranger and stranger. I’m a writer, and I can’t even imagine what could happen next.”
“Since we can’t access the client records from J&D Investments,” Ben said with a glance in her direction, “we can’t confirm what we believe we’ve found with these two clients.”
“Had they been killing people no one would miss so they could keep using their money?” Brenda blurted.
“That’s a valid scenario,” Ben agreed. “There’s also the possibility the one death—from a year ago—was an accident and the firm took advantage of the situation. My colleague in Chicago is working on finding answers as well.”
“What should we do with what we’ve uncovered?” Brenda wasn’t sure what to do with the little bit that may or may not be evidence. Sadly, it didn’t feel complete or concrete.
Ben made a turn based on the navigation app’s directions to the home of the next and final name on the list. “I don’t believe we can trust Shelton or Cummings with this information. For now, I think we wait and see what else we find.”
“It’s so strange not to be able to trust the people who are supposed to protect you.” She’d had that feeling since this thing started.
“I’m not suggesting—” Ben glanced at her as he slowed for a traffic signal “—that the local police or the Bureau isn’t doing its job or that either man is not a good cop. But I am suggesting that something is off in this investigation, and we need to proceed with caution.”
“Maybe we’ll have better luck with this last one.” It would be nice if Luther Holland was alive…unlike the others. They needed to find something soon.
“If not,” Ben reminded her, “we’ll just keep digging.”
A few more minutes and they arrived at the stately home on Alexander Drive.
Brenda decided not to get her hopes up considering they’d gotten nothing that explained why these three names in particular had been hidden.
Though Scott had obviously written the names and hidden that paper for a reason, they were no closer now than they were twenty-four hours ago to knowing what the bad guys wanted.
It was like swimming in a circle. No matter how fast you swam, you never really went anywhere.
Like the others’ addresses, the house looked well-kept. The neighborhood was high-end with homes in the seven-figure price range. Homes with residents who likely had the big bucks, as Mallory would say.
Brenda had dreamed of Janey last night. She’d been playing in the woods in the park on Monte Sano Mountain. Brenda had been trying to catch up with her to warn that she was veering too close to the edge of the cliff, but she could never catch her. Her heart hurt even now with the memory.
Waking this morning after a night of lovemaking with Ben had prevented that nightmare from following her through the day so far.
To say she felt immensely less stressed would be an understatement.
What she felt—she smiled—was something more than simply relaxed.
She felt good. Really good. Happy. As happy as anyone could feel considering her cheating, supposedly dead husband was actually alive and on the run and a drug cartel was threatening her.
And that her sweet little girl was in hiding.
They had to find answers soon. Brenda didn’t want to be apart from Janey longer than absolutely necessary.
At the door of the final location on their list, Ben pressed the button for the doorbell. It wasn’t the usual old-fashioned doorbell. It was one of those with a camera built-in and the capability for communicating with the person or persons who lived in the house even if they weren’t home.
“What do you want?”
The harsh words echoed from the little metal box attached to the wall next to the door.
Ben removed his credentials case and held it in front of the camera. “I’m Ben Clark from the Colby Agency—a private investigations firm out of Chicago. This is Brenda Devers. We’re here to speak with—”
“Devers?” the man’s voice snapped. “Any relation to Scott Devers?”
Brenda exchanged a look with Ben, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Why are you here?” he demanded, his tone as much resigned now as angry.
“I’m trying to find someone who can help me figure out what my husband did to have people threatening me and my daughter. We have no idea what’s going on, but our lives are in danger.” Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back. She would not cry, damn it.
“I can’t invite you in,” Mr. Holland explained, his tone calmer, “because I’m not home. But I can tell you that at least two people I know who invested with J&D are now dead.”
Brenda pressed a hand to her mouth. Dear God, this was real. There was no option for coincidence and no accidental or maybe even natural events to blame.
“Mr. Holland,” Ben said, “my agency was hired to protect Ms. Devers and her daughter and to try and figure out what’s going on here. Any insights you are willing to share could be immensely helpful.”
“I can’t help you because I only know two things. I have five million dollars missing and people are dropping like flies. Go into hiding, Ms. Devers, and let someone else figure this out. I suspect it’s way, way over our heads.”
“Thank you, Mr. Holland,” Ben said. He held up a business card in view of the camera. “This is my contact information. If you recall anything you want to pass along please call me.”
The man said nothing further.
Brenda walked alongside Ben as they retraced their steps to his car. Since they had been in view of the car the entire time there was no need to check it for trouble. She settled into the passenger seat and waited for Ben to get behind the wheel.
“What do we do now?” She was so tired of dead ends. They so desperately needed a break.
“Now we’re going back to your place. Have some lunch and check in with my colleague to see where he is with his research.”
She collapsed against the headrest and watched the landscape go by.
She wondered if Tate’s wife knew about any of this.
Probably not. Brenda certainly had not. Then again, she and Scott had lived separately for a year.
Maybe she’d missed all the dirty details because of that.
She should just go to the woman’s house and demand to know whatever she knew. Except she had a big-deal lawyer.
Her cell phone rang, and Brenda dug it from her handbag. Maybe it was Mallory. Brenda had called this morning to talk to Janey, but the call had gone to voicemail. She checked the screen. Not Mallory or one of Brenda’s contacts, but she recognized the number.
“It’s Detective Shelton.”
“Cummings has likely told him about our trespassing on a crime scene last evening.”
With a sigh of dread, she accepted the call. “Brenda Devers.”
“Ms. Devers,” the detective said, “can you come to my office? We’ve found the intruder who broke into your home, and he won’t answer any of our questions. He says he will talk only to you. I realize this request is unusual, but we could really use your help.”
Stunned but definitely game for the opportunity, she assured him, “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The detective thanked her and ended the call.
“You’re never going to believe this.”
Ben shot her a look. “Try me.”
“Shelton says they have the intruder in custody, but he won’t talk to anyone but me.” They had just turned onto her street.
Ben laughed, a dry sound. “Point me in the right direction.”
Evidently Scott had not been the intruder…but even if this suspect confessed, could she really trust his words were true?
Huntsville Police Department
Wheeler Avenue
Huntsville, 1:00 p.m.
Brenda wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the man secured in the interview room wasn’t it. She stood in the observation booth, staring through the glass at him, wondering why he would possibly want to talk to her.
According to his driver’s license, the intruder was Dirk Lanier, thirty-five, of Birmingham. His prints weren’t in any database and the driver’s license was apparently a fake—there was no way to confirm anything about him. Ben called him a ghost.
Lanier sat at a table in the center of the beige room. He looked to be of medium height and build. Muscular. His head was shaven clean, but his jaw sported a five-o’clock shadow. He stared steadily at the glass as if he could see those watching him, but that wasn’t how it worked.
Brenda and Ben had been escorted to the observation booth by Detective Shelton. Another detective, Reginald Truss, had joined them.
“Because he insists on speaking to you privately,” Shelton said, “he agreed to be secured. We didn’t want you going in there otherwise.
His hands are cuffed behind his back, and we have shackles on his ankles that are secured to the floor.
That’s why we had to use this room. It’s the only one outfitted for that sort of thing. ”
Brenda nodded. “Okay.”
“Do not get close to him,” Truss cautioned, picking up from there.
“Walk through the door and sit down on this side of the table. If he gives you any lip, just get up and walk right back out. He’s already admitted to being the one who came into your home.
He just refuses to tell us why or who sent him. He will only talk to you about that.”
“Okay,” Brenda repeated. She wanted to get in there and see what the man had to say. If there was any chance he could tell them something more…she was game.
Shelton opened the door to lead her from the booth. Ben gave her a nod. “I’ll be watching,” he promised.
She managed a smile. No matter how ready she was to do this, she was still nervous.
Damned nervous. She told herself that if this intruder had wanted to really hurt her he could have when he was in her house.
Maybe he’d been ordered to do no harm since the people who hired him wanted something from her.
Trouble was, she had no idea what they wanted or where it was.
Just outside the door that exited the booth was the door that led into the interview room. Shelton opened it and said to the man seated inside, “You’ve got five minutes. Pull any crap and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
The man, Dirk Lanier, said nothing. He never even looked at Shelton. He just stared at Brenda. She figured it was a mind game. He wanted her scared.
Well, he’d succeeded…a little. But she wasn’t about to show him just how much.
She did as Shelton had instructed. She walked to the vacant chair on her side of the table, pulled it out and sat down. She stared directly at the man across the table and waited. No need to attempt small talk. She wasn’t even sure how that was done with a man like this.
“Your husband left you in a world of hurt, lady.”
“Well, he never was a very good husband.” She held her hands together in her lap, twisting them now as her nerves started to jangle.
“Not much of a daddy either,” the man added with a sneer.
Brenda said nothing. What was the point?
“If you—” he lowered his voice to barely a whisper “—want that little girl of yours to be safe, there’s something you should know.”
Heart pounding harder, Brenda leaned slightly forward to ensure she didn’t miss what he said next. “I’m listening.”
He did the same, but his move put their noses so close that his would have touched hers had she not drawn back slightly.
No small amount of fear crowded into her throat.
She struggled to ignore it. To pay attention to how he smelled…
to the color of his eyes. Hazel with a distinct hint of silver.
Was he the intruder who had pushed her into the wall?
She couldn’t say. She forced herself to take another deep breath.
Sweaty flesh was the only scent she detected.
“You better listen good,” he murmured, “because I’m only going to say this once.”
She nodded stiffly.
“And—” he narrowed his eyes at her “—if you tell the cops what I say, you’ll be sorry.”