Trust No One (Devlin & Falco), page 23
The attorney exhaled a beleaguered breath. “Yes, Detective, I am headed home.”
Falco moved up beside her. “We have a problem, Bellemont. Your man Ramsey has been harassing young girls.”
Bellemont looked from Falco to Kerri. “I’ve already told you that Neal Ramsey is completely trustworthy. Whatever he’s done, I can assure you it’s not only legal but ethical.”
“You call stalking and harassing my eighteen-year-old niece ethical and legal?”
The attorney sighed, his shoulders slumped. “Amelia.” He shook his head. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
The idea that Bellemont spoke not only as if he knew Amelia but as if he knew her well had a volatile mixture of worry and outrage twisting through Kerri. “How the hell do you know my niece?”
Bellemont shook his head adamantly. “It’s not what you think.”
Falco moved a step closer to him. “I’m reasonably confident you can’t read minds, Bellemont. So since you have no clue what she’s thinking, why don’t you just give us the skinny? Why was your man talking to Amelia on Sunday night? Harassing her to the point that 911 had to be called.”
Bellemont glanced beyond them, as if he feared being overheard. “We needed to ask Amelia a few questions,” he admitted.
“About what?” Kerri demanded, rather than the litany of other things she wanted to hurl at the man. What the hell was he thinking? Amelia was barely eighteen. She was a kid. And this—this was a fucking homicide investigation.
“Some months ago Amelia befriended Sela Abbott. It was after working with her on one of the fundraisers. Sela was impressed with Amelia, so she indulged the girl’s adoration.”
Kerri crossed her arms over her chest. “That doesn’t sound like Amelia. People are usually drawn to her rather than vice versa.”
“Whatever the case,” Bellemont relented, “the two began spending time together. Once we started the preliminary investigation into Sela’s accusations against Thompson, we felt it necessary to keep an eye on her, so to speak. Ben is my friend, and I felt compelled to see that his wife remained safe. To that end, we needed to understand the nature of Amelia’s relationship with Sela.”
Fury kicked Kerri in the gut all over again. “You’re suggesting she was spying on Sela. Reporting to who? York?” She shook her head. “Jesus Christ. Amelia wouldn’t do that. Not to anyone and not to the firm where she worked.” The idea was outrageous.
“I didn’t say that,” Bellemont argued. “Those are your words. All I’m saying is that we were concerned about the relationship, considering Amelia’s employer, and I relayed those concerns to Sela. Like you, she disagreed adamantly, and that was the end of it. Until . . . the murders. We started watching Amelia again at that point. Hoping she might lead us to Sela.”
Kerri stepped in toe to toe with him. Every instinct she possessed warned that Amelia could be in over her head. That this friend in need was Sela Abbott. Goddamn it! “If you’re keeping anything from me that puts my niece at risk, you will regret it, Bellemont.”
He moved his head wearily from side to side. “I would never do that, Detective.”
“Just to be clear,” Falco said, “you and Ramsey have no idea where Amelia or Sela are?”
“I wish we did.”
It bugged the hell out of Kerri, but she believed him. At least on that one point. As much as she wanted to punch the guy for keeping this from her for days now, she turned around and walked back to Falco’s car. He followed.
As her partner drove away, Kerri stared at Bellemont. He stood in that alley looking utterly lost. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going the way he had anticipated either.
Falco asked, “Who’s up next, partner?”
“Thompson—for the good it will do to try and catch him.” Kerri hesitated for a moment. “Then York.”
She couldn’t tell Diana about this . . . not until she was sure. Fear snaked around her chest and squeezed. It was bad enough this case was all over the place . . . but this was personal.
“You know what the problem is with those three? Bellemont, Thompson, and York?”
The adrenaline suddenly bled out of her, leaving Kerri exhausted. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“They’re lawyers. No matter how good or nice you think one is, you can never really, completely trust one of them.”
She laughed, a half-hearted sound. “Ain’t that the truth.”
While her partner drove, Kerri sent a text to Amelia.
We need to know you’re ok. Now, pls.
To Kerri’s surprise a response came right away.
I’m fine. Everyone needs to chill. I have to do this, Aunt Kerri. My friend needs me.
Is your friend Sela Abbott?
No answer.
Kerri sighed. This is not a game. It’s dangerous. Be careful.
A thumbs-up and then a heart appeared on the screen.
Kerri wanted to feel better about the situation after reading Amelia’s texts. But she didn’t. She was terrified that all this—the murders, the deceptions, the betrayal—all somehow tied together, and Amelia was tangled up right in the middle of it.
38
6:00 p.m.
Swanner Auto Repair
Richard Arrington Junior Boulevard South
Robby stared at the news on the television mounted on the wall in his shop. Photos of murder victim Ben Abbott, his missing wife, and his dead mother-in-law flashed on the screen.
“According to the Birmingham Police Department,” the anchor said in his perfectly modulated voice, “this investigation is ongoing, but there are still no firm leads in the case.”
Robby shut off the damned television. He couldn’t stand to watch any more of it. The story about the home invasion seemed to be on every channel twenty-four seven. It was driving him crazy.
This wasn’t his fault.
He suddenly realized he was standing in the middle of his shop, and his mechanics were staring at him. They were all working late, again.
“Too depressing,” he offered with a nod to the dark screen.
Agreements were mumbled as the men went back to work. Robby walked into the break room and shut the door. He pressed his head against the door and swallowed back the screams that rose in his throat.
He’d made a mistake all those years ago.
His father had almost lost this place before his heart attack. When he’d died nearly sixteen years ago, Robby had been twenty-four with a wife and kid and a shop that was going under fast because of the bad decisions his father had made.
But everything had turned around that one night.
Robby had been at the shop alone. Another of the mechanics had quit. Robby hadn’t blamed him. He couldn’t pay him what he’d deserved. Just before he’d decided to call it a night, a man had knocked on the door, needing assistance. He’d claimed that he’d heard Robby could work magic—that he was the best, and only the best would do.
What he’d really heard was that Robby was desperate.
Even as he’d agreed to do the job, Robby had recognized the price he was being paid was hush money. But the man had promised that if he did this right and kept quiet, he would never have to worry again.
Robby had been a fool.
And now that night was back to haunt him.
He walked to the freezer and dug out the box Jen had discovered. Maybe he was a fool, but he wasn’t stupid.
All these years he had kept a little memento from that night.
Just in case.
39
7:00 p.m.
York Residence
Saddle Creek Drive
Falco did the knocking at Lewis York’s door. The man lived on a private estate in one of Birmingham’s premiere neighborhoods. The enormous colonial revival–style house was as grand as the address suggested. But Kerri wasn’t impressed.
She surveyed the property. The meticulous landscaping, the abundance of space between the homes. Five-car garage. Each probably filled with something that cost more than a full year, maybe two, of her salary.
Didn’t mean the guy inside wasn’t capable of all manner of bad things.
There were certain things money definitely could not buy. Honesty. Integrity. Ethics.
The door opened, and Lewis York himself greeted them. Kerri had looked him up on the way over here. Closer to fifty than forty. Dark hair with a peppering of gray. Medium height, medium build. Not much of a chin, but a hell of a nose. Not classically handsome like his friend Theodore Thompson Jr. She had done a hell of a lot of research on the wannabe senator as well. She really, really had wanted to talk to him. But since Thompson was not available at his office or at his home, this guy had been next up on Kerri’s list.
“I’m Detective Devlin.” She showed her badge. “This is my partner, Detective Falco. We have a few questions about a double homicide case we’re investigating.”
Without inquiring as to what case or why they would need to speak with him, York opened the door wider in welcome. “Come in, Detectives.”
Kerri and Falco followed him into the grand entry hall.
“Let’s talk in my study.”
With that he turned and strode deeper into the house, made a left, and paused to slide apart elaborate wood-and-glass pocket doors. He entered the office and settled behind the desk.
“Please have a seat.” He gestured to the lushly upholstered chairs that stood before his desk. When they had complied, he said, “How can I help you?” His gaze lingered on Falco before he shifted back to Kerri.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the news about Ben Abbott and his family,” she said. She wouldn’t start with Amelia. She had made her mind up on the way here to let York do the leading. Sometimes a suspect’s need to prove his innocence helped to show his guilt. York was an attorney. If he was half as good as the prestigious firm would have her believe, he would never allow Kerri to lead him anyway.
“I have. It’s a terrible tragedy. My family and his are well acquainted.”
“Did you know Mr. Abbott or his wife personally?” Falco asked.
“Not really. Ben was several years younger than me, and he has been away for a good number of years. Frankly, I never really knew him beyond social events. I’m more acquainted with Ben’s father and his wife. I’m sure you know that everyone who is anyone is involved with DATACO on some level. Daniel has ensured that his company touches all of our lives in one way or another. He’s a brilliant strategist when it comes to business. His son obviously inherited that ability.”
It wasn’t necessary to be much of an investigator to know this. His waxing on was interesting, though. Kerri asked, “What about Ben’s wife, Sela?”
York shook his head. “I really don’t know her at all. As I told you, I’ve seen her in social settings. Nothing more.”
“Any rumors in your social circles as to what happened? Known enemies of the Abbotts? Talk of trouble?” she asked.
York turned his hands up. “None at all. I wish I could help you, Detectives, but I’m afraid I really know nothing about the situation other than what a somber tragedy it is. All of us at York, Hammond & Goldman are keeping the family in our prayers.”
“Beyond your staff that’s shown on the firm’s website”—Falco took the conversation in the next direction—“do you have other employees who aren’t in the photograph?”
“I’m not sure why you would ask in this context,” York qualified, “but the answer is we have custodial personnel and a few others who aren’t a part of the staff photograph. The ones in the photo are the members who interact with clients. When a new client arrives at our office, we want that client to recognize the faces he encounters.”
“You have how many investigators?” Falco pushed. “Five? Six?”
“Four,” he corrected. “The clientele to which we cater rarely requires those sorts of services.”
“We’d like the names of those investigators,” Kerri said, hoping he would answer without overanalyzing the question.
He held her gaze a moment. “Don’t doubt my desire to help in any way possible, but why are you interested in my firm’s staff?”
It had been worth a try.
“We have a witness,” Falco said, “who stated that a member of your staff was seen coming out of the Abbott home the day before the bodies were found.”
Kerri kept her gaze steady on York. She didn’t have a problem with the straight-up lie her partner had just told. Particularly if it got the job done.
“I tell you what, Detective. You stop by my office tomorrow during regular business hours, and I’ll have my secretary provide you with a list of the firm’s employees—as well as photos. If your witness identifies one of my people, I will personally escort that person to your office.”
“We may take you up on that offer,” Falco said.
“I wouldn’t have made it if I weren’t prepared to follow through.”
“Is it your firm’s policy to spy on people? Perhaps someone conducting some activity against one of your clients?” Kerri watched him closely as she waited for his response.
He shrugged. “To some extent—and within the law, of course—what my investigators do might at times be deemed as spying. But it’s no different than the things you do in the course of an investigation.”
“When this sort of situation arises,” Kerri went on since she’d gotten this far, “I assume you select someone who presumably would be able to get close to the target.” Her pulse was hammering now.
“That is a reasonable assumption.” He’d settled deeper into his chair, seemed to be enjoying this dance on the edge.
“Would you use another staff member if necessary rather than one of your investigators? An assistant, maybe?”
His gaze narrowed. “Possibly.”
“What about an intern?” She held his gaze, didn’t even blink.
He shook his head resolutely. “Absolutely not. Interns are basically children. I would never use a child in such a way. I have a child of my own. The idea is unconscionable.”
Before she could decide if he was telling the truth or just a really good liar, he stood, signaling the meeting was over.
Kerri and Falco did the same. She said, “Thank you for your time, Mr. York.”
“Always happy to help the Birmingham PD.” York led the way back to the front door. “Good evening, Detectives.”
Falco turned to him once more before walking away. “I’m sure if we have more questions, you’ll be available.”
“Of course.” York’s face remained clean of tells.
They had stepped out onto the veranda when his voice stopped them once more. “Detective Devlin, you’re Amelia’s aunt, aren’t you?”
Kerri shifted back to him, held her breath. “I am.”
He smiled. “She speaks of you often. At the firm we’re very proud to have her on staff. She is a brilliant young lady. I predict she has a bright future ahead of her.”
Kerri forced her lips into a smile. “Thank you.”
When they were in the car driving away, Falco asked, “Pick up any vibes?”
“Only that Bellemont was right. He’s arrogant, for sure. Unafraid. He wasn’t the slightest bit worried about talking to us. He probably saw it as a challenge. Whatever he knows about Sela Abbott, he will never tell.”
“He wanted you to know he was aware you were talking about Amelia when you mentioned an intern.”
Kerri blocked the dozens of scenarios—all related to Amelia—that bombarded her. “He did.”
If he’d thought that being so accommodating would take him off Kerri’s bad-guy radar, he was dead wrong.
“You mind stopping by Diana’s so I can pick up Tori?”
“Sure thing, Devlin.”
“I was thinking of ordering pizza,” she ventured. “You could stay for dinner if you’d like.”
Falco shot her a grin. “I knew it. You like me, don’t you, Devlin?”
She shook her head. “You’re growing on me.”
40
Leaving exactly the right number of bread crumbs is crucial.
People are so often oblivious.
It’s true. They are selective about what they see. It’s easier to see things through that narrow view of only what they want to see. The concept makes life more comfortable. No one wants to believe a woman might actually murder her husband and her mother or that she would destroy the baby she carried. Or that someone you trust—someone you know well—might betray you . . . hurt you . . . perhaps kill you.
No one wants to think about it. It’s too hard.
Too painful.
So they don’t look. They block it from their minds. Allow the news to scroll past unnoticed. They wear their blinders to protect their sensibilities.
But I need them to look.
It’s time to lead them to the truth. The first move in that direction starts today.
I climb into the back seat of the Uber and watch the blue car that served my purposes fade into nothing behind me as the driver speeds away.
The utterly unmemorable relic is now going to play the most important role of its pathetic life.
I didn’t forget the detectives. I left little clues for them as well. I am confident Detective Devlin will appreciate the effort.
It’s strange, but I like her. I’m betting she is everything I’ve heard she is.
She will put the pieces together.
Most important, by leaving the car at this remote cabin, I am sending the property owner a message.
I’m coming for you.
When he gets the message, I hope he warns his friends.
They are next.
41
Wednesday, June 13
9:00 a.m.
Abbott Lake House
Great Pine Lake
Only a family as wealthy as the Abbotts would call a multimillion-dollar, seven-thousand-plus-square-foot mansion their lake house. The house sat in the woods on nearly two acres. The water and mountain views were spectacular. Natural beauty and utter serenity only twenty minutes from the city’s most upscale lifestyle center (a.k.a. mall).
