Trust No One (Devlin & Falco), page 30
Every new piece of information came with multiple questions—and new potential holes in the puzzle.
Kerri pushed the troubling thoughts aside for the moment. She needed a clear head for this meeting with Thompson. Falco had taken her to get her Wagoneer since she would be hanging around the Thompson Building for a while. No point in both of them being stuck waiting. He had gone back to the house—the one where Sela’s mother had lived all those years ago—to have another look in light of what they now knew. He intended to show Sela’s photo as well as one of a similar blue Plymouth to the few neighbors along the street. Maybe someone had seen her or the car. The cops canvassing the neighbors the day of the fire wouldn’t have known to ask about the car.
The investigator, Neal Ramsey, had dropped out of sight. He wasn’t returning her calls or Bellemont’s. The attorney was still standing by the man. Kerri wasn’t. She’d issued an APB on the vehicle registered to Ramsey. For all she knew, he could be holding Amelia hostage somewhere for this unnamed client.
Kerri wasn’t taking any chances. The worry and fear she had compartmentalized for the past thirty or so hours attempted to break loose, but she pushed it back. She couldn’t help Amelia if she lost control.
She put her hand on her right knee to stop its impatient bouncing. She sent a text to Diana to see how she was doing. Kerri’s heart twisted with the need to fix this for her. Then she sent a text to Tori to see how her day at the mall was going. Her response was a photo of multiple shopping bags. Kerri hoped she wasn’t going to regret sending her credit card with her daughter.
She glanced at the reception desk. It would have been nice if she had arrived before the luncheon started, but the call had come in about Keaton, and then they’d heard from Cross. Exhaling a big breath, she resituated herself and checked her messages again.
It was nearly one o’clock before the luncheon was over. Kerri had already warned Thompson’s personal assistant that if he didn’t see her in his office, she would ask her questions right out here in the corridor, where anyone could hear. Particularly the media, who had all decided the Abbott murders were no longer as interesting as their next senator and governor.
Kerri watched Thompson as his assistant passed along the message.
He promptly exchanged his final handshakes and thank-yous and departed the group. He didn’t look at Kerri as he walked hurriedly past.
The assistant appeared next. “This way, Detective.”
Unlike Thompson, the assistant took her time showing Kerri down the main corridor and off to the left to an even larger corridor that ended at a set of towering double doors. “He’s waiting for you just beyond those doors.”
Kerri thanked her and walked into the man’s office.
His office was far more lavish than the small conference room where she and Falco had met with his wife. Thompson sat behind an extravagant mahogany desk, his hands resting on the leather-bound blotter pad.
“Please have a seat.” He gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Detective?”
His voice was strained, but the smile on his face was pure politician. Not surprising. The man was born to be exactly who he was.
“Mr. Thompson, you’re aware of the double homicide involving Ben Abbott and his mother-in-law, Jacqueline Rollins.”
“I am. A tragedy. I understand there are still no suspects. Is that true?”
“Actually,” Kerri said, “we have two prime suspects.”
“Really?” Surprise flared briefly on his face.
“One of them is you, Mr. Thompson.” Kerri smiled, enjoying far too much his initial reaction to the announcement. The startled look was priceless. She would likely take a raking over the coals for that statement, but it had been worth it.
He laughed, the sound more a scoff than a laugh. “You can’t be serious, and please don’t tell me this has anything to do with that photograph you showed my wife.”
Kerri held her smile in place. “I’m glad you mentioned the photo. We’re also reopening the case of Sela Abbott’s missing sister. You remember her, don’t you? Janelle Stevens? The two of you had an affair when she worked for your father.”
The pallor that fell over the man’s face was confession enough for Kerri.
The door burst open, and Lewis York strode in. Behind him were two members of Thompson’s security staff, judging by their uniforms. The two men remained by the open doors as York stormed all the way to Thompson’s desk. “Don’t say another word, Theo.”
Theo snapped shut his sagging jaw, but it was far too late to recover from what his evolving expressions of shock and fear had revealed.
The would-be senator had an affair with Janelle Stevens. He was clearly stunned and perhaps more than a little terrified that the case was being reopened. Kerri had accomplished at least part of her goal.
York rounded the desk to stand next to his client. “If you’ll excuse us, Detective, I need to confer with my client.”
Thompson looked up at him, as if he had no idea what was going on.
Kerri stood. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, Mr. York. I have questions for you as well.”
“Leave. Now, Detective,” York commanded, his face so tense his jaw throbbed.
He was probably pissed about her discovering his little cabin in the woods.
“Were you surprised that the car Joey Keaton sold Sela was left at a property you own?”
York glared at her and motioned at the guards standing by.
As the two men moved toward Kerri, she said, “Don’t forget what I told you, Mr. Thompson. We know what happened.”
She’d said all she had to say. For now. She walked out; the guards marched right behind her until she was out of the building.
Kerri had kicked that hornet’s nest but good. If she was lucky, they would now go into swarm mode to cover their asses. Desperation led to mistakes.
All she needed was one mistake.
She crossed the lot to her Wagoneer and climbed in. Her cell vibrated. She hoped it was a text from Tori letting her know she’d made it back home.
The call was from her attorney. Her heart pounding, she answered. “What’s going on, Mac?”
“Well, you’re not going to believe this.”
She swallowed the massive lump of worry in her throat. “Try me.”
“Nick’s attorney just canceled the hearing. He’s withdrawn his petition to modify custody. For now, Kerri, it’s over. Enjoy your weekend.”
Stunned, relieved, overwhelmed . . . she struggled to find her voice. “Thanks.”
After the call ended, she stared at the screen for a moment and let the news set in; then she called Falco and told him.
“That’s great, Devlin. We could celebrate if we had time.”
But they didn’t. As thrilled as she was at Mac’s call, the pieces of this puzzle were slowly but surely coming together. They couldn’t stop until this was finished.
Thompson and York weren’t getting away with what they’d done.
Neither was Daniel Abbott.
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
“Nada. You want to rendezvous at the Abbotts’?”
“Sounds good.”
A BPD cruiser rolled up beside her. The uni behind the wheel powered his window down.
“Hang on, Falco.” The rhythm of Kerri’s heart instantly changed as the glut of possibilities for trouble whirred through her mind.
“Have to let you go, Devlin. I just got blue lighted.”
She frowned. What the hell was going on? She set her phone aside and rolled her window down.
“Detective Devlin?” the officer asked.
“That’s me.” She told her heart to slow its pounding. Tori was fine. Diana was fine.
Shit. What about Amelia?
“I have orders to escort you to the chief’s office.”
Well, that certainly hadn’t taken long. She glanced at the building she’d exited just minutes ago.
The hornets were swarming.
54
1:00 p.m.
Abbott Residence
Saint Charles Drive, Hoover
Tempest Abbott perched on the edge of the sofa in the family room. She’d dismissed the staff early. Daniel was on his way home. She had called him, which she rarely did, and told him she needed him. He would be here any moment. She had prepared his favorite drink, scotch on the rocks, as well as a lovely glass of white wine for herself. The elegant glasses, handmade in Italy, stood on the silver tray resting on the cocktail table in front of her.
She glanced around the enormous room and recalled the day construction had begun on this beautiful house. Ben hadn’t been born yet. She couldn’t wait to fill the rooms with children. But sometime during her pregnancy with Ben, Daniel had taken steps to ensure that didn’t happen.
He’d never told her, of course. She’d discovered his secret all on her own, just as she had so many of his other indiscretions.
His decision to have a vasectomy had stolen her dream from her. Ben was her only child, and she had poured everything into that sweet boy.
Now he was gone.
Emotion would have engulfed her, but she’d prepared well for the occasion. She had taken a nice dose of the Valium the doctor had prescribed after Ben’s murder.
She had hoped if Sela were found, perhaps the grandchild could help fill the crack left in her heart by Ben’s death. But that was not going to happen. She would never have the opportunity to know her grandchild.
It was over.
Ben’s life.
Their lives.
No amount of money . . . no home . . . nothing could make her want to live another day. Another minute, for that matter.
Except she had something to take care of first.
Daniel had chosen to have the vasectomy because he’d wanted to enjoy his little indiscretions without the worry that some woman would try and trap him with an unexpected pregnancy.
Tempest smirked. His decision had been a little like closing the barn door after the cows got out. But he was so very selfish that he stole her dream for the sole purpose of continuing his.
She had known he was selfish. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Since the chief of police had come to their home and told her about Ben, she had been contemplating taking this step. Alone, of course. She’d even purchased a hefty dose of what she would need to do the job. But then, when she’d learned the rest, she had known the two of them had to do this together.
Over the voices from the past clamoring in her head, Tempest heard the front door open and then close.
He was here.
She sat perfectly still, waited for him to enter the room.
He stood there, staring at her. “Dear God, woman, I thought something terrible had happened.”
Selfish, selfish man. Something terrible had happened . . . to their son. Had he put the tragedy behind him so soon? Of course he had.
She patted the sofa beside her. “Sit down, Daniel. Have a drink with me. There is something we need to discuss.”
Outrage washed across his face. “Did you actually summon me here for no other reason than to have a drink and some frivolous chitchat?”
“I did. You go to the country club with your friends quite often. Why not have a drink and chat with me?”
He took a breath, seemed to remind himself that his wife had suffered a great loss and had not yet put it behind her. The rage drained away, and he crossed the room and sat down next to her.
She picked up the tumbler of scotch and handed it to him. She even managed to smile. Then she reached for her stemmed glass of wine. She touched her glass to his. “To moving on.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Have you decided to try and move on beyond this horrible tragedy?”
“Yes.” She sipped her wine, the tiniest little sip.
“Good.” He knocked back a long deep slug of his own libation.
Tempest had known he would. He always drank scotch with enthusiasm.
She indulged in another sip of wine. “I had a visitor today.”
He downed the last of the scotch in the glass. “I certainly hope it wasn’t those damned detectives again.”
“No.” Tempest took a larger swallow of her wine. She moistened her lips. “It was Sela.”
He slammed the empty tumbler onto the tray. “What the hell? Are you hallucinating again?”
Tempest wanted to slap his face, but she lacked the energy. On Tuesday, she had gone into Ben’s bedroom—the one he’d grown up in—and had a talk with him. It had made her feel better to get everything off her chest . . . to say the words out loud. Daniel happened to walk past the door and hear her talking. He’d accused her of having lost her mind. Perhaps she had. Whatever the case, it hadn’t helped with the crushing pain that filled her every waking moment.
There was only one way to end that pain.
“Believe what you will,” she offered. It was almost over, in any event.
“If she was here, why didn’t you call me?” he demanded with a smirk—the sort that expressed how little respect he had for her even after all these years together.
“She needed to speak with me privately.”
His gaze narrowed with faked suspicion. “What did she want?”
Tempest shook her head. “She wants nothing from us, Daniel.”
“Well,” he said, “that’s a relief.”
Tempest finished her wine and set the glass aside. She turned slightly to look her husband in the eye. “Tell me she was lying, Daniel. Tell me,” she pressed, “that you didn’t force her mother to agree to weekend after weekend of sexual favors. I would have expected such a thing from T. R. Everyone knows how he is—how his father was. But you? How could you do such a thing?”
Daniel blinked, but not before she saw the shock in his eyes. She almost smiled. She had his attention now.
“Who concocted this ridiculous story?”
“Does it really matter?” All that mattered was that she knew. She knew everything. “You and T. R. took advantage of her mother, and then the two of you threatened to make her regret it if she dared to tell anyone. She ran away. Changed her name. Then she discovered she was pregnant.”
He puffed out a breath. “This is preposterous.” He grabbed his glass and stood. “I need another drink.”
“Sit down, Daniel,” she demanded.
“Who do you think you are?” He glared at her before walking toward the bar. He poured the scotch and turned to face her, leaning against the counter. “What if we did? We were young and stupid. We drank too much. But we didn’t force her. She wanted it. She was like that. Ready. Willing.”
Disgust hardened in her stomach. “Tell me,” Tempest managed to say despite the thickening of her tongue, “how many other women you used in that way.”
“That was more than forty years ago. Things were different then.” He shrugged. “Women were different then. Office relationships weren’t as complicated and saddled with rules. There was none of that me-me-me nonsense. Everyone understood their place. It was fun and games, not criminal activity. Those women knew what they wanted, and we gave it to them.”
“She was carrying your child.”
He waved her off. “Don’t be ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly have known whose child she was carrying. T. R. was with her every bit as often as I was.”
The urge to vomit was nearly overwhelming, but Tempest could not do that. “That girl who went missing, Janelle Stevens? She was here, at that party we had for Ben’s twenty-fifth birthday. Do you remember?”
He stared at her without saying a word.
“During the party, she went into our bathroom and took your toothbrush and razor. She used them for DNA. She was your daughter, not T. R.’s. Did you kill her after she told you? Is that why she disappeared?”
“Are you insane?” He started toward her, staggered. Almost fell. “What the hell?”
Tempest was glad it was finally kicking in. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over quickly.”
“What the hell have you done?” He staggered closer, fell this time.
Tempest watched as he clambered to his hands and knees. “You,” she snarled, “are the reason our son is dead. What have I done? Just a little something to put us both out of our misery. Goodbye, Daniel.”
55
2:00 p.m.
York, Hammond & Goldman Law Firm
North Twentieth Street
“We have to do something,” Theo urged. He had no idea what, but he understood there was no more assuming this would just go away . . . like before.
“Sit down, Theo,” Lewis demanded.
Theo glared at his old friend. How could he be so calm? “I cannot just sit down. This is out of control. They know about my affair with Janelle. If Sela Abbott shows up, she will ruin me.”
“You have no reason to be concerned. All is under control. Trust me.”
Theo shook his head. He was nearly afraid to mention the other, but he had no choice. Lewis was going to—
“What?” Lewis demanded. “What are you not telling me?”
The bastard had always read him like a book. “It’s Jen. She’s angry with me. She called a little while ago. She’s threatening to go to the police about Wednesday night.”
Lewis shot to his feet, braced his hands on his desk, and leaned forward. “What errant brain cell prompted you to bring that whore with you? Have you lost your damned mind?”
“I had no idea a command performance was going to be expected of me that night. My God, man, you should have given me a goddamned clue what you were planning, and I would have dropped her off. You said come immediately, and that’s what I did!”
Lewis dropped back into his chair. “It’s nothing that can’t be neutralized. You’ll just have to take care of the situation.”
“I believe we’ve established that I can’t do that. I’m not like you,” Theo snarled.
He had known this man since he was old enough to walk. He would never have dreamed in a million years how very ruthless he could be. Admittedly, Theo had issues with staying faithful to his wife, but he’d never had the sick sexual proclivities his father had. And he damned sure had never killed anyone. Dear God, what the man had done. Scenes from the news coverage of the fire flashed before his eyes.
