Kitabı oku: «Colby Conspiracy», sayfa 4

CHAPTER TEN

EMILY SAT IN the stiff chair of the small conference room. Detective Franko, the homicide detective in charge of her father’s murder investigation, had called her just before noon and asked her to come in for a meeting.

She had expected to receive an update on her father’s case and perhaps answer any final questions as to how they could reach her if need be. Not that she was in a hurry to get back to California. She wasn’t, not really. She wanted to close up her father’s house and take care of his affairs.

But the moment she had arrived at the homicide division, she had been hustled into this cramped conference room with a cup of stale coffee. And that had been almost an hour ago. She had things to do. Sitting here idly wasting time was not on today’s agenda.

She exhaled loudly and tucked her impatience away. Her father’s fellow officers were doing all they could to find out what really had happened in that alley on Monday night. She shouldn’t be cross about having to wait a few minutes. She wanted her father’s killer found, wanted him brought to justice.

The door opened and Detective Franko stepped into the room. Good. She pushed a polite smile into place. Maybe they could get this over with now. She had things to do for her father, as well. And, the truth was, she couldn’t bear to think about his manner of death. If she dwelled on it, she would never be able to maintain her composure and she simply couldn’t fall apart. There was no one else to do what needed to be done.

Detective Franko looked to be about thirty-five. Tall, thin, kind, the sort of man who looked as if he would be an animal lover. The weapon that bulged beneath his jacket didn’t fit with his persona, she considered as she watched him sit down across the table from her.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Emily.”

“That’s all right. Do you have any leads on my father’s case?” She prayed his case would be resolved quickly. The people here who cared about him needed that closure as much as she did.

The detective glanced at the file in his hands. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Her nerves jangled. Had they found her father’s murderer already? She’d been in such a daze she’d barely noticed that Chicago PD had a car watching the house—watching her, actually. It followed her everywhere she went. She supposed it was just a precaution, since the police couldn’t be sure of the motive behind her father’s shooting.

Franko looked from the file to her. “Emily, how would you define your relationship with your father the past year or so?”

To say the question startled her would be a vast understatement. But she’d never been involved with a homicide investigation. Maybe this was part of the routine.

“I don’t know,” she said, considering the question carefully before answering. The truth made her sound like a bad daughter. But, she reasoned, it made her look no more like a bad daughter than it did her dad as a bad father. “We talked on the phone occasionally, but I didn’t get back here often and he was always busy, so we hadn’t seen each other in a while.”

She didn’t see any reason to tell him it had been two years. She’d persecuted herself about that reality since learning of his death; enduring the look she would no doubt get from this detective was more than she could deal with just now.

“So you have no idea about any personal relationships he might have gotten involved in over the past year?”

A frown furrowed across her brow. “No. He never mentioned anything but work when we talked.” She shrugged. “And I haven’t found anything around the house that would indicate he entertained or kept in contact with anyone in particular.” That fact saddened her. She wished her father could have gotten on with his life like her mother had. Well, maybe not exactly as her mother had, but similarly.

“I noticed you speaking with Victoria Colby-Camp at the service yesterday,” Franko commented. He made the statement offhandedly, but there was nothing casual about his scrutinizing gaze.

What did her having spoken with Victoria Colby-Camp have to do with anything?

“Yes, she shook my hand and told me how sorry she was my father had died.” Emily shrugged. “She mentioned that they were friends.”

Her frown deepened. “You’ll have to excuse me, Detective, but I’m not following here. What does my talking to someone at the service have to do with my father’s murder investigation?”

“You also had a delivery sent to her at the Colby Agency, didn’t you? First thing this morning, I believe.”

Irritation needled Emily. “What are you trying to get at, Detective Franko?” she demanded. Enough was enough. She was beginning to feel like a suspect rather than the victim’s only family.

“We have reason to believe the Colbys were involved with your father’s murder,” he said bluntly.

“You’re saying the woman I met yesterday had something to do with my father’s murder?” How was that possible? Had Emily been in such a daze that she had so thoroughly misjudged the woman?

“We found evidence at the scene that implicates her son, James Colby, Jr.”

The name echoed inside Emily. She thought of the name on the letters. Surely he couldn’t be the same James Colby…

“I’d like you to tell me what you sent to the Colby Agency this morning. It may be relevant to your father’s case.”

This didn’t make sense. The letters were old. She hadn’t read the contents of any of them. There had been no reason to.

“I’m sorry, Detective,” she said, confusion and uncertainty reigning supreme. “I don’t understand what a handful of old letters has to do with my father’s murder.”

“Tell me about the letters,” he pressed.

Why hadn’t she looked at the letters? It had seemed like nothing at the time. How could it be significant to the investigation?

“I didn’t read them,” she explained, exasperated. “The postmark was nearly twenty years ago and they weren’t addressed to my father.”

“Who were they addressed to?”

“James Colby.”

Franko leaned back in his chair. “We’re going to need to execute a search warrant of your father’s home, Miss Hastings. Is that going to be a problem? Just so you know, we’ll be executing several.”

A search warrant? What would they expect to find in her father’s home? Would he be doing this same thing at the Colby Agency, too? No doubt.

“Of course it’s not a problem,” she said, her thoughts fragmenting as she tried to make sense of what all Franko’s questions meant. “But I don’t understand. You’re telling me that you have evidence that James Colby, Jr., had something to do with my father, and I get the impression that I’m a suspect, as well. What’s going on, Detective Franko?”

His gaze fixed on hers. “Right now, Miss Hastings, anyone connected to your father is a suspect.”

This was insane. She hadn’t even been to Chicago in years.

“As difficult as it is to say that to you, Emily,” Franko went on, “this is standard procedure. It’s not personal.”

She blinked, unable to rally a response. Her father was dead, for God’s sake. There was no way it could be anything but personal.

Her father had been murdered and she was suddenly a suspect. This couldn’t be right.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

VICTORIA SAT perfectly still, uncertain she could bear to hear what Lucas had to say. But it was, unfortunately, necessary. She couldn’t let this fester. The hurt twisted inside her, tearing apart all she’d ever believed in…all she’d managed to rebuild.

Lucas sat down in front of Victoria’s desk and heaved a weary sigh.

He’d wanted to discuss this at home, but she’d refused. She felt stronger here at the Agency. She needed that strength right now, that and more.

“Yes, I knew about Madelyn.”

Victoria’s eyes closed as the hurt squeezed her heart.

“But it wasn’t what you think—”

Her eyes snapped open. “Don’t even try to pardon what he did.” The words roared out of her with more strength than she could have imagined she possessed just now.

Lucas leaned forward, settling those caring gray eyes on her. “Victoria, I’m not pardoning anything. The truth is, I’m not certain there is anything to pardon.”

“I read the letters, Lucas!” How could he tiptoe around the issue? James Colby had had an affair. Pain stabbed deep all over again.

“That was a tough time for both of you,” Lucas reminded her, as if he’d needed to. “The strain on your marriage was immense. James needed someone to talk to. To my knowledge, that’s as far as the relationship went.”

“She was in love with him,” Victoria countered, the word relationship making her seethe.

Lucas nodded. “She probably was, but that doesn’t mean he was in love with her.”

Victoria held up her hands in an act of self-protection. “I can’t talk about this anymore.”

“Why don’t you let me have a look at the letters and I’ll try and get to the bottom of what really happened, if you’re certain that’s what you want.”

“No,” she said sharply. “I’ll do that myself. But there’s no time now. Our full attention has to be on Jim. It’s going to take both of us working together to get him through this.” Victoria closed her eyes again and tried to find a place of calm in her mind where she could think straight.

“We have to assume that they have some sort of evidence against Jim or they wouldn’t have been prepared to make an arrest,” Lucas offered.

That much was true. Thank God Zach had been able to get a jump on the detective in charge of the case, Detective Franko. Apparently under Zach’s legal eagle scrutiny, whatever Franko had hadn’t been sufficient to proceed against Jim just yet. But Jim’s arrest was imminent. They’d taken him in with the intent of pressing formal charges. After tangoing with Zach, the district attorney, rather than risk running into a double-jeopardy wall, had suggested that Franko hold off until his facts were further substantiated. But that had only bought Victoria a little time; it hadn’t actually changed anything.

She had seen the way the very men who just a few days ago had respected her agency had looked at her son. One of their own was dead, and they believed they had his killer. She knew exactly how hard they would work to prove their theory.

Jim was at the clinic undergoing a full evaluation. He would not be allowed to return home unless the doctors were confident that Tasha could keep him under control and under constant supervision.

Tears burned in Victoria’s eyes. She didn’t want to believe that any of the men or women she knew and respected in Chicago PD would harm her son. But right now, considering the current circumstances, she wasn’t sure she could say that.

When a cop died, the whole law enforcement community wanted justice. She could understand how they felt. She wanted justice for Carter Hastings, as well. But not if it meant railroading her son for a crime he surely could not have committed. Her son hadn’t even known Carter Hastings.

“We need to know what they’ve got,” Victoria agreed.

“Ashton will get that for us,” Lucas voiced his certainty on the matter.

He would, in time. But did they have time? That was the question. Could they sit around here like this and assume that the police—who were obviously less than objective on the matter since one of their own had been murdered—would conduct a thorough investigation? Or would the boys in blue simply go after what they considered the sure thing?

Victoria knew human nature, and human nature would scream for vengeance.

None of this made sense.

Carter had been murdered. Then his daughter had mentioned the letters at his funeral service. What did his murder and those old love letters have to do with each other? And why now? After all this time?

Another wave of hurt washed over Victoria. How could her husband have turned to another woman when Victoria had needed him so very badly?

James had always been like a rock, unshakable. He’d survived being a prisoner of war, had stood fast by her side when Jimmy had gone missing. How could she not have known that there was someone else?

Someone involved in the investigation, for God’s sake.

Carter had known. A new kind of ache welled inside her. He’d been so kind to Victoria. Somehow, he must have found out after James’s murder and hidden the letters to keep Victoria from finding them. To protect her. Her gaze moved to her new husband. Just as Lucas had protected her from what he had known.

He would do the same thing now. Lucas loved her, would do anything to save her from further devastation. That’s why she had to do this herself.

Victoria thought of her faithful staff and, without doubt, knew that any or all of them would do whatever it took to clear Jim’s name, ultimately protecting her.

No one wanted Jim cleared more than Victoria. But more importantly, she wanted the truth.

There was only one way to be sure she had the whole truth when all was said and done.

She would oversee this investigation personally. She would allow no one whose first priority was to protect her to be involved.

That left her with only one option.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AT FIVE MINUTES BEFORE two on Friday afternoon, Daniel Marks stepped off the elevator in the lobby of the revered Colby Agency.

The receptionist greeted him immediately and promptly called Victoria Colby-Camp’s personal secretary to come and escort him to his appointment.

Victoria met him just inside her office.

When the initial formalities were out of the way, she suggested they sit. He took a seat at the small conference table and she did the same. He’d declined any coffee, but two bottles of chilled water with accompanying glasses sat on a tray in the center of the table.

“What do you think of the Windy City?”

Daniel came prepared to answer that question. He’d all but made an offer on a loft less than ten minutes from the Colby Agency. “I’m impressed.”

Victoria nodded. “You found the information packet we sent you informative?”

“Absolutely.” He didn’t mention that he’d already scouted out his permanent residence. He didn’t have the job yet, though he fully suspected that’s what this meeting was about. Since his arrival, he’d decided that this was what he wanted. He felt comfortable here, liked the pace of the city. Its location midway meant that either coast was a simple two-hour flight away.

“Mr. Marks,” she began, “I thought I’d learned everything there was to know about this business. I’ve been operating under the assumption that I’d seen the worst it had to offer. But then, just today, I learned something new.”

It was more the expression on her face than her words that made him uneasy. The meeting had definitely taken a different turn than what he’d anticipated.

“How’s that?”

“Trust has always been a major foundation of my life,” she explained. “As long as I had trust, I had no fears where anything else was concerned, but it seems I was wrong.”

Daniel tried to reason how her recent revelations tied in with his consideration for a position within her agency but found no connection. Obviously, he would have to let her lay it on the table for him.

“I’ve reviewed your record thoroughly and checked your references. I’m fully convinced that you would fit in perfectly here,” she told him bluntly.

There was a but coming, one he couldn’t quite nail the motivation for.

“I appreciate your confidence, Mrs. Colby-Camp. I have to tell you that I’ve done the same. I’m confident your agency is where I’d like to begin my new career.”

Victoria opened a bottle of water and poured herself half a glass. She sipped it a moment before continuing.

Daniel couldn’t help wondering if this was a test of some sort. His work and personal history were impeccable, as were his references. Whatever was going on wasn’t about his qualifications.

“Mr. Marks,” she eventually went on, “I need your help.”

Now she’d lost him again. “Excuse me?” He studied her face, saw the lines of worry he hadn’t noticed at first. Had he arrived at a bad time? Though they hadn’t met before, they had spoken several times by phone. What he saw definitely didn’t mesh with what he’d heard in her voice previously.

“Not so very long ago, a very cunning man named Cole Danes taught me that things are not always what they seem and that at times human emotion can be a considerable weakness.”

Daniel flared his hands. “That’s true in a military setting, as well. There are times when one must set aside human emotion and react on basic instinct, much as an animal does when going after prey or making any other survival decision.”

She nodded. “Then you know what I mean when I say that I’m certain the most thorough investigations are conducted by those who have no personal stake in a matter.”

“Of course.” No question there.

The strength he’d sensed absent in her tone this afternoon was suddenly there, in her eyes. “Mr. Marks, there is no question that I will be offering you a position at this agency. Coming to terms on salary is only a technicality.”

Daniel relaxed marginally. “Excellent.” Now this is what he’d thought he was coming here for today.

“But first, an unexpected necessity dictates that I hire you as a private contractor to conduct an investigation outside the realm of this agency.”

His gaze narrowed as he attempted to read what he saw in her eyes now. She was too good. Whatever fear or uncertainty she felt, she kept it hidden. Was this some sort of test? “What kind of investigation?”

“My son is a suspect in a murder investigation,” she told him without elaborating. “I need you to find the truth.”

He found the way she summed up her needs rather interesting. “Do you have reason to believe he’s guilty?”

She moved her head from side to side. “To my knowledge, he doesn’t even know the victim.”

“But…” he prompted.

Visibly bracing herself, she responded to his prod, “But there are extenuating circumstances. A lapse in his memory has left him without an alibi.”

Daniel felt certain there was more related to the lapse, but he didn’t pursue that avenue just now. There was another, more crucial question to be asked.

“What makes you believe the police won’t conduct a proper investigation?” There had to be a reason she didn’t trust the cops. For that matter, it seemed, she didn’t even trust her own staff of investigators. None of which fit with what he’d learned about her or this agency.

“The victim is one of their own,” she said somberly. “They want revenge, Mr. Marks. I’m certain most of them won’t be thinking clearly or pursuing all the possible avenues. They’re not going to be satisfied until someone takes the fall for this. The sooner, the better.”

According to his research, the Colby Agency maintained an outstanding relationship with local law enforcement. This couldn’t be an easy dilemma.

“All right,” he told her. “You give me the facts you know, make whatever assets you have available to me and I’ll do what I can to clear your son.”

For three beats, she held his gaze, hers unblinking. “You misunderstand me, Mr. Marks,” she said, something in her eyes turning bleak for a mere second before sheer determination defeated it. “I don’t want you to simply clear my son of guilt. I want you to find the truth, whatever it is.”

Daniel had known the moment he’d walked into the lobby of this agency that there was something different about it. The very air was charged with something beyond the usual energy of bustling activity. It felt alive and vibrant on a level that transcended the norm. It seemed like the kind of place where things happened, where lives were changed.

He wanted to be a part of that, couldn’t imagine taking a position anywhere else now that he’d met this woman. She, he understood with complete certainty, was the heart and soul of this place.

The challenge she had tossed out before him said all that needed to be said. This woman, the one who’d made the Colby Agency what it was, was desperate and yet she knew exactly what had to be done.

“I’ll find the truth for you.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Raised voices sounded outside the door, postponing whatever she might have said next.

The door burst open and both Victoria and Daniel turned to see who’d barged in.

“…in a meeting,” Mildred Parker, Victoria’s secretary, was saying.

“I don’t care! I have to see her now.”

A young woman, long dark hair bouncing around her shoulders, stormed into the office, Mildred trailing right behind her. Daniel allowed his gaze to take a tour of the intruder’s form. Even though she was as mad as hell, she was a looker—tall, slender, a brunette with hazel eyes flashing with fire.

Apparently he was about to witness one of the less gracious Colby Agency moments.

“I’m sorry, Victoria, I couldn’t stop her.”

“It’s all right, Mildred.”

His curiosity piqued, Daniel’s gaze slid from the woman who would be his boss to the younger, clearly furious woman who’d strode across the room and planted herself directly in front of Victoria.

“Miss Hastings,” Victoria said, “I’m sure you’re distraught—”

“I’m more than that, Mrs. Colby-Camp. I’m confused and hurt,” she snapped. “Your son killed my father. I want to know why.”