Marge gasped. “You’re evil and insane.”
Cindy went on, only half in control. “I’m checking it all out. Including you!”
“Why would we kill our own child?” Clint’s mother began to heave. “We came to make you an offer. The law is completely on our side. Instead of leaving you with nothing, we’re offering you money if you just get out of town. It’s too painful for us to see you here. It keeps reminding us of what happened to him.”
Cindy fell back, silent on the couch. “You want to pay me to leave?”
“Please,” his mother said. “We’ll make it worth your while.”
“Aren’t there easier ways to get rid of me?” Cindy looked right at her.
She seemed confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cindy realized that she didn’t. When she looked over at Marge, she saw her gnawing on her lower lip.
At that moment, seeing how pathetic and helpless they were, she suddenly realized. She realized, without a doubt, that, however sick these people were, they were ultimately powerless, incapable of having Clint killed.
The realization struck Cindy hard. She had been barking up the wrong tree all this time. His family had nothing to do with it after all. Which meant that whoever had done it was still out there, still after her. And whoever that was, she’d better figure it out quick.
Chapter 13
When Clint’s family left, Cindy stood staring out of the window, wishing she could speak to Clint. He’d always shown her the bigger picture, helped her know what to do. If something had bothered her, he’d just put his arms around her and they’d thrash it out. After that, they’d spent the rest of the time in each other’s arms. It had made the whole world right.
Now, she was alone with everything. There were important decisions to be made. Leaving was out of the question. It wasn’t the house itself she was attached to—it was the feeling of Clint in it, everywhere. Where else could she go to be close to him now?
The visit with his family this afternoon had turned things around, though. Cindy knew Clint’s family was wealthy, but up to now, she didn’t know Clint took anything from them. He told her he’d paid for the wedding and the down payment on the house . She’d believed it, believed everything he’d said. She’d felt she’d found a soul mate, after years of rough times with guys.
She needed answers. Even though she was exhausted, Cindy went back into Clint’s study. She turned on a light and looked at the huge mess of papers. It would be a long night.
She pulled papers out of Clint’s desk and sorted them; there were old bills, faxes from work, receipts from restaurants. There was a receipt for the deposit he’d sent to the hotel they’d stayed at for the honeymoon. She picked it up and held it to her face to see if she could still smell the salty air. She couldn’t. She put it down and kept taking other papers out of the drawers and arranging them in piles.
Most of the bills and receipts were easy to recognize. Some were for business. Cindy put those in a pile. Then she found a receipt from the Grande Hotel in Boston, for the week-end Clint was supposed to be in D.C . She put that receipt on her lap. It confirmed what Al told her. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t a shock .
The next receipt she found, though, stopped her completely. It was from a hotel in Manhattan, Century Plaza, dated three weeks before the wedding. Cindy’s heart started pounding. There had to be an explanation, though she didn’t know what.
She’d contact Clint’s old assistant, Bara, who had his full schedule at work .
She put that receipt in a separate place and continued. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for either, but knew she’d recognize it when it came around. It was the tapestry of a life she was touching, of days, hours, money spent, calls received and answered.
When all the drawers of the desk were cleared, she went to Clint’s computer to check through his personal emails and files. It was strange typing his password and logging in. Even though she knew she had to do it, Cindy felt as though she were invading his private life. It made her think of her own emails. She knew there were probably dozens of them piling up. But she just hadn’t been able to deal with them.
There were 180 emails waiting for Clint. It was going to be a long night. Cindy began opening them, one at a time. There were emails about meetings scheduled, and attended. She read follow up comments from Clint and thank you notes from others to him for his terrific contribution. There were invitations for lunch, dinner . There were even a few emails from a lobbyist. Clint had had a busy life.
Cindy knew he went to Washington regularly and attended conferences, but didn’t realize that he’d also met with lobbyists. She hadn’t known the full extent of his research, or that it impacted on bills passed in Congress. Clint had only mentioned it once or twice in passing.
There were a bunch of emails from a guy named Greg Hamden, a close co-worker of Clint’s. Cindy remembered him mentioning Greg. He and Clint had been working on the Tearwall Project together for a while.
The emails from Greg were right to the point.
Got the info, Clint. Thanks. Talk later.
Cindy kept scrolling through the emails to see if she could find more.
Another one gave her pause for a moment -
Can’t believe you’re finally getting married. She better be worthy of you. And, she better know what she’s getting into. Signed A.V.
Clint hadn’t responded to that one. What was it Cindy didn’t know that she was getting into, that A.V. knew?
Cindy kept scrolling. There were a cluster of emails talking about the Washington Conference. Clint had been excited to go. He was presenting a paper on the Tearwall Project . He’d written a bunch of emails telling people the time and place of his presentation, that he was looking forward to seeing them there.
Then something had happened. There were a flurry of emails from people at his company asking Clint to come to meetings. He and Greg had met for separate lunches. Clint’s presentation had suddenly been cancelled. Cindy couldn’t tear herself away. Clint had told her he’d gone to the conference and presented his paper there.
The emails told a different story .
When the presentation was cancelled, Clint, very upset, emailed Greg to let him know.
Unbelievable, Clint wrote back.
Be smart, Greg replied.
Cindy didn’t know what to make of all this. She needed more information about the Tearwall Project and why Clint’s presentation had been tossed aside. She also realized she needed more information about his company and what exactly it was involved in.
Cindy went to the company’s public website . She clicked on the company history and its employees and a whole page devoted to Clint came up.
Clint’s function in the company was to investigate the environmental and ecological effects of a drill at a particular location. To advise the company of the safety parameters involved. He was also a prominent part of the public relations effort of the firm. It felt good reading about him, seeing how important he was to them.
There were several pieces about him posted there. As she read on she realized that Clint was quickly becoming a widely sought expert on the effects of off shore drilling on the environment. His research had been not only thorough, but unique. He’d had all kinds of contacts and delved into sources that most had no way of getting hold of. Articles about him said there was no stone he’d leave unturned. All well and good, but she needed more.