“I was wrong,” she said. “The game just changed.”
“That’s all well and good,” Eric said, “but as I said before, now what?”
“He had to have had some beef with Tomlinson,” Albert said. “Who knows, maybe he was blackmailing him, too.” Albert got up and paced. “Somehow he found out about us. I can’t figure out how. We never met together, except for here. Never in public. So how did he find out? How did he know Tomlinson? What’s the connection?”
Eric felt an icy chill slink down his back. “Could he have this place bugged?”
Albert stopped pacing, his expression grim. “As crazy as that sounds, maybe.”
“But he still had to know about us,” Mary insisted. “He’s not going to just pick out rich boys at random and bug their apartments.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Hear that, asshole? We’re talkin’ about you!”
“Sshh,” Albert hissed. “You’ll wake the neighbors.” Then he stilled, his gaze swinging around to collide with Eric’s. “Eric.”
Eric had the same thought in the same instant. “The neighbors. These walls are thin. Somebody heard us talking. Which one?”
“The walls aren’t that thin,” Mary scoffed, but Albert looked away, rolling his eyes.
“One of the neighbors complained one night when we were…” Eric felt his cheeks heating. “You know.”
“Oh.” Mary shrugged. “Same thing happened to us. Joel and I…” She stopped suddenly, her lips pressing tight as tears filled her eyes. “Dammit,” she whispered. “For just a second I forgot. How could I forget?”
“It’s part of grief,” Albert said quietly. “You live in the dorm. A quad, right?”
“Yes. We all get our own rooms.”
“Did you and Joel discuss this in your room?” he asked.
Mary shook her head, hard, then slowed. “Maybe, once or twice. But softly.”
“Those walls are thinner than these,” Eric said. “That’s why we never did anything in Albert’s dorm room. Your roommates could have heard. But how do they connect to Tomlinson?”
“We need to find out more about Tomlinson.” Albert pointed to Eric’s laptop. “You got into his company server. What did you find?”
“Only what I was looking for-the maintenance files on the alarm system.”
“I Googled him while you were trying to hack into his server,” Albert said. “I found a few general things. Tomlinson played golf in a charity tournament last year, but his business was bad-lots of layoffs. His wife is divorcing him. You’re better at the computer, so dig deeper. Find out everything you can.” Albert grabbed his jacket.
“Where are you going?” Eric asked.
“Back to my dorm. It’ll be daylight soon. I’m going to change and shave and then go have a talk with Mrs. Tomlinson and find out what her husband was up to.”
Mary stood up. “You can’t just waltz into her house and talk to her.”
“As a reporter, I can.”
Eric rose slowly. “Albert, wait. What if she checks up on you? You don’t exactly fade into the woodwork. Especially with your accent.”
Albert’s smile was grim. “What accent?” he asked in a perfect Minnesotan tone.
Eric stared, his mouth open. “You… Which is real?”
Albert met his eyes, his gaze cold. “Does it matter anymore?” he asked. “Start digging on Tomlinson. We need everything we can get.”
Well. As always, they were an interesting bunch. So Mary wants to kill me? Right back atcha, girl. And Albert, not really French? Say it isn’t so. He’d seen that one coming a mile away. For a nerd, Eric was really very stupid.
He sat back in his easy chair and frowned. But Albert going to talk to Louise Tomlinson? He needed to think about that one. Louise didn’t know anything to tell. He’d made sure of that. What harm could Albert do?
Conversely, how can I use this to dig their graves a little deeper? And how long can I keep the leash tethered so tightly? He didn’t plan on watching them so closely forever. When their useful life was over… their lives would be over.
Besides, he might have a bigger worry at the moment. He rewound the recording he’d made of the nine o’clock news. It was a grainy video, taken by a cell phone. A search-and-rescue dog and its handler stood on the bank of the lake, a few hundred yards from the dock at the condo. He knew that shoreline like the back of his hand. The only way to that patch of open beach was by boat, but he saw no boat in the video.
He might have assumed that patch of beach was how the girl had come to be in the burning building to start with, but if so, the boat would still be there, would it not? Which could mean someone had been with her, someone who had not died in the condo.
Which could mean trouble for me. He needed to know what the police knew. If a witness existed, that person needed to die.
Tuesday, September 21, 5:30 a.m.
Austin Dent sat on his bed hugging his knees to his chest. His mom would be coming home from her job soon. She worked hard, his mom. He hated the worry he’d put in her eyes.
He hated that he couldn’t forget the fear in Tracey’s eyes when they’d both smelled smoke. Or the look on that guard’s face when he’d been shot, the way he’d crumpled to the ground. But mostly he hated that somewhere out there a killer walked free.
Austin’s hands clenched into fists. I have to do something. But he was afraid.
I owe it to Tracey. I promised I’d protect her. She was there because of me.
But what did he owe his mother? If he told, he’d put both their lives in danger. That man shot that guard in cold blood. He couldn’t lead the guy straight to their lives.
But I can’t do nothing. I can’t live this way, wondering if he’s going to shoot me, too.
If he called from a phone nearby, the cops would trace it. Everybody in town knew he went to school down in Minneapolis. A smart cop would connect the dots in no time.
So he’d have to contact the cops from Minneapolis. Kenny will help me. He’d text Kenny, tell him what to write in the letter and Kenny could mail it from downtown. That way the cops would know about the shooter, but nobody would know he’d told.
It could work. It would have to.
Tuesday, September 21, 5:45 a.m.
Olivia blinked hard as she drove the road to her house. The last forty-eight were catching up to her. She was going to walk Mojo, then fall into bed…
She slowed as her front porch came into view. A familiar form slowly rose from her front steps and her tired brain wanted to scream foul. Carefully she pulled around the red pickup truck he’d parked on her curb and drove into her garage. For a moment she just sat in her car, her forehead resting on the steering wheel.
Then her door opened and she could feel the warmth of his body as he crouched next to her. “Olivia?”
“I’m all right, David,” she said, not looking at him. “You promised not to bother me.”
“I know. I lied.”
“What do you want from me?”
“A chance to explain. Please.” His hand dipped under her braid, closing over her neck. His palm was warm, his fingers strong as they began massaging her skull.
A little whimper escaped her throat. She was so tired and his hand felt so good. Focus, girl. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. “What’s to explain?”
“A lot. Come on.” He urged her from the car, pulling her to her feet. “You’re about to fall flat on your face.”
“I was about to go to sleep.”
“Then I won’t take long.” She let him lead her to her front door, not complaining when he took the keys from her hand and unlocked her front door. Mojo came bounding, crouching into a snarl when he saw David.
“Down,” Olivia commanded and Mojo instantly dropped to his stomach, eyeing David suspiciously. Smart dog. Good dog.
David closed the door behind them, walking around the dog as if he weren’t there. Mojo craned his neck, watching. Cursing her own weakness, Olivia did the same. David looked as good going as coming. She followed him into her kitchen, Mojo at her heels.