Cut and Run

by Allison Brennan

  It was plausible, but Max needed more facts. Theories were fine to play around with, but they needed concrete details to fill in the blanks. “I’ll ask him. I can help Grant—and he knows it. It’s why he’s willing to talk to me. He’ll tell the truth or I’ll walk. I have better things to do with my life than be jerked around by a possible killer.”

  Sean smiled. “I expect nothing less from you.” He drained his orange juice and glanced at his watch. “After you talk to Grant, could you do me a favor? I ordered up records from the county archive. They’re under my name, at the archive building across the street from the courthouse. If I’m sitting on Marie Richards this morning, I can’t pick them up.”

  “That I can do. What records?”

  “Property and corporation papers on Victoria’s real estate company—the one she co-owned with Grant and Corta. Plus their individual property records and LLCs. We know that Victoria’s family has her shares of the company in a trust, but what about Grant? Who gets his portion of the company? Many LLCs have provisions if one of the principals is incarcerated, including giving up the shares to the remaining partners. But mostly, I want to track their land deals. Land is a terrific way to cover up a criminal enterprise or to launder money. Not to mention running scams. My brother worked a case once where some bastard killed an old lady to buy her property in probate because she refused to sell.”

  “I’ll admit, while I understand finance better than the average person, I have very little interest in white collar crime. I’ll leave that to you.”

  Yet Sean was right. When dealing with a multi-million-dollar company that handled major land transactions for important people, maybe there was something hidden in those records—something worth lying for, something worth killing for.

  Max couldn’t wait to talk to Stanley Grant.

  * * *

  Sean called Lucy as he drove to Marie Richards’s house. “Thanks for taking Jesse to school this morning.”

  “I’m happy to do it, though I didn’t expect Max’s investigation to be twenty-four/seven.”

  “I don’t think she sleeps. I might be on bodyguard duty temporarily, I’ll let you know for certain.”

  “Is there a threat to Max?”

  Now Lucy sounded worried, which was the last thing Sean wanted.

  “No. At least, nothing that I’m aware of.” With the reporter, he could never be certain who might want to do her harm. “It’s complicated, I’ll explain tonight. Jess has soccer practice and a ride home, so don’t be worried if you don’t hear from me today. I’ll check in when I can. Are you at work?”

  “Just got here. Nate and I are meeting with a PI that Denise Albright’s family hired, then we have a full day of interviews and follow-up.”

  “Don’t forget to eat.”

  “I’m with Nate. He likes regular meals.”

  “He doesn’t care if it’s an energy bar or steak dinner. Who’s the PI?”

  He heard the shuffling of paper. “King Investigations.”

  “They’re good. It’s a family operation—Miranda King, her son, and daughter-in-law. I’ve consulted with them on security issues. Miranda’s old-school, Rico is more like me. It’s a good balance.”

  “Why am I not surprised that we’ve been here less than two years and you know more people than I do?”

  “I’m a social butterfly,” he teased. “Seriously, they’re good. Their bread and butter is insurance scams, but their heart is in missing persons. I upgraded their computer security last year, as a favor for RCK. We’ve passed them some work over the years, helped a time or two on missing persons cases that turned into hostage situations south of the border.”

  “I’ll drop your name.”

  “Do that, they love me.”

  Lucy laughed, and Sean smiled. She was so focused on her work that sometimes she forgot to breathe. “Call me if you need anything, I gotta go,” Sean said. “Be safe.”

  “You too.”

  * * *

  Sean was fifty-fifty that Marie would be at home this morning but was pleased when he saw her older Explorer parked at the end of her long, narrow driveway. He had to play this situation carefully. He didn’t want to spook her, but he needed to make her understand that this photo—if she recognized the house—was at a minimum odd and suspicious but most likely a threat.

  He’d circled the block twice, didn’t see anything out of place—no one acting suspicious or sitting in a car watching him or the house. As he walked up to her door, he looked behind him and to the sides. Clear.

  He knocked. It was seven thirty—if she was going to school, she would have left already.

  He heard footsteps in the house, then nothing, then more footsteps. Marie said through the closed door, “Who is it?”

  “Sean Rogan, private investigator. I’m here about your brother.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you. Off my porch or I’ll call the police!”

  “Ms. Richards, I work with Maxine Revere from Maximum Exposure. She’s here in San Antonio at the request of your brother.” Slight fib. “He plans on talking to her this morning but asked Max to check on you and your boys. He’s concerned about your safety.”

  Silence. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

  “I can slip my card through the mail slot. You can verify my identity and my credentials.”

  “Show me the card.”

  He pulled out his sleek RCK business card. Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid Protective Services had printed expensive and ultra-professional business cards, simple and effective, on quality glossy card stock. Not a guarantee that anyone would take him seriously, but combined with his official ID—not a badge, but official enough for most people—it usually worked.

  He slid the card through the mail slot, then held his ID up to the peephole.

  “Wait there,” Marie said.

  She walked away from the door. He didn’t know what she was doing, but a full two minutes later she returned. “You could be lying,” she said, still not opening the door. “This could be a scam and you have a friend telling me that you’re legit.”

  “You called the number.”

  “They verified your description.”

  “I understand your suspicions. Your brother is concerned about your safety. His lawyer met with Max last night and showed him the visitor log. You were with him for a full hour late Sunday morning. Stan asked Max to make sure you were safe before he spoke to her. Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “It would be easier to talk face-to-face.”

  She finally opened the door but didn’t invite him in. Marie was petite and fidgety. “What do you really want?”

  “Exactly what I said. To make sure you’re safe. We believe that your brother asked you to leave town for your safety, but here you are.”

  It was a guess—an educated guess—that she’d left her boys at the house in the photo and returned to San Antonio alone.

  She eyed him suspiciously and said, “Talk fast or I’m calling the police.”

  “Marie, can I please come in?”

  “I’ll give you five minutes, Mr. Rogan.” She held his card up, which was already bent in her shaking hands.

  He stepped in and she crossed the room, keeping her distance. Yes, she was nervous, but she was also curious. “Talk,” she said.

  “I work with Maxine Revere. She’s an investigative reporter looking into your brother’s case. Max came here last night—close to midnight—and you weren’t here.” He held out the photo in the evidence bag. “She found this on your front porch.” He decided to avoid telling Marie that Max had retrieved the photo through the mail slot.

  Marie approached, took the clear envelope, and stepped back. She stared, mouth open, and in a low, weak voice she said, “What game are you playing?” Her question ended in a squeak and she stepped back again.

  “Where is that house?” Sean asked.

  “My mother-in-law. In Lake Charles. How did you get this?�
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  “Someone left this here so you would know that they know where your children are. Why is your brother concerned about your safety? Do you know something about Victoria Mills’s murder?”

  “Stan didn’t kill anyone. He doesn’t have it in him.” She sounded stronger now but put her hand to her mouth as she stared at the photo.

  “When Stan first confessed, you left town for a couple of days. Why?”

  “He told me what he was doing. Wouldn’t explain. I was confused, but he was worried about the media talking to me, the boys. He even called my ex-husband, and they don’t really get along. Johnny took emergency leave to come home and help us through that awful week. He wanted me to move in with his mom, but the boys have school here and I have a good job and Stan needed me. He needs my support.”

  “And when you talked to him on Sunday? What did he say to you?”

  She looked him in the eye as if trying to assess whether to trust him.

  “Marie,” Sean said, “I know you’re worried and maybe you should be, but not about me. I’m trying to help you. Max is at the courthouse waiting to talk to your brother before he goes into court.”

  “Why? I mean, why would she help him? No one wants to help us.”

  “She wants the truth. She’s been following this case since the beginning, and when he recanted his plea she was on the next flight out. I’ve been on the ground doing research because I’m local. You left your boys at your mother-in-law’s house, but you returned. Why?”

  “I’m going to be here for my brother. He didn’t want me to be in the courtroom, but I need to be. I know he’s innocent. I don’t know why he pled guilty, he refused to tell me what was going on, I just know he didn’t do it. I know. I took yesterday off, drove my boys to Lake Charles, was there a couple hours for a late lunch, and came back. Got in at three this morning. I’d have noticed if someone was following me.” Her voice was stronger, but she still looked spooked.

  “They may have put a tracker on your car, or already knew where your mother-in-law lived and made an educated guess that’s where you would go. I found out pretty quickly that Stan is your only living relative, outside of your ex-husband and his family. Someone knows where your boys are. What I want to know is who are they?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Sean said, “You should call the police. I don’t know if they’ll take this photo as a threat, but I believe it’s a threat. This is my job, Marie. They want you to know they can get to your kids.”

  Marie rubbed her forehead. “The police treated Stan like crap. I have tried to talk to them and they treat me like garbage, too. They’re not going to listen to anything I have to say.”

  “What did Stan tell you on Sunday that had you take your boys out of town?”

  “He told me he was recanting and wanted me to disappear for a few days. I told him it was ridiculous, that he was innocent and now people would listen to him, but I’m not so naïve to think that everyone would just believe him. He was worried about me, the press, my job, everything—I told him he had no reason to be worried, I can take care of myself. He wouldn’t tell me why, and I know— Well, he was holding something back. He was scared, and Stan doesn’t get scared, not really. He’s always been so easygoing, so friendly, but now … he’s changed. I don’t know if it’s because of being in jail or Victoria being killed or what. I’ll admit, I’m concerned. I planned to move the boys to Lake Charles during the trial so they wouldn’t hear awful things about their uncle, who they love so much. But Stan didn’t tell me why he was worried.”

  “Did you tell him you would leave town?”

  “I said I would if the pressure became too much. He didn’t like that answer.”

  She was thinking about something else, her brows furrowed, but didn’t say anything.

  Sean said, “Marie, I know where you’re coming from. The police are hit-or-miss. I’m not always a fan, but I have friends who are cops, good men and women you can trust. My wife is an FBI agent. I can reach out to someone who will at least listen to you.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “They don’t care about my family.”

  “You and the boys are innocent bystanders in whatever is going on with your brother. To be honest, I think the police got Victoria’s murder flat out wrong. I don’t have access to the evidence, but Max and I have started investigating on our own. I think you need to go to the police and tell them that someone left this picture on your doorstep at eleven thirty last night.”

  “How do you know it was eleven thirty?” Marie asked.

  Sean internally winced. He gave a half-truth. “Max was waiting for you to come home. She saw a vehicle pull into your driveway. Someone went up to your porch, then left. She found the picture after that.”

  “I need to call my mother-in-law.”

  She pulled out her cell phone, paced as she waited for someone to answer. “Mom? It’s Marie. Is everything okay?”

  She listened. Sean couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. “I don’t want to worry you,” Marie said, “but something odd is going on and I was wondering if Billy could come stay with you and the boys? Just for a day or two.” Silence, then, “I trust you, of course I trust you, it’s just—something is going on with Stan. I don’t know what, but he has me a bit scared…” Again, she listened. “Thank you. Thank you, Mom, I’ll call you later.” She hung up. “Now I have my mother-in-law worried and mad at me. She’s retired military, says she can take care of herself and the boys. But she’s going to call Johnny’s brother. Billy will keep an eye on all of them.”

  Sean wasn’t certain that would work, not if someone was determined to get to two young kids in order to leverage either their mother or their uncle.

  Marie said, “Billy is very capable. He was in the Army for six years, he’s in the Reserves, he’ll know if anyone is watching the house or my boys are in danger. And my mom—she’s smart and protective. Reminded me she’s a better shot than both her sons.” She closed her eyes. “I just don’t understand what’s happening. None of this has anything to do with my kids.”

  “Hopefully, knowing that the boys are safe, Stan will shed some light on the situation.” It was after eight, and he needed to get the information to Max, who had been texting him for the last fifteen minutes.

  “I need to get to the courthouse,” Marie said to Sean.

  “I would be happy to take you.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t know you. I’m going to drive myself. You can follow if you want, but I’m taking my car.”

  “I understand.”

  “I need five minutes.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll wait on the porch.”

  He stepped out but kept the door open. He didn’t think she would bolt on him, but if Max was going to tell Stan his sister was safe, Sean needed to make sure she stayed safe.

  “And call the police, report the photo,” he added through the screen.

  The more Sean thought about it, the more he thought the threat was aimed at Stan. Do … what? Say … what? Or we can get to your family.

  Because chances were that Marie would go to her brother with the photo had she been the one to find it. Ask him what was going on. And then what would he do? Change his plea again?

  Sean hit Max’s number. She answered immediately. “I have two minutes,” she said. “Grant’s being brought to the courthouse as we speak and his attorney will have only fifteen minutes with him.”

  “I’m with Marie Richards. The house in the photo is her mother-in-law’s place in Lake Charles. Her boys are there. She is worried and doesn’t trust the police because she doesn’t like how they treated her brother.”

  “He confessed, they were doing their job,” Max said. “The threat to Marie’s family is a separate matter.”

  “Whatever the reason, I told her to call them.”

  “That’s her choice. But can you stick with her until I’m done here? And someone took that photo.”

  “She asked her brother-
in-law to check on the family. Right now there’s no sign of trouble, but she’s taking this seriously.”

  “Good. I’ll let Grant know.”

  “She’s going to the courthouse to support her brother.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done if you’re not here.”

  Max ended the call before Sean could lower his phone. He stepped back into the house and heard Marie on her cell phone in the kitchen. After he listened for a few seconds it was clear that she was talking to the police and wasn’t happy with their responses.

  “Someone followed me all the way to Lake Charles!” she said, exasperated. “Why would someone do that? Why would they leave a photo of my mother-in-law’s house?… I don’t know why!” She listened as she walked into the living room. She wore heels that took her from very short to short. “Fine,” she snapped, and looked like she was going to throw her phone across the room.

  “They told me I have to go to the police station to file a report,” she said. “I need that photo.”

  Sean handed it to her. “I already checked it for prints—there are none. I checked it under a black light for hidden messages or any impressions—nothing. But maybe seeing is believing and they’ll open a case. I’d suggest that you be diligent driving to and from work and the courthouse. Do you have an alarm system?” He saw no sign of security.

  She shook her head. “It’s a safe neighborhood.”

  “Safe neighborhood means nothing to some people,” Sean said. “Max is talking to Stan now. I’ll introduce you when she’s done.”

  “I looked her up while I was on hold with the police. She’s the crime reporter. She did a big show on a woman who killed her own son. I saw it, it was awful. How could someone do that? Kill their child so mercilessly?” She shook her head as she slung an oversized purse over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”