Finlay Donovan Is Killing It

by Elle Cosimano

  Nick turned off the engine. He stared at the stretch of gravel in front of us, then at the fields, thoughtfully tapping the steering wheel.

  I didn’t dare look left, into the russet-brown lot of mounded dirt where Harris was decomposing. Instead, I stared into the swaying sea of hairlike blue fescue to my right. Nick didn’t have a shovel, I reminded myself as my palms grew clammy. He wasn’t digging anything up—at least not today. All I had to do was keep cool and determine his next move. Then Vero and I could figure out what to do.

  “What do you think Feliks and Theresa were doing out here?” I asked in a shaky voice.

  “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” My pulse quickened as Nick got out of the car. He walked along the edge of the field where the fescue met the road, pausing to kneel beside a set of tire tracks that had crushed a short path through the grass. The tracks had left deep divots where they’d met the gravel, and a wide swath of grass had been torn from the roots, as if the undercarriage of a car had dragged over it. Feliks’s Lincoln.

  Too anxious to sit still, I got out of the car, arms crossed against the biting wind that rolled over the endless acres of sod and billowed the thin fabric of my shirt. I hovered behind Nick as he followed the tread marks into the field. They stopped just a few feet into the grass. “Feliks and Theresa probably entered the farm from the rear entrance,” he said, studying the direction of the tracks. “Looks like they backed into the field, just enough to turn around.”

  “So they didn’t stay?” I hoped this meant we didn’t have to stay either. “Maybe Feliks decided he didn’t like this farm any more than he liked the others.”

  Nick shook his head, hands on his narrow hips as he turned between the tread marks, thinking. “Why would he look at a piece of land that’s not for sale? And why come through the back unless he didn’t want to be seen doing it?” He paced slowly between the tracks, talking to himself out loud, as if he were trying to see this place through Feliks’s eyes. “If he didn’t want to risk being seen here, he wouldn’t have come during the day. He would have come at night, after the office closed, when the place was dark…”

  He stood where the Lincoln would have been, his feet straddling the gash at the edge of the field, his eyes seeming to follow the path of the car’s headlights to the precise spot where we’d dug our hole. My breath caught as he stared at the dirt over Harris’s grave. “Zhirov wants this land for a purpose, and he doesn’t care if it belongs to someone else, as long as no one sees him using it. So what’s he doing with it? And why involve a real estate agent if there’s no sale? Unless…”

  Nick’s voice trailed. He walked closer to the fallow field, dirt crumbling under his shoes as he paused at the edge of it. Wind howled in my ears. Or maybe it was my blood. I felt a little light-headed as his expression morphed from confusion to wonder.

  “That’s it,” he said in a low voice. “He’s not going through Theresa because she’s an agent. He’s going through her because she’s about to become an owner. Legally, this whole farm becomes hers the minute she marries your ex-husband.” He backed away from the field, his eyes lit with a wild intensity. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it,” he said under his breath as he rushed back to his car.

  “What do you mean, that’s it? Where are we going?” I hurried after him. The engine was already running as I stumbled into the car. He put an arm around my seat back, turning to see behind us as he backed up the car, the road through the windshield in front of us obscured by thick clouds of dust as he sped up.

  “To find a judge who isn’t already in Zhirov’s pocket,” he said. “Preferably one who’ll issue a search warrant on a Saturday.”

  He wrenched the wheel, spinning us around. I braced myself against the dash. “A search warrant for what?”

  His eyes narrowed as he hit the gas. “To dig up your ex-husband’s farm.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Nick hugged the far-left lane of the interstate, flashing his lights at the slower cars in front of us and leaning on his horn. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel, his attention squarely on the road. I could practically smell the rubber burning from the spinning wheels in his brain.

  “I don’t understand. Why is it necessary to dig up Steven’s farm?”

  “Feliks isn’t looking to buy land. If he was, he would have come in through the front door, flashed his cash, and made Steven an offer he couldn’t refuse. And if Steven did refuse, Feliks would have pressured him into selling it—probably under threat of violence. I’m guessing Feliks is just looking to use the farm for something shady, and he wants to keep it as quiet as possible. So he went to Theresa—someone he could easily manipulate with attention and money. I’m betting Zhirov is bribing Theresa to let him use the farm for a very specific purpose. Whatever it is, he doesn’t plan to use it for very long.”

  I thought back to the cash Steven had found in her drawer. “Maybe Feliks is just meeting people out there.”

  “No,” Nick said, growing impatient with the driver in front of him and passing him on the right. I gripped the door handle as we zigzagged between cars. “Zhirov owns restaurants and hotels all over the state. He can meet with people anywhere. If he was only meeting them, he wouldn’t go to so much trouble.”

  “Then what do you think he’s doing?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m guessing the answer is buried somewhere in that field.”

  I swallowed back a wave of nausea. “Why would you think that?”

  “There was more than one set of tire marks. There were two other sets at the edge of that field.”

  “Two others?”

  “All three vehicles came in through the back entrance. They all parked in different places, but all three of them stopped facing into that dirt field. Feliks’s stash is probably buried under the intersection of those headlights.”

  “Maybe they were just … doing business there.” I pressed back in my seat as six lanes of traffic closed in around me. “You know, on top of the ground. Covertly. In front of the headlights.”

  Nick shook his head. “The dirt was freshly turned. There wasn’t a single footprint in it. Someone cleaned up after themselves. And I’m going to find whatever it is they’re hiding.”

  Nick’s jaw was hard set. I had no doubt he would tear this county apart until he got what he was after. “How long will it take you to get a warrant?”

  “Maybe a day. Probably two. The farm isn’t in my jurisdiction, so we’ll need to coordinate with the guys in Fauquier County. I’m going to run you home,” he said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll have to pull a few favors. Judges don’t like being dragged off the golf course, and it’s probably better if I do this myself.”

  He pulled into my driveway with a sharp jerk of the wheel. The car lurched to a stop, and I reached for the handle. “Hey, wait,” Nick said. I turned, hoping he couldn’t see the guilt and fear written all over my face. He cupped my cheek. Stroked it with his thumb. “I know today got a little crazy. How about I come by later and take you to dinner?”

  “That sounds…” I cleared the tight knot from my throat. “That sounds really great, but I should probably skip dinner. I have a ton of work to do, and I’ve been gone all day. I’ve got some deadlines to juggle.” And one very dead body.

  Nick leaned in and stole a sweet, soft kiss that left me feeling even guiltier. I threw open the door and got out. Watched his car peel out of the driveway. He waved at Officer Roddy as he hurtled past his car.

  Across the street, Mrs. Haggerty’s curtains were hemmed open, her white hair hovering like a specter behind the glass. I’d had enough of the woman. That was it. I was finally going to give her a piece of my mind.

  Her curtain fell closed as I crossed the street, my low heels clicking as I stormed up her front steps.

  “Mrs. Haggerty!” I banged on the door. “It’s Finlay Donovan, and I have something to say to you.”

  I had just raised a hand to bang on it again when i
t flew open. The rush of warm air from inside threw me off-balance.

  “It’s about time you came around.” Mrs. Haggerty glared up at me over the gold rims of her half-moon glasses, her tawny-rose lipstick wobbling outside the natural lines of her wrinkled scowl. She wore too much rouge on her pasty cheeks, and her old-lady perfume was thick in my nose.

  I gaped at her, breathing shallowly. She didn’t make any gestures to invite me in, but she didn’t shut the door in my face either. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for my apology for a year now. Now then, you said you have something to say to me?” She lifted her chin, the loose skin underneath wobbling proudly between the gold chains hanging from the tips of her glasses.

  “That’s why you wouldn’t open the door for me last week? Because you were waiting for me to … apologize?”

  I tipped my head, baffled, as she gave a tight, determined nod. “I knew you would eventually, since you probably want to know if I saw anything suspicious happen in your garage.”

  The ground bottomed out from under me. “You saw something suspicious inside my garage?”

  “I’m not a member of the neighborhood watch for nothin’.”

  “You’re not?” I caught myself, shut my mouth before I said something stupid, and shook my head. “I mean, of course you’re not. And you’re right, that’s exactly why I came over. To apologize. For…” She raised the two pencil-thin eyebrows she’d drawn lopsided on her face. I had no idea what she expected me to atone for. She’d been the one to spy on my house. She’d been the one to tell on Steven and kick my marriage into a downward spiral. She’d been the one to blab it to the rest of the neighborhood watch. And yet, at the end of it all, the blame belonged squarely on one person’s shoulders. And they probably weren’t the bony, hunched ones in front of me now. She lifted her chin higher, waiting.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, swallowing the last of my pride, “that I yelled at you and called you terrible names. I was angry at my husband, and I took it out on you. And I shouldn’t have.”

  Mrs. Haggerty wrinkled her nose, adjusting her glasses to peer at me through them, as if she were gauging my sincerity. With a satisfied grunt, she let them fall to her bosom.

  “So, about my garage,” I said cautiously. “What did you see, exactly?”

  She reached for the bound diary on the hall table behind her. Thumbing it open, she licked a gnarled finger and fanned through the pages. She settled on one with a sigh. “On the night of Tuesday, October eighth, I saw you leave with the kids a little before six in the evening. And then I saw you come back without them at approximately six forty. I figured you’d probably be in for the night since you don’t get out much.” She looked down her nose at me, and I smiled tightly back. It was all I could do to keep from throttling the woman. “But then I saw you leave again, all dressed up like you were going on a date, I assume with that dark-haired policeman you’ve been entertaining lately.” She raised a poorly drawn eyebrow, inviting me to elaborate on my relationship with Nick, but why bother? She seemed to have it all figured out. “I actually mistook you for Ms. Hall at first, to be honest. But then you tripped in your heels coming off your garage step and I knew right away it was you. You’re clumsier than Theresa. And you have horrific posture,” she added, scrutinizing my shoulders. “That’s probably because of all the time you spend in front of that computer. It’s unhealthy, you know.”

  I gestured impatiently for her to go on.

  “Anyway, I guess that must have been just after seven,” she said, returning her attention to her book. “After that, everything was quiet for a few hours. I watched my TV programs and had a slice of pie, which is how I knew it was about nine forty-five when I noticed the lights in your garage. You left your van running when you ran inside. I figured you were grabbing something you’d forgotten before going to pick up the children from wherever you’d taken them earlier.”

  “My sister’s,” I said, gesturing again.

  “Your sister, the police officer? There sure have been a lot of them over there these last few days—”

  “Yes, she was babysitting for me,” I said a little too brusquely. “Did you see anything else?”

  “Of course,” she snapped, as if the very question of her vigilance was offensive. “I watched the house, to make sure nobody bothered your van while you were inside. I was irritable at first because you were taking a long while, and I was missing my late-night TV program on account of it. But then something strange happened.” She adjusted her glasses, the thick gold chain catching on the shoulder pads in her sweater.

  “What did you see?”

  She leveled an arthritic finger at me. “I saw someone snooping inside your garage.”

  My breath rushed out of me. This was it. Mrs. Haggerty had seen the people who killed Harris. “Do you remember what they looked like?”

  “It was hard to see clearly from here, especially so late at night. The headlights from the van were behind him, but I could tell he was tall. He had to bend down a bit to see inside the windows of your van. I thought he might be one of the hoodlums in the neighborhood planning to steal it, so I went downstairs to call the police. But by the time I got to the phone in the kitchen, you must have come out to the garage and scared him off. When I looked out my kitchen window, your garage door was already shut. As far as I could see he was gone.” I glanced behind her, at an electric chairlift perched on a track at the base of the stairs. My grandmother had one in her house. They moved like molasses. Who knew how much time Mrs. Haggerty had lost? Or if she could even be considered a reliable eyewitness. She hadn’t actually seen anyone close the garage door. And even if she had, the woman couldn’t see her face in the mirror to apply her own lipstick. A judge might just throw her testimony out.

  “You said it was a he?” I asked, making sure I’d heard her right.

  She gave a confident nod. I raked back my hair, struggling to puzzle it out. Feliks was tall. I supposed he could have come here with Theresa. Or even with Andrei. But something about that scenario felt off. I’d had enough run-ins with Feliks to see how he operated. Feliks didn’t do his own dirty work. That’s what he had Andrei for. And Andrei wasn’t subtle.

  “Did you see who was with him?”

  “I didn’t see anyone else. Only the one.”

  But that didn’t make sense. Someone else had to have been there to help the killer close the garage. Maybe they’d waited in the car, only emerging after Mrs. Haggerty was on her way down the stairs.

  “Did you see what kind of car he was driving?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “There was no car. Not anywhere I could see.”

  So the culprit had come on foot, as I’d suspected before. And without a description of a suspect or a vehicle—without proof that someone else had intentionally murdered Harris—I would become the prime suspect once Nick figured out that I was the woman at The Lush. My best hope was that Nick would hit a dead end. That Julian wouldn’t identify me to the police, and that no one could prove Harris Mickler had ever been to my house.

  “Did you … happen to see or hear anything else that night? Anything odd … in my garage?” I asked cautiously.

  “No,” she said. “I couldn’t hear much of anything over the dogs down the street. They must have seen the thief and it got them going. They seemed to quiet once he was gone.” She scratched her head, referencing back to her diary. “Let’s see … I saw your babysitter let herself in the front door. I figured everything over there was settled, and I went to bed shortly after that.” Mrs. Haggerty’s nose scrunched up, pushing the wrinkles in her forehead together into a maze of thoughtful lines. “Come to think of it, I woke up before dawn to a horrible crashing sound, but I couldn’t tell you what caused it.” That would have been the garage door falling closed after Vero and I got home from the farm. Which meant she hadn’t witnessed us coming or going in between.

  “Good … I mean, thanks.” My shoulders sagged with relief
. “Did you happen to call the police? About any of it?”

  “No.” Her slack skin wobbled with the shake of her head. “I didn’t bother. No point wasting anybody’s…” Her thought broke off. She peeled off her glasses, staring up at me with her beady blue eyes. “Why?” she asked eagerly. “Did that man steal something? If he did, we can go down the street and talk to that policeman right now.” She pointed at Officer Roddy’s unmarked car.

  “No, no. Everything’s fine,” I insisted, stepping back from her door. But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. By my best estimates, I had forty-eight hours to figure out who’d killed Harris Mickler before Nick dug up his body.

  CHAPTER 38

  I unlocked the front door of my house and let myself in, surprised by the silence inside until I remembered the children were with their father. Still, the quiet was unsettling. The TV was off. All the lights were out.

  “Vero?” I called. Her name echoed back. Maybe she’d gone to the library to study.

  My dress heels clicked loudly across the kitchen. I cracked the door to the garage. Vero’s Charger was there, beside the empty space where I usually parked. I’d left Ramón’s loaner car back at his shop after the incident with Feliks, and I still hadn’t gotten my van back.

  I shut the kitchen door, and as the sound was absorbed by the empty house I had the sudden heavy feeling that I wasn’t alone. That I was being watched.

  Something was definitely wrong. Something was very—

  “Surprise!” My heart skidded to a halt. Vero jumped through the opening of the dining room with Zach on her hip. Delia jumped out after her. A bouquet of helium balloons had been tied to the buttons of her overalls with brightly colored ribbons that matched the spikes in her hair. A cake perched in the center of the cleared folding table where our bills used to sit. Streamers had been strung from the brass chandelier, and a bottle of champagne and two juice boxes were chilling in a bucket of ice.