“You know where he is, don’t you?”
“I do,” he said. “And no, I will not tell you.” He looked at her, eyes steady. “My goal is to keep you alive.”
She searched his face. “How do you know all of this? Are you a cop?”
For the first time he hesitated, as if deciding how much to tell her. “My interest in Martin Dowell’s case goes back as far as yours.”
This was the opening she’d been waiting for. She leaned forward. “How did you know my parents? Will you tell me that much, at least?”
He paused. “I’ll tell you what I can. But could I trouble you first for a cup of coffee? It’s been a hell of a long day.”
She wondered if this was some sort of ploy and the minute her back was turned he’d kill her. But as he’d said earlier, if he wanted to hurt her, he’d had his chance. And there was a weariness in the set of his shoulders that suggested he wasn’t lying.
“No problem.” She stood and headed for the kitchen.
“I take it black,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder. “So do I.”
In the tiny kitchen she quickly filled the machine, twisting around periodically to look at him through the open doorway and make sure he wasn’t following her. But he never moved.
She was just finishing when he began talking.
“I first met your father when I was a law officer in Atlanta,” he said, his deep voice carrying easily across the small house. “I was assigned to investigate organized crime.”
Harper turned the machine on and stepped back into the living room, where she stood leaning against the wall as he talked.
“For more than a year I worked to build a case against the Southern Mafia. My primary target was Martin Dowell. I was sure I could prove he’d murdered at least three men, ordered the murders of more, and violated the law in more ways than I could count.”
“What happened to your case?” she asked.
“Your father happened to my case.” His voice cooled. “Your father’s an arrogant man, Miss McClain, but I’d imagine you know that.”
“I know that better than most.”
“Well, back then, as an up-and-coming criminal defense lawyer, he was worse,” he assured her. “He’d won a high-profile case defending a business executive who’d got himself in deep water when a hooker turned up dead. After that, every criminal wanted him on their side. He was good, I’ll give him that.” He shook his head. “The state attorney hated to come up against him. Law enforcement hated him, too. You’d work half a year putting a case together, and then along would come Peter McClain to rip you to shreds in front of a judge. Make you look like a fool.”
“Then he went to work for Martin Dowell,” Harper said.
“Dowell sought him out,” Lee told her. “He knew how to win anyone over and he had a lot of money. He was smart enough to understand that your father was the one person who might keep him out of jail. We were getting close by then. I imagine he could feel our breath on his back every time he moved. And your dad? Well, he saved him from justice many times.”
The frustration of those old cases gave an edge to his voice. It still stung after all these years.
“I don’t like my father,” Harper told him. “I’m sorry he’s like that.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Before Harper could reply, the coffeemaker beeped. Tearing herself away, she poured two cups and brought the steaming mugs into the living room, handing one to him. He took it, his dark brown eyes watching her with a look she couldn’t fathom.
“Thank you,” he said.
He had an oddly formal politeness Harper had encountered before, usually from federal agents.
“You were with the FBI back then, weren’t you?”
After a brief pause, he gave a curt nod.
She settled back down across from him. “What happened with your case against Martin Dowell?”
“On that last case, we had a wire in his office. A member of his group was working for us—someone very close to him. But Dowell was too sharp. Too clever. He never talked to anybody except in code. And he constantly had his guys checking on each other. There was no trust in his organization, only suspicion. I don’t know why anyone would want to be part of that world, but those men were loyal. Except for our guy. He was the only one we could get to.” He took a long sip from his mug. “Dowell had good instincts—the best I’ve ever seen. He figured out we knew too much. And that meant someone close to him must be betraying him. Eventually, he tricked our guy: gave him false information. When we showed up ready to make the bust, Dowell was innocently watching TV. And now he knew what was going on.” His shoulders sagged at the memory. “They beat him to death, our guy,” he said softly. “Stuffed his body in a barrel, and threw it in a chemical-waste dump.” He gave a slow headshake before continuing, “He went too far that time. With the wire evidence, we had motive, and that was enough to charge him.”
“That was the murder where my dad defended him,” Harper guessed.
Lee nodded. “That trial was something else. Your father fought like a tiger. Dowell had invented an ironclad alibi with the help of someone who wasn’t even part of his organization but who was willing to perjure himself. We were done. We had no physical evidence. No DNA. No prints. All we had was one hell of a motive and Dowell and three of his lieutenants at the scene. Only with this false witness, suddenly we didn’t have Dowell there. Instead, he was in a house in the suburbs, having dinner with a friend. The case was over.”
He drained his coffee and set the mug down neatly on the coaster. “We’d given up, to be honest. We were going through the paces, knowing we’d lose. Then, out of nowhere, the witness showed up at an FBI field office asking for protection. Said Dowell threatened his family if he didn’t lie in court. He told us your father convinced him to tell the truth.” He studied her from beneath lowered brows. “With that, Dowell’s entire alibi went out the window.”
Harper looked down at her coffee cup. It all fit with what her father had told her. For once in his life, he’d done something that wasn’t self-serving and venal.
“Why would my dad do that?” she asked, as much of herself as Lee.
“That is a question I’d like to know the answer to. A crisis of conscience?” He made a dismissive gesture. “Your father never struck me as the type.”
“But this is where it started, isn’t it?” she said. “This is why Dowell killed my mother.”
“That is my belief,” he said. “On the day he was convicted, Dowell told your father that he would kill his family and then he’d kill him. So, there was a threat. But your father must have believed he was safe, knowing Dowell would be locked in a federal penitentiary for twenty years.”
“But Dowell didn’t do it himself,” Harper guessed. “He got someone else to do it.”
Lee nodded. “I believe Martin Dowell orchestrated every step of that murder. Where it should happen. How it should happen. That your father should be implicated.” He paused. “Dowell always knew everything about the people who worked closely with him. That’s how he kept them cowed. He knew about your father’s mistress. He knew what days he visited her apartment. That was another one of his twisted decisions. Another way to punish Peter McClain. In one move he could destroy his family, his reputation, and his career. And he knew if he did it right, the police would look at your father as the killer. Being with his mistress wouldn’t save him—a lover is a terrible alibi. We lie for people we love.” He drew a breath. “Dowell planned it all.”
Harper sagged back in the chair. She could see it all the way Dowell must have seen it—a clean, vicious payback. Except for one thing.
“You say he threatened my dad’s whole family,” she said. “Why not kill me, too? He’s had years.”
Lee regarded her somberly. “After your mother’s death, you were very close to that homicide detective—Robert Smith. He was a good cop. If you were murdered, he was going to p
ut the pieces together. And Dowell knew if that happened it would get him the death penalty. He didn’t dare touch you.”
So that was why Dowell never came after her at the paper, even though she was easy to find. Smith had kept her alive just by caring about her.
She blinked hard. “And now?”
“Now your protector is in prison,” he said simply, “and your enemy isn’t. That’s why I called you. I knew this day was coming as soon as I saw he was up for parole. I knew he’d come for you.”
“But why?” Her voice rose. “How can he still want to do this? Hasn’t he had his revenge? Wasn’t killing my mother enough?”
“Martin Dowell is a psychopath, with an obsessive personality disorder,” Lee told her, calmly. “All this time he’s been biding time until he could finish the job. He has to finish it. In his mind, you need to die. Then your father needs to die. Then he can pick up the pieces of his drug-dealing empire and get back to work.” He paused. “As crazy as it sounds, that is what he’s thinking right now.”
It was all so damned pointless, Harper thought, numbly. So much loss and pain. All because of two men and an old feud.
Lee rubbed his forehead wearily. He’d finished his coffee. The two of them, forced close together by the nature of the cottage sat in a pool of light. Everything around them was darkness.
Harper was aware that it was after three in the morning. She needed to ask her questions quickly. “What about you?” she said. “Why are you still on this case?”
He looked down at the hands folded loosely on his knees. “I owe your mother.” His voice grew softer; filled with self-incrimination. “I knew she was in danger, and I didn’t move fast enough. It was a mistake that cost her life.” He met her eyes again. “Maybe I’m as obsessive as Martin Dowell, but I need to finish this case. For her.”
“You knew my mom?” Harper searched his impassive face. “Outside of work, I mean?”
There was a long silence. Lee looked past her to where an oil painting of a field of daisies in the sunshine leaned against a wall near the kitchen. It was the only one of her mother’s paintings she’d brought to Tybee. He studied it with a kind of recognition that inspired a thousand more questions in her mind.
“I guess you could say, I sought her out,” he said, finally. “She was innocent in all of this. Maybe the only truly innocent person, aside from you. She trusted your father to do the right thing.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I arranged to meet her several times. First, to get to know her and find out what she knew. And, eventually, to ask for her help.”
Harper frowned. “Her help? Doing what?”
He lifted his head. “I asked her to watch your father for me. I told her he was in trouble and that your family was in danger. And I asked her to find out what he was doing.”
“You asked her to spy?” Her voice went up. “She would never do that.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” He gave a wry smile. “She told me it would be a betrayal. She wasn’t wrong about that but I believed at the time—and still believe now—that betraying him in that way, given how he was betraying her, would have been justified.” He straightened. “But she couldn’t see it. I got angry. Told her she deserved whatever happened to her.” His voice faded. “I am still sorry about that.”
His words sent a stab of pain into Harper’s chest. She could imagine her mother facing this man, being told things she’d never imagined about her husband. Having to refuse to help. Lee had obviously cared about her—there must have been something between them. Attraction, maybe? Or more.
She couldn’t imagine her mother ever cheating on her father. But she’d been alone so much, with her father constantly away for work. Who knew what went on? She must have been so lost in those last months. And yet she’d never shown any sign of that to Harper. Her mother had protected her from the chaos her father was creating in their lives until the very end.
I’m so sorry, Mom, she thought, fighting back tears.
Lee gave a quick look at his watch. “I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. But before I leave, I need to be sure you understand what’s going to happen now. Whatever the state police believe, whatever lies he’s spun for them, it doesn’t matter.” A new intensity entered his voice. “Martin Dowell is coming for you, Miss McClain. He has a plan. And he’s closer than you think.”
Harper swallowed hard. “What do you mean by that?”
There was a long pause before he said, “My understanding is he’s in Savannah.”
“But how?” She was stunned. Dowell should have been monitored constantly and kept close to where his family lived. That was normal procedure for high-profile parolees.
Why would the police let him choose to wander the state—and worse, provide cover for him?
“It makes little sense to me.” The lines on his face were carved deep. “I think the state police have lost their minds. He’s convinced them he needs to be in Savannah to see his son. And they’ve allowed it.”
“Why are they listening to him?” She held up her hands. “I don’t understand.”
“It doesn’t matter why.” He cut her off, curtly. “All that matters is that he intends to kill you. He will get away from them, and he will track you down.” He glanced around the little cottage, eyes narrow. “This is a good place to hide. Using an assumed name to rent it was smart. But the simple truth is, if I can find you, so can he.”
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, helplessly. “Stay here and hide? Go somewhere else and hide? Run across the country and hide?”
She was scared and angry, but Lee didn’t flinch.
“My advice is, stay on the move. Find somewhere new to stay every few nights—hotels, rented apartments. Be very careful walking in and out of the office—it’s the one place he knows to look for you.” He angled his body forward, his eyes holding hers intently. “Whatever you do, don’t try to go after him. I am tracking him. I have contacts in the state police who are helping me. I will find him. And I promise you, I will put an end to this.”
His voice was stiff with resolve. “I’ve lived with this guilt for seventeen years. Martin Dowell is not the only one with a score to settle.”
26
After Lee left that night, Harper found sleep impossible. All her questions had been answered at last, but the truth was far worse than she’d imagined. She paced the house, going over and over it all in her head. More than anything she wished she could call Lieutenant Smith and ask him what to do. But he was gone. She had to face this on her own.
When she was too tired to keep walking, she pulled out the Glock and set it on the table next to Lee’s empty mug. Then she curled up on the sofa with Zuzu beside her and waited for the sun to rise.
When it finally came, the morning was bright and sunny, but the weather reports carried dire predictions of another late-winter storm looming.
“Get those coats back out of the attic,” a TV weather reporter warned, perfect teeth flashing white. “Old Man Winter isn’t done with us yet.”
It was hard to believe, the day was so warm and springlike. When she walked into the Savannah police headquarters late that morning, the sky was a clear, crystalline blue.
At the reception desk, Darlene was flirting with a tall, wiry patrol officer. He gave Harper a curious look as she approached, her scanner held loosely in one hand.
“Your watch must be broken,” Darlene decided, surveying her with a smile. “Because this is too early.”
But Harper was in no mood for banter. “I need five minutes with Blazer,” she said. “Is he in?”
Noticing her tone, Darlene grew serious. “Go straight back,” she told her. “He’s in his office. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
Harper hurried across the room as the desk officer released the lock on the security door. On the other side, she threaded her way through the morning throng, looking neither left nor right. Blazer was setting down his phone as she walked in.
Harper didn’t mince
words. “The man—he came to my house last night.”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened. He motioned for her to sit. “What happened?”
“He wouldn’t tell me his full name, but he called himself Lee. He’s ex-FBI.” She spoke rapidly, rushing to get it all out. “He said Dowell’s under state police protection. They think he’s giving up his organization but it’s a ruse to get at me. Lieutenant, he says he’s already in Savannah.”
Blazer’s brow furrowed. “That can’t be true. They wouldn’t bring Martin Dowell into my jurisdiction without notifying me.”
But she could hear the doubt in his voice. He knew it was possible. If Dowell was under some sort of modified witness protection, they wouldn’t tell anyone where he was.
“Lee said Dowell convinced them he needed to see his son,” she said.
Blazer picked up a pen and turned it over in his hand. “I spoke to my FBI contacts yesterday, and they verified state is working with Dowell—they don’t approve, but state is off-roading here.” His face hardened. “If they brought that thug into my town without due notification, they’re crazy.”
The air conditioner blew cold air against Harper’s neck, making her shiver.
“They think he’s going to crack the Southern Mafia for them,” she said. “Lee thinks Dowell’s going to get away from them and find me.”
There was a brief silence as the two of them exchanged a look.
Blazer broke it first. “You’ve got the gun?”
She nodded.
“Good.” His tone was grim. “I’ll increase patrols at the newspaper. Let the security guards at the paper know. I’ll alert the Tybee PD to have more patrols at your house.” He paused to think, studying her like a problem. “Actually, I’ll see if I can get the sheriff to station a county deputy there overnight. I think it’s time to get them involved, too. If Dowell really is in town, we’ll need every resource we can spare.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Lee thinks I should stay on the move. Find new places every few nights.”
Revolver Road Page 21
