Stepping closer, Riley interrupted the man’s blathering. It was time to end Clay’s pointless charade.
“What policy, Mr. Clay? I’ve contacted Sterlington Trust and they claim the life insurance policy purchased by Portia Hart was cancelled over three years ago. They have no intention of investigating or paying out a claim.”
Clay opened his mouth, then closed it again. The trickle of sweat finally reached his chin and dripped onto his shirt collar.
“What’s your game, Mr. Clay?”
Dropping his head into his hands, Clay remained silent. Riley looked over at Nessa, who shrugged. Pete Barker however wore a suspicious frown. He raised an eyebrow to Riley, silently asking permission to join the interrogation. Riley nodded, eager to see Barker’s decades of experience as a police detective in action.
“Mr. Clay, I’m Pete Barker…Frankie’s partner.” Barker leaned against the wooden desk next to Clay and sighed. “I have a feeling I know what’s going on here.”
Clay raised his head and looked up at Barker but didn’t speak.
“I think your agent really did sell Ms. Hart an insurance policy, and I think it was one of the biggest policies your agency had ever handled.” Barker cleared his throat and paused. “Which is probably why you were tempted into making a very bad decision. Am I right, Mr. Clay? Did you make a bad decision?”
Nodding mutely, Clay tried to clear his throat.
“Frankie, get Mr. Clay some water.”
Barker’s partner ducked into the back room, returning with a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and held it out to Clay, who took it and held it to his lips with a shaky hand.
“Okay, Mr. Clay. It’s time to come clean. You tell us exactly what you’ve done, and we can put this all behind us.”
The room was quiet as Clay took another sip.
“Portia Hart bought a large policy through my agency over five years ago. She would send her premium payments in to our office, and we then submitted payment to Sterlington. It’s a service we offer our best clients.”
Clay spoke in a low voice; Riley had to lean forward to hear him.
“The agency started having…financial problems. One month I decided to use Portia’s premium to pay some bills. I thought I’d send the payment to Sterlington later in the month. That was the start. Eventually I let her policy lapse, but I…didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“You kept accepting the premiums payments, didn’t you?” Barker asked, his voice soft. “You took her money and you never told her that the policy had been cancelled.”
Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, Clay nodded.
“So why’d you come forward now that she’s dead?” Frankie asked, his face a mask of confusion. “Why not just lay low?
Riley thought she knew the answer to Frankie’s question.
“You thought Julian Hart knew about the policy, didn’t you?” She said, working it out in her head as she spoke. “You thought if you could prove Portia had committed suicide, Julian wouldn’t bother trying to file the claim.
A flush of color washed over Clay’s face, but he didn’t respond.
“You were hoping Julian hart would never find out the policy had been cancelled. That way your fraud wouldn’t be exposed.”
Shaking his head in denial, Clay rose from his chair.
“It wasn’t fraud,” he insisted. “I was going to reactivate the policy once I got back on my feet. If she hadn’t died, no one would have ever known…everything would have been fine.”
Riley turned away from the man’s desperate attempts to explain. She wasn’t interested in solving an insurance fraud case. At least not right now. She would report Maxwell Clay’s crimes to the authorities in Hart Cove and they could deal with him.
Right now she had a much bigger case to solve, and Maxwell Clay had wasted too much of her valuable time already. She was sure Nessa would agree that the pathetic insurance agent could be crossed off their list of suspects in Portia Hart’s death.
✽ ✽ ✽
Riley and Nessa stared at the computer screen in stunned silence. The warrant had been issued for Portia Hart’s bank accounts, and the bank had provided Riley with a printout of Portia’s recent transactions and current balances in a variety of accounts.
“Cole and Cooper have more in their little money jar than she has in the bank.” Nessa sounded dazed. “What the heck happened?”
Scanning through the transactions, Riley saw that several large transfers had taken place on Friday. She clicked on the transaction, but the door to her office banged open before she could see where the money had gone.
Her assistant stood in the doorway wearing a panicked expression.
“You’re gonna want to see this right away.”
Riley followed the sound of raised voices out to the lobby where the television was tuned to Channel Six.
Nick Sargent stood in front of the Riverview Hotel as a Breaking News banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
“For those of you just joining us, sources have confirmed that a suspect has been identified in the tragic drowning deaths of celebrity author Portia Hart and local resident Molly Blair.”
Watching in transfixed horror, Riley felt Nessa stiffen beside her. They both watched helplessly as Xavier Greyson’s name was splashed across the screen.
“Xavier Greyson has been named as the top suspect in the deaths which have terrorized the Willow Bay community during the last forty-eight hours.”
Nick’s face was filled with grave concern, and his voice was somber as he spoke directly into the camera.
“And now some residents are asking why the Willow Bay authorities refused to release the name of this dangerous criminal and are demanding answers as to what is being done to find him.”
A big hand fell on Riley’s shoulder. She spun around to see Tucker Vanzinger’s angry face. He looked ready to burst, but she put up a hand to silence him. Pulling him by one thick arm, she led Vanzinger back toward her office, urging Nessa to follow.
“Who could have leaked this?” he demanded as soon as they were behind closed doors. “Who else knew about Xavier Greyson?”
“There’s only one person I shared the news with,” Riley said, feeling sick to her stomach. “I told Veronica Lee the details last night so she could prepare the special report once I gave her the go ahead.”
Nessa frowned and shook her head.
“But Veronica works for Channel Ten, doesn’t she? Why would she share the information with a competitor?”
“I don’t know,” Riley said, grabbing her purse and keys off her desk. “But I’m going to find out.”
“Hold on, there, Riley, you don’t want to make this even worse.”
Reaching for her hand, Vanzinger tried to slow her down, but Riley pulled away and wrenched open the door.
“Now Xavier Greyson will know we’re looking for him before we’re prepared to act.”
Her anger rose as she heard the fear in her own voice.
“He’ll get away, and there’s no telling who else might get hurt.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The constant vibration underneath Lexi sent bolts of pain shooting through her aching head. Her eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t see anything in the utter darkness around her. She was wedged onto her right side, and as she tried to sit up, her head hit something hard.
Falling back against the soft carpet, another rough jolt beneath her sent her head spinning, and she thought she might black out.
Has there been an earthquake? I didn’t know Florida had earthquakes.
As the fog of pain began to clear, she raised a weak hand and felt smooth, hard metal above her. She tried to move her other hand, but it was wedged in tightly between her body and the carpeted surface beneath her. Wiggling her arm free, she felt around her with growing panic, not wanting to acknowledge what was happening.
I’m in the trunk of a car. Someone’s locked me in the trunk of their car.
&
nbsp; The terrifying events of the previous day came flooding back.
The man that chased me on the stairs, and that was standing in the crowd. It’s him. He killed Molly, and now he’s got me.
Fear knifed through her, overriding the pain in her head. She tried to scream but found that she couldn’t make a sound. Her throat and mouth were completely dry. And there was so little air in the confined space that she couldn’t draw in a full breath.
Forcing herself to stay still, she sucked in tiny gulps of air and listened. She could hear the whooshing sound of the wheels on the road, and the smooth hum of the car engine. And was that the faint sound of music?
Where’s he taking me? Why not just kill me at Molly’s place?”
The soft music was suddenly interrupted by a loud voice.
“Breaking news today in the death of Portia Hart. An unnamed state official has named Xavier Greyson as a person of interest. Greyson is thought to have information about Portia Hart’s death, as well as information about the violent death last night of Molly Blair, a Willow Bay resident who was attacked in her own backyard.”
Xavier Greyson?
Lexi had never heard the name before. She wondered if that was the name of the man that had thrown her into the trunk of the car. If the police knew who he was, and that he killed Molly, would they know he’d taken her, too?
Does anyone even know I’m gone? Are they looking for me?
“Greyson has also been linked to a suspicious death in Miami back in 2010. Anyone having knowledge of Mr. Greyson should immediately contact authorities.”
Listening to the voice with growing horror, Lexi tried not to cry. That would only use up the little oxygen she had left. But the knowledge that the man called Xavier Greyson had already killed three other women terrified her.
If he killed them, there’s nothing to stop him from killing me.
She stifled a sob and tried to listen to the reporter’s voice. Maybe he would mention her next. Maybe they did know she was gone and were looking for her even now.
“For more on this story, watch Channel Six news at noon. Reporting live for Channel Six, this is Nick Sargent.”
The familiar name sent a ripple of revulsion and fear down Lexi’s spine. Regret at her own stupidity washed through her. Memories of the last time she’d heard that voice made her stomach heave.
Lexi stopped outside the door to Room 1025 and hesitated, adjusting her long, pink wig, tempted to flee back down the hall. She cringed at the thought of the task that lay ahead. But it was what Nikolai want, and Molly would be furious if she let him down.
All the girls who worked for Molly dreaded being picked by the cruel man for one of his special jobs, but he held sway over their lives, and they all had to do their part to keep him happy. Molly had warned them that Nikolai would stop supplying her with the pills and powder if they didn’t.
Taking a deep breath, Lexi knocked on the door and waited. She jumped when the door opened to reveal a heavyset man in a bulky white hotel robe. He had thinning gray hair and dark, bushy eyebrows.
“About fucking time.” He stood back to let Lexi enter, and she pushed the door closed behind her. “I don’t have all night, you know. My wife will be calling the cops looking for me.”
“Sorry, the service just called me an hour ago.” Lexi tried to smile. “I got here as fast as I could.”
The man untied his robe and let it fall to the floor. Lexi tried not to look at him as he sat on the bed wearing only a pair of white boxers.
“We need to settle the money first,” she said, trying to remember exactly what Nikolai had told her. “Then we can have some fun.”
Shaking his head in frustration, the man stood and crossed the room. He picked up a pair of pants that had been draped over a chair and dug in the pocket for his wallet. He opened it and counted out three one hundred dollar bills and threw them on the table.
“You can put them right here.” Lexi lifted her short skirt to reveal a lacy garter belt. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”
Posing seductively, she made sure her pink braid hid most of her face as the man approached with a nauseating leer. He was close enough for her to smell his sour breath as he bent to tuck the bills into the garter belt. She glanced toward the door, worried she’d gone too quickly, but she then saw it swing open just as planned.
A bright flash momentarily blinded her as a man in a ski mask stepped into the room and pointed a long-lensed camera at the man in front of her, who had frozen in place with his hands on her garter belt.
“What the hell are you doing?” The big man’s voice boomed through the quiet room.
The masked intruder put a long finger to his lips.
“I wouldn’t want to draw attention to this if I were you, Mr. Murray. Your wife might be curious to know why you were here…with her.”
The man glared at Lexi, and she recoiled at the fury in his narrowed eyes. He lunged toward her, but the masked man stepped forward and stuck a hard fist in the big man’s paunch.
“Go on,” the masked man said to Lexi. “I’ve got what I need.”
He pushed her into the hall and slammed the door shut behind them. Ripping off the ski mask, Nikolai pointed to the stairwell.
“Now, get out of here before someone calls security.”
But before she could leave, he gripped her arm and pulled her against his chest. His voice was a low growl in her ear.
“And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never speak of this to anyone. You understand?”
Lexi nodded, and he shoved her toward the exit. She looked back as he opened the door to a room further down the hall and disappeared inside. Pushing the exit door open, she started walking down the ten floors to the side exit. She looked up when she’d heard a sound on the stairs above her and saw the angry face of a man in a dark hoodie. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in, and she began to run.
The car jerked to a sudden stop, causing Lexi’s head to bump against the floor, bringing her mind back to the painful reality inside the cramped trunk.
Struggling to move her legs, which were stiff and cramped from being wedged against the trunk lid, Lexi felt one shoe slide off. She tried to stretch her leg out, but the trunk wall blocked it. Bending her knee, her foot connected with something soft and pliable behind her. She used her toes to explore, trying to make sense out of what she was feeling.
Twisting to the left, Lexi managed to reach back and feel the bulky object behind her. Her fingers came away wet and sticky.
What is that?
Suddenly she realized what the metallic odor inside the trunk was.
It’s the stench of blood.
Lexi reached out again, her numb fingers brushing against a fall of soft hair. Stretching her hand further, her fingers settled on cold, unyielding flesh.
It’s a body. I’m in the trunk with a dead body.
As the car started to move again, Lexi Marsh began to scream.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Xavier saw the flashing lights in his rearview mirror and looked toward his backpack, debating whether he should go ahead and pull out the Glock. Instead he put his foot on the brake and brought the blue Toyota sedan to a halt by the side of the road. The cruiser whizzed by him and raced out of sight.
Shaken by the close call, Xavier decided he needed to come up with a plausible story in case he did get pulled over. He’d have a hard time explaining how he came to be in possession of the vehicle registered to Constance Volkson. Looking at the identification card clipped to the dashboard, he smiled.
I doubt the cops will think I’m a blonde, blue-eyed woman from Chicago.
And he’d have to do some explaining about the decal. After he’d gotten the talkative Connie out of the way, he’d decided to leave the Willow Bay Quick Rides decal on the windshield, hoping it would make his presence less suspicious as he finished up his business in Willow Bay. Now he wondered if the ride service decal might lead to awkward questions if the cops did stop h
im.
Figuring it wouldn’t be long before they discovered that Connie and her car were missing, Xavier decided he’d better go ahead and dump the car. Of course, the bodies in the trunk would need to be disposed of, too.
Luckily, Mosquito Lake should provide the perfect cover. He’d let the Toyota roll into the murky lake beside the taxi, and then the car and the bodies within would be out of sight and out of mind.
Accelerating past the airport exit, Xavier tried to think through the rest of his plan. After he disposed of the car and its unwanted cargo, he would find a ride back to the hotel garage where he’d parked his car. Now that he’d eliminated all witnesses, he was free to begin the next phase of his plan.
He began looking for the turn off to the lake. Slowing as he approached the side road, he saw the blue and red lights of a police car flashing through the foliage. He steered the sedan past the road, craning his neck to see what was going on.
A tow truck was pulling a car out of the lake. The car was covered in algae and weeds, but the yellow paint beneath was clearly visible. Someone had found the taxi, and they would unquestionably open the trunk to see what was inside.
Xavier rammed his foot down on the gas, suddenly sure he would be stopped and questioned, and that his cargo in the trunk would be discovered. But no one noticed the Toyota driving by, and no one stopped him. After he’d driven a few more miles, he decided to turn around. He needed to get out of town quickly; panicking now would be the worst thing he could do.
But as he mapped out an alternative route back to Willow Bay, he couldn’t help but worry. The whole world seemed to be falling apart along with his plan. He knew he still had a chance to make it work, but his confidence was taking a blow with every misstep.
Feeling the tension building inside him, he tried to remember the rules his father had drummed into his head when he was growing up.
Whatever happens, keep your cool. Never let ‘em see you sweat, and never quit in the middle of a game. That’s the sure way to end up a loser.
Her Last Summer: A Veronica Lee Thriller Page 20
