“Go.”
That was too easy. Max suspected that the conversation wasn’t over. “I told you his grandparents contacted me—”
“How?”
Max uncomfortably felt like she was the one being interviewed. Or interrogated. No one had ever made her feel this way—in fact, she had fallen into responding without even knowing it.
She smiled. “You’re good.”
“Generally.”
“I slipped right into the role you wanted me to.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to share your information?”
She leaned back and sipped her wine. “Henry and Penny Hoffman saw me at the airport Friday morning.”
“They recognized you?”
“They watch my show.”
His face clouded just a bit, but then it disappeared. She had a feeling he was hiding his true opinion about her and her career. She’d have to come back to that.
She continued. “They’d written me earlier, but one of my former assistants didn’t forward me their message. I told them Friday I would look into it, but with no promises because I was only going to be here for a few days.”
“And now?”
“And now I finagled a bit more time. Jason was killed at my alma mater. I would have been interested even if he wasn’t, but it makes the connection not easily avoidable. It helps when you don’t need the job to force your boss to be flexible.”
“But you like what you do.”
“Mostly. I miss the freedom of being an investigative reporter.”
“Isn’t that what you do for that show?”
“Yes, but people usually know why I’m asking questions. I used to do more undercover work. More like a private investigator who wrote exposés rather than broadcast them.”
“And books.”
“A few.”
“Working on anything new?”
“I haven’t had time.” She had a few ideas, but true crime books took a long time to research and work, to fact-collect and fact-check. “Ben, my producer, wants me to write a collection based on the stories I’ve covered for the show.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“I’ve already told the story. I’m not interested in writing about them as well.” She didn’t want to talk about her job or the show. “I met with the Hoffmans yesterday morning and was going to tell them I couldn’t help, except I have a feeling there’s something to the case—something is pulling me, not just the connection to Atherton Prep. They told me about what Jessica Hoffman said, you interviewing her about her mother, and after a little research into the crime rates on construction sites—”
“Which is high.”
“But not homicides.”
Their food arrived—a Cobb salad for Max and a club sandwich for Nick. She filled him in on what had made her suspicious at the construction site, how she met Dru, and what Dru had said when she called to meet.
“The thing that really bugs me is that Jason was killed for nothing. There was nothing to steal. That suggests that it was personal. Someone who wanted him dead followed him to the school, or knew he planned to go there Saturday night. So when the Hoffmans told me you questioned Jessica Hoffman about her mother, I thought there might be a family connection. Put that with the financial trouble of Evergreen before the fairy godfather in the persona of Jasper Pierce took it all away with the sports complex. But Dru’s comment about Jason’s obsession with the trees … well, that seems out of place.”
Max sipped her water, then continued. “However, I don’t know any more. Dru said that odd things had been happening that week. He was at ACP for a specific reason the night he was killed. And that makes me wonder if there’s a completely different reason, not personal, but tied to money—either the funding or an environmental consideration. Holes in trees. That doesn’t make sense. What do you think?”
What was going through Nick’s mind was likely what went through the minds of all the cops who ended up working with her. Should he or shouldn’t he work with her? What should he tell her? Was she going to screw him and make his department look bad? Was she going to jeopardize his case? Would his lieutenant reprimand him? Would the DA get mad?
Scratch that. Max suspected Nick didn’t care what the DA thought.
“I have some ground rules,” Nick said.
“Lay them out.”
“Write nothing about this case without talking to me first.”
“I’m not planning to write about the case, but if I do, I agree.”
“You may not quote me, unless I give you express permission and I approve the quote.”
“Agreed.”
Nick waited until the waiter removed their plates before he told Max anything important.
“I have some suspicions about the financial dealings between Evergreen and Jasper Pierce. Something you didn’t mention in all your research, but Pierce is a silent partner of Evergreen. He profits from the building of the sports complex, which makes it seem like a scam, except he’d disclosed it to the school before they agreed to the contract. Still—he’s also funding the project, along with this guy named Archer Sterling.”
“Archer is my uncle,” Max said.
Nick stared at her. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“It didn’t come up, until now.”
He still looked unhappy. “No matter how hard we looked, me or the FBI fraud task force, there’s nothing to it. I just don’t like when I learn something important that my witnesses neglected to tell me.”
“Did you talk to Pierce?”
“Yes, initially, and he was cooperative, but less so during follow-up interviews. He was irritated that we weren’t doing more to find Jason’s killer.” Nick’s jaw clenched, but he hid his temper well. “I was mad that I was stuck. I interviewed Dru Parker twice—she didn’t say anything about odd behavior or why Jason was hanging out at the site that night. His uncle, Brian Robeaux, was the only one who mentioned it. Robeaux said that Jason walked the grounds repeatedly, but thought it was his way of communing with the earth or something. Jason was apparently big into building structures that blend into the natural environment. He and the architect were friends—Gordon Cho—who’d also been his mentor and boss when Jason interned at Cho Architectural. Robeaux said nothing about any obsession with trees or holes.”
“Maybe,” Max said, “Dru didn’t think anything was wrong until something spooked her yesterday.”
“On Friday I put the case in the inactive file, so when you called me Saturday I was both irritated and interested. Dru Parker was a part-time secretary and didn’t seem to have any useful information. I should have pushed.”
Nick was blaming himself for missing something. For some reason, that endeared him to Max. “She was definitely worried when she called me. She didn’t want her roommates knowing that she was meeting with me, and she planned on visiting her mother for an extended stay. Maybe someone else spooked her.”
“Who else did you talk to?”
“Roger Lawrence. I thought he acted belligerent when I was talking to Dru, but that could have been his personality.”
“He didn’t kill Jason, that I’m certain about,” Nick said. “His alibi is rock-solid. He was in the middle of his twentieth anniversary cruise to the Caribbean. Jason’s parents were home together. Brian Robeaux was at a party in San Mateo. He told me Jason was supposed to join him there, and they were going to drive back together, but Jason didn’t show. Jasper Pierce was home alone, but I couldn’t find any motive as to why he would want Jason dead. Still, he’s the only one who doesn’t have a witness to verify his alibi. We looked at friends, neighbors, even his sister and her fiancé—there was no one with the motive or opportunity to kill him.”
There was a long silence before Max asked, “Did you learn anything about DL Environmental last night?”
“Just an envirogroup. Harmless. They don’t seem to do much of anything except organize petition drives.”
“Then where did they get
the money to buy a car?”
“People give money to those groups all the time.”
“Maybe you can subpoena their records.”
“For what cause?”
“The car was present in the commission of a felony.”
He laughed. “The DA would laugh his ass off.”
“Maybe Dru will give them to you, or tell you what the group does.”
“I doubt she’ll talk to me. As soon as she regains consciousness, she’ll lawyer up.”
“She can’t lawyer up with me.” She tilted her head and smiled. “I can get her to cooperate.”
“I can offer her police protection.”
“I can offer her a voice. The ability to control the message. I’ll convince her to help, and then you can give her protection.”
He grunted and responded snidely, “She can be a hero.”
Max shrugged. “She might think so.”
“I haven’t done this before,” Nick said. He gestured at her. “Worked with a reporter.”
“I’ll be gentle with you,” she said lightly.
But his tone wasn’t light when he said, “I’m not really comfortable with this.”
“Then why?”
“I’d considered getting the arrest warrant,” he said and it was only a beat later that Max realized he was joking. Possibly. “But after getting an earful from Beck about you, I watched a couple of your shows. Honestly, you have an underlying disdain for law enforcement that grates on me.”
“I like cops who do their job well.” She didn’t want to argue with Nick, not when they’d be working together. She’d done it before, had a cop who didn’t want to work with her but was forced to by his boss or the PR department, and the tension of the situation made her irritable and ill. She didn’t want to work like that again.
“Do you know any?”
“A few. I don’t want to argue—”
He cut her off. “But there was something else about your style that surprised me. You have a way of protecting the victims and their families even while exploiting the crime.”
“That’s a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one.”
“It’s like you have this big bubble around you that says, ‘Fuck with me, fuck with these people, and I’ll destroy you.’”
“I’ll run that by Ben for our new tagline.”
“I want to put Jason Hoffman’s killer in prison.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to her. “I don’t know how much research you did on the kid, but he was a good kid, twenty-three, the whole world open to him. He shouldn’t be dead.”
She opened the paper. It was a copy of Jason’s bio, of sorts. Honor student, high school football star, volunteer. She’d already found all that, and more.
Nick nodded, took the paper, without her having to say anything.
“And that’s why I’m going to work with you.”
“Maybe I’m slow on the uptake here.”
“Because you already knew everything about Jason that’s important to his friends and family, but not important in the investigation. You care.”
“I want justice the same as you. The victims need a voice. The families deserve peace. You can’t have peace if you don’t know what happened.”
“Some people do.”
“Not me.”
“Why?”
“You don’t want to hear about all my baggage.”
“Then I’ll ask this: why don’t you like cops?”
“I have no problem with law enforcement. What you see on my show or read in my books are the failures of the system—that they couldn’t solve a crime, for whatever reason. I have access where you don’t. People talk to me and I’m pretty good at weeding out the bullshit. I have the time and energy and resources to do things you can’t do. I portray cops as I see them—some are good, some are bad, most are overworked and I don’t blame them for filing a case cold when they get dumped a dozen more before the end of the first week of investigation. But I’m not going to sugarcoat garbage when I see it. And as far as exploiting crime—maybe I do. But sensationalism is not my goal. I don’t need the attention, and I certainly don’t need the money.”
“I’m going to be talking to Dru Parker as soon as she’s conscious,” Nick said after a moment. “Gorman is handling the initial interviews with Parker’s employers at Evergreen, and her roommates. If the killer thinks that we’ve made the connection between the attack on Parker and Jason’s murder, they’ll be on guard. I’m hoping Gorman can get statements, and then I can go in and raise the temperature. I’m pretty certain whoever attacked Dru saw or called her yesterday. We just have to figure out who.”
Max was only partly listening to Nick. She had an idea and wanted to run with it—and she wasn’t sure he would agree.
“You don’t like the idea,” he said.
“No, it’s fine. I’m going to talk to Jasper Pierce.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“What did you think I was going to do in this partnership? Give you all my information and then sit back while you follow the rules and hope to find a suspect? Maybe this was a mistake. Roger Lawrence knew I wanted to talk to Dru; I should have gone to confront him this morning, put him on the defensive immediately. You’d be surprised how fast stories change when people think they’re cornered.”
“That’s also a very dangerous approach.”
“Reporters are generally safe from crossfire—unless we’re covering conflicts overseas.” She thought a moment. “I think, in hindsight, that it’s best we each approach this case from our own angle, and if I learn anything important, I’ll let you know.”
Nick wasn’t sold on that idea. Whether he doubted she’d tell him what she learned or just didn’t want her in the mix, she wasn’t sure.
Nick said, “Think you can do a better job than me?”
“That depends. Is this a competition?”
“That wouldn’t be very professional of me.” He gave her a half grin. “It might take you time to get in to see Pierce.”
“Don’t count on it.”
He gave her a quizzical look, then groaned. “Your uncle.”
“Bingo.” She smiled and signed the check to her room. She put her hand on Nick’s arm. “I have to go.” She slid out of the booth as Nick’s cell phone vibrated on the table. “I’ll call you.”
As she was about to walk away, Nick took her wrist. She was startled and looked at him. “If you need help, just ask.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He dropped her arm. “And watch yourself around Beck.”
Where had that come from? But Nick was already on his phone, so Max didn’t ask.
Chapter Thirteen
Max realized during her conversation with Nick Santini that if he knew what she planned on doing, he would legally have to try and stop her. Or if he knew that she planned to break the law, he might have to arrest her. She didn’t want to put him in that position, and she really didn’t want to spend the night in jail. She’d spent a few days in jail in the past, and it was never fun, even when the charges were dropped. And they always were.
Plus, she liked Nick. He was intellectually challenging and she suspected there was a lot more depth to him than most of the cops she worked with. Maybe that was because most of them kept her at arm’s length, as if by definition, reporters were poison. Sometimes she didn’t blame them, but sometimes it just made all their jobs more complicated.
Job. This wasn’t a job for Max, and maybe that’s why she rubbed people the wrong way. This was a vocation, a calling she couldn’t avoid if she wanted to. Not knowing the truth about what happened to her mother, what happened to Karen Richardson, who her father was—she knew what drove her. She could give answers to others, even if she couldn’t find them for herself.
Max went up to her room and first called Jasper Pierce. He didn’t answer his cell phone, so she left a message with her name and number and suggested they meet for dinner
to talk about the Sterling Pierce Sports Center. Then, she changed into jeans and Nick Santini’s USMC T-shirt. She didn’t have a lot of options with her limited wardrobe, and her workout clothes needed washing. But this would work for what she wanted. She scrubbed off her makeup, then reapplied just a hint of mascara and concealer, put her hair up in a sloppy ponytail, and figured she could pass as a college student if confronted.
She drove to Dru Parker’s small house in Redwood City. Max had researched the property and Parker’s roommates the night before. House managed by a property company, two female roommates, all three students at Cañada Community College. Max parked and rang the bell, then knocked. It was clear no one was home.
Max picked the flimsy front lock and slipped in. The house had an empty feeling. The only sounds were the low hum of a refrigerator, a ticking clock, and a faint scratching sound. Max looked around the living room and realized the scratching was coming from a hamster who scurried through a tunnel that connected one plastic cage with another. When he got to the end, he turned around and went back, then jumped on a wheel and started running.
There were three small bedrooms and one bath in the tiny house. It was marginally clean, but dishes were unwashed in the sink and junk mail was piled high on the kitchen table. Max ignored the living quarters and looked in each bedroom, quietly, in case someone was sleeping. Empty.
Dru had the smallest bedroom, in the back of the house, hardly larger than an oversized closet. Max could tell it was hers because the walls were decorated with save-the-earth posters and pictures of cute baby animals. And the pictures of Dru pinned to the walls. Unmade bed, dresser with a television on the top, desk with a laptop computer.
She hadn’t brought her computer with her last night? That was odd—or was it? What if she wasn’t really planning on going to her mother’s house? Or what if she bolted before she could go home? Or didn’t think she’d need a computer because there was nothing important on it?
Max turned on the computer. While it booted up, she searched Dru’s room. In fact, she had been here last night—her top drawer was partly open and it appeared as if half the contents were missing. Her pillows were also missing from her bed—Max used to travel with her favorite pillow, until she forgot it in hotels too many times.
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