“A… of course I have a will.” She waited a beat. “Why?”
“Because I’m considering all the reasons someone may want you dead.”
“You think… you think this is about money? I’m sorry to disillusion you, but I’m far from wealthy. My books have been relatively successful recently, but we’re not talking millions of dollars. Not even multiple hundreds of thousands. Hardly enough to be worth killing for.”
“And what about your share of the company?”
Caitlin opened her mouth, and then closed it. The company her parents started had struggled to remain afloat for a number of years after their deaths, and only recently had it taken off. The income she made from it was sufficient to allow her some breathing room, but hardly made her rich.
“Lance is my beneficiary. Do you really think he’s willing to kill me for my share of a company – our parent’s company – that’s really already his? It’s not like I ever go against him, or attempt to interfere. If he wanted my share, he’s more than welcome to buy me out – something we’ve been actively discussing. Hell, I would give him the damn percentage that I own, and he knows that. The idea that you think my own brother would attempt to have me murdered shows that you understand nothing about our relationship.”
Despite the fact that her voice had risen, Jack appeared unperturbed. The fact that he appeared unperturbed incited Caitlin further. “Seriously, Jack?”
“Emotional investment,” he finally said “is one of the biggest hindrances we have to seeing things clearly. I knew I would make you angry by bringing it up, but I’m not going to apologize.” He pulled alongside the curb near the police station, shoved the gear shift into park. “My primary concern at the moment is your physical safety. As I told you before, I’m going to do whatever I have to do – including looking at the situation from uncomfortable angles – and I don’t particularly care who it pisses off.” He took the key from the ignition and looked at her. “That includes you.”
“Well, mission accomplished.”
“I’m going to trust you to be smart enough not to go storming off down the street.”
“How very diplomatic of you.”
“I’m not diplomatic, Caitlin. I’m autocratic. I’m pushy. I’m quite often an ass. But I’ve seen a hell of a lot of shit in my career, and acted as defense counsel for cases that would turn your blood into a nice, frosty slush. Cases where men and women committed heinous acts against people they supposedly loved, very frequently out of greed. So be angry all you want. I’m going to do my damnedest to protect you anyway.”
Caitlin’s breath sawed in and out of her lungs. One part of her brain registered the sense in what he was saying, but she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge that part. “I’m going to get out of the truck and walk toward the police station. Please be advised that in no way am I tearing off down the street.” She jabbed a finger toward the windshield. “There are several cops right there. I doubt my brother, or my ex-boyfriend’s wife, or anyone else for that matter, would be stupid enough to attack me in front of them.”
“Probably not, but since I’m heading to the same place that you are, I’ll walk with you anyway.”
“Oh goody.”
Silently fuming, more so due to his pure arrogance than the fact that he’d questioned her brother’s love for her, Caitlin nevertheless refrained from walking away from him, or beating him over the head, or anything else overly dramatic as they approached the station. Especially since Ainsley’s cousin Elise was waiting for them near the door, and quite frankly, she found the woman a little intimidating.
The lawyer divided a glance between Caitlin and Jack, and then gave him a once over before rolling her eyes. “I don’t even want to know what you did to piss her off,” she said. “Or why you decided that looking like a farm hand was the best way to present yourself at this interview.”
She then turned her wickedly sharp gaze and even sharper tongue on Caitlin. “Whatever he did, you put it out of your head for now, okay? We want you calm when you’re answering questions, not irate. Irate makes cops suspicious. More suspicious. And lord knows Detective Clark is already suspicious enough.”
Caitlin took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” she assured her.
Elise pursed her lips, and then shot another look at Jack.
“You do realize that I’m your boss,” he pointed out. “Right?”
“Doesn’t mean I have to kiss your ass when you show it. Let’s do this thing.”
Despite her irritation, Caitlin found herself choking back a laugh. “I want to be you when I grow up.”
“Course you do, honey.” Elise held open the door. “But unfortunately for the rest of the population, I’m one of a kind.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“LOOK, I’ve been as forthright as possible,” Jack said. “And now it’s your turn. You’ve had time to question the man who assaulted Ms. Cavanaugh last night. I want to know what he said.”
“He lawyered up.”
Jack looked at Detective Clark.
“Family has some money,” the detective continued. “Hired Warren Browne.”
Shit. Browne was slime. High dollar slime, but marsh sludge nonetheless.
Clark tilted his head, an amused half smile on his face. “Now you know how it feels when we hear you’re representing a suspect.”
“And the suspect in question was running his mouth like a carnival barker last night,” Elise pointed out “trying to get anyone who happened to be passing by to listen to him whining about being shot. Ms. Cavanaugh already gave a witness statement to the effect that he said he would kill her for free now after she released pepper spray in his face. Since the man didn’t seem inclined to plead his Fifth Amendment rights at the time he was taken into custody, anything he said prior to requesting a lawyer is fair game.”
Clark’s eyebrows inched up his forehead. “You’re not going to argue that impairment resulting from intoxicants renders his statements inadmissible?”
“The standard for admission is whether a statement or confession was made involuntarily, as you well know. So unless he was on some sort of truth serum that was administered by another party, his attorney is going to have a difficult time convincing a judge that either his intoxication or the pain he was in due to the gunshot wound are grounds for suppression. Now stop wasting all of our time and tell the man what he wants to know.”
Jack had long ago mastered control of his facial muscles, but one of his lips twitched.
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” the detective shot back “don’t you counselor?”
“You’re calling me lippy? How mighty sexist of you. I guess you expect women to be seen and not heard.”
“I’m calling you lippy because you’re a lawyer, albeit a particularly vocal representative of your breed.”
Jack kicked Elise’s foot under the table before she allowed Clark to rile her further.
“The suspect implied that someone hired him to assault Ms. Cavanaugh,” Jack said. “We want to know if he gave any indication as to who.”
“You mean did he give us a name?” Clark said. “Wouldn’t that be handy. Maybe you can start some sort of grassroots movement in the criminal defense community, encouraging suspects to simply roll over for us. I, for one, would appreciate the time that would free up in my schedule.”
Elise muttered something under her breath that Jack thought sounded like skirt chasing.
“Excuse me?” Clark said.
“Obviously he didn’t give you a name,” Jack redirected the conversation “but did he give you any sort of description? Any identifiers? You know why I’m asking.”
“Because you’re hoping to pin everything on Cavanaugh’s ex’s wife,” Clark said.
Before Jack could respond to the detective’s inflammatory phrasing, the door behind them opened, and Detective Donaldson walked into the room.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he said, glancing at his partner before turning
toward Jack. “I just got off the phone with the Forsyth County Sheriff. Seems some boaters on Lake Lanier discovered Ryan Fasteland’s vehicle in about twenty feet of water. Lydia Fasteland was inside.”
Jack felt that like a physical punch. “Any idea how long she’d been there?”
“Best guess pending the autopsy is at least a couple of weeks. Seems like she might have driven the vehicle down a boat ramp that was no longer in use. Possibly after killing her husband.”
“There’s evidence to indicate she’s the one who stabbed him?”
“The Sheriff didn’t go into detail, but he did say that’s how it’s looking so far.”
Jack sat back in his chair, mentally sorting through everything that had happened to Caitlin thus far and removing Lydia Fasteland from the equation. Because Donaldson seemed to be the more cooperative of the two detectives at this point, he directed his next question toward him.
“Did the suspect in Ms. Cavanaugh’s assault give any indication as to who put him up to it?”
The detective glanced at his partner, who made a go ahead motion with his hand.
“He said it was a woman,” Donaldson said. “But.” He held up a hand. “There’s something else you should know. I spoke with Darius Presley’s widow.” He looked significantly at Jack. “Her brother wasn’t the only person connected to Ms. Cavanaugh who’d been in touch with the detective before he died.”
CAITLIN sat on a bench in the hall, waiting for Jack and Elise to finish up with the detectives. Well, mostly she was waiting for Elise, so that she could talk to her about where they would go from here.
Jack could bite her.
She’d had time to calm down, of course, and even to appreciate where he was coming from in his desire to protect her. But to say the man lacked diplomacy in interpersonal relationships was an understatement.
Caitlin pulled out her temporary phone and texted Lance. Finished at the police station. Can I bum a ride?
He texted back a few minutes later. Where’s Jack?
Talking to the cops.
He can’t drive you?
I’m sure he can, but I’d prefer to ride with you.
…
I don’t want to hear it. Will you pick me up or not?
Of course.
Excellent. Oh, and I have Connie’s phone. You left the envelope in the hotel.
Super. Someone turned it in at the office, if you can believe that. I guess there are still a few honest people out there. We’ll be by to pick you up in about fifteen minutes.
See you then.
Caitlin started to plug her phone in, and then realized that the charger she had in her purse worked for the phone which had been destroyed. She sighed and started to put the charger away, but then pulled Connie’s phone from her purse instead. She studied the case, which was stamped with the company logo and contact information – obviously how the Good Samaritan had figured out where it rightfully belonged. She plugged it in, and it had only been charging a few minutes when it rang. Caitlin glanced down, saw the caller identified as Peyton.
Again.
Caitlin frowned, intending to ignore it. But curiosity got the better of her.
“Hi Peyton. It’s Caitlin.”
There was a beat of silence. “Caitlin?”
“The very one.”
“You’re with Connie?”
“Not at this precise moment.”
Caitlin knew she was being short, and not particularly helpful. But she didn’t really care.
“Where are you?” Peyton asked.
“I’m sitting in the hallway at the police station.” And then, because she was still rather annoyed with him for abusing her trust: “I had to give a witness statement since a man tried to kill me last night.”
The silence this time stretched for several seconds. “Jesus,” he finally said, almost to himself. “Jesus. Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better.”
Heavy breathing filled the line. He almost sounded like he was hyperventilating.
“Peyton?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I, uh, heard from an acquaintance up here that… that Harold Cox tried to rape you.”
Caitlin swallowed hard. She wondered if this acquaintance had also mentioned that Caitlin killed him while fighting him off. “You knew him, right?”
“Yeah. He went to school with us. With me and Lance.” He blew out a breath. “This is crazy.”
“I can’t say that I disagree. My life is basically a Lifetime movie right now.”
“Look, I know we haven’t been on the best of terms lately, but you know I want you to be safe, right? I mean my God, you’re like a little sister.”
Caitlin felt her hold on the grudge she’d been carrying beginning to slip. “I appreciate that.”
There was another lull in the conversation, during which Caitlin felt like they both wanted to build a bridge over the gulf that had opened between them, but weren’t entirely sure how.
“I have to run,” Peyton said. “But, uh, could you tell Connie to call me when she has a minute? It’s important. Really important.”
“She and Lance are on their way to pick me up. I’ll give her the message, along with her phone.”
“She hasn’t answered it in at least a week. You had it?”
“Someone stole it out of her car, but someone else found it and turned it in at the office. Lance had a courier service drop it off.”
“Oh. That makes more sense, then.”
“I’ll tell her to call you.”
“Caitlin, wait,” he said before she ended the call. “Just… be careful, will you? Extremely careful.”
Caitlin frowned. It wasn’t like Peyton to sound so worried. Maybe he actually did care. “I will be.”
“Okay. I’ll, uh, talk to you later. Don’t forget to have Connie call me.”
He ended the call and Caitlin looked at the phone with curiosity. She wondered why he needed to get in touch with Connie so badly.
Her own phone signaled an incoming text from Lance. Looking for a parking space.
She replied with Still waiting on Elise. No rush.
And then, because she was bored, she picked up Connie’s phone. There were pictures on it from their trip out west – the one to the Grand Canyon that Jack mentioned – that Caitlin still hadn’t seen. That was right around the time things blew up with Ryan, and then Connie started traveling extensively with work, Caitlin decided to move, and so on.
Since she knew Connie’s passcode, she typed it in and went to her photos. Except they weren’t there. No photos to display except the one of her and Lance that she’d used for her lock screen.
Weird. Maybe she’d stored them somewhere else in order to make room for all of the upcoming pictures she’d want to take of the wedding and honeymoon. And the baby.
Still hard to believe that one, Caitlin thought with a little smile. Now she’d have to plan two showers.
Yet another reason to live, she thought angrily. She’d be damned if her little niece or nephew had to grow up without a single aunt to spoil them rotten.
But then Caitlin started wondering if Connie actually had been the one to erase her pictures. After all, someone else had had possession of her phone. Which was pretty creepy. Maybe they’d deleted the pictures because they would make the phone more difficult to pawn or sell?
Well, whatever the case, they’d obviously changed their mind about taking it, and ditched the phone by a dumpster.
There was a way to find out just where Connie’s phone had been, though. Despite the fact that Caitlin had warned Connie about the GPS tracking feature, Connie had blown it off. She wasn’t nearly as paranoid as Caitlin, but then she didn’t write about serial killers, stalkers and other unscrupulous characters for a living.
Nor did she have anyone trying to kill her in real life.
A chill crept over Caitlin, one from which she was working very hard to distract herself. So she went into the privacy settings on Connie’s phone, f
ollowed by location and system services. When she accessed the location history, she wasn’t surprised to see numerous places in Atlanta pop up as frequent locations, since that’s where Connie lived. Nor was she surprised to see several other cities across the southeast, since she frequently traveled for her job. If Caitlin could just figure out which of the locations wasn’t one where Connie normally stopped, they might be able to pinpoint the area where the phone thief had gone after breaking into her car. Theoretically. And the laptop was still at large, so maybe they – or the police – could check pawn shops in that area. It was a long shot, but it had worked in a book Caitlin wrote. And since truth was definitely stranger than fiction for her right now, there was no harm in trying.
Except that Caitlin realized she really needed to have Connie go through this with her. She couldn’t be sure if some of the places mentioned weren’t in fact locations where she’d been, either for work or personal reasons, or whether they might reflect the movement of the thief. Only Connie could answer that.
Caitlin was just about to exit the app when something caught her attention. It didn’t strike her as odd initially, until she thought about something Connie said…
The door at the end of the hall opened, and Caitlin looked up, expecting to see Elise or more likely, Jack. Instead, Connie walked toward her.
“Hey,” she said. “Lance said he was looking for a parking place.”
“He’s still looking. The tourists are swarming like fire ants today. But I wanted to come in and talk to you, since he said that it sounded like you’d had a falling out with Jack. What happ –”
Her voice trailed off and she stared at Caitlin’s lap. “Is that my phone?”
“Lance didn’t tell you someone turned it in? I was just charging it for you, and thought I’d try to figure out if we could pinpoint where the person who stole it fled to. Are you okay? Connie.” She snapped her fingers in front of her friend’s waxen face.
“Just… dizzy,” she said faintly. “Can I have that?”
“Of course. Here, why don’t you sit down. You don’t look well.” She lowered her voice. “You know you’re going to have to tell Lance soon. If you keep having these symptoms, he’s going to know something’s up.”
The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set Page 86
