“And?”
“She said a whole bunch of stuff. Most of it didn’t make sense. Honestly, I think the drugs messed up the woman and she still has a few screws loose. But she did say one thing that caught my attention. She said her ex, Vic Newport, had one mean temper.”
“Enough of a temper that maybe he snapped and pulled the trigger?”
“That’s the question.”
When I hung up with Jamie, I called Garrett. I needed to ask him about his vacations. I hoped Lyndsey didn’t answer again. She didn’t.
“Where’s your assistant?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“Headed back to Norfolk this morning. You’re not jealous I was spending time with her, are you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I was just worried because of your emergency board meeting.”
“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Now, what can I do for you, Shirleylock?”
I didn’t love the nickname, but I ignored it. It was better than him calling me Love. “I’d like to ask you a few questions and also to get a photo from Cassidy’s room.”
“You’ve got me curious now. How about if I meet you at the house in thirty?”
A half an hour later, I pulled up to the Mercer house. No sooner had I put my car in park when that familiar uncomfortable feeling washed over me. The feeling of being watched.
For that reason, I stayed in the car and waited.
I never let my gaze stop roaming the area.
I’d almost been here for a week, and I knew if I didn’t wrap this case up soon, I was going to have to leave this unfinished and do the rest of my research back in Norfolk. I didn’t want to do that. My best chances were here in Cincinnati, and I did feel like I was getting closer. I had to remember that the police had worked on this for years without any conclusions. Who was I to think I could wrap it up in a week?
I scanned the woods again. Whoever this guy was threatening me, he may not hesitate to put a bullet through the windshield and, in effect, through my head. Especially not after I’d aggravated him yesterday.
Thankfully, Garrett pulled up just then. With two of us here … well, what protection was that? Both of us could die now, I supposed.
Garrett looked a little sad as he approached my car. I saw the haunted look in his eyes. This case was beginning to weigh on him. I realized that, with everything that had happened, it was no longer just a cold case; it was now an active investigation. Covering up his mourning with his charm was becoming more difficult.
“Gabby. Good to see you again.”
“Thanks for meeting with me.” I took his arm and pulled him toward the door. “We’re too exposed out here. We’ve got to get inside.”
“You think …” His eyes scanned the perimeter of the land, only briefly, and then his steps picked up. “Let’s go.”
We reached the door, he unlocked it, and we rushed inside.
As soon as we stepped onto the tiled entryway, we froze.
Someone had been here. They’d either been looking for us or trying to send a message. The couch was overturned, pictures were slashed, curtains were ripped.
“I guess it’s time to call the police again,” Garrett muttered.
I squeezed his arm, seeing the pain in his eyes. I had a feeling that, through this vandalism, he was somehow reliving coming into his house and finding his family. How did someone get over a tragedy like that? They either made themselves better or they let their grief consume them. Consuming grief led to depression, despair, and sometimes even psychotic episodes.
Which one was Garrett? The overcomer everyone thought he was? Or a man with split personalities, a man who set up crime scenes like this to keep people interested in the case?
I shook the thought off, thinking about that bullet that could have hit him.
But then I remembered that he’d lied about being in town on the night of the murders. I thought about him disappearing at the gala, those cellphones in his car, the fact that Garrett had never been with me when the Watcher called.
My thoughts were ridiculous, and I needed to put them to rest. A man who spent his life trying to help the less fortunate in other countries wasn’t secretly a mass murderer.
He pulled out his cellphone and dialed 911. “The police are on their way.”
“Can I go into Cassidy’s room before they get here?” I knew if I didn’t get to that information now, I was going to have to wait until the scene cleared. I didn’t have that time.
“I thought we shouldn’t touch anything?”
“Whoever did this didn’t leave any evidence. I think we both know that.”
He stared at me a moment and then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
I was careful not to disturb anything as I followed Garrett upstairs to his sister’s bedroom. The inside of this room had also been tussled. Someone had wanted to make a serious statement, or they were looking for something. My bets were on making a statement.
“What do you need to look at?”
I went straight to the pictures on her dresser and grabbed them. I knew I didn’t have much time. “How about journals?”
He shook his head. “She wasn’t the journaling type.”
“Are there any more photo albums or pictures around here?”
He pointed to a basket by the closet. “Check over there.”
I slipped some gloves on.
“Gloves?”
“You never know when you might need them.”
Garrett raised his eyebrows. “I hear you. You better get moving.”
I began riffling through the most promising looking photos, grabbing any I saw from the beach. I wished I could ask Garrett questions as I went, but I knew I had no time.
“What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know for sure. But I’ll know when I find it.”
He paced back toward the door. “The police are here, Gabby. You’ve got to get downstairs.”
I rushed through a few more pictures. My fingers moved more frantically as my heart rate quickened.
“They’re at the door. We’ve got to go.”
I grabbed a small album. “I’ll give these back. I promise.”
I shoved them into my oversized purse, thrust the basket back in place, and went to meet the officers at the door.
CHAPTER 28
I studied the pictures while eating at a rib place overlooking the Ohio. I’d opted out of the messiness factor of world famous, slathered barbecue ribs and had gotten a chicken sandwich instead. If I kept eating on this trip, I was going to gain twenty pounds. My friends would tell me that was okay since I’d lost a considerable amount of weight during the stress of the last few months.
As I inhaled the scents of vinegar and grease and smoky cumin, I picked up a picture album. The photos in front of me showed happy, cocky teens playing volleyball, sunbathing, on each other’s shoulders in the pool. I spotted some photos—probably not from vacations—of Tess Windsor and Marty Mart. I searched the other faces for someone familiar.
Garrett slid into the booth across from me. He’d slipped away to talk to Lyndsey for a minute about something that couldn’t wait.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I wanted to check in about a special project she’s working on for me, but she didn’t answer.”
“Certainly you let your employees have a life outside of work.”
“I do. But she’s my right hand man—woman, I should say. I pay her well to be available.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“In a business capacity,” he added. “What kind of a man do you think I am?”
I shook my head. “The two of you just seem close.”
“We work well together.”
I raised a hand to stop him from saying anything. “You don’t have to explain to me. It’s none of my business.”
And it wasn’t. Their interactions just had me curious.
He cast another inquisitive glance my way before le
aning toward the sea of photos on the table between us and frowning. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Love.”
I wiped my hands—salty from my fries—and held up a photo of Garrett and Cassidy posing together on the beach. “Tell me about your vacations growing up. I heard you took some fancy ones. Your family and maybe a couple of other families. From your dad’s work.”
“Oh, those. Yes, I suppose we did. I tried not to hang too much with the family back then. I thought I was too cool for that. Don’t I wish I could go back now?” He took a long sip of his iced tea.
“Hindsight truly is 20/20. Who are these people in the photos?”
He studied a couple of them. “It varies, I suppose. I know the Newports went. Reginald Wimbledon came a couple of times with his family. Smith Wimbledon came also. I think they all used it as a tax write off. The men had business meetings for half of the day while the rest of us partied.”
“Was there anyone on those trips who stood out?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “To be honest, Olivia and I were pretty wrapped up in each other. I didn’t pay attention to anyone else.”
I watched his expression for a tell tale sign of deception. He kept his gaze steady, though. “Who was the Clingy One?”
He tilted his head. “The Clingy One? I haven’t heard that name in a long time. I suppose that would be Jenna Royce—Sebastian’s flavor-of-the-month wife. They came with us once. Back then, he was in his mid-forties and she was 21, I think. It was obvious she only married him for his money. That woman hit on every eligible guy on that trip.”
“Have you seen Jenna lately?”
“Saw her a couple of years ago. She’s happily married now with two kids. Living in New York. Why are you asking?”
I shook my head. “I can probably rule her out then. Do you remember a guy who liked your sister?”
He raised his eyebrows wryly. “Every guy liked my sister.”
I stared at the pictures spread between us. “Someone who was kind of on the fringe. Maybe he came on the trips, but he wasn’t a direct blood relative with the rest of the family?”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t ring any bells. But, like I said, I was pretty self-absorbed back then. Are you going to explain?”
I took a long sip of my Mountain Dew. “Tess Windsor—you remember her?”
Garrett nodded. “My sister’s snooty friend.”
“I talked to her yesterday and she mentioned something about a guy who liked your sister. Then, when the Watcher called yesterday, I said something to him about those vacations. It shook him up, so I wonder now if I was on to something.”
“You very well could be.” He rubbed the side of his glass and stared out the window.
“I’m going to keep researching. But, in the meantime, I don’t want to close any doors or get too narrow-minded.”
“Sounds like a solid principle.”
“Tess mentioned maybe this guy’s mom was sick. Does that ring any bells?”
Garrett shook his head. “I really have no idea.” He stared out the window again. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I suppose Smith Wimbledon’s mom did have cancer.”
That was interesting. “Is she still alive?”
“If I remember correctly, she’s struggled with the disease on and off for years.” Garrett held up a photo and pointed to a young man with blond hair. “That’s Smith when he was younger.”
“Were you guys friends?”
He shrugged. “He was a little older, a little more studious. I think he preferred hanging out with adults more than he did with the teens.”
I pointed to a woman with dark hair standing beside him in one of the photos. “Who’s this?”
“His sister, Winnie Wimbledon.”
I studied the photo more closely. I couldn’t tell enough from that snapshot. I searched through the rest of the pictures until I found a better image of her. In another shot, she stood in a group in front of tropical waters. Except, she kind of stood apart from the group. She didn’t match the rest of the gang, who all had self-assured smiles and boisterous mannerisms.
She was the woman in the online photo with Vic Newport, I realized. The one Vic was giving a strange look. The one I’d seen somewhere before.
“What do you know about her?” I asked.
“Last I heard, she was working for the family business. She was always kind of quiet and didn’t draw much attention to herself. Honestly, we hardly talked. She seemed to prefer a good book to people. The Wimbledons were kind of like that. Quieter, more intellectual.”
I had to chew on that information some more. In the meantime, I had more questions for my temporary boss.
“Garrett, do you have any idea what your dad wanted to talk to you about?” I was pretty sure I’d asked everyone except Garrett that question. “Why he wanted you home that weekend? It’s my understanding that your dad didn’t demand very much from you or your sister, but that he was serious about everyone being together.”
He shrugged. “I’ve thought about that many times. I’m not really sure. And you’re right. He pretty much let us do our own thing. Of course, he expected us to be there for family weddings or funerals or times when we needed to appear cohesive and happy.”
His words had a touch of bitterness to them.
“I see.”
“My dad did a lot of things right. He was a hard worker. But I learned a lot from him on what not to do. When I have my own family one day, they’re going to know that they’re my priority.”
“I didn’t know your dad, but you don’t seem like him, Garrett.” Had I just paid the man a compliment? What had gotten into me?
He smiled sadly. “Thank you.” He twisted the watch at his wrist. “This used to be my father’s, you know. Probably the only thing I’ve kept that was his. I mean, in reality I’ve kept everything. But this is the only thing I really see every day.”
“It’s nice.” I wasn’t done with my questions, though. “Your cabin was to the south of your home, yet you were photographed on the night of the murders at a gas station to the west. It was part of the reason the police never suspected you.”
His eyes widened. “You do your research.”
“That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.”
“Absolutely. You’re right. After Olivia left me, I stayed at the cabin for a while, trying to let everything sink in. I’d told my parents I wasn’t making it in that evening because I had to turn in a paper. I didn’t want to pull up to the house in the middle of the night. So I started driving around.”
“Why didn’t you just come clean about being in town that night? Why hide what really happened?” I’d had a day to chew on what he’d told me, and now I had more questions.
He grabbed a toothpick and twirled it in his mouth. “A couple of reasons. First of all, I’d promised Olivia to keep her pregnancy quiet until she figured out what to do.”
“Until she figured it out?”
“She wasn’t giving me much choice in it. As I was driving away that night, I determined I’d talk to her again, convince her to have the baby. I played with the idea of taking her to court over it.”
Surprise filled me. “Really?”
The sparkle that normally graced his eyes was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was finally letting down some of his walls. “I believe in life, Gabby. Life at conception. I didn’t really want to be a father, but the idea was sobering and made me realize I needed to reevaluate my priorities.”
My throat burned. I wished it was from the hot sauce, but instead it was from the horrific reality that Garrett had experienced. “Then you discovered your family.”
New lines appeared on his face. “I’m not saying I forgot about Olivia. Not by any means. But I had to put that on the back burner for a while. By the time I spoke with Olivia again, she told me that she’d actually miscarried the evening after our talk. All of our arguing was for nothing, I suppose.”
“Yet you still didn’t tell the police.”
He planted his palms on the table. “I knew how it would look, Gabby. And here I had this alibi that I hadn’t even tried to get. People from college claiming I’d stayed at the party longer than I had. The gas station. No witnesses to me being at the cabin.”
I grabbed a dinner roll from the center of the table and pulled off a piece. I nibbled on it, my thoughts turning. I could feel it in my blood that I was getting closer to the answers. But I wasn’t there, yet.
“What are you thinking?” Garrett asked. “I can see those mental wheels turning.”
“Olivia said she went home after she met with you that night, Garrett.”
“Okay …”
“She said her father wasn’t there. She also said that she gave him an alibi when the police asked. She claimed they’d both been in all evening.”
His eyebrows scrunched together. “Where was he?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
“You don’t think …”
“I think all of this has something to do with your dad’s work. I just need to figure out what. There’s no way I’m getting into his office to look at his things there. But your dad seemed like someone who’d bring work home with him.”
“He most certainly did.”
“This cabin you mentioned, the one you and Olivia went to …”
“It was my dad’s place. He liked to go there when he needed to get away. Of course, he always brought work with him.”
“Do you still own it?”
Garrett nodded. “I do.”
“Can I see it?”
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 29
As we drove from Cincinnati toward the hills of Kentucky, my mind wandered to Riley. He couldn’t drive yet after his brain injury, so I’d been taking him everywhere. Simple places—places we’d gone all the time—he suddenly couldn’t remember how to get there. Sometimes he’d forget where we were going in route.
The memories pulled at me. I tried to push away the melancholy that came with the thoughts, but the emotions seemed stronger than my willpower.
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak Page 20
