“What about the money?”
“I put it in the bank.”
“May I ask how much it was?”
“Twenty dollars.”
“Chad, do you know what a police sketch artist does?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Robert should be here soon. He’s going to sit with you for a little while. Hopefully, the two of you can put together a good likeness of the man who hired you.”
“Cool.”
She turned and addressed Chad’s father. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, but your son has been a huge help.”
“Do we have any reason to be worried?”
“We’re going to take some precautions just to be on the safe side, but I really don’t think there is anything to worry about. A patrol car will be parked outside your residence and your wife’s residence for the next few days.”
“That sounds serious. Can you tell us what’s going on?”
“I can tell you a little. Someone accessed Peter Granger’s remote server using a computer at the library and sent files to Print Works, which were later deleted from the server. We believe this same person hired your son to pick up the order. We’ve since learned that the files were manuscripts that Mr. Granger was working on at the time of his death.”
“Do you think this guy was involved in the fire that killed Peter Granger?”
“It’s a possibility, which is why we’re so thankful you and your son came in today.”
* * *
Macy paced the covered sidewalk outside the restaurant where she was having a quick meal with Aiden and Luke. She tapped on the window and waved. Their meal had arrived. They’d tucked in, but her food was growing cold on the plate. She had her cell phone glued to her ear. Eighteen Addison Road had proved to be a dead end. The owner had been out of state for nearly three weeks.
“Alisa, I’ll be back in the office in half an hour. In the meantime, see if there is any connection between the house where we found the fuel cans and the one at 18 Addison Road.”
“What are you thinking?” asked Alisa.
“Both properties were unoccupied. Maybe the owners are employed by the same company or belong to the same gym … anyplace that would be able to access their details and know if they’re away. There may be something they have in common with whoever downloaded those files.”
“Okay, I’ll get on it.”
“Has the sketch artist finished?”
“Just a sec. I’ll check.”
Macy headed for the restaurant’s entrance. There was a strict no-cell-phone policy. The waitress working at the front desk glared at Macy. Macy hovered near the doors and lowered her voice. She’d left her jacket inside and didn’t think she could handle the dropping temperatures a moment longer.
“Macy, are you still there?”
“Yep.”
“The sketch artist was late getting here. He’s going to be another hour.”
Macy felt so guilty. She’d been sitting down laughing with her son and boyfriend while Chad and his father were stuck in the police station.
“Please, make sure Chad and his father are comfortable. Offer to get them something at the Co-op. They’ve been very patient. I’ll be back at my desk as soon as possible.”
* * *
Macy scrolled through the case notes on her computer looking for Cornelia Hart’s ex-husband’s contact details. They’d been married for twenty-five years, so Macy was hoping they still communicated on occasion. John Hart continued to live in Manhattan but had retired from his law practice. Macy was surprised to hear how distressed he was about Cornelia’s disappearance. She’d been under the impression that their divorce had been acrimonious, but perhaps that wasn’t the case. He’d not remarried.
Macy didn’t think it was right to give Cornelia’s ex-husband false hope. “We have reason to believe she’s been the victim of a violent assault. She didn’t leave her home on her own steam. She was carried out.”
“Oh, my God. Is there anything I can do?”
“I was hoping you could tell me a little more about her. She doesn’t seem to have any friends other than her employers, and you’re the closest thing she had to family.”
“I’d hoped the move to Montana might do her some good, but it seems she simply fell into long-established patterns.”
“Has she always been a loner?”
“We lost a child to illness in 1978. Cornelia was only twenty-one at the time. She took it hard. We both did. Daisy was our world.… I guess the one good outcome is that it gave Cornelia a sense of purpose. She studied to become a nurse with the intention of working in a children’s ward, but that proved too emotional for her. She worked in a critical-care unit instead.”
“I saw a photo of Cornelia and Daisy in her home. It looked like it was taken on a beach.”
“I still remember that day. Cornelia couldn’t bear the thought of burying Daisy so she kept her ashes in a cookie jar that she’d had especially made. I’ve been trying for years to get her to agree to a burial so that we would both have access to Daisy’s final resting place, but Cornelia refused to cooperate with the legal settlement set out in the divorce papers. I’ll of course go through the necessary legal channels, but it’s important to me that Daisy’s remains are looked after.”
“Yes, of course,” said Macy. “I’ll make a note of it.”
“That would be appreciated. I’m not heartless. My hope is that Cornelia is okay, but I’m afraid I may be burying both her and my daughter together.”
“I promise we’re doing everything we can to find her. Had Cornelia been in touch recently?”
“Sadly, no. I tried to reach out a few times with no success. I haven’t spoken to Cornelia since that last meeting with the lawyers. I guess it’s been fifteen years. I know she still visits Tess, but she must be nearly ninety-five by now so I doubt she’d be able to help you.”
Macy flipped through her notes. There was no mention of anyone named Tess.
“Tess?”
“Tess Madden. She’s in a nursing home in Bolton. Cornelia had her moved there a few years ago so she could be closer. She was like a second mother to Cornelia. They’re very devoted to each other.”
“Do you know the name of the nursing home?”
“One second. Tess is kind enough to send me a Christmas card every year so she’s in my address book.”
* * *
Alisa stepped into the office just as Macy was hanging up the phone.
“That was Cornelia Hart’s ex-husband,” said Macy. “He seemed genuinely upset, which was surprising as I was under the impression that the split was acrimonious. For some reason I assumed he’d had an affair.”
“You can never tell what’s going on in a marriage,” said Alisa.
“This is true. As I recall, Cornelia provided an alibi for the night of the fire. She was at Norwood Pines Home for the Elderly until late?”
“Yes, she was there for several hours on Sunday as well. She volunteers a few times a week. We checked. Why? Do you think someone at the home is involved in her abduction?”
Macy shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Her friend Tess Madden is a resident there. Cornelia had said she didn’t have any family or friends in Bolton, so I’m a little surprised she didn’t mention it.”
“Perhaps she passed away?”
“She’s nearly ninety-five, so it’s a definite possibility, but if Tess is still there she may have heard from Cornelia in the last couple of days so we’d better follow up. Any news on the home where Chad dropped off the printout? Any ties with the house where we found the fuel cans?”
“Nothing so far.” Alisa handed Macy a sheet of paper. “Here’s what we’ve found out about the two owners. We can’t find any overlap.”
Macy thought she recognized the name of the woman who owned the house on Addison Road. Macy turned her laptop back on and scrolled through the scanned documents she’d collected.
“There might be a link to P
eter Granger after all,” said Macy. “Remember that letter of complaint filed against him by a group of tenants at the Bridger Cultural Center? The woman who owns the Addison Road house is one of the signatories.”
“There was nothing in her records that indicated she has offices there. According to her Web site, she works out of her home.”
“She may not have updated her Web site recently. Happens all the time.”
“Nice catch,” said Alisa.
“Any word from the sketch artist? I wanted a likeness, not a Rembrandt.”
“Apparently, Chad Nelson is very thorough. I’ll go check.”
* * *
Macy stood at the interview room’s only window and stared out into the driving snow. A fast-moving weather front had forced Aiden and Luke to return to Helena a little earlier than planned. They’d come by the station to say good-bye. It was Sunday, so very few staff members were there to see Luke run laps around the empty desks. His buzz cut made him look like a madman. Macy had pressed her hand against the window glass when Luke gave her one last wave from where he was safely strapped up inside the cab of Aiden’s SUV. Now they were heading north along Highway 287. Macy looked up at the restless sky and reminded herself that she could trust Aiden with Luke.
Chad Nelson and the sketch artist may not have produced a Rembrandt but, as far as Macy was concerned, the drawing was priceless. Alisa and Macy had both recognized Richard Nichols’s likeness immediately.
Mr. Nichols had been sitting down with his wife and children for a late lunch when police officers burst into his house with one warrant for his arrest and another to search the premises. Investigators found Peter Granger’s laptop and the printouts Chad had picked up at Print Works along with Nichols’s work computer and two other computers that were used by the family. Computer technicians and detectives were pouring over the hard drives and his cell phone.
Macy had said it was okay for the attending officer to remove Richard Nichols’s handcuffs. He may have been guilty of a crime, but he was far from dangerous. He’d been in Minneapolis from Saturday evening until midday on Tuesday. He couldn’t have murdered Peter Granger and Taylor Moore.
“Have you checked with the hotel and airline yet?” he asked. “I was nowhere near Bolton when that fire started.”
Macy turned away from the window. He’d hindered the investigation and may have been indirectly responsible for the deaths of at least two individuals. The swagger that he’d thrown about when they’d first met in Peter Granger’s office was gone. Richard Nichols made his living writing crime novels so he knew enough about the law to realize he was in a lot of trouble. The man who sat in front of her was scared. Macy pulled her chair out a little harder than was strictly necessary just to see him flinch.
“So much depends on how helpful you are, so I suggest you cooperate,” said Macy.
He unfolded his hands, then folded them again. They were shaking.
“Of course. Anything,” he said.
“Walk me through what happened on Saturday. I want to know how Peter Granger’s laptop came to be in your possession,” said Macy.
“Well, I’d had a late start—”
She held up a hand. “You’ve already wasted enough of my time. Please skip to the good part.”
“I needed a few things for my trip so I stopped by the office at two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. It’s on the way to the airport.”
Macy felt a headache coming on. She reached for her Diet Coke.
“I know where your office is already,” said Macy.
“Yes, sorry. Um … As I was passing by Peter’s door I overheard a heated argument between himself and a woman.”
“What was the argument about?”
“She was yelling something about all that she’d done for him. Said that he’d taken advantage of her once too many times.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“I’m sorry, but no.”
“Could it have been Peter Granger’s wife?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never met her so I have no idea what she sounds like.”
“Was the voice high in pitch or husky?” asked Macy.
“Definitely high in pitch. I got the impression she was very agitated.”
“Older or younger female?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Did you overhear anything that could help us identify who it was?” asked Macy.
“My phone rang while I was standing outside the door. They must have heard because it went quiet in the room after that. I slipped into my office down the hall and didn’t think about it again until I was on my way out.”
“Go on.”
“I knocked on Peter’s door as I was leaving, but it wasn’t closed properly so it swung inward. I called Peter’s name a couple of times and received no answer. The room was empty.”
“Other than it being empty, was there anything else that struck you as odd?”
“He’d left his laptop out in plain sight, which was strange because the door wasn’t properly locked.”
“What about the state of the room?”
“It was a bit of a mess. The cabinet doors were open and a bunch of files were spread out on the floor. There was some packing tape wadded up on the desk. I think the roll might have been on the floor. The chair wasn’t at the desk where it should have been.”
“Did you clean it up?”
“Aside from the laptop, I left everything where it was.”
Macy pulled a photocopy from a file. Investigators had found a list of Peter Granger’s accounts, usernames, and passwords in Richard’s house. It was all anybody needed to break into Granger’s computer and steal everything on the hard drive, on his remote servers, and in his bank accounts.
“That’s not quite true. Do you recognize this list?” asked Macy.
“I’m sorry. Yes. I did remove that from the desk. It was in a file labeled ACCOUNTS AND PASSWORDS. It was almost too easy.” He closed his eyes. “I know it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I was just so curious about the crime novel he was writing. I couldn’t help myself. I actually believed I’d gotten away with it.”
“Not even close,” said Macy. “So far you’re one of the few people in this mess we can definitely charge with a crime.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Maybe not, but if you’d reported what you saw in Peter’s office to the police he might still be alive today.” Macy paused. “You’re a crime writer so I suppose you’re always imagining what a crime scene looks like, and yet you failed to recognize one when you walked into Peter Granger’s office.”
“I couldn’t have known.”
“At the time perhaps not, but you must have known Peter Granger’s laptop was valuable to the investigation. Instead of turning it in you had the audacity to download files from Peter Granger’s server.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Were you going to try to pass off his work as your own?”
“No, absolutely not. I’d never do that.”
“Are you absolutely sure you’ve told me everything you know?”
Richard Nichols nodded slowly. He was in tears. “I really am sorry.”
“So am I,” said Macy. “So am I.”
* * *
Richard Nichols was escorted to a jail cell, leaving Macy alone for the first time since Friday morning. She sat down at the table where she’d conducted his interview and made a few notes. In her head she was ticking off a roster of possible suspects one by one. So far no one on her list was anywhere near Peter Granger’s office when Richard Nichols overheard him having an argument with a woman.
Hannah Granger had been over a hundred miles away buying groceries at a supermarket near her cabin. The store’s clerk and a receipt proved her innocence. Jessica Reynolds was cycling with a team she trained with on Saturdays. Grace Adams, Lara Newcomb, and Clare Stokes were attending a roller derby match between the Bolton Bandits and the Runaway Brides. Pictures o
f the trio were all over their social media accounts.
That left Taylor Moore. Contrary to what she’d told her boyfriend, she was at home in Bolton Thursday and Friday night, but at some point on Saturday she’d made her way to Peter Granger’s house. The police had since found her car parked around the corner. Whether she’d gone to the Bridger Cultural Center was anyone’s guess. It was a Saturday, so not many people were in the building when the meeting took place. Police would be interviewing tenants, but that would take time.
The computer techs had been able to hack into Taylor’s online e-mail account. She’d sent her last e-mail on Saturday morning. It was to a company in Chicago that had offered her a job six months earlier. She’d wanted them to reconsider her application. Taylor didn’t sound desperate. She was someone who was making plans for her future.
And then there were the missing paintings. They didn’t just walk away. Someone stole them. Taylor couldn’t have done that. The coroner figured she died as early as Saturday evening.
Macy put her head on the table’s clammy surface and stared at the video camera. A few rooms away, several detectives were going through the Polaroids. There were a lot of women who had good reason to hate Peter Granger, but it might take years to track them all down and Macy needed answers now. Cornelia Hart was missing and Macy had no idea where to begin her search.
Macy went in search of the computer techs. They’d had Peter Granger’s laptop for two hours. She was hoping they’d found something.
20
Sunday
Peter Granger only had one appointment on the Saturday he’d dropped out of sight. He was meeting with Cornelia Hart in his office at one o’clock. He’d made a few helpful notes in his calendar. One referred to the confidentiality clause in her employment contract. He would need to remind her that the clause wasn’t only restricted to the time she was employed. The other note he’d made was in regard to a severance payment. He’d put down a range of offers. He’d start with the lowest and work from there. He also reminded himself to be firm, noting that she was going to take it hard.
Macy thanked the computer technician and picked up her phone. Hannah Granger answered on the first ring.
Silent Rain Page 26
