Callaway had spotted a bathroom in the fourteenth floor’s hallway. Lana must have used it whenever she needed to, and it was out of view of any security cameras.
The room was windowless, so no one would see the lights on during the night. The entire fourteenth floor was unoccupied, so there was little fear of someone catching her unexpectedly. The conference room and the room Lana was living in were booked under another name, so there was zero chance of any surprise visitors.
He knew the room was a perfect spot to hide.
The only way he found her hideout was a combination of two events that happened one right after the other. The first was his visit to R.J. Parish’s office. On his way to the top floor, a woman had entered the elevator carrying a duffel bag. He had watched as she strained to hold the bag up. Callaway had thought nothing of it until he saw his landlady’s son return from a delivery. The way he held the delivery bag told him it was much lighter than when he had first gone to make the delivery.
It was the same way the woman had held the duffel bag when she caught him rushing out of Parish’s office.
The woman in the elevator was R.J. Parish’s secretary, and Callaway had seen her get off on the fourteenth floor.
Callaway’s suspicions were correct. She was bringing food and other items to Lana Anderson.
When Callaway had confronted Lana, she wanted to make a call through a disposable phone to Parish’s secretary.
As they waited for her to arrive, Callaway could not help but think how daring and ingenious their plan was.
Lana Anderson was not dead. She had not left the city nor the country. And she was not hiding in some remote house in some remote countryside.
Lana Anderson had been hiding right under their noses, Callaway thought. And they had no idea how close she was.
ONE-HUNDRED ONE
Fisher watched as a car pulled up next to hers. Nunes got out and came over to her.
They were at Pine Trail. The road was deserted except for them.
“Thanks for coming,” Fisher said.
“I don’t like being yanked away from a case,” Nunes said. She had a frown on her face. “But you are Casey’s sister, so here I am.”
“I apologize for this, but it’s important.”
“Okay, so what’s going on?” Nunes said.
“Can you go over what happened on the day Miranda was found dead?” Fisher asked.
“You know I can’t discuss an open investigation with you.”
“Can you at least walk me through the facts known to the public?”
“This is a waste of my time.”
“Please indulge me.”
Nunes sighed. “Miranda and your brother were seen together at Leaside Forest Park, which is a short distance from here. She was then seen getting into your brother’s car. They were then seen driving toward this location. That was the last time anyone saw Miranda alive. Several hours later, a missing person’s report was filed with the police, but as twenty-four hours had not elapsed, the police held off their search. Instead, Miranda’s family began looking for her. It was her brother who found her.” Nunes pointed to an area down the slope. “Her neck was broken, and she was dead. Did I miss anything?”
“No, you summarized it well, but you did omit one thing.”
Nunes crossed her arms. “And what is that?”
“You were also at this very spot the day Miranda was killed.”
Nunes let out an exasperated laugh. “That’s absurd.”
“Your cell phone signal pinged off a cell tower not far from here around the time Miranda was supposed to have been alive.”
Nunes’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know that?”
“I’m a member of law enforcement, remember?”
“You can’t access that information for personal use.”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to save my brother.”
Nunes said nothing.
Fisher said, “Casey is careless when it comes to putting a password on his cell phone. He doesn’t do it because he knows he’ll forget the password. I inadvertently unlocked his phone, and when I did, I saw his messages. Around the time he was with Miranda at Leaside Forest Park, he was also messaging you all the details. You knew where he was and what he was doing. I then tried to track Miranda’s cell phone, and guess what I found out?”
Nunes was silent.
“Miranda’s phone was last activated an hour after she had apparently died. And the signal came from within an area where you lived. If I were a betting woman, I’d bet you’d taken it and then disposed of it.”
Nunes shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then there was also a witness at the scene,” Fisher said. “Jerome Johnston had taken his daughter over to Leaside Forest Park to ride her new bicycle. He only gets to see her once a week, so he was excited to bring her there. As he was leaving the park, he had taken Pine Trail. Once the news of Miranda’s death had spread, he had gone to the Lockport P.D. and given his statement. He had in fact spoken to you.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I spoke to Miranda’s brother, Troy, and I convinced him to get his parents to request the police file on their daughter’s murder.”
“It was you who got them to do it,” Nunes said, her voice rising.
“It was,” Fisher agreed. “In the file, I saw that you had made a note of your discussion with Mr. Johnston, but you neglected to include in the file that as Mr. Johnston was driving past that very spot on Pine Trail, he had seen a black sedan parked to the side. He never bothered to get the license plate number because he never figured it would be important. But when I spoke to him, he was able to provide me with the make and model. It matched the car that you just drove up in.”
Fisher pointed to Nunes’s black sedan.
Nunes stared at her.
Fisher said, “When you said you didn’t want this investigation to go outside the Lockport P.D., you weren’t trying to protect Casey. You were trying to protect yourself.”
Nunes looked away. “It’s not what you think,” she said, her words barely audible.
“Then tell me,” Fisher said. “Tell me what happened that day.”
ONE-HUNDRED TWO
Nunes’s shoulders sank. “You are right. I was in contact with Casey throughout the time he was with Miranda. Casey knew what people would say when they found out he was taking a teenager for a ride in his car. All he wanted was the proof that he was responsible for his best friend’s death.”
“Casey’s actions led to Jacob’s death. You know that, don’t you?” Fisher asked.
“I do,” Nunes replied. “Casey has been honest with me. He was sixteen when it happened. He was scared. You know your brother better than I do. He never meant to hurt anyone that night.”
Fisher nodded.
Nunes said, “I know Miranda took Casey to the motel first and then to Leaside Forest Park. I was following his car from a distance. He didn’t know this, and he still doesn’t know to this day. I saw him drop Miranda by the side of the road.”
“So, she was still alive when Casey drove away?” Fisher asked.
Nunes nodded. “Casey told me he’d gotten into a heated argument with her.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“She was still trying to manipulate him right until the end. One minute she would break down crying, and the next minute she would threaten to ruin him. She was desperate, and he sensed that. Before things escalated, he told her to get out of the car. Fortunately, she did.”
“Okay.”
“I was right behind them,” Nunes said. “As Casey sped away, I drove up to Miranda. I told her I wanted to have a word with her. She suddenly started crying again. She knew I was a police officer, and she told me Casey had raped her. I asked her where it happened, and she told me it was at the motel. I asked her why she came to Leaside Forest Park when Casey had attacked her. She said she came because Casey made her. She w
as scared that he’d hurt her more if she didn’t oblige. I asked her how she ended up at Pine Trail. She made up some story about jumping out of his car. Miranda had no idea I knew the truth, or that I was in a relationship with Casey.” Nunes clenched her jaw. “There was not a single scratch on her. And I was certain Casey had not touched her. After a couple of minutes of her lies, I demanded to know the truth. She then swore and spat at me. She wasn’t the goody-good girl the media made her out to be. She was cold and manipulative.”
Fisher gave her a stern look. “She was also someone’s daughter.”
Nunes’s face relaxed, and she nodded. “She was, yes, I know. But at that moment she was someone who was willing to say and do anything to ruin a good person—a person I love. Your brother. I don’t know what came over me. I pushed her hard. She lost her footing and she fell backward. I didn’t realize how steep the slope was until she stumbled and rolled all the way to the bottom. I was horrified at what happened. I rushed down the slope, and when I got near, I saw her eyes were rolled up in the back of her head and her neck was twisted at an awkward angle. I later found out her neck had broken in two and had crushed her trachea, causing her to suffocate.”
Fisher’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t check to see if she was alive?”
“I didn’t have time. I heard a car on the road. I didn’t realize it was Jerome Johnston until he showed up at the station the next day to make a statement. I was certain he would remember my license plate number. When he didn’t, I tried to bury it in my report.” She covered her face with her hands. “I should have checked for a pulse, but I was in shock. All I could think about was getting the hell out of there as fast as I could.”
“You might have run as fast as you could, but what you did made Casey a suspect in her death.”
“I know that very well,” Nunes said. “Why do you think I never charged him for the crime?”
“What were you expecting to do anyway?” Fisher asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied, looking like she was resigned to her fate. “I thought if I had more time, I would find a way to make it go away.”
“You were going to blame Warren, Miranda’s ex-boyfriend, for the crime, weren’t you?”
Nunes said nothing.
“I know the truth,” Fisher said. “And I won’t let anyone take the blame for what you did.”
There was a long pause between them.
Nunes’s hand reached for her holster.
Fisher took a step back.
“I’m not going to shoot you,” Nunes said.
“How can I be sure?”
“I love your brother. I was only trying to help him.”
Nunes removed her weapon and dropped it to the ground.
“You can call it in,” she said. “I’m ready to take responsibility for my actions.”
ONE-HUNDRED THREE
Beth Cartwright sat next to Lana Anderson on the sofa. After Callaway explained why he had been searching for Lana, Beth was more than eager to talk.
“It’s a tragedy what happened to David,” she said.
“You knew him well?” Callaway asked.
“Well enough. He represented Parish Holdings for many years. So, whenever he came to meet Mr. Parish, we’d chat. I knew he had a family, and I also knew he was a good person.”
“But he was accused of stealing money from your employer.”
She shook her head. “That’s not true. I mean, at first, I thought the same thing. I never imagined someone so polite and respectful would be capable of such a thing. But after David was let go and Mr. Parish had filed a suit against him, I found something that changed my mind.”
“What did you find?” Callaway asked.
“Mr. Parish keeps a paper shredder in his office. He uses it to destroy confidential documents. One day, when Mr. Parish was away, I went into his office to drop something on his desk when I saw the shredder. There was a piece of paper stuck halfway into the machine. I don’t know why—I normally don’t pry into other people’s business—but I checked, and it was a letter sent by Mr. Parish to a firm in the Isle of Man, instructing them to set up a numbered company under David’s name. I thought that was odd. Why did Mr. Parish give David the power to control an offshore company when he later accused him of transferring money into that very company? I smelled a setup.
“I didn’t make much of it or do anything about it. I’m just a secretary, you know. But then, when that man started showing up at the office—”
“Which man?” Callaway asked.
“I don’t know his full name. I just heard Mr. Parish call him Viggo,” Beth replied. “He made me uncomfortable whenever he was in the office. I overheard them talking about David. I must have thought they were discussing the lawsuit, but then I heard them talk about…”
Beth fell silent.
“Talk about who?” Callaway prodded.
“The Governor.”
“James Bartlett?”
“Yes. And they talked about using some woman to make him do what they wanted.”
Callaway turned to Lana Anderson. “They meant you,” he said.
She nodded. “I should have known what I was getting myself into, but…” She sighed. “But I needed the money. I know it sounds clichéd for people my age, but I was struggling to work part-time as a waitress and go to college full-time. I knew girls who were stripping or who had sugar daddies, but I didn’t want to do that. It just seemed dirty. I saw a post online about a modelling gig—another cliché, I know—and I went. It was at a hotel, and when I got there, there were already several girls before me. Then I met him.”
She shivered.
“Viggo?” Callaway asked.
She nodded. “I was surprised when he didn’t ask for my portfolio of modeling jobs—I didn’t really have one—nor did he have a camera. All he did was ask me several questions. He said he needed someone for a job. It was more like an acting gig. I would have to sign a confidentiality agreement, and I would have to do exactly what they told me to. I signed the agreement and left. Two days later, Viggo showed up. I was staying with a roommate at the time, and he said he would give me an apartment to live in and fifty-thousand dollars.”
Callaway’s eyebrows shot up. “Fifty grand?”
“Yes. He gave me twenty-five up front in cash and I was supposed to get the other twenty-five once the job was done.”
“What was the job?”
Lana looked away in embarrassment. Beth put her hand on her arm to encourage her to keep going.
Lana looked at Callaway. “I was told I had to meet someone. I didn’t have to sleep with him. I just had to make it look like we were in some form of a relationship.”
“And let me guess, Viggo gave you tickets to a charity event hosted by Governor Bartlett,” Callaway said.
She nodded. “I did exactly as I was told. I made it look like I was interested in him.”
“Were you? Or were you acting? Because I spoke to him, and he surely was interested in you.”
“Again, this is going to sound clichéd,” Lana said, “but I’m much younger than him, so yeah, I could see why he’d be interested. I was only doing it for the money, to be honest with you. I never wanted to hurt him or anyone else for that matter. I regret doing it, but I didn’t sleep with him.
“After we’d met a couple of times—it was always at a restaurant, at a bar, or at a coffee shop—I thought my job was done. But then James—I mean the Governor—started calling me nonstop. I told him I wasn’t sure about the relationship. I mean, he was married. He had kids. And he was the governor of the state. My parents think I’m in Europe on a modelling gig. If they found out I was involved in a scandal, they’d be deeply upset. I come from a small town in Montana. Everyone knows everybody. My parents are pillars of their community. I can’t let my actions affect them.”
“But you did meet Bartlett one night,” Callaway said. “There is security footage of him dropping you off outside your apartment building.”
<
br /> “Like I told you, he kept calling me. I thought about changing my number. But then one day he said he understood why I didn’t want to see him, and that it was probably for the better. He asked to meet me one last time. He also said something about knowing people who could help me get a job with the government. I shouldn’t have gone, but I did. I thought it might lead to other opportunities, career-wise. The moment we met, he broke down and confessed he was unhappy in his marriage and that he wanted us to run away together.”
That did not sound like the James Bartlett, Callaway had read about. The James Bartlett he read about was obsessed about his career and getting re-elected again. “You believed him?” Callaway asked.
“I don’t know,” Lana replied, “but I think he was under pressure. He mentioned something about a project and that he needed my help with it.”
A light bulb went off in Callaway’s head.
Bartlett knew Parish was using Lana to extort him, and what better way to break free of Parish’s hold than let the world know that Parish had set up a honeytrap for him? As Lana had said, nothing intimate had happened between them. Bartlett was shrewd enough to use something like this to his advantage. His current election platform was on anti-corruption, and if he could prove Parish was blackmailing him, that would be a major coup for him.
To do that he needed Lana.
“How did David get involved in all of this?” Callaway asked.
ONE-HUNDRED FOUR
“I can answer that,” Beth said. “I knew David had been wronged. After I had discovered the letter in Mr. Parish’s office shredder, I took it to David. I told him he had been set up. I’m a religious person, and I believe in doing the right thing. And I wanted to help him clear his name.”
“But wouldn’t that affect your position here?”
Beth almost laughed. “Mr. Parish has been thinking of replacing me for a long time. He prefers younger secretaries. I’ve just made myself too invaluable for him to let me go. But even then, I know eventually I will be looking for another job. David offered to hire me at his firm after he was able to prove he had nothing to do with the transfer of funds to that bank account.”
The Missing Mistress Page 23
