Dead Lawyers Tell No Tales (22 page)

WEDNESDAY NIGHT
Landon was facing his second night on the air mattress, and guilt was giving way to frustration. He hadn’t actually
done
anything. Yet Kerri was treating him like a serial adulterer. She had been jealous of Rachel before she ever met the woman. There were moments when Landon thought Kerri was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, and then other moments when he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been.

He fell asleep that night sitting at his computer, wearing workout shorts and a T-shirt, his head tilted back, mouth wide open sucking in air. He was startled awake by Simba’s loud barking. It took Landon a few seconds to get his bearings before he realized that Simba was out in the hallway by the steps. He thought he heard a voice talking to his puppy. It was a female voice speaking in baby talk, and Simba had stopped barking. He was probably getting his stomach scratched. He would make the world’s worst watchdog.

When Landon turned the corner in the hallway, he saw Rachel squat
ting down, giving Simba a belly rub. The dog was sprawled out on his back and twisted his head to look at his master.
This is the life.

“What are
you
doing here?” Landon asked. It was nearly eleven, and he’d been asleep for an hour.

“I work here, remember?” Rachel said, standing up. She was still perky, as if her motor was just getting started this time of night.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant what are you doing here at eleven at night?”

“Brent and I have a deposition Friday in Pittsburgh,” Rachel said. “I had to stop by and grab some files for our trip tomorrow. I saw your light on.”

“Yeah, I’m practically living here these days,” Landon said.

The whole conversation was making him nervous. It would be just his luck to have Kerri stop by the office to make amends and find him here with Rachel. On the other hand, he would feel like a jerk if he just asked her to leave.

“I was actually just packing up,” he lied.

“What are you working on?” Rachel asked.

“The usual stuff—finding loopholes for serial murderers and terrorists. You know, criminal-defense work.”

Rachel stood there for a moment and studied him. Landon knew her well enough to interpret the look. She had something on her mind, and she needed to talk. But he couldn’t go down that road again. Plus, he couldn’t let her wander back to his office and see the air mattress. She would ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

“Have you got a minute?” she asked.

He bit his lip. He wanted to help. Yes, she was gorgeous. It was only the first day of May, but her tan was already in midsummer form and her hair was more blonde than ever. Plus, the blue eyes and pouty lips knew how to beg. But this was how bad things started, things he would regret.

“Actually, I’ve got to get going. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Rachel didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “We can talk when I
get back,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. She brushed some hair back and smiled. “See ya, buddy,” she said to Simba. And then to Landon, “You sure you don’t need help with anything?”

He hesitated for a moment. He wanted to tell her about Kerri. He wanted to get her advice. He’d only been working with her for a few months, but sometimes he felt like Rachel understood him better than his own wife. And he sure could use a woman’s perspective.

But office friendships became office romances. That’s why he was sleeping here in the first place.

“I’m good,” he said.

“Okay,” Rachel said. She headed for the stairs but stopped and turned with one arm on the handrail.

“Things are going great between me and Brent,” she said. “You’re a big part of the reason that’s even possible.”

“Thanks,” Landon said, hoping she would come to her senses and dump the guy. “Good luck on Friday.”

“I’ll need it,” Rachel said and then bounded down the steps.

THE WITNESS
at the Pittsburgh deposition was an engineering expert in a complicated product liability case. Brent Benedict asked the questions, while Rachel fed him documents and huddled with him during breaks, suggesting additional questions that might have otherwise slipped through the cracks.

One lawyer could have easily done the job, but it gave the two of them a chance to take another trip in the firm’s leased Cessna Citation Mustang. The day before, they had flown over the Blue Ridge Mountains on a cloudless spring day. Brent Benedict had opened up and shared a piece of his soul.

Rachel was glad Parker Clausen wasn’t with them this trip. It was just the two of them. Alone. It was times like these when Brent confided in her. She already knew things about his past that Stacy never knew. But this trip was also about the future. It was a chance to bond and dream together and celebrate the fact that Glaxon-Forrester’s investigators could no longer do them any damage. Their secret was out. If somebody
snapped a few more pictures of them entering or leaving a hotel room—who cared?

The deposition was contentious, and the witness didn’t want to cooperate, so it took longer than expected. As soon as it was finished, Brent took a cab to the airport to log in and prepare the Cessna for takeoff. He filed a revised flight plan that would get them to Norfolk before the airport closed.

Rachel stayed behind after the deposition, cleaned up the exhibits, made copies of some documents, and headed for the airport in a rented limo. She carried the briefcases onto the plane while Brent completed his preflight.

He received their clearances at 7:40. With a good tail wind, he could make it to Norfolk by ten.

///

Two hours and ten minutes later, shortly after Brent had given his final approach vector, the explosion lit the sky over the Chesapeake Bay. Witnesses walking on the beach almost two miles away claimed to have felt the vibrations. A commercial jetliner, scheduled to land just after the Cessna Citation, actually had the best view.

“It turned into this huge fireball for a split second,” the pilot said. “And then it just blew into a million pieces in every possible direction.”

Tiny shards of the Citation rained like confetti into the bay.

It would undoubtedly take the NTSB months to complete its investigation. But given the destructive power of the explosives and the location of the plane at the time, experts were already predicting that the report would be inconclusive.

One thing, however, seemed certain. The plane had been deliberately sabotaged. Somebody wanted the lawyers dead.

A KNOCK ON THE DOOR
at two in the morning is never a good thing. This one was insistent and loud. Kerri instinctively reached over and patted the other side of the bed, but Landon wasn’t there. Recently she had become accustomed to Simba going nuts when anybody came to the condo, but he wasn’t there either.

Everything was working together to disorient her.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, turned on the lamp on the nightstand, and thought about Maddie. Whoever was at the door knocked again, just as loud and insistent as the first time.

Kerri ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. She grabbed one of Landon’s T-shirts and threw it on over her pajamas. She hustled down the hall to get to the door before the person knocked again. She flipped on the hall light and peered through the peephole.

The woman standing there was in her midforties with dark hair, wearing khakis and a dark polo shirt. She was staring at the door with
intense brown eyes that seemed to pop out of her head. Her hair, shoulder length, was pushed back behind her ears. She was plain and nondescript, as if her goal in life was to fit into every crowd. She frowned and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, very antsy. She reached out to knock again.

Kerri cracked the door but left the chain lock in place. The woman flashed a badge. “Angela Freeman, Virginia Beach Police Department. May I come in?”

The words made Kerri’s heart stop. Her first thought was of Landon. Maybe he hadn’t been staying at the office. Maybe he’d been in an accident. But suddenly the name registered. This was the detective who had interviewed Landon after Harry McNaughten’s death.

That connection sent chills down her spine again. “Is Landon okay?”

The question seemed to confuse Detective Freeman. She twisted her head as a look of concern flashed across her face. “Can I come in?” she asked again, nodding down at the chain.

“Of course.”

Kerri pushed the door closed and dropped the chain. She led Detective Freeman through the kitchen and saw Maddie standing in the hallway, thumb in her mouth, holding her worn blankie with the opposite hand. She looked like she was ready to cry.

“Where’s Daddy?” Maddie asked. Her eyes were sleepy and confused.

Kerri took a few steps and picked up Maddie. “Why don’t you just have a seat?” she said over her shoulder to Detective Freeman. “I’ll be right back.”

She carried Maddie into her room and told her that everything was fine. Mommy had to talk to their guest for a few minutes. She explained that Daddy and Simba were at the office and would be back soon. She tucked Maddie in, gave her a kiss, and turned off the light.

She sat down opposite Detective Freeman in the family room. Freeman was on the edge of the couch, hunched forward, increasing Kerri’s anxiety.

“Has something happened to Landon?” Kerri asked again, bracing herself.

“He’s not here?” Freeman asked.

Kerri felt her face flush. “He’s still at the office.”

“At two in the morning?”

Kerri shifted in her seat and looked down. She crossed one leg over the other and realized that Detective Freeman could read her every emotion. She was slowly waking up, and her reporter instincts were kicking in. “Can I ask what this is about?”

Freeman leveled her gaze. “There was an accident last night,” she said calmly, measuring Kerri for any reaction. “The firm’s private plane went down. Brent Benedict and Rachel Strach were on board and did not survive.”

The words carried a tsunami of emotion across the room, overwhelming Kerri. Landon was okay, but his colleagues were dead! It was a feeling of exhilarating relief meshed with horrifying sadness. Landon could have been on that plane.

“Landon doesn’t know?” Kerri asked.

Detective Freeman shook her head. “That’s why I’m here. To tell him.” She hesitated, but added, “And to warn him.”

“Why? Did somebody sabotage the plane?”

“We won’t know that for sure until the NTSB investigation is complete. But there was an explosion. And with three lawyers from the same firm killed within three weeks of each other, we have to assume the worst.”

“An explosion?”

Freeman nodded. “It blew up over the Chesapeake Bay, about ten minutes before touchdown.”

Kerri asked a number of questions about the plane crash, none of which Detective Freeman could answer. Then the detective turned the tables, boring into Kerri with her icy stare. “Why is Landon working at two in the morning?”

Kerri weighed her options. There had been three deaths, possibly all connected. This was no time for lies.

“We haven’t been getting along,” she confessed. “He’s been sleeping at the office the last few nights.”

Freeman waited for more, but Kerri knew that game. Hard as it was, she stayed quiet.

“What are you fighting about?” Freeman asked.

“I’d rather not say.”

“Look, Kerri, I’m not here out of idle curiosity. If somebody is killing the lawyers in your husband’s firm, secrets can be deadly. Frankly, I don’t like prying into people’s marriages. But until we can figure out what happened to Ms. Strach and Mr. Benedict, I need to know every detail about your life and Landon’s. Now, let’s try this again—why aren’t you guys getting along?”

Bullying had never worked with Kerri, and it wasn’t going to work now. “Am I some kind of suspect?”

“There are no suspects. There are no persons of interest. Right now, you’re a cooperating witness, and I hope you will stay that way.”

“I want to talk with Landon about this.”

“We’ll do that soon enough. But first, I need you to answer my question.”

“Like I said, I’d like to do this with Landon present.”

The two women stared at each other, and Kerri sensed the detective was sizing her up.

“Okay,” Freeman said, “have it your way. Let’s go see Landon.”

///

Simba was lying on Landon’s legs and went absolutely bananas when he heard the distant knock on the downstairs door. Landon bolted upright on the air mattress and tried to calm Simba down. “Take it easy, big guy.”

But Simba was working himself into a
Yippee! We’ve got company!
lather. He was barking and jumping in circles, anxious to get out the
closed door of Landon’s office. A second knock while Landon was pulling on a T-shirt gave Simba another shot of adrenaline, catapulting him from bananas to totally out of control.

Landon opened the office door and Simba went flying down the hall and screeched down the steps like they were a NASCAR track, almost wiping out as he negotiated the landing.

Landon’s own heart was picking up speed. He assumed it was Kerri, and that could only be good news. She wanted to talk. It would be his chance to set things straight.

He checked his watch. Two fifteen in the morning. Maybe it wasn’t Kerri. If she wanted to talk in the middle of the night, she would have called. She wouldn’t have left Maddie at home alone.

When he reached the bottom of the steps and saw the two women standing outside, his stomach dropped. He knew from the look on Kerri’s face that something terrible had happened.

He opened the door and Simba ran circles around the legs of the women, nuzzling up for some love. Kerri instinctively reached down to pet him and to hold him away from Detective Freeman.

“What’s going on?” Landon asked.

“Maddie’s in the car, so we need to talk out here for a few minutes if that’s okay,” Kerri said softly. The night air had a nip to it, and there was rain in the forecast. She was struggling to keep Simba in check.

“Why don’t we put him inside?” Kerri said.

“Good idea.”

Landon dragged Simba back inside the door, and the puppy immediately started clawing at the glass. The three adults moved to another spot in the parking lot where Simba couldn’t see them.

Kerri stood next to Landon and slipped her arm around Landon’s back. He placed a hand around her shoulder.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Detective Freeman began. “Brent Benedict and Rachel Strach are dead. Their plane crashed over the Chesapeake Bay earlier tonight.”

Landon felt his knees buckle and he leaned into Kerri. It felt like somebody had reached into his chest and squeezed the life out of his heart.

“Are you sure?”

“The plane went down just before 10 p.m. The NTSB is already at the scene. We’re sure.”

Landon couldn’t speak. His thoughts immediately turned to Rachel. Just two nights ago she had stopped by with something on her mind, something she needed to talk about. But Landon had blown her off. He felt the ache of losing a close friend compounded by regret at the way he had treated her the last time they spoke. Her beautiful smile flashed in front of him, playful and full of life. He felt a twinge of resentment at Kerri for the way she had reacted when she had seen the photos.

Rachel was gone.

He couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t process it. His mind was numb with pain.

“Detective Freeman said there was an explosion on the plane,” Kerri said.

Landon absorbed this second blow and looked at Freeman for confirmation.

“Everything’s preliminary,” the detective said. “But we’re not treating it as an accident. I’m going to need you to come down to the station for questioning. And we’re placing you and Parker Clausen on around-the-clock protection.”

“What about Kerri and Maddie?”

“Them, too. We’ll station someone outside your condo tonight.”

Landon requested a few minutes alone with Kerri before he headed to the station. Freeman walked to the other side of the parking lot as Landon and Kerri embraced.

“I’m sorry,” Kerri said. “I’m so very sorry.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Landon said. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”

“Can we just go back to the way it was before?” Kerri asked. “I don’t
care about D.C. or anything else. I just want you to leave this firm so we can get our family back together.”

But Landon’s emotions were running the other way. His mentor was dead. Now his good friend was dead too. How could he just turn his back and run?

He knew that he and Kerri couldn’t have that conversation right now. The shock was quickly turning into the kind of heart-searing grief that weakens every bone in your body, the pain of a good friend struck down in her youth. The tragedy of unrealized potential. The sadness and mystery of why the good die young. “Let’s talk about that later,” Landon said.

Kerri didn’t argue. “Why would anybody want Rachel and Brent dead?” she asked.

Landon was asking himself the same question. It was impossible for him to imagine anyone having a vendetta against Rachel. Maybe Glaxon-Forrester and her small-minded client did. But for all their pettiness, those two weren’t killers.

“I don’t know,” Landon said. “But I intend to find out.”