The four numbers he'd been searching for glinted in brass from a mailbox with an elaborate brick pedestal covered in ivy. Judging by the house, Noah was doing all right for himself. A two-story giant built with New England-style dormers and shutters, it fit perfectly with the other custom homes in the area. The lot alone, which had to be half an acre, was probably worth $500,000. Although Noah and his family weren't on the river, where many of the real mansions were, he'd paid a pretty penny for the property.
Turning into the brick-rimmed drive that formed a half circle with lighted pillars flanking each side, David parked behind a minivan with its 227
doors open. A quick glance told him no one was inside, but as he approached the house he realized why--Noah's wife was just leaving.
"Oh! Excuse me," she exclaimed when she nearly bumped into him on the front stoop. "I didn't hear the bell."
He hadn't had a chance to ring it. He'd been checking the manila file folder he was carrying to make sure he had Bishop's picture. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm looking for your husband, Noah. Is he around?"
She hadn't recognized him at first. She'd caught herself to avoid a collision and apologized, but her face clouded as she placed him. "You're that detective, the one from Oliver's trial."
"Detective Willis." He held out his hand and she took it, but a trifle reluctantly. "Is your husband at home?" he repeated.
Before she could answer, a boy of about ten darted through the door and cut around them, bouncing a basketball as he ran for the van.
"Noah just got home from work. He's changing and I'm--"
"On your way out. I can see that. If you'd tell Noah I'd like a minute, I'll wait for him here on the stoop."
She hesitated as if unsure how to react and settled on cautiously polite. "You can have a seat in the living room if you'd prefer."
"That's okay. This is fine."
She lowered her voice and visibly braced herself. "Oliver hasn't done anything else, has he?"
"Else?" David repeated.
When she didn't immediately retract that telling word, he knew she'd become a little disenchanted with her brother-in-law. Or maybe she was tired of the whole situation.
"I'm not here to talk about Oliver." He opened the folder for the second time and handed her the picture inside it. "Have you ever seen this man?"
Her expression remained blank. "No. Who is he?"
"Lorenzo Bishop. He used to work for one of your husband's subcontractors."
The eyes that met his were full of curiosity. "Has he done something wrong?"
"Yes."
"Then, I wish I could help but--" she shrugged and returned the picture "--I've never seen him before in my life."
"Mom! Come on," the kid yelled from the car. "If I'm late, Coach Green will make the whole team run liners."
Wendy Burke's keys jangled as she slid the strap of her purse onto her 228
shoulder and ducked her head back inside the house. "Noah!" she called.
This elicited no response so she raised her voice. "Noah!"
"What is it?"
"Detective Willis is here to see you."
No other sound came from the house, at least nothing audible. David guessed Noah was cursing under his breath. David wasn't a popular figure with this family.
"Did you hear me?" she called. "He has some questions about a man who used to work for you. I have to go or Brian'11 be late for basketball practice."
"Go ahead. I'll be right down."
A stiff smile curved her lips. "He shouldn't be long."
David thanked her and watched as she drove off, then studied the street. It was a nice neighborhood--beat the hell out of his utilitarian apartment, that was for sure.
"Why are you here?"
David turned to find Noah standing at the door, wearing a clean pair of jeans, loafers and a sweatshirt. It was obvious from his wet hair that he'd just had a shower.
"I've run across a friend of yours."
"Of mine?" he repeated doubtfully. "You and I don't exactly travel in the same circles."
"Which is what makes it rather.. .coincidental that I've discovered a link between this man and you, wouldn't you say?" He produced the picture and waited for Noah's reaction--a reaction that seemed as innocuous as his wife's.
"This is Lorenzo something or other," he said.
"Bishop," David supplied.
"That's it. He used to work for one of my subs."
"Do you know where he is now?"
"No. I haven't seen him for years."
"How many years?"
Now that David wasn't questioning him about a family member, Noah appeared eager to help. "Maybe...four? I was building the deck on the McCurdy house while he was pouring the new drive. That has to be at least four years. Why?"
"He's dead."
Suspicion drew Noah's eyebrows together. "You don't think Oliver killed him, do you?"
"No, I don't. I already know it was someone else."
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"Who?"
Evidently, Noah hadn't been keeping up with the news. Of course, a lot had happened in the past few weeks. His brother had been released from prison, stabbed, hospitalized and sent home to Jane and Kate, who hadn't seen him for three years. The whole Burke family had probably been too busy dealing with their own private hopes and fears and adjustments to worry about other people.
"Skye Kellerman," he said.
Noah's eyes went wide. "She killed Lorenzo? That's gotta tell you something. It's not my brother who's--"
David broke in before he could go too far down that road. "He cut her telephone line, broke into her house and tried to kill her. That's when she shot him."
Noah shook his head. "You're kidding."
"No."
"What did he have against Skye?"
"I was hoping you could tell me."
"I have no idea."
"You didn't hire him to do it?"
His face reddened with genuine shock and anger. "Are you kidding?
Now you think I'm a killer?"
"Skye knows about your affair with Jane."
Noah leaned closer and enunciated each word. "So does my wife. I broke it off with Jane. I confessed." He gestured in a helpless motion. "The guilt was too much for me. I'd hate for my brother and parents to find out what I've done, but maybe they should know, too. Maybe that's the only way to really wipe the slate clean."
David was too surprised to come up with a response.
"If you don't believe me, you can ask Wendy. Do you want to come in and call her on her cell?"
David studied him. "No," he said and walked away.
"I'm going to tell them," Noah called after him. "I'm going to tell my whole family."
David turned back before reaching his car. "Don't."
"Why not? I can't carry this secret anymore. It's time to break free of the past, start over."
"You'll put Jane in danger if you do," David warned. But Noah waved him away. "I'm serious."
"My brother's innocent," he said, and then he went in and it was too late to say anything else.
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David didn't drive off immediately. He sat in his car, wondering if he should go back to the house and try to convince Noah of the danger Jane might face. He would have, if he'd thought it would do any good. But he knew it wouldn't. He doubted Noah would even answer the door. Noah didn't believe his brother was capable of such savagery, and nothing David said would convince him.
David decided to warn Jane, just in case Noah didn't do her that courtesy. But she was no longer at work, and when he called the house, he got a recorder. Unwilling to leave a message--he didn't want Oliver to hear his voice--he hung up and made a mental note to try her again later.
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Chapter
21
Now that they stood face-to-face, Oliver realized the man he'd hired via the Internet wasn't a man at all. Oliver knew he'd never win any prizes for guessing ages at the state fair, but this kid was barely seventeen if he was a day. He had more pimples than whiskers. His hair, which didn't look as if it had been washed recently, fell to his shoulders, and he had a baby face and braces to go with his baggy jeans and Sex Wax T-shirt.
"Do you have the money?" the boy said. He'd kept Oliver waiting while he spoke on a cell phone. But he'd finished his conversation and was apparently ready to do business.
Now Oliver understood why his Internet "investigator" had wanted to meet in an alley. He had no office. He probably lived with his folks and spent too much time holed up in his room, doing things on the computer they had no idea he could do.
"I've got the money," Oliver responded. He'd had to pawn Jane's wedding ring, which she'd inherited from her grandmother, to get the money he needed, but the ring didn't fit her anymore, anyway. She'd gotten too fat, hadn't even glanced inside her jewelry box in ages. "The question is...do you have what I'm looking for?"
"Of course. I told you I'd get it, didn't I?" The kid reached into another pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded into a tight square. "It's right here."
"Let me see it."
The boy he knew only as [email protected] handed the paper over without hesitation, and Oliver opened it to see an address on Sherman Island. He was familiar enough with the delta, having studied it after that news broadcast he'd seen in the hospital, to know that Sherman Island was one of the delta's myriad small towns. But it could still be a made-up address.
He studied the kid skeptically. "How do I know this isn't fake?"
"Because it's not," Iseeyou said with a careless shrug.
"How'd you get it?"
"None of your business. But I can find anyone, anywhere--as long as 232
they've got family, friends, utilities, credit cards, property. You can run but you can't hide." His cocky grin was definitely at odds with his braces, but Oliver didn't care about that. After waiting months for Victor to provide this information, and walking away empty-handed, he finally had what he wanted. This two-bit teenage hood-in-the-making was able to get it for him in a matter of three days.
"Nice work," he said, suitably impressed.
"You can thank me with the money." The boy held out his hand when Oliver made no move to pay him.
"You shouldn't have given it to me until I gave you the cash. Now I have no incentive to follow through with my end of the bargain." Without his knife, Oliver knew he couldn't overpower most people, but he felt sure he could teach this teen a lesson--until the kid motioned to either end of the alley and he saw that the boy wasn't alone. Two other teenagers, both of whom looked very much like Iseeyou, blocked the openings, each holding a switchblade.
"You're smarter than you look," he told the kid as he pulled out the money.
"That's the problem with the citizens of this country. They judge people by appearances."
"Comes in handy for you, doesn't it?"
"Sometimes." [email protected] counted the bills, then nodded. "You're free to go. You know how to reach me if you ever want to do business again."
When Oliver didn't leave, the boy stalked off ahead of him to join his associate at the north end of the alley. The third boy disappeared before Oliver could turn to check on him; he was probably going around to meet the other two rather than risk an altercation by coming straight through.
"Damn smart," Oliver muttered, and chuckled as he imagined those kids blowing all five hundred bucks at an arcade. Video games were one hell of a waste of a one-carat diamond, but Oliver had what he needed. That was all that mattered.
The house was dark and closed up tight when Jane arrived, and the truck Noah had lent Oliver was gone. She didn't think anyone was home.
"Oliver?" The last time Jane had spoken to her husband was just after lunch, when he'd promised to pick up Kate from his parents' house at four o'clock. Jane was grateful he was pitching in--the traffic was always so bad when she got off at six. But if he'd gotten Kate, he certainly hadn't brought her home. There was no backpack on the kitchen table, where she usually tossed it, no sign that she'd been here at all.
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Had Oliver left Kate at his parents' house? Maybe he'd taken the truck back to Wendy, and Wendy had given him a ride home. In that case, he could be sitting in one of the back bedrooms in the dark. He did that sometimes. Or maybe he'd gone out on his bike....
"Oliver?" she called as she walked from room to room.
It made her uneasy to think of Kate alone with him. Noah didn't believe Oliver was dangerous, but last night had convinced Jane. She was still shaken from it, knew she'd never be able to look at him again without suspicion.
The guest bathroom door was closed. Thinking she'd found him, she stood outside it and knocked. "Oliver?"
There was no response.
Opening it, she discovered that the room was slightly damp, as if he'd recently had a hot shower. Why he hadn't used the shower in their bathroom, she didn't know. But, obviously, if he was gone, he hadn't left all that long ago.
She started to move on when a disposable razor sitting on the edge of the sink caught her eye. Entering the small bathroom, she saw a can of shaving cream in the shower, too. It hadn't been there before. The sight of it motivated her to look further and, sure enough, there was a lot of curly dark hair in the drain.
Pubic hair. Oliver had shaved himself.
A lot of men shave. He was a cyclist.
Cyclists shave their arms and legs.
It's popular to do a lot more than that these days.
But Oliver hadn't done it since he'd been home and he'd been biking for almost a week. Why now?
Jane's stomach began to churn. What was he up to? Was he waiting for her in one of the back bedrooms?
The floor creaked as she checked Kate's room. She paused, listening for other noises, but heard only the barking of the neighbor's dog and two teenagers yelling obscenities at each other while they skateboarded in the parking lot of the nearby convenience store.
"Oliver? Are you home?" She pushed open the cracked door of their master bedroom, listening to the hinges squeal as it swung wide.
The bed was neatly made.