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‘We’re just leaving.’ Sam came around the desk
with his hands held high to show they were empty, and started to advance.

‘The police are on their way.’ The guard fumbled nervously with his brand-new holster, but couldn’t get it unsnapped. ‘You better wait.’

‘Can’t do that, bud. Come on, Zack.’

As Sam quickly closed the gap, the guard abandoned his holster and reached out to grab him by the shoulder. But Sam was prepared. Without breaking stride, he snared the man’s wrist, bent it to the breaking point, and twisted – hard. The guard yelped in surprise as his body spun to avoid a dislocation. Then his feet were suddenly swept away and he was thrown to the floor.

‘Stay down,’ Sam hissed.

Embarrassed, the guard ignored the warning and reached for his holster again. Sam didn’t hesitate. He spun on one foot and kicked the guard in the face with such force he loosened teeth. This time, the guard stayed down.

‘Move it, Zack.’ Sam pushed aside the shocked crowd and headed for the stairs.

In the lobby, the floor was littered with tiny squares of broken glass that glistened red upon the undulating green ripples of binary code.

91

After a rolling stop at the motel to grab Sam’s guard uniform, the Mercedes headed north-east to Alameda Ridge.

Alameda was a turn-of-the-century neighbourhood, which boasted wide roads lined with mature trees, stunning views of the Willamette River and downtown skyline, trendy restaurants and ubiquitous, over-priced coffee shops.

Sam settled back into his seat as he finished changing out of his jeans and into his badly wrinkled uniform.

‘What do you think?’ He tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie. ‘Do I look like a cop?’

‘A sloppy cop, maybe,’ Zack said testily. ‘What’s all that yellow crap on your shirt?’

‘Paint,’ said Sam. ‘There was an incident at the mall before . . . well, before all this began.’

‘At least it’s not red,’ Zack snapped.

‘Look, I know you don’t like this,’ Sam snapped back, ‘but we need to talk to her. She might have
an idea about who’s been setting us up. They must have done the same to Alan.’

‘Or he was only ever given one assignment,’ Zack said. His eyes never drifted from the road. ‘And we watched him do it.’

‘I thought you said this guy wants more than our lives. He wants to destroy us first.’

‘That’s us,’ Zack said through tight lips. ‘Maybe he decided to let Alan off easy.’

‘Why?’ Sam asked.

‘Hell if I know.’

As the road climbed towards Alameda Ridge, the homes became grander. When Zack turned on to Klickitat Street, Sam watched the enormous Barnes mansion flash by his window.

Further down the block, they parked in front of a pretty Victorian home in green and white with carved gingerbread in the peaks.

‘This is it.’

Sam looked over. ‘You coming in?’

Zack shook his head. ‘I’m tired of delivering bad news.’

‘It might help to hear it from a friend.’

Zack shook his head again. ‘Nothing helps that kind of news.’

Sam knocked on the front door and self-consciously tried to cover the paintball stains on his shirt by crossing his arms.

‘Who’s there?’ asked a metallic voice to his left.

Sam turned to see a small two-way intercom
affixed to the wall. Someone had tried to make it look more Victorian by surrounding it with a wooden frame.

‘It’s Officer White, Mrs Robertson. We talked on the phone. I was at your husband’s office.’

‘You hung up on me.’

‘Yes, I did, Mrs Robertson, but only so I could get here as soon as possible.’

‘I didn’t see a police car.’

‘No, I used an unmarked car. I thought it best not to alert your neighbours. I know how quickly gossip spreads.’

There was an audible click.

‘Come in.’

Sam opened the door and walked into the entrance hall. Directly in front of him, a short hallway led to the kitchen, which had patio windows and a large deck that overlooked the ridge and the city skyline below. On days when it wasn’t grey with rain, Sam guessed the view would be spectacular.

To his right, he glimpsed a small library behind elegant French doors. Alan’s widow waited in the room to his left.

Although it might once have been stiff and elegant, now the room had a casual, lived-in feel with toys scattered on the floor and an air of relaxed contentment. But that bliss had recently been shattered, the evidence plain on the face of the woman who sat rigid on the sofa.

Sam moved to sit in a chair facing her.

The woman lifted her gaze, tears overflowing red rims. ‘The children are at my mother’s. Just around the corner. They . . . they needed to be out of the house.’

‘I’m sorry to intrude,’ Sam said. ‘It’s just so important that we talk.’

‘I don’t know who they were.’

‘What did they want?’ Sam asked carefully.

‘Nothing from us. It was Alan they wanted to talk to.’

‘They threatened him?’

‘Yes. They said they would do things . . . to me . . . to my children.’ She turned to look out of the front window at the quiet street beyond. Her voice became unnervingly calm. ‘If they had tried to harm my children, I would have killed them. They were large men, but I still would have—’ She inhaled sharply. ‘I never knew I had that in me.’

‘How many men?’

‘Three. One stayed with me. Another watched Dorrie and Clay. They had guns, but they kept them in their belts.’

‘Who called your husband?’

‘The third one. I never saw him. He entered behind the other two and went straight into my husband’s library. He made the call from there. We were kept in here.’

‘You heard his voice?’

‘Yes, but not clearly. He was very calm, soft spoken. I only heard the occasional word when he was telling Alan what he planned to do to us. At
one point, he called for the guard to make me scream. I . . . I found it harder to stop than to begin. A few moments later, there was a loud pop and the sound of breaking glass. The men left us, and I ran to the phone. It had been set to speaker mode. He wanted me to hear those sounds. That’s when I talked to you.’

‘Did you recognize the man’s voice? Was it familiar in any way?’

She shook her head. ‘It was just a voice. It could have been anyone’s.’

‘No accent, no familiar cadence?’

‘Just a voice,’ she repeated.

‘Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your husband?’

Mrs Robertson’s eyes were focused miles away. ‘Everyone loves Alan. It even makes me jealous sometimes.’ She smiled. ‘People light up around him. He inspires them. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his entire body.’

Sam huffed in frustration. ‘What about the two men who watched over you? Did you recognize anything about them?’

‘They were just large men with big muscles. They wore those clear plastic masks over their faces that always give you the creeps at Halloween. The masks frightened the children. Only one of them spoke.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Just what you would expect. Stay calm. His boss needed to speak to Alan. Just the essentials.’

‘Was there anything about his voice?’

‘Not really. He didn’t have an accent or anything distinctive, but I had the feeling he wasn’t very intelligent. All brawn and no brain.’

‘Is there nothing that stands out?’ Sam pleaded, desperation suddenly flooding his voice. ‘Anything? Anything at all?’

The woman locked eyes with Sam and tilted her head, her focus shifting to take in his worn face and stained clothes.

‘You’re not the police.’ Panic began to rise. ‘Who are you?’

‘They have my family,’ Sam said quickly. ‘My wife and daughter. I need to find them.’

‘You’re friends with Alan?’

‘We went to the same high school, but we didn’t know each other. Whoever did this to you has an agenda that we can’t figure out.’

‘We?’

‘Zack Parker is with me. His daughter was killed.’

She gasped. ‘What have you done?’

‘We don’t know. Just as we don’t know what Alan did.’

‘My husband is a saint,’ she said angrily. ‘He has done nothing wrong.’

Sam held up his hands. ‘None of us deserve this, but we need to find out who believes we do. That’s why I came here. To find something. Anything.’

The woman shook her head angrily, white
saliva beginning to pool at the corners of her mouth. ‘Where is my husband? I want to see my husband.’

Sam looked down at his hands. ‘I’m sorry.’

Mrs Robertson got to her feet. ‘What for?’

Sam looked up. ‘Your husband shot himself in his office. Those were the sounds you heard.’

The woman’s face distorted before him like a funhouse mirror. Sadness and rage seemed unable to mix. And then she began to scream; a hysterical cacophony of noise that threatened to raise the roof and shatter the windows.

Sam lurched to his feet and tried to comfort her, but his closeness enraged her further and she lashed out at him with fists and nails. Sam stepped back and tripped over a rug, suddenly afraid for his own safety.

Zack burst through the front door, his eyes wide with panic. ‘What did you do?’

The woman spun to face him, her lips curling in a snarl even as her face crumpled in grief and anger.

‘GET OUT!’ she screamed. ‘GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!’

Sam scrambled to his feet and dragged Zack outside to the car.

‘Drive,’ he commanded. ‘The cops will be here any minute.’

‘What about her?’ Zack asked.

Sam looked back at the house, the woman’s screams still echoing. ‘She needs a doctor more
than she needs us. The police will call for one. Now let’s go.’

Zack took a deep breath and put the car into drive. Neighbours were already rushing towards the house as they drove away.

92

Detective Preston walked around the large office, fascinated by the massive windows that overlooked the lobby.

‘Nice,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind people gawping at you every time you scratch your ass.’

Hogan walked behind the desk and glanced at the computer screen. The screensaver showed binary code falling like rain. He nudged the mouse to cancel the effect and called to his partner.

‘This is why patrol called us.’ He indicated the three news stories displayed on the monitor. ‘The late Mr Robertson was looking into White and Parker.’ He frowned. ‘Is that receptionist still outside?’

‘The plump one? Yeah.’

Preston stepped out in the hallway and returned with the receptionist. The woman had black mascara tracks running down her cheeks and her attempted clean-up had ruined her foundation,
leaving odd-shaped blotches where her natural flesh showed through.

Hogan smiled encouragingly as he crossed in front of the transparent desk. ‘Thanks for sticking around. I know it must be difficult. You probably want to be home with your family.’

The woman sniffled, her hand automatically dabbing a crumpled tissue below her nose.

‘Had you known Mr Robertson long?’ Hogan asked.

‘We just had a company party celebrating twenty years. I was one of his first employees.’ She sniffled again. ‘Mr Robertson hired me right after he moved from his parents’ garage to his first real office.’

‘Wow!’ Hogan said, impressed. ‘He must have been a good boss for you to be here so long.’

‘He was a very generous man. Every employee here is also a shareholder. He’s made a lot of us very comfortable. I just hope—’

‘He ever talk about high school?’ Hogan interrupted.

‘He went to Brookside, right here in the city. He was invited to speak there many times over the years at graduations. He was a very good speaker. Inspirational, you know?’

Hogan smiled receptively. ‘Any old school friends ever show up? Apart from the two you mentioned who visited just before . . .’ Hogan let it trail off, not wanting to invite another round of waterworks.

The receptionist shook her head. ‘Not that I recall.’

After the woman left the room, Hogan crossed to the broken window and looked down at the lobby.

‘Why does it tie to that?’ he said after a moment. ‘High school. Christ, some people can’t let it go.’

Hogan’s voice drifted and he suddenly pulled a file from his jacket pocket. He began to read.

Preston knelt down by the blood spot and scratched his nose. ‘Forensics uncover anything at the wife’s house?’

‘It looks professional,’ Hogan said mechanically, his attention diverted. ‘Gloves and masks. No names used and no prints left behind.’

‘At least that rules out White.’ Preston stood up and his knees cracked. ‘He hasn’t been shy about showing his face. And I’m assuming this Zack fellow the receptionist mentioned is our elusive Dr Parker.’

Hogan turned, his face alight with an idea. ‘I’m thinking Parker and White came here to warn Robertson that someone was holding a grudge. Maybe it’s tied into the rape back in high school, but somehow they figured out he was next on the list. They just got here too late.’

‘But Parker and White were cleared of any involvement in the rape,’ said Preston. ‘They weren’t even called as witnesses at the trial.’

‘No, but Robertson was?’

‘What?’

Hogan tapped the file in his hand. ‘He wasn’t a suspect, but his name appears as a witness for the prosecution.’

93

Sam pushed open the motel door. ‘You know what doesn’t make sense.’

‘Like any of this does?’ Zack snapped. He kicked the door closed and stripped off his wet jacket.

Sam ignored the outburst. ‘If the kidnapper wanted money, why did he come to me for it and not Robertson? He obviously had the dough.’

‘Maybe that was the problem.’ Zack began to shiver violently as he unzipped his pants. ‘It would have been too easy for him. He–he’s playing us . . . destroying us. He let Robertson off light.’

‘But why?’

‘I don’t know.’ Zack, his skin a sickly grey in the room’s harsh light, headed for the shower. ‘Maybe he disliked him the least.’

‘Or he was just a loose end,’ Sam said to Zack’s back. ‘Someone who could point a finger in his direction. Nothing personal, like with us, just business.’

‘But if it is personal with us—’ Zack stopped in mid-sentence, his hand on the door to the shower.