The Survivor (17 page)

“No, Tigo, it’s not. When did you plan to tell me?”

“No idea.” He moistened his lips and returned to his story. “I called her cell a few times. Called her parents’ home. But no one ever returned my messages. The divorce papers came. I signed them. Got drunk. Signed up for a security job in Saudi, making use of my experience in the marines.” The pain in his eyes matched the hurt she was attempting to hide. “I didn’t fight hard enough for my marriage.” He paused. “I was afraid of getting hurt again. The truth doesn’t set anyone free. It only makes bad issues stink.”

“I would have listened.”

“I know. So what’s the verdict?”

Kariss wanted a relationship with Tigo. But God wanted one more.

8:15 P.M. MONDAY

T
igo shoved the situation with Kariss into a holding pattern until he could think through his options—and their talk. Her eyes said they still had a chance, but he had work to do on himself. He knew it, and he avoided it. Seeing a shrink was not his style. Probably his so-called pride.

Linc and Ryan had given him the same advice—God would help him if he opened his heart. Canned response. But if Tigo gave up searching for meaning in his life, he’d break his promise to his mother and never have a relationship with Kariss. Was God blackmailing him, or was this indecision and doubt part of the process?

Driving to Jonathan Yeat’s home, where he’d meet Ryan, Tigo shifted into agent mode. He knew it was unlikely they’d find anything of note among Joanna’s and Alexia’s personal belongings. Investigators from the FBI and HPD had searched every corner of the house and found nothing pointing to the bomber. Computers and other communication devices had been confiscated, imaged, and returned. Every cabinet and drawer emptied. And all of it had yielded nothing. But a killer had been successful in snuffing out two lives, and Tigo couldn’t rest until the person was found.

Tigo greeted the guard at the community gates and showed his ID before driving through. He parked his truck outside the Yeat entrance and surveyed the crime scene while he waited for Ryan. When Ryan arrived, they walked to the house together,
where Jonathan greeted them at the door. The man had aged in less than a week. Traces of gray wove through his closely cropped hair, his face looked haggard, and his shoulders slumped. Still he welcomed the agents inside his home. Always the gracious host.

“Can we talk in my study?” The creases on his forehead were new. “I haven’t told the boys what I learned from you today, and until I make peace with it, I can’t expect them to understand this new … devastation.”

“Jonathan,” Ryan began, “unfortunately, there’s been a media leak. Sources tell us they’ve learned about Joanna’s past. Media outlets will break the story by morning.”

The man paled. “That means I have to tell my sons tonight.”

Behind the closed doors of the study, Jonathan sat at his desk and stared at a photo of his now-shattered family, a replica of the same portrait that hung in the foyer.

“A man believes he knows his wife.” Jonathan’s voice quivered. “Loves her. Trusts her. And then his whole world collapses. I should have asked about her past when she offered, but it didn’t matter then. I’ve discovered more about Joanna since her death than I ever did while she was alive.” He glanced up. “Have you located David Smith?” Tigo could see the man was nearing a breakdown.

Tigo nodded at Ryan to field the question.

“Not yet. David Smith is one of several names this man has used. Our people are working on it. Have you uncovered anything?” Ryan said. “A receipt? A questionable entry on a credit card statement? Do you recall any conversations with Joanna that didn’t make sense?”

“Nothing. She didn’t talk much about her life here before we met. Our conversations were more about her growing-up years in Memphis. She attended college in Houston. We met at church while she was working at the medical center downtown. Then her sisters moved here seven years ago, and the chaos began.”

“How did their move change things?” Ryan’s gentle voice seemed to help Jonathan relax.

Jonathan folded his hands on the desktop. “Joanna’s mother died, and the sisters relocated here with their father. It was Joanna’s idea so the family could live closer. We paid all the relocation expenses.” Bitterness dripped from his words.

Did Jonathan regret his marriage? Certainly the heartache would leave a question in any man’s mind.

“Was their father at the funeral?” Ryan said.

“He died about three years ago. Heart attack.” Jonathan lifted a bottle of water to his lips. He drank in fully, as though it would give him new stamina. “I appreciate your tag-team approach. Tigo, you’re all about the facts. Ryan, you take a gentler approach, and you’re a man of God. It’s not surprising Linc says you two are the best.” He blew his nose. “I’m okay. Today’s been the worst since the bombing, but I’m committed to whatever it takes to find out who stole my girls’ lives. I firmly believe I was the target, but I know the investigation has to look at every angle.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” Ryan smiled. “We’re not the bad guys, and we’re glad you see that. We have another tough question for you, so brace yourself.”

Jonathan lifted a brow. “All right.”

“Ian has a reputation for being rebellious. We understand you and Joanna didn’t agree about disciplinary measures.”

Jonathan’s eyes sparked. “Guess the FBI finds out everything people try to hide.” His words weren’t harsh but were filled with passion. “I was the lenient one.” He paused. “Lately I’ve been thinking about things. Regarding Ian, she may have been right. He’s the middle child. Doesn’t know where he fits.” He lifted his chin. “But my son would not have attempted to take my life or his mother’s and sister’s.”

“We understand, but we’ll need to talk to him later about the man he saw with his mother. That man might have been David Smith.” Ryan nodded at Tigo to take over.

Tigo hesitated over the direction his questioning needed to take, but the more they learned about Joanna’s personal life, the sooner the current suspects could be narrowed and possible new ones added. “What else can you tell us about Darena and Joanna? Why didn’t they get along? Other than Joanna attempting to break up Darena’s affair with Taylor.”

“One dirty mess after another. Knew you’d find out about it sooner or later.” Jonathan frowned. “Darena was jealous of what Joanna had, every aspect of Joanna’s physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. But my girl never gave up. Loved her sister unconditionally, even when Darena spit in her face.”

“Do you think Darena despised Joanna enough to kill her?”

Jonathan picked up the photo of his family. “I’ve thought about it. She definitely has her own agenda.” Contempt curled the side of his mouth.

“The bomber was a professional.”

“Darena could have hired him. I’ve seen her in action … But murder is a terrible accusation. I did a little research about Semtex,” Jonathan said. “Points more to the bomb having my name on it. Or was that a ruse to throw off investigators? I’m so confused.”

“We’ll get the answers.” Tigo needed to probe further. “We wanted to hear from you about your brother and Darena.”

“How did you find out about those two?”

“I overheard a conversation the day of the funeral.”

“Joanna tried talking some sense into Darena. Her husband adores her, and he’s a good provider. But he lets Darena walk all over him. When Joanna got nowhere with her, I asked Taylor about his unfaithfulness. He said God had put him and Darena together.” Jonathan sighed. “Probably a direct quote from her. My brother knows the consequences of sin. I threatened to go to his wife but didn’t follow through.”

Tigo listened while Jonathan complained about Joanna’s sisters—their selfishness, their repulsive behavior, how they used Joanna. He despised them both.

“Now Darena has her clutches in my brother, a man of God. The church will crumble when this surfaces … I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem.” Jonathan pushed back from his desk. “It’s time to go through Joanna’s and Alexia’s things.”

Tigo studied the anguish on Jonathan’s face. “It’s not our purpose to invade your privacy. We’ll work fast.”

Jonathan stood. “One more thing you should know … The last time Joanna talked to Darena about her affair with Taylor, Darena said she’d see Joanna dead before she allowed her to ruin her life.”

Tigo tucked the statement into his arsenal of questions for Darena’s interview in the morning.

Jonathan opened the office door. “I’ve been sleeping in the guest room since the bombing. Been in the bedroom only for clothes. It feels haunted to me.” He gasped as though reality had suddenly plunged into his heart. “I’ll do anything to get to the bottom of this.”

Joanna and Jonathan’s master bedroom was bigger than Tigo’s living and dining rooms combined, and he had a large home. Windows lined a circular sitting area that overlooked the pool outside, which allowed natural light to focus on a bed that appeared larger than a king. Shades of dark orange and gold added to an opulent feel. A foot-wide wood molding framed a hand-painted ceiling.

Whoa.

Tigo couldn’t imagine such luxury … But wealth may have cost Jonathan the lives of his wife and daughter. The investigation could still lead to a disgruntled worker or someone in competition with Yeat’s Commercial Construction. If someone had been plotting to kill Joanna for a long time, he couldn’t have anticipated the exchange of cars the morning of the bombing. So many scenarios.

“Just do it.” Jonathan shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Maybe an item will trigger a memory. The mattress has already been flipped and the bedding analyzed.”

Tigo didn’t comment on the latter statement. Slipping on latex gloves, Tigo and Ryan painstakingly sorted through each drawer assigned to Joanna. Undergarments were neatly folded. Everything was in place. They repeated the procedure with Jonathan’s drawers. Nothing out of the ordinary. No receipts or purchases. No perfume or jewelry items that Jonathan didn’t know the origin of. When they asked Jonathan about an anniversary necklace containing a diamond surrounded by their children’s birthstones that he had given Joanna five years ago, tears filled his eyes.

A hidden vault behind a picture didn’t offer any leads either.

“I have a safe-deposit box that you’re welcome to search,” Jonathan said. “I went there today to see if I could find anything of question. Found nothing that would help you. According to bank records, I was the last person to examine the contents.”

Tigo wished he’d accompanied Jonathan to the bank. “Did you have your bodyguard take you?”

“No. Drove myself.”

“Jonathan, your sons need you.”

“Sometimes I don’t care. Being strong has lost its significance.”

Ryan searched through Jonathan’s closet while Tigo conducted the daunting task of examining Joanna’s massive wardrobe. He went through every pocket. Even the designer hangers the clothes were hung on must have cost more than his shirts. But at least Joanna had been organized, so the process took less time than Tigo originally anticipated.

A bazillion pairs of shoes were displayed by color on a lit wall, and Joanna’d had almost as many purses. Tigo began with the shoes simply because those were the least likely places to hide something.

Thirteen pairs later, Tigo reached inside a running shoe, the right one. Nothing. When he searched the left one, he found a tiny piece of paper lying flat between the laces and
the shoe tongue. A telephone number had been scribbled on it. Odd that no one had found it before.

“Jonathan, do you recognize this number?”

He looked at the paper and shook his head. “It’s Joanna’s handwriting. I could enter it into our computer and our cell phones for a match.”

“Go for it.”

A few moments later, Jonathan returned. No match.

Tigo flipped open his phone and pressed in the number. The number had been disconnected. He dropped the paper into a plastic bag to analyze later. Joanna’s cell phone records might have this number listed. Maybe it was the same one. A job for the FIG.

A couple of hours later, nothing else suspicious surfaced in Joanna and Jonathan’s room. Nothing led Tigo and Ryan directly to a possible killer.

Alexia’s room was typical for a girl her age—posters of Justin Bieber, stuffed animals, pink and turquoise decor. One end of a white dresser displayed an open music box with a tiny African-American ballerina. At the other end was a stack of DVDs.

“We’re finished here. It’s nearly midnight,” Tigo said. The agents left the room, and Jonathan closed the door behind them. “I know it’s late, but can we talk to Ian?”

“I’m sure neither of the boys is in bed. I can guarantee it. No one’s sleeping in this house. Do you mind waiting a minute? I’ve got to tell them about their mother before it hits the airwaves.”

“Jonathan”—Ryan touched Jonathan’s shoulder—“you’ve had to unload some heavy stuff on your sons lately. Do you want us there with you not as agents but as friends?”

Good idea. Tigo wanted to read their reactions, see if either of the boys let something slip. The thought had a callous edge to it, but it was the truth.

Jonathan glanced out a window facing the gate where the car had exploded. “I thought I was a stronger man than this. If both of you could be there, that would be great.”

In the kitchen, Tigo and Ryan gathered at the table with Jonathan and his sons. The boys were pale, their eyes dull. Though they’d been in the home’s expansive game room, they gave no indication that they’d been enjoying themselves. Jonathan dismissed the bodyguard while they talked.

“Agents Harris and Steadman gave me more information about your mother. Information you boys need to hear,” Jonathan said.

“Can’t be any worse than what’s already happened.” Ian’s antagonistic attitude hadn’t lessened. “What is it this time? Oh, I know. She worked for the CIA.”

“Dad, let’s hear it.” Curt rubbed his face. “I don’t want to find out something about Mom from the news.”

“I don’t want any of us finding out information about her through the media. No matter how heartbreaking.” Jonathan’s soft response indicated his tender regard for his sons. “This one may unlock the identity of the killer.” He rubbed his palms. “While your mother was in college, before she became a Christian, she worked for an escort service and posed for pictures …”

“What kind of pictures?” Ian clenched his fists.

“Do I need to spell it out?” Jonathan said.

Ian exploded in anger. “You mean you didn’t know?”

“She never told me.” Jonathan buried his face in his hands. “The FBI uncovered it today.”

Ian pounded the table. “Did she and Alexia have to die for us to learn this stuff? Did …” His voice trailed off. “That makes me sick. My mom … a slut.”

Curt’s fist smacked against the side of Ian’s face. Ryan caught Ian’s chair before it sent the younger teen backward onto the stone floor.