When All The Girls Have Gone (25 page)

Max’s phone rang, shattering the oddly companionable silence that had settled on Charlotte’s living room. She looked up from her perch on the sofa where she had been making notes.

Max had been typing names into his computer. He stopped, picked up the phone and glanced at the screen.

“It’s the Loring Police Department,” he said.

He took the call.

“Cutler,” he said.

He listened intently, frowning a little, and then he took his little notepad out of his pocket, picked up a pen and jotted down some notes.

“Right,” he said. “I appreciate the update, Walsh. No, nothing concrete on this end. Yes, I’m still pursuing the investigation. I will. Yes. Thanks.”

He ended the call and looked at Charlotte.

“Roxanne Briggs has disappeared,” he said. “Walsh says he drove back up the mountain today to ask her a few more questions. She was gone. There were no signs of foul play. Evidently she packed up and left.”

“She probably got nervous after her husband was killed. After all, she was married to him for decades. She must have known his secrets.”

“I keep thinking about the issue of timing,” Max said. “We’re looking at a cascade of recent events that all seem to be connected to the attack on Jocelyn over a decade ago. It’s as if a dam that had been holding back the past was suddenly breached.”

“You think that some single event triggered the situation we’re in now?”

“Yes. Whatever it was, it happened in the past few months. When we find it, we’ll be able to see the complete pattern.”

She looked down at her list. “You’re right about the alumni records. There was no problem logging in under Jocelyn’s ID. We’re making progress but not very quickly.”

“Time to call for backup,” Max said.

She glanced up. “Who?”

“Anson is good at this kind of stuff.”

“You’re sure you want me to handle this for you?” Reed Stephens closed the file that Max had placed on his desk. “You don’t owe that family a damn thing.”

Max had been distracting himself by leafing through the morning edition of the newspaper. He tossed the paper aside and got to his feet.

Reed’s office was located in a downtown office tower. He specialized in business law. He was not one of the high-flying merger-and-acquisitions experts, but he had helped several local start-ups and small businesses get off the ground.

More to the point, Reed was well respected within the legal community. Max was counting on that reputation. Charlotte was right. Any halfway decent lawyer would be likely to pay attention to what Reed had to say.

“I can’t think of any other way to get the information in that file in front of Davis Decatur,” he said.

Reed nodded once, stood and went to stand in front of the window. “You dug up a lot of solid information on Simon Gatley. There’s more than enough in that file to take to the feds. Why not start with them?”

“You know how the feds work. If they actually opened a case, it would take them a couple of years to complete the investigation—assuming they ever did. Besides, they like big, headline-grabbing cases. Gatley has been smart enough to keep his operations under the radar. Sure, some investors have lost some money, and at some point in the future the whole Ponzi
scheme will collapse. But taking him down at this point would not be a career-making move for a federal investigator.”

Reed nodded. “You’re right.”

“Everything in that file can be verified by another investigator. I can’t take it to Decatur myself. He’ll assume I’m angling to find a way into the family, that I’m after a share of the Decatur money.”

Reed turned around. “Davis Decatur will probably listen to his lawyer. He might even be convinced by what’s in that file. But his daughter might not want to believe any of it. You know what they say about love being blind.”

“In which case, there’s nothing more I can do.”

“All right. I’ll find out who handles the Decatur family’s personal legal interests and give him or her a call. But no guarantees that this will turn out the way you hope it will.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that. Thanks, Reed.”

Max headed for the door.

“By the way, I’ve got a job coming up,” Reed said. “Corporate security. Are you available?”

“I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“A word of advice, my friend. You’re trying to build a business. You shouldn’t be turning down the kind of work I’m offering. Corporate security is going to be your bread and butter.”

“I’m a one-man company, Reed. You know that.”

“Maybe it’s time to think about expanding. And while we’re on the subject, you also need to get yourself a full-time receptionist. If you don’t have someone available to handle potential clients when they come through the door, you’re going to crash and burn before you ever turn a serious profit.”

“I know you’re giving me good advice, Reed. It’s just that right now I haven’t got time to deal with the logistics of running a business.”

“Make time. Soon.”

“I’ll do that.”

Madison Benson ordered another martini and checked her phone again. Maybe a text message had come in but she just hadn’t heard it. Given the noise level in the crowded hotel bar, it was entirely possible.

There was no new message. She stared at the screen for a moment, trying to ignore the twisted mix of anger and jealousy that threatened to overwhelm her. All right. She was angry. She had a right to be angry. It looked like she was going to be stood up. But she must not allow herself to acknowledge the jealousy. Other women might succumb to that dangerous emotion, but she was not that weak. She was not jealous. She was furious. Big difference.

But they were supposed to be business partners, not just lovers.

How much longer was she going to give him? She had to draw a line and make it stick.

But she knew that it was unlikely that she would ever meet another man who was capable of arousing such passion in her. Everything about him excited her. He was strong—as strong as she was; willing to do what had to be done to achieve his objectives. He was charismatic and ruthless; her true mate. They came from very different backgrounds, but she was certain that, deep down, they understood each other. There was a bond between them.

She had grown up poor, the only child of a single mother who had been addicted to drugs and abusive men. One of the bastards had felt no compunction about raping his girlfriend’s pretty, blond-haired daughter.

But she had overcome her past. She had learned very fast that her good looks and her intelligence gave her power. She had figured out how to use that power. She was a self-made woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.

She had run a number of scams in the course of her career, but the strategy of targeting abusive men had proven particularly satisfying. Each time she and the other members of the club took down one of their targets she had remembered the bastard who had raped her. He had been dead for several years now. She had taken great pleasure in confronting him in the parking lot of a bar one night. She had made quite certain he knew who she was before she shot him dead.

She sipped the martini and pondered her options. She would give her lover twenty minutes, she concluded. Just long enough for her to finish her drink. If he did not show up by that time, she would leave. She would have no choice. She was just as strong and just as ruthless as he was. She would not allow him to treat her as anything less than his equal. She was not her mother.

Thirty minutes later he walked into the bar. She was still sitting alone in the booth, having made up an endless series of excuses for not leaving at the twenty-minute mark.

She watched him make his way through the crowd. By the time he got to the booth, her pulse was skittering with anticipation.

“Sorry I’m late,” Trey Greenslade said. “Got delayed at the old lady’s birthday reception.”

She kept her smile very cool. “I was just about to leave.”

He sat down beside her.

“Good thing you didn’t,” he said. “It’s been a hell of a day. I need a drink. I also need you. I need your help.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’ve got to get control of the situation before that damn investigator who’s looking into Flint’s death causes any more trouble. That means we’ve got to find a way to bring in Jocelyn Pruett. You said you might be able to do that.”

“Maybe.” She could negotiate, too. “What’s in it for me?”

He smiled. “How about a seat on the Loring-Greenslade board?”

She thought about that. The Keyworth buyout was going to be big—far and away the biggest deal she had ever done—but the profits paled in comparison to the kind of money that sloshed around the pharmaceutical industry. And Loring-Greenslade was a prime takeover target.

“I’ll take the seat on the board,” she said. “I also want shares in the company—a controlling interest.”

Trey’s brows rose. “You play hardball.” He smiled. “I like that about you.”

“Then we have a deal?”

“We have a deal.”

Too easy. Did he think she was a fool? He was convinced he was playing her. But the reality was that she was playing him.

A thrill of passion and excitement snapped through her. Trey might be the most exciting man she had ever met, but she did not trust him. She could never trust any man.

She was wearing a tiny, state-of-the-art digital recorder under her very short skirt. When she got home that night, she would copy the contents into the computer file she had created on Trey Greenslade.

With luck she would never need to use the file to protect herself, but a woman couldn’t be too careful. When you slept with the devil, it seemed like a good idea to have some leverage.

“Damn, but it’s good to see you, Jocelyn,” Madison said. “I was afraid you were dead—just like Louise. You do know that Emily has disappeared, don’t you? I have no idea where she is or even if she’s alive.”

“I sent the code,” Jocelyn said. “She’s probably in hiding. That was the plan—your plan. What is going on?”

“The plan didn’t do Victoria any good. She’s in intensive care at a hospital over on the coast.”

“Oh, shit. What happened? How did he find her?”

“I have no idea. They’re calling it a carbon monoxide accident—something about old trailer heaters being prone to that kind of thing. But given what’s been going on, I’m not buying it.”

“I’m here because you used the code word that we agreed would be used only if my stepsister was in danger,” Jocelyn said. “But I made an anonymous call to the door station at Charlotte’s apartment building. I said I wanted to deliver some flowers to Charlotte. The doorman didn’t seem concerned. Said he would make sure she got them. Charlotte’s okay. So what the hell is going on?”

Jocelyn had been very careful to arrive ahead of the agreed-upon meeting time. After driving past the roadside restaurant, she had left the car she had rented with a fake ID on a side road. She had made her way back through the woods and waited for Madison.

She had been the first one in line when the library had opened that
morning. The coded message had been waiting in her email inbox. It had been sent during the night. She had responded immediately and then driven hard and fast to make the rendezvous point. It was now late morning. There weren’t many cars in the small parking lot. When Madison had arrived it was clear that she was alone. No other vehicle had pulled into the parking lot behind her. When Jocelyn had walked out of the woods to join her, Madison’s relief had been unmistakable.

Now they sat at one of the small tables, drinking bad coffee out of cheap paper cups. Jocelyn was vaguely aware of being hungry, but the smell of stale grease emanating from the kitchen was not appetizing. She reminded herself that she had a wedge of cheddar cheese and some bread and dill pickles in the rental car.

“Here’s the problem,” Madison said. “I don’t know what is going on with Charlotte, but I think she may be in real trouble. She was nearly killed a few days ago.”

Jocelyn’s stomach knotted. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you know that Charlotte has hooked up with a private investigator?”

“Why? She thinks I’m in the Caribbean.”

“She knows you’re not at that convent.”

“Damn. This is all getting so complicated. I wanted to keep her out of this mess. What made her think I wasn’t at the retreat?”

“You can probably blame Cutler. He’s the PI. He’s the one responsible for dragging Charlotte into this thing. Louise’s cousin hired him to look into Louise’s death. I guess Cutler somehow connected it to your disappearance.”

“How? It makes no sense.”

“All I can tell you is that he has dragged Charlotte into his investigation,” Madison said. “It gets worse. For some reason the two of them drove to Loring.”

“What? Why?”

“Evidently they went there to talk to Egan Briggs. That’s how Charlotte almost got killed.”

Jocelyn’s head was starting to spin. It was her worst nightmare, she thought, and somehow she had given Charlotte a starring role.

She tried to concentrate, to focus.

“Why would they go to see Briggs?” she asked.

“Apparently they wanted to interview him about Louise.”

“What could he possibly know about her? Briggs and Louise never even met.”

“I don’t know, but evidently when Cutler and Charlotte attempted to drive down out of the mountain, Briggs deliberately used his vehicle to push theirs into a river.”

“Oh, my God,” Jocelyn whispered again.

It was too much. Overwhelming. She had put all of them, including Charlotte, in danger.

The snowballing disaster was her fault. She was the one who had been unable to let the past stay buried.

“I’m on my way to Sea-Tac,” Madison said. “I’m going to Mexico. I would have caught an earlier flight, but I felt I had to warn you first.”

“Thank you. You’re a good friend.” Jocelyn rubbed her temples, but the spinning sensation was getting worse. “At least . . . at least Charlotte has that investigator—Cutler—with her. She’s not alone.”

“No, but you should know that the bastard who is hunting us is doing his or her damnedest to make it look like you’re the killer. I think Cutler is convinced that is the case.”

“What?” Jocelyn raised her head so quickly she nearly fainted. “Why? What possible motive could I have for murdering Louise and the rest of you?”

“The Keyworth deal,” Madison said.

Jocelyn felt a great weight crushing her. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand.”

“Back at the start it was going to be a five-way split. Now it’s a four-way split. If Victoria doesn’t survive, it’s a three-way split.”

The shock stole Jocelyn’s breath for a few seconds.

“You can’t possibly believe I’m the one who murdered Louise and tried to kill Victoria,” she finally whispered.

“Of course not. If I thought that was the case, I wouldn’t have asked you to meet me here. But I’ve been going crazy thinking about what happened to Louise and what almost happened to Victoria. I know this is going to sound like some kind of wild conspiracy theory, but I’ve come to the conclusion that we have a traitor in our midst. She’s been there all along, waiting for her opportunity. I think she’s decided to score big with the Keyworth deal—by getting rid of the rest of us.”

Jocelyn closed her eyes. “Emily.”

“Think about it. If Louise and Victoria and I are dead, you and Emily will be the last ones standing. And if Emily manages to make you look guilty of murdering the rest of us, she can kill you, too, and claim it was self-defense.”

“No.” Jocelyn opened her eyes. “Emily isn’t the one behind this. It’s him, the bastard who raped me. I’ve got to find him, Madison. I have to pull him out into the open and finish this once and for all.”

“I wish you all the luck in the world, but I can’t help you. Like I said, I’m getting as far away from this mess as possible. From where I’m sitting it looks like neither of us will be safe until after the buyout happens.”

Jocelyn shook her head, trying to clear it. But her thoughts were chasing each other in tighter and tighter circles.

“Cutler,” she said, trying to focus on the name.

Madison frowned. “What about him?”

“You said he was hired to investigate Louise’s death and now he’s looking for me.”

“Because he thinks you killed Louise.”

Jocelyn drank some coffee, hoping the caffeine would steady her nerves. “Maybe my best option is to come out into the open. I’ll contact Charlotte. Let her know I’m safe. Then I’ll talk to the PI. Tell him everything I know. We can pool our resources. Maybe if we work together we can find the bastard before he kills again.”

Madison’s expression tensed. “Do whatever you think is best, but I’m warning you that at the rate this thing is going down, there’s a good possibility that you’re the one who will be arrested for murder. I know that
Charlotte will believe you’re innocent, but Cutler won’t. He struck me as pretty damn cold, to be honest.”

“I’ll have to take my chances,” Jocelyn said. Another wave of dizziness swept through her. She really needed to eat. “This is my fault. I brought the devil out of hiding.”

“What do you mean?”

“Long story. I can’t go into it now. I’ve got to contact Charlotte, try to find a way to protect her.”

“Do what you have to do.” Madison glanced at her watch and slipped out of the booth. “I have to move. I brought some extra cash with me. Figured you might be running low and I know you don’t want to use your credit cards.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, Madison,” Jocelyn said.

She used both hands to set her cup down on the table and pushed herself up out of the booth with an effort of raw will. She was exhausted, she realized. She’d been sleeping poorly for days now and it was catching up with her. Getting the coded warning from Madison had been the last straw.

She followed Madison out of the restaurant, stumbling a little over the front step.

Madison took her elbow to steady her. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Jocelyn took a deep breath. “I’m just tired.”

“No wonder, given what you’ve been through. Where’s your car?”

“Parked it a little ways from here. Wanted to make sure you weren’t followed.”

“No one followed me. Trust me, I kept an eye on my rearview mirror all the way from Seattle.”

Jocelyn realized she was feeling oddly numb. “I need to sit down, Madison.”

“Here you go.” Madison opened the back door of her sedan and eased Jocelyn into the seat. “I’ll drive you to where you parked your car.”

Jocelyn tried—and failed—to focus. A shock of understanding cleared her brain for a few seconds.

“Bitch,” she whispered. “You drugged me. The coffee.”

“Stop fighting it and go to sleep, Jocelyn.”

“Am I going to wake up?” Jocelyn asked. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was slurring her words.

“Of course you’re going to wake up. But first you need to sleep. Why don’t you lie down?”

Madison accompanied the suggestion with a slight shove. Jocelyn collapsed onto her side. For a few seconds she stared, bemused, at the back of the front seat, trying to understand how she could have been so stupid.

I always thought that Charlotte was the naïve one, the one who was too trusting
.

So much had gone wrong. She could only hope that the unknown Max Cutler would be able to take care of Charlotte.

Sorry, little sister. I screwed up
.