Grave Danger (42 page)

Mark remembered an important point from his argument with Libby a week ago, when she justified going through Angela’s boxes. She had wondered why the Kalahwamish would grant Angela—Lyle Montgomery’s granddaughter—access to study them. Now he understood. Frances Warren set Angela on a path to find the will and then aided her research as much as possible.

Cold dread ran through him. Rosalie Warren had done essentially the same thing for Libby when she told her to follow Angela’s research. Could one of the Montgomerys be Libby’s stalker? Were they trying to get her thrown off the project before she followed Angela’s research all the way to the will?

“This opens up the suspect list considerably,” he resumed. “We need to look at the activities of the Montgomerys—all of them—during the time Angela disappeared. Did they provide statements to the police in 1979, detailing their whereabouts?”

“They weren’t considered suspects at the time, sir,” Sara said. “I’ll check the file and keep my fingers crossed.” She reached for the older investigation files.

Out in the hallway there was a commotion. The dispatcher called out, “Where is the chief?”

Mark jogged to the end of the corridor to the dispatcher’s desk. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a homicide at 24 Bay View Way.”

His chest froze. Libby lived at 22 Bay View Way.

“The victim?” he asked.

“Eli Banks. He was stabbed. His housekeeper just found him.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
F
OUR

S
OMEONE POUNDED ON THE DOOR
of the Shelby house, startling Libby from a deep, dreamless sleep. A moment later, her cell phone began to ring and vibrate on the nightstand. Caller ID said Simone.

“What?” she growled into the phone.

“Thank God you’re okay! Open the front door! We need to talk! I have coffee. Have you heard about your neighbor?”

Groggy, Libby couldn’t respond to the rapid-fire sentences. She shook her head to clear it. “I’ll be right down. Keep your panties on.” Her clothes were in a pile next to the bed. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and headed downstairs. After shutting off the alarm, she opened the door.

“You look like hell.” Simone breezed by and walked straight to the dining room. She pulled up the blinds. The window faced the house next door—Eli Banks’ home.

“I love you, too,” Libby said. “Why aren’t you at the site?”

“Everything’s fine at the site. I’m here because your neighbor was found murdered this morning. The police are there now.”

Fear cleared the bleariness from Libby’s mind.
Eli Banks. Murdered
. She stepped up to the window and looked across the small side yard that ran between the two houses. Sara Eversall crossed Eli’s dining room. The officer caught Libby’s gaze, made a beeline for the window, and with a tight smile closed the blinds.

With nothing to see next door, Libby faced Simone. “How did you hear about Eli Banks?”

Simone handed Libby one of the two lattes she held. “Mark called the site. It was an off-the-record sort of call. I gather he believes you now.”

“Doesn’t make any difference. He’s a cop first. Lover last. Jerk in between.”

Simone ignored her. “He said he wanted me to check on you. He’d tried to call you, but you didn’t answer—he figured you saw his name on caller ID and were ignoring him, but he wants to know if you’re okay.” She took a large gulp of her latte before she continued. “Basically, I told him to check on you himself if he was that concerned.”

“Don’t do me any favors.”

“He said he couldn’t, that your next-door neighbor had been stabbed to death and he was needed at the scene. He told me to page him, adding 10-34 to my phone number if you didn’t respond, and 10-99 if you were okay. I paged him while waiting for you to unlock the door.”

“10-99?”

“Police code for duty completed, everything’s fine—or secure, or something—that’s what he told me, anyway.”

“And 10-34?”

“Trouble, help needed. I think.” Simone gazed out the window. “I’m sure someone will be coming over to question you. Being next door, and all.”

“You mean being their prime suspect, and all.”

Simone did a double take. “What?”

“That neighbor is the guy who said I planted the gas cans. With him dead, they have no witness. No witness, no case. They could say I had a strong motive.”

“To turn a weak attempted arson charge into Murder One? I don’t think so.”

Simone had a point. Libby paced the room. It
did
sound ridiculous. But the Montgomerys had framed her once. If they killed their accomplice, they would certainly want to pin that on her as well. How could they frame her this time?

The answer came to her in a rush. She sucked in a breath. “My hairbrush has been missing since the night I was attacked.”

“So?” Simone said, clearly confused.

“I’ve looked for it everywhere. What if my attacker took it so he’d have strands of my hair to leave on Eli Banks’ body?”

“Whoa. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I was framed once. They could be doing it again. He was stabbed?”

“That’s what Mark said.”

Libby entered the kitchen and stared at the knife block. One slot was empty. Cold dread ran through her. “One of the knives is missing.” She found it difficult to breathe and tried to remember when she’d last used the knife. But she’d barely entered the kitchen this week. She’d chosen to skip meals rather than spend time in this room that still—in her mind—smelled of gasoline and pain.

“Libby, tell me what’s happening.”

A cold calm descended on her. She wasn’t a clueless victim anymore. She knew what was going on and could use what she knew to clear herself. “C’mon upstairs. I’ll tell you while I shower and get dressed. I want to be ready when the police get here.”

Simone leaned against the sink while Libby showered, all the while relaying the details of her investigation into Angela’s research, her suspicions about why she was harassed, and why she was attacked.

“So who do you think is behind this? Surely not Jason?”

Libby added conditioner to her hair and massaged her scalp. “I’m not ready to trust him. I’m not ready to trust anyone who stands to lose twenty-five million dollars if that will is found.”

“He was nine. He couldn’t have killed his mother.”

“I know that. But he has a lot to lose now. He could be involved. I want to trust him, but I can’t.”

Simone was quiet.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that he’s worked awfully hard to clear you when he has a lot of other stuff on his plate. I’m thinking your suspicions are pretty shitty.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel great.” She rinsed her hair and shut off the shower. She stood in the tub, glad to be behind an opaque curtain, so Simone couldn’t see how much her comment bothered her. “People can be foolish when money and family are at stake.”

“Jason is interested in you.”

“No, he’s not. Not really. His actions toward me have been…forced. Feigned interest could be a front to get more information and catch me off-guard.” She reached around the curtain and grabbed a towel and began to dry off. “Please don’t tell Jason what I’ve told you. You can’t tell anyone. If the Montgomerys know I’m looking for the will, then I won’t be able to interview them.” She stepped out of the shower and headed for her bedroom. Simone followed.

“Being alone with one of them should be the last thing you do right now.”

“I have an interview scheduled with Earl at four this afternoon.” She collected underwear and clothing for the day. “Maybe I’ll find out something important. It must be one of them. My money is on Laura.”

“You shouldn’t go to the interview alone.”

“I have a gun.”

Simone startled. “You’re serious.”

“Very.”

She flopped down on the bed. “What do we do now?”

“Find the will.”

A
T ONE IN THE AFTERNOON,
Mark took a break from the Banks murder investigation and went to Libby’s. She didn’t answer his knock. He walked toward the street and looked up at her office. He could see her looking through the open window. “Libby, answer the damn door,” he shouted.

She would make the coming conversation as difficult as possible. He knew he had it coming, but she also needed to look at the situation from his point of view. He might have been wrong about her, but his actions as a cop were not only justified, they were necessary.

When she finally answered the door, the rush he experienced shocked him. Smart, funny, earthy, and beautiful. Libby was everything he wanted. But her expression was cold. Scary cold. “Chief Colby. What a surprise to see you.”

In a perfect world, this would be the time when he melted her icy reserve. But this world was so far from perfect, and he had an investigation that took priority over his miserable, screwed-up love life. “Cut the crap, Libby.” He entered the house and closed the door. “You know why I’m here.”

“If you’re here to search the house, then you’ve entered without permission or a warrant. Anything you find won’t be admissible in court.”

Damn, she really wanted to push his buttons. He had a lot to make up for, but when it came to his job, he wouldn’t hesitate to push back. “Do you want to do this at the police station, with your lawyer present?”

“Not particularly.”

“As a material witness, I have every right to detain you.”

Her eyes were as green and cold as the bay outside her front window. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” he said and meant it. Hell, if she were at the station, at least he’d know she was safe, protected.

Her bravado left her and she looked afraid. Of him. Dammit. He was fucking this up, again. He pulled her to him. “You’ll never know how relieved I was to receive Simone’s page today.”

She pulled away. “Don’t touch me.”

“You can be angry with me all you want. I’m still glad you’re okay.”

“What do you want?”

“Did you see or hear anything next door between three and four this morning?”

She shook her head. “I was asleep. Besides, these walls are thick—built when lumber was cheap and milled just a block away. An explosion could go off next door and I wouldn’t hear it.”

The requisite question about the Banks murder out of the way, he could zero in on why he’d really come to talk to her. “Tell me what you know about the will.”

“Will?” she asked.

“You flinched, Libby. I’ve finally realized something that I should have guessed before—it would have saved us a lot of trouble. You’re a terrible liar.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But you had me arrested because I’m such a fantastic liar.”

“No. You were arrested because we had overwhelming evidence against you. Now tell me about the will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” He strode to the kitchen. He paused a moment on the threshold, caught for a moment with the image of Libby bound on the floor. He shook the memory off and entered the room. Even though his subsequent actions had been justified, in remembering what she’d gone through, he recognized it wouldn’t be easy to bridge the gap between them. But he wouldn’t give up even if it took every damn day of his sorry life.

He picked up the empty coffee pot and began filling the reservoir with water. Time to focus on the job. He had an assault and two murders to solve. “Don’t make this difficult. This is important. We’ll deal with our relationship later.” He reached for the coffee canister and noticed the empty slot in the knife block next to it.

“We don’t have a—” She stopped talking when he pulled out a blade.

He studied the manufacturer’s mark. The knives were expensive and German made but not uncommon. They’d found only a set of cheap Chinese knives in Eli’s house. He glanced at the sink. It was spotless, no dishes or knives waiting to be washed. “You’re missing a knife.”

“I noticed that this morning, after Simone told me Eli had been stabbed.”

“Which knife is missing?”

She walked up to the block and pulled out a large chef’s knife. “This is the ten-inch. The missing one must be the eight-inch.”