She Who Watches (18 page)

“I'm sorry, Detective Bennett. I've had to screen my calls. The media won't leave us alone. They're camped out on my front lawn, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Dana said. “Detective McAllister and I would like to come by for an interview. I can only imagine how difficult all of this is for you, but we are taking over the case from the FBI and really need to speak with you personally.”

“Can't you just read the files? I told the FBI guys everything I know.”

Dana apologized again. “Since this has become a murder investigation, we basically need to start over.”

“OK. Um—why don't you come over now? Chloe's asleep and probably will be for the next two hours.”

“Thanks, Scott. We'll be there in about thirty minutes.”

“Do I need a lawyer present?”

“You're certainly welcome to one if you feel it's necessary.” Dana glanced over at Mac.

“Am I a suspect?”

“No. However, we will need to rule you out as one.”

“I understand.”

“Good. We'll see you shortly.” Dana pinched her lips together and ended the call.

“He didn't want to talk to us?” Mac straightened and moved away from the desk he'd been leaning against.

“No, and I don't blame him.” Dana pulled on her suit jacket.

“He's being hounded by the press.”

“We will be too,” Mac predicted. And they were. Reporters pressed in on them en mass as they maneuvered the car through them toward the Watsons' house.

As they pulled up into the circular drive, Mac noticed a woman holding a bag and ringing the doorbell. “Looks like he has company.” Scott opened the door and took the proffered bag. He was thanking the woman as Mac turned off the motor. “What do you suppose that's all about?”

“Probably a casserole or something like it.”

“Hmm. I wish somebody would bring me casseroles,” Mac mumbled as they exited the car. His fridge was empty again and would probably stay that way until they resolved Sara's death.

Scott Watson opened the door before they rang the bell. With a phone to his ear, he motioned them inside. “I'll be with you in a second; make yourself at home.”

“You taking notes this time?” Mac asked Dana.

“Sure, I think I'm up.” They both stood in the living room until Scott came in with some bottled waters and extended one to each of them.

“No thanks,” they said in concert.

“We just ate,” Dana explained. “Thank you, though.”

“I've got a ton of food, getting more meals and drinks from friends and neighbors than we can eat. Guess I'll have to put some of the stuff in the freezer.” Scott nodded toward the phone. “That was my secretary, Jackie. She's a lifesaver right now—been keeping my business afloat while I try to pick up the pieces. Everyone's been so helpful, from friends and family to complete strangers. Especially Claire. She and Allysa are still here, but I imagine they'll be going home after the funeral.”

“She was here for a long time.”

“She loved Sara. We both did.” He frowned. “It's not what you think, Detective. There's nothing going on between Claire and me.”

Having seen them together, Mac wasn't sure he believed him. He and Claire may have loved Sara, but what if they loved each other more?

EIGHTEEN

S
o what kind of work do you do?” Mac asked Scott, settling into the actual interview.

“I'm an engineering partner in a firm in old town—Watson, Simons, and Keller. Patrick Simons and Donovan Keller and I are good friends; we started the business from the ground up after college.”

“That's right; I remember reading that somewhere,” Mac said.

“So what can I help you guys with? I've given my statement, blood, and hair samples, and I've even taken a lie detector test. I didn't have anything to do with my wife's death.” Scott's demeanor had changed since Saturday. He was back to looking like a professional.

“We've read through the interviews, but we'd like to have you go through the events that led up to Sara's disappearance and maybe ask a few questions that weren't asked before.”

He bit into his lower lip and frowned. “Sure. I'm sorry; I know you're only doing your jobs. I feel like I'm outside looking in right now, you know? It has been so long since Sara disappeared, and I've gone through so many emotions—hope, anger, remorse. I'm glad it's over. Not the outcome I'd hoped for, but at least now I can get on with things. I just want her killer caught and locked up before he can do this to someone else. Where do you want me to start?”

“How would you describe your relationship?”

“Good. I mean, really good. I was crazy about Sara.”

“Tell us about the day she disappeared,” Mac said. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

“You probably already know this, but Sara got off work early because we had guests coming for the weekend. I got a message from my secretary that Sara had called while I was in a meeting to let me know her car had been broken into. I wish now my secretary would have let me know right away. Of course, she had no way of knowing what would happen. She feels terrible about it.” Scott shook his head. “I'd have told Sara to call the police. I don't know why she didn't. Guess now I never will.”

“You came home early that day?”

“Yes. About the same time I got the message about the car, our day-care provider called wanting to know when one of us would be by to pick up Chloe. That's when I started to get worried. According to the day-care worker, Sara was supposed to have picked her up around three. As soon as I got the message about the car, I tried Sara's cell phone. She didn't answer, so I went directly over to pick up our daughter and came home. Claire called while I was on my way. She got here around four and found the front door unlocked and Sara's car in the driveway with the window broken. Claire was pretty shaken up, and I called the police right away.”

“So you knew that someone had broken into her car,” Mac said. “Did you know the garage remote was missing too?”

“No, it wasn't missing,” Scott clarified. “I told the FBI agents this, so it's probably in the notes, but Sara had given me her garage remote to replace the batteries about a week before she disappeared. She was using the keypad to get into the garage.”

“OK.” Mac made a mental note that the killer could have had the keypad combination to gain entrance to the Watsons' home.

“What kind of meeting were you in, and who was present?” Mac asked.

“Do you mean can someone substantiate my story? Yes. One of my partners, Patrick, was there, along with two of our attorneys and about a half-dozen clients on a major project we're working on.

We're remodeling an old brewery into upscale condos and a shopping center. I supplied a list of the people at the meeting to the FBI.”

Mac nodded. “Go ahead and continue with the events that day.

What happened next?”

“After that, it was pretty much a blur. I called people Sara might have contacted, but no luck. The police came and the FBI. Dale got them involved right away. I couldn't believe she was gone. All those questions and. . . .” He paused and looked over at Mac. “I still can't believe it. Why would anyone want to kill Sara?”

“Has anyone attempted to contact you with regard to a ransom—anything like that?”

“No calls, just those threatening letters to Dale—her uncle, um, Senator Wilde.”

Mac glanced at Dana, a little surprised that Scott knew about the letters when the feds hadn't even told the OSP detectives. But again, there had been mention of it by the press. “What letters are you referring to?” Mac asked, making sure he wasn't leading Scott in the interview.

“The letters from the Native Americans demanding that Dale change his position on the casino in the gorge. The FBI was looking into it. We didn't know if they were a hoax or the real thing. Dale thought whoever had written those letters might have been responsible for Sara's disappearance.”

“Did you see the letters?”

“No, but he told me about them. The letters kept coming, even after Sara disappeared, only they got worse. The senator was told to back off and allow the casino to be built, or Sara would be killed. I thought the letter writer was the prime suspect.”

“Where did you hear this?”

“From Sara's uncle. He had his staff turn the letters over to the FBI and told me to keep the information to myself so I wouldn't jeopardize the investigation.”

“Do you have any idea how the media got hold of the story?”

“Not a clue. It wasn't from me, that's for sure. Dale and I were worried that those articles might have gotten Sara killed.”

“How so?”

Scott shrugged. “Maybe they thought the senator was playing them, and they got mad. That's assuming the person who wrote the letters kidnapped her in the first place.”

“What kind of relationship did Sara have with her uncle?”

“He was like a father to her. Her parents died when she was in grade school. Her uncle didn't come around much after we got married, but since she disappeared, he checks in with me and Chloe at least once a week, or he has Grant do it. His wife, Anne, comes over nearly every day. They've been supportive—they even hired a groundskeeper for us. Dale and Anne are devastated about the way things turned out. Dale blames himself.”

“How so?” Mac reached for one of the water bottles and twisted the cap.

“He didn't change his stand on the casino situation. You can't succumb to demands like that. We both thought the FBI would be able to track down the person who wrote the notes. He'll feel even worse if it turns out to be true.”

“If what turns out to be true?” Mac asked.

“If Sara's murder is related to his political position—you know, to opposing the casino.”

“Tell me about this Grant person you mentioned.”

“Grant Stokely. He's Dale's assistant; chief of staff, I think, is his official title. Grant is the one who usually calls to check on us and arranges times when the senator can visit. He'd be the one who told Dale about the letters.”

Mac jotted the information on his pad. “Do you know if Senator Wilde took a polygraph? I see in the case file that he was interviewed.”

“I wouldn't know. I assume so, since the rest of us were asked. I didn't really like the idea, but I didn't want to throw up any red flags or complicate things. You'd have to ask the FBI agents to be sure, but I'm sure Dale cooperated to the fullest.”

“We'll look into it.” Mac made a note to check the files. “Now, Mr. Watson, I have a few questions to ask that we could both do without. Let me apologize ahead of time as some will probably seem inappropriate, but we have to ask them.”

“OK, you have my attention.” Scott sat forward.

“Is there any indication Sara was having an extramarital affair or seeing anyone else?”

Scott sucked in his cheeks. “Boy, you really hit below the belt, don't you? I suppose anything is possible, but Sara and I were happy. If she was having an affair, she hid it very well.”

“Do you suppose it's possible?”

“No. Are you thinking she was seeing someone and that I killed her?” He seemed defensive now and angry.

“I'm sorry to upset you, but like I said, we have to ask some very unpleasant questions if we are going to find out who's responsible for her death. We need to cover all the bases. Did you or Sara have any enemies, anyone who might want to hurt you or your wife?”

“No. Everything was aboveboard in my professional life. I mean, we bid jobs with other engineering firms, but I've never heard of professionals in my business holding grudges to this degree. Sara worked for an ad agency and got along with everybody.”

“I've heard advertising is a cutthroat business.”

“It can be, but Sara never seemed to have any problems.”

“Do you owe any substantial debt to disreputable collectors?”

“We're financially sound. You can check my bank records if you want. We owe on our home, but that's about it. I only deal with banks, no loan sharks or anything, if that's what you're asking.”

“What about you, Scott—any jealous girlfriends?”

Scott blew out a long breath. “Absolutely not. Sara and I were happy. We loved each other and Chloe.”

“OK, that's all I have for now.” Mac looked over at Dana. “Detective Bennett?”

“Yes. I have a couple of questions. Did your wife spend a lot of time on the Internet?”

“What, like she might have set up a meeting with some chat room predator?”

“It may sound far-fetched, but these days . . .”

“I see your point. I read about that attorney who set up a meeting with someone he met in a chat room, and they killed him. No, she didn't have time for stuff like that. Neither did I. She worked and came home and took care of Chloe. She has e-mail, but she even complained about that taking too much time.”

“Did she have her own computer here?” Dana asked.

“We shared one in our office upstairs,” Scott said.

“We may need to look at it.”

“The FBI agents checked her files, but you're welcome to take another look.” Scott leaned back against the cushions, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you. If you don't mind, we'll take it with us.”

“For how long?”

“Hopefully, just a few days.”

“What if I refuse?”

“We'd get a warrant; but letting us take it will save us all a lot of grief.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Go ahead. I don't think you'll find anything on it anyway. Just try to get it back as soon as possible. I bring work home sometimes.” Mac completed a search-by-consent form after Dana asked the question, handing the form to Dana for Scott to sign. Although Scott was cooperating now, the form would verify that he was consenting to the seizure of his computer and to have the hard drive analyzed by a forensic expert. The form might come in handy at trial if he was ever implicated. After explaining the form and the extent of the examination, Dana secured Scott's signature.