15th Affair (Women's Murder Club #15)(55)

Downey said to me, “That’s all. You saw the video from fourteen-twenty. Muller gets naked with Chan and the network goes down. End of story.”

“You mind making me a copy of that footage?”

Downey grabbed the laptop away from me and closed the lid.

“Look. I showed you what you asked for. I’ve put my life in danger for this bullshit. I haven’t committed a crime. Now, let me out of here, or I’m getting a serious, no-shit lawyer to sue you in federal court for violating my constitutional rights. Why don’t you think about that?”

There it was. The man had said “lawyer.”

“Thanks for your help, Mr. Downey. You’re free to go. I’ll walk you out.”





CHAPTER 84


BACK AT MY desk, I contacted Monterey PD and spoke with the squad commander, asking if he had new information on Muller. I said, “I’m hoping she’s been seen.”

“No sightings and not a clue,” he said. “The husband calls every day, and every day we have to tell him we’ve got nothing.”

I relayed this subzero news to Brady, who told me that a guy from the forensics lab would be at my apartment at eight the next morning to sweep it for bugs.

I said, “Could you get him to come tonight?”

As usual, our lab was overworked and overwhelmed. And now I was pleading for a tech to check my apartment for spy cams. It was just too freaking sad.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Brady.

At the end of the day, Conklin drove me home and stood watch as I went inside the building. Mrs. Rose brought me up to the last burp in Julie’s day, and after she’d gone home to her apartment across the hall, I ate dinner in front of the TV and had some quality time with my little family.

In the relative quiet, now that I had time to think, something about Jad’s recordings of the action in the hotel rooms started to bother me.

What was wrong with those pictures?

Was it something I’d seen or heard? Or was it something I’d missed? I thought about the two tech kids. I thought about Chan and Muller playing on the hotel sheets. I tried to home in on the nagging feeling and get it to come to Mama.

And then, just as America’s Got Talent was starting, the intercom buzzed and I let Dale Culver, our lab’s top bug-buster, into the apartment.

Julie and I sat in Joe’s big chair while Dale dismantled my phones and passed wands over the light fixtures and under the furniture. When he had finished and packed away his gear, he said, “Sergeant, you are certifiably bug-free.” I thanked the earnest young man for working overtime and put the baby to bed.

I was vigorously scrubbing a pot when my cell phone rang. I stripped off my wet rubber gloves and snatched up the phone without checking the caller ID. I wouldn’t have recognized the number anyway.

I just barely recognized the voice that said, “Lindsay. It’s me.”

“Lindsay’s not here,” I said.

I jabbed the Decline button and tossed my phone onto the counter, where it bounced and clattered. It rang again. After three rings, just before the call went to voice mail, I grabbed the phone and said, “What do you want?”

“I want you to listen to me. Please.”

I walked to the sink and turned off the faucet. “I’m listening,” I said with all the warmth of a frozen bag of peas.

“I found Muller. She’s hiding out north of Vancouver,” Joe said. “I’m flying up there tonight. You should come with me.”

“Why, Joe? Why should I do that?”

He said, “We’ve always worked well together. And I know how much the hotel case means to you.”

“I see,” I said.

“I thought you’d like to be there.”

I called Mrs. Rose. I showered and dressed. I didn’t fully understand what I was doing or why, but surely curiosity was prodding me on. Curiosity is both a strength and a weakness.

Same could be said for loving Joe.





CHAPTER 85


A BLACK SEDAN was idling at the curb downstairs. Joe got out of the driver’s seat and said, “Lindsay. Hi. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a quick look in on Julie.”

I said, “No, Joe. Just—no.”

He said, “OK, OK. I understand.”

He opened the passenger-side door for me and I got in.

When he was in the driver’s seat, I asked again, “Why, Joe? Why do you want me to come with you?”

Joe put the car in gear and said, “I don’t want things to be this way between us.”

I scrutinized Joe as he made filler talk about traffic and weather conditions. He had shaved and was wearing new jeans and a new shirt. He didn’t avoid my gaze. But he did seem removed. Was he remorseful? Ashamed? When he asked me questions, I answered with a similar degree of formality. Julie is fine. Mrs. Rose is a miracle. We’re working some leads on the case, but we’re still scratching away at the surface.

Then I turned on the radio.

We arrived at San Rafael Airport in Marin County, where a Gulfstream jet was warmed up and ready to go. We boarded the plane at just about eleven.

Our seats were separated by an aisle, which seemed appropriate. Joe and I were like strangers. How had such a wide chasm opened between us in only two weeks? I saw him in my mind, having breakfast with Julie. Now I wondered if that sweet domestic scene might have been a little show he’d put on just for me. I slammed the door on the memory.