Keep Quiet(69)

“Hello?” a man answered, but his voice sounded raspy, unlike Voloshin’s.

“I’m looking for Andrew Voloshin. Is he there?” Jake double-checked to see if he’d dialed the correct number, which he had.

“Who’s calling?”

“I’m an … associate of his.” Jake didn’t know who he was talking to, so he chose his words carefully.

“What’s your name? What’s this in reference to?”

Jake decided to stick with the story. “I’m a financial planner that Mr. Voloshin contacted. I need to speak with him.”

“What did you say your name was?”

Jake hadn’t said. He glanced at the clock—9:42. “Jake Buckman of Gardenia Trust. Is Mr. Voloshin in?”

“Mr. Buckman, I’m Detective Zwerling with the Shakertown police. I’m sorry to inform you, but Mr. Voloshin is dead.”





Chapter Thirty-three


“My God!” Jake couldn’t process it quickly enough. It should be good news, but it didn’t feel that way. His blackmailer was dead. His troubles should be over. Relief flooded his system, but it left him shocked. He was stunned. “But he wasn’t old. How did he—”

“Actually, Mr. Buckman, he was murdered. We’ve notified next of kin, and it should be public.”

“When did this happen?”

“Last night. Mr. Buckman, what company did you say you were with?”

“Gardenia Trust.” Jake forced his brain to function. The police were at Voloshin’s apartment. Photos of him and Ryan on Pike Road were in Voloshin’s phone and undoubtedly his computer. The police might have seen them. If so, the police had proof that Ryan was guilty of the hit-and-run. Fear crackled through Jake’s body like electricity.

“Gardenia Trust? Is that local?”

“Yes, in Concord Chase.” Jake tried to sound normal. He told himself maybe the cops hadn’t seen the photo and videos yet.

“Where?”

“In the Bates Mill Corporate Center.”

“We’d like to see you, Mr. Buckman. Would you be available in half an hour?”

“Sure, yes,” Jake answered, because anything else would be suspicious. Why would the cops want to meet with him, if they hadn’t found the photos and video? Would they arrest him in the office? Would they take Ryan at school?

“Mr. Buckman, we’ll see you then.”

“Okay, thanks.” Jake hung up, stricken. His heart thudded in his chest. His first thought was of Pam. He had to tell her about Voloshin. He scrolled to her cell number and pressed CALL, but it rang, then went to voicemail. He left a message, “Honey, call me as soon as you can. It’s very important. I love you.” He hit END and considered calling her chambers, but remembered the court was sitting this week and she would be on the bench.

He rose and began pacing, trying to collect his thoughts. He told himself he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe the police hadn’t collected the phone and laptop for evidence yet. Or maybe Voloshin had password-protected his phone and computer, and the police hadn’t looked through them yet. He didn’t know what time Voloshin’s body had been found or when the police had started investigating.

He paced back and forth. His temples throbbed. He considered calling a lawyer to represent him when the cops came, but it would only make him look guilty. Still it made sense to get some legal advice. He thumbed through his phone log, found Hubbard’s phone number, and pressed CALL. The phone rang, then went to voicemail, but Jake hung up, telling himself to remain calm. He had seen enough TV shows to know he shouldn’t volunteer any information.

He resumed pacing. He remembered that he had called Voloshin last night from the house. He’d have to make sure to mention that to the police, before they got Voloshin’s phone records.

Suddenly Jake stopped stock still, his pacing ceased. If the police had found the photos and the video, then discovered the wire transfer, they could figure out that Voloshin was blackmailing Jake. The police might even suspect Jake of murdering Voloshin. His mouth went dry. His thoughts raced, threatening to run away with him. The blackmail gave Jake a perfect motive for wanting Voloshin dead, and Jake’s only alibi was that he was home with Ryan, who was implicated in the same crime. The police could be coming to question him in connection with Voloshin’s murder.

Jake realized he had to stop the wire transfer. His gaze flew to the desk clock—9:59. The police would be here in no time. He had to get ahold of Harold and reverse the instructions. He raised his phone and pressed Harold’s cell number. The call rang once, twice, then three times and went to voicemail.

Jake heard the beep and left the message, “Harold! Change of plans. Don’t send the money to the account. Do you understand? Call me as soon as you get this message, but in no event should you send the money to the account.” Jake wanted to make sure Harold got the message, so he scrolled to the text function and typed: Harold, Major change of plans. Do NOT send the wire transfer. Call me ASAP. He hit SEND, but still wasn’t satisfied. He pressed the number for Harold’s office at the bank.

The call was answered, “Hello, this is Pennsylvania National’s Wealth Management Group. I’m Marie DiTizio, how can I help you?”

“Hi Marie, it’s Jake, and I have a problem.” Jake knew Marie but he didn’t know if she had been told about the transfer. “I need to reach Harold. He called me this morning, and I know he’s in a meeting. You know where he is?”