The Killing Game(44)

“How do you know this? It’s not true!”

“I know people in law enforcement and the DA’s office. You wanted a credible ally. That’s why you hired me in the first place.”

Silence. He could hear her rapid breathing. She was quick to anger, quick to blame, quick to fight. Iris was cut from the same cloth, which said something about him that he wasn’t sure he liked. Maybe that was why Andi had affected him so much. She was calm. She was an observer. She had yet to blame him for something beyond his control, and that in itself was worth its weight in gold.

“I’ll find a way to make you pay,” she threatened.

“Helena, Carlos is a good guy. You can’t make him out to be a Colombian gangster and expect everyone to believe you just because you say it’s true.”

“You’re all the same!” she spat, and then she clicked off as well. This time he feared the finality he hoped for was a distant dream.

He was back at his laptop, writing up the final report for Helena even if he never gave it to her, when his cell phone rang again. This time he recognized the number immediately because he’d been calling it every week for the past six weeks. “Luke Denton,” he answered.

“Mr. Denton, it’s Peg Bellows.”

Her voice held a modicum of reluctance, something he often encountered when people knew they were returning the call of a private investigator.

“Hello, Mrs. Bellows. Thank you for calling me back.” He kept his voice neutral. Now that he finally had her on the phone he didn’t want to scare her by sounding too eager.

“I’ve been unavailable.”

“Sorry about all the messages. I’m in the middle of an investigation and am trying to interview people who’ve had dealings with the Carrera brothers.”

“You don’t have to be shy about it, Detective,” she said dryly. “I know who you are. You want to put the Carreras away.”

Remembering Bolchoy’s warning that she’d been attracted to the brothers in the beginning, he said carefully, “I know you talked to my partner, Roy Bolchoy, after your husband’s death.”

“Do I think Brian Carrera killed him? You bet. Is there something I want to do about it? No. I just want to be left alone. I don’t want any further involvement.”

“I understand, but—”

“Do you? Understand? I doubt it. I put my trust in them and Ted died because of it. Sometimes I can’t even . . . speak . . .” she said, her voice tightening. “The enormity of it all, and it’s my fault.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Luke said softly.

“You’re wrong. It is entirely true. I urged Ted to go on the boating trip, and I knew Brian was going to put the pressure on to sell. I hate this cabin. I wanted to sell. I begged Ted to listen to them. They were offering a good price.”

Luke was getting a different picture than he’d been told. “But Ted didn’t want to.”

“He suffered from nostalgia. His grandfather built the original cabin and, after a fire, his father rebuilt it into what it is today. Ted wouldn’t touch a nail to renovate, so here it remains. The place I’ll most likely die.”

Anger, he thought. Very likely forged from guilt. “Would it be possible to talk to you in person? I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.”

There was a long pause. He really thought she would refuse him. It hung in the air like a dark threat. “I saw you on the news,” she finally said. “When you were interviewed at your partner’s hearing.”

On the steps outside. He hadn’t been the warmest interview. “I was worried about Bolchoy’s chances.”

“I applauded you. Pauline Kirby is an overbearing bitch.”

“Ah . . .” He cleared his throat, fighting a smile. Maybe Bolchoy had been right. She’d seen him and taken his side against the shark reporter.

“I suppose you can come to the cabin,” she said doubtfully.

“If you would prefer to meet somewhere else . . . ?”

“No. I’m not going anywhere, so if you want to stop by today, just give me a time.”

He looked at the clock. Noon straight up. “Two o’clock?” he suggested.

“You know the address?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll see you at two, Mr. Denton. And it’s Peg,” she added.

“And I’m Luke,” he said.

“Luke,” she answered carefully, as if trying it out.

He clicked off, thought about it a second, then reached for the phone to put a call through to Andi. He hesitated with his thumb over her number on his favorites list. It would be better to wait until after his full interview with Peg. He was rushing. Eager to let her know he was making progress on his mission to bring the Carreras to justice. But was he? He had no idea really what Peg Bellows could offer him.

He warred with himself for a few minutes, then grabbed his jacket and headed out into a crisp October afternoon. He would get lunch and go over the case notes he’d written out for himself, part of which were the questions he wanted to ask Ted Bellows’s widow. Preparation. The type of writing he was best at.

She’d been broken after the fate that had befallen her and had retreated from the world. She was proud and alone and refused to be coddled, even when coddling would have fulfilled his own desire to play the hero. He wanted to protect her, wanted to be the one to make her safe, wanted to shine in her eyes....