Constance (Constance #1)(53)
“Because I found a dead body and all you really want to talk about is how Levi Greer was at the farm with me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Clarke glanced up at the camera as if looking for confirmation. “You’re not wrong.”
She replayed her conversation with Greer. He’d been a lot of things, but she hadn’t gotten the feeling he’d killed his wife. And what kind of murderer begged you to lead the police to the body? One who hadn’t known his wife had a clone or a GPS chip. He’d have had no choice but to appear super proactive and helpful to cover his ass.
“You really think it’s him?” she asked.
“Oh, I know it’s him. He’s being questioned in Richmond as we speak. Truth is, we’ve been looking at him since the beginning. He always claimed his wife ran off, but a woman goes missing? Start with the man in her life. Especially if the wife is having an affair.”
“An affair?” Con said, genuinely shocked. She’d never cheated in her life, not unless you counted Billy Tomlinson in the sixth grade.
“Looks that way. The GPS data from her vehicle shows Constance D’Arcy was making regular trips to Charlottesville whenever Greer was on the road with the team. She’d stay overnight but never in a hotel. No debit or credit purchases while she was there either—not so much as a stick of gum. Always left her car in the same public garage, including when she disappeared. Almost like she didn’t want anyone to know where she was going or who she was seeing.”
“That doesn’t mean she was having an affair.”
“Makes no difference either way. All that matters is what Greer believed. And he sure thought so. Witness statements from his neighbors describe constant fighting in the house. We’re in the process of getting a warrant to access his LFD, but text messages between Greer and his teammates don’t paint a flattering picture. The wife of one of his teammates who works at a domestic violence shelter says she confronted D’Arcy about bruises on her arm and cheekbone a month ago, but D’Arcy said it was an accident.”
“So if you know all this, why do you need me to say he was at the farm?”
“First off, because he was. You know it, and I know it. He missed practice yesterday, called out sick after your visit but wasn’t at home all day.” Clarke leaned against the edge of the table and flipped through his notebook. “Greer owns two vehicles. A 2039 Mercedes SUV, and a 2012 Ford Mustang Boss 302. Guess which one he took? Here’s a hint—it’s the thirty-year-old vintage sports car with no auto-drive navigation system. So where was he all day?”
“What does Greer say?”
“Says he drove up into the Shenandoah to do some thinking. Conveniently the part of Virginia with the fewest surveillance cameras. Turned off his LFD too. Said he wanted to be alone. Zero digital footprint. We’re checking it out, but no one is going to say they saw him up there.”
“Why?” Con asked.
“Because he was at the farm with you,” Clarke said with utter certainty. “All the evidence I have is circumstantial, so if he lied and was at the farm with you, then I’ve got him. What I don’t know is why you’re protecting him.” Clarke sat back down, downshifting into a soothing, reasonable tone of voice. “Look, I was hard on you back in DC, I can admit that. So if you made a deal with Greer to help him tamper with the crime scene or destroy evidence—”
Con shot forward in her seat. “I didn’t.”
He waved her protestations away. “Relax, it’s not you I want. I understand why you thought you had no choice but to deal with Greer. But I am a much better friend to have than Levi Greer, especially where he’s going.”
“Listen to me, I don’t know where he went in his car today, but he wasn’t at the farm. I swear.”
“Well, who was?” Clarke demanded. “’Cause I’ve got a partial boot print that says you’re lying.”
“These men,” Con blurted out.
Clarke threw up his hands in disbelief. “Now there are men? What men?”
Reluctantly, Con described Pockmark and his associates to a thoroughly unimpressed Darius Clarke. He glanced up at the camera and gave it a can-you-believe-this-shit look. When she was finished, he rubbed the back of his tired head and cleared his throat.
“So let me get this straight. A team of paramilitary types ambushed you but then let you go because a drone scared them off?”
“Yeah,” she answered, aware of how ridiculous it all sounded.
“We’ve been talking for a while now. How come this is the first I’m hearing about it?”
“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Con said.
“And you thought this would drive up your credibility? Come on, you’re starting to piss me off.”
“It’s the truth.”
He regarded her for a long time. “It’s a good time for a restroom break. Pause recording.” Clarke waited until the red light blinked off before he spoke again. “Look, clones can’t testify in Virginia court, so don’t worry about all that. But my captain believes that a witness statement from you would hold up in support of a warrant application. That’s all I need from you. A statement.”
“That Greer was at the farm?”
“That’s it,” Clarke said as if it were as inconsequential as a parking ticket. “I don’t know why you’re covering for him with this bullshit about some team of soldiers. Are you scared of him? Maybe he got you out there and attacked you? Didn’t know his wife had a clone and was looking to relive the kill. Two for one.”