It's One of Us(38)

“No, it couldn’t.” He thinks for a moment, shakes his head again. “No. It’s...”

“You’re going to have to tell us at some point, sir. Why don’t you let me be the judge of whether your occupation has anything to do with this.”

“I can’t. I’d have to get permission.”

“Then I suggest you do that. It could be relevant.”

Will appears in the door. “Got some footprints in the mud back here. We’ll get the place dusted and take some casts, see what pops.” A car door slams. “Oh, team’s here. I’ll go get ’em.”

Joey looks toward the street; though she can’t see in front of the house from Bender’s office, she does have a view down the road. A derelict-looking white van with a ladder on top cruises by and disappears around the corner. She can hear Osley jawing with the team.

Joey stashes her notebook in her back pocket. “Good. Well, Mr. Bender, if you have no idea why you might be targeted, we will add this to our investigation. You get in touch when you’ve secured permission, okay?”

She is coming across like a bitch, she knows it, but come on, what in the world could a suburban English professor be doing in his back yard that needs this level of privacy and security? And if he does, why in the world would he keep the safe in an outbuilding instead of inside the house where the security system’s cameras would cover it? It makes all her radars go on alert.

He’s hiding something, her subconscious remarks. You know it, and he knows you know it.

Bender is fidgeting again, like a little boy who needs to use the restroom. She waits him out.

“Okay, you can’t tell anyone.”

She crosses her heart.

“I’m a ghostwriter. And no, I will not say for whom. But there was a thumb drive with a few manuscripts on it in the safe, and that’s gone too. I have to call New York and warn them.”

“Published or unpublished work?”

“What was taken? Unpublished. Next books in the series. I’ve been on sabbatical and drafting for the past few months, trying to get ahead so when I go back to work, I’m not overwhelmed.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” His eyes find hers, imploring. A desperate man.

Something here...

“Yeah, I do. I have a friend who’s a writer. You’re not the only one in town. I’ll be discreet, Mr. Bender. My job is to solve crimes, not blab people’s secrets. Okay?”

His relieved breath comes out in a sour, coffee-tinged whoosh, and she takes a step back involuntarily.

Will, mouth running a hundred miles an hour at the two kids who’ve come to run the place—they are kids, my God, she’s getting old—is barking directions. She lets him give the instructions, then bids Bender and the team farewell. She’s not going to stand over them while they do their jobs. Nothing to be gained by hovering. Let Will do that.

No, Joey wants something else.

An audience with Olivia Bender.



19


THE WIFE

Olivia taps a nail against her teeth, waiting for Moore to pick up the call. When the cop finally does, her cool voice saying, “This is Moore,” Olivia breathes out a relieved sigh.

“Detective, this is Olivia Bender.”

Moore’s voice gentles. “I was about to track you down, Mrs. Bender. I was hoping we could have a chat.”

“I need to speak with you, too. Something odd’s happened at one of my build sites.”

“What?”

“A workman was inside when I arrived this morning. He said he works for one of my contractors, but that’s not true. I don’t know what he was doing here, or what he wanted. I got him out of the house as soon as I could—”

“Are you alone?” There is unexpected urgency in Moore’s voice.

“I am, but things are locked up tight. I’m okay for now.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Stay put. And if he comes back, call 911.”

Olivia hears the siren start to wail.

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

“Just clearing people out of my way. Perks of the job. Get to make lots of noise and drive real fast. If we could blow shit up, I’d have the trifecta.”

There’s a smile in Moore’s voice, and Olivia hangs up a little more settled.

She takes a look at the marble, runs a hand over the circular stain, yanks it back as if the stone is burning hot. Could there be fingerprints? Hers and Eddie’s, without a doubt, but the mystery man, too?

What else might he have touched?

The back door. He left through the back door. Did I touch anything but the dead bolt?

He wasn’t wearing gloves, was he? Surely, they’ll be able to find his prints and figure out who he is. She doesn’t know. She wasn’t paying attention to his hands.

She pulls out her notebook and writes up everything as she remembers it—the chapped lips, the toolbox, the red hoodie, the coffee cup... Did he take that with him? A quick look confirms he has. The van with the extension ladder. She line-sketches the flat, serpentine eyes.

A knock on the front door. Moore has arrived.

Olivia lets the cop in. Moore’s eyes are guarded as she looks around.

“Any sign he broke in?”

“Not that I’ve seen, though I haven’t checked upstairs yet. Nothing down here. He must have had the contractor code to the door. But look. Here’s what’s bizarre.” She hands Moore the papers. “Park has nothing to do with my business. It’s not like he would come here and leave his birth certificate. And this, from Winterborn Life Sciences. I have no idea why these things are here.”