Promise Not To Tell(72)

Virginia studied the contents of the box. A chill of knowing whispered through her.

“Not accidentally broken,” she said. “Shattered. Destroyed.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Oh, yes,” Virginia said softly. “There’s a difference.”

She reached back into the box and picked up the ripped photograph. She put it on the kitchen counter.

“It’s the right size to fit inside the picture frame,” she said.

Carefully she smoothed out the page.

The picture had obviously been taken at an office party. A crowd of people was gathered beneath a banner that read, Night Watch Employee of the Month for January: Tucker Fleming.

Virginia stared at the picture, shock icing her blood. She felt Cabot go very still and knew that he, too, was stunned.

In the festive scene a smiling Josh Preston was handing a coffee mug and an envelope to a tall, good-looking man with a disturbingly familiar face.

“Tucker Fleming is not quite a dead ringer for Quinton Zane,” Cabot said, “but he’s got to be a relative – a son or a nephew, maybe. Same height, similar build, although not as lean.”

Virginia shuddered. “Same profile.”

“Dress him in black and the resemblance would be very close to the Zane we knew twenty-two years ago.”

“Why didn’t the cops take this as evidence?” Virginia asked.

“Evidence of what? It’s just a picture of an office party for an employee of the month.”

“Hannah Brewster must have seen Tucker Fleming on Lost Island,” Virginia said. “No wonder she painted that picture of Zane in modern clothes and added a late-model car. She probably believed that he had come back from the dead.”

“Or she may have figured out that his son was searching for the missing money.”

“Either way, she was trying to warn me.”

CHAPTER 51

The rain was coming down hard by the time Xavier got off the bus. He paused in the shelter to check the screen of his phone again. His excitement spiked when he saw that he was very close to his objective. It looked like the subject was inside the small bungalow at the end of the block.

The neighborhood was very quiet. The houses were small and most of them needed a fresh coat of paint. The cars parked on the street were all older models.

All he had to do was make a note of the address, he thought. He was about to crack the case. Cabot and Anson would be impressed. They’d probably want to give him a permanent job at the agency. As for Virginia Troy, she would think he was brilliant, a real hero.

It occurred to him that a photograph of the target who lived in the house, or at least the license plate of his car, would be even better than just an address. Armed with that information, Cabot and Anson would know exactly what to do.

He tucked the phone back into his pocket and pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt. Although the skies were heavy and gray, he put on his sunglasses. Just one more teen in a hoodie and shades.

He slouched along the sidewalk, trying to look like he belonged in the neighborhood. When he passed the front door, he made a mental note of the number of the house. Unfortunately there were several cars parked on the street. No way to know which vehicle belonged to the target.

He took out his phone and surreptitiously began snapping pics of license plates.

When he reached the end of the block, he paused, thinking. To really nail the case, he needed to get a photo of whoever was inside the house.

He could knock on the door and – assuming someone answered – pretend to be lost. But that sounded weak. He needed a better plan.

A straight-up lost-my-phone-and-the-tracking-app-says-it’s-here story sounded like the only sure approach. Whoever answered the door would deny that the missing device was in the house, which would be the truth. But there would be a couple of minutes of confusion and irritation while the resident of the house denied having the piece of tech.

Xavier figured he could put his phone on silent mode and maybe get a short video, all while pretending to realize that his app had led him to the wrong house.

He walked back along the sidewalk, went up the front steps and started the video. He could feel his pulse racing. He didn’t think he had ever been so scared or so excited in his life.

He pressed the doorbell and held his breath. Part of him was already regretting the plan. But he could not back out now. He gripped his phone very tightly.

Maybe whoever was inside would not answer.

The door opened. A guy in his midtwenties looked at him. He had an energy drink in one hand. He was clearly irritated.

“What do you want?”

Xavier had to try twice before he got the words out. “I’m l-looking for my phone. Got a tracking app that says it’s here.”

“Yeah? What’s that in your hand?”

“A friend’s phone. He let me use it to find mine.”

“You think I stole your phone?”

“I was using it at a Starbucks. Left it on the table while I went to get another latte. When I turned around it was gone. Probably just a mistake.”

“I sure as hell don’t have it. Come on inside and take a look.”

Xavier hesitated and then took one step over the threshold. He pretended to study the screen of his phone.

“I think I made a mistake,” he said.

“Funny you should say that.” The man closed the door. “I came to the same conclusion.”