Notorious (23 page)

Max needed to do this at her hotel, with better light and room to spread everything out. She put her car into gear and glanced in her rearview mirror.

A van was speeding up the street and looked like it would sideswipe her. She waited for it to pass, and then the van’s lights temporarily blin1C;Palm Storag

Chapter Twenty

Nick could not be trusted. He called a patrol shook his head. “ her grandmother f alcoholand an ambulance, and Max sat in the back of the ambulance while the paramedics cleaned up the cuts on her face and hands. She felt sore and stupid and irate.

She glared at Nick as he talked to the patrol officer. She’d already given her statement and all she wanted to do was go home.

Home. She didn’t have a home to go to. She had a hotel.

While she knew that she could go to her grandmother’s and curl up in her old bed and have Regina prepare her favorite comfort foods, she would also be subjected to a lecture, an argument about tracking Lindy’s killer, and a cold shoulder. It wasn’t worth it.

Stop it, Max. You’re feeling sorry for yourself.

“Where’s my phone?” she asked the paramedic.

“The police have all your personal effects. You should go to the hospital, Ms. Revere.”

“No, thank you.” She closed her eyes.

“You might have a concussion. You have a pretty big knot on the side of your head.”

He touched it as if to prove a point, making her yelp.

“I’ll have the front desk call me every two hours and wake me up. Happy?”

Nick said, “I’ll watch her.”

She hadn’t even seen him approach.

“I just need a ride, Detective.”

Nick ignored her and spoke to the paramedic. “What’s the story? Anything broken?”

“No,” he said. “She’ll be bruised and sore in the morning, more from being rear-ended. A few cuts, but that lump on her head is nasty. I got most of the glass out of her hair, but Ms. Revere, when you shower be very careful. Even though it’s safety glass, it can still cut you.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Nick helped her stand and they walked over to his Bronco. He opened the passenger door for her. “Nick, there’s a box in the backseat of my car. Can you please get it?”

He closed the door without answering. A few minutes later, he put the box of Kevin’s files in the back of his Bronco and then silently drove to her hotel.

She expected him to leave her in the lobby; instead, he carried the box to her room.

“Thank you,” she said.

He followed her in and put the box on her desk.

“Nick, I don’t need to be babysat.”

He was staring at her boards. She’d meant to close them up—that’s why she liked the trifolds, easy to hide. But she also hadn’t expected to bring anyone to her hotel room.

“Nick, please—I want a shower.” She held the door open for him to get the hint. She wanted to be alone. To lick her wounds.

Her head pounded. She considered everything she’d found, and lost, today. Losing Lindy’s diary was not only heartbreaking, she’d never see it again. The killer would destroy it and she’d never know the truth.

She didn’t know if she could live with that.

For too long she’d lived with not knowing where her mother was, not knowing who her father was, and not knowing where the bastard who killed Karen dumped her body. And, if she was being so honest with +alPMherself, she realized that not knowing who killed Lindy had been like a cancer in her soul, eating her up, driving her forward while holding her back. She hated unsolved crimes, but her life was one big unsolved mystery with partial clues and lots of doubts.

“Nick, you can leave. I’m going to be fine.”

“I have no doubt.” He turned to assess her. She couldn’t read his expression, whether he was angry or worried or annoyed. All of the above. “After you explain to me why you lied.”

She let the door close and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, trying to relieve the building pressure. “I don’t lie, Nick.”

“Bullshit. When I was on the phone with you, you specifically said he took Lindy’s journal. But when the officer asked if the attacker took anything, you said you didn’t think so.” He gestured to the three trifolds. “I didn’t make the connection then, but now—Lindy Ames. We talked about this the other day, but you changed the subject. I let you change it then, but no longer. Beck has it out for you because you testified for her killer, that much I figured out. But why this?” He tapped the board. “And you had her journal? Tell me why I shouldn’t tell him you’re withholding evidence in a capital case.”

“I’m not.” She closed her eyes. “Kevin O’Neal didn’t kill Lindy.”

“So you’ve said. Beck is confident that he did.”

“I know. They never looked at any other suspects because an anonymous caller placed Kevin at the school during the time that Lindy died. And Kevin lied about his alibi.”

“He still walked away.”

Max sat down, realizing her shower was going to have to wait, and that she was too sore and tired to stand.

Nick walked over to her minifridge and took out a water bottle. He handed it to her, then sat on the couch across from her.

“Thanks,” she said and drank. Then she told him the abbreviated version of Kevin’s trial, Lindy, their friendship and her secrets, and how Max found the storage unit.

“It’s my fault,” she said. “I’m usually smarter than this. I knew someone was following me, I should have been more diligent today.”

“You were being followed?”

“Monday morning by a white Mercedes with no front plate while I was on my way to see Dru Parker. I thought it was connected to her, and I lost the car, so I wasn’t really concerned. Then this morning, coming back from a meeting with Lindy’s father, Gerald Ames. A black sedan. I lost him too by driving to the Los Altos Hills Police Department, then taking a circular route to my next destination.”

Nick smirked, then cleared his throat. “Why?”

“It’s clear—Kevin didn’t keep it a secret that he was looking for Lindy’s killer. I’m in town for his funeral, and my job is to look at cold cases. I’m good at it. Fresh eyes and all that. I tracked down the storage unit and got there right before closing. It’s a small room, not much bigger than a closet, with a desk and a bunch of files Kevin had on Lindy’s investigation. I grabbed what I thought would be the most important, but there’s five times more there than I took. I found Lindy’s journal and a note from Kevin.”#">“ou>

“Note?”

“Did my attacker take it, too?”

“I have all your personal effects here.” He walked over to the box of files and removed a large paper bag. “Purse, iPad, phone, and this.” He took out the letter from Kevin.

“I can’t believe I lost the diary.”

“You could have been killed. The good news is that we have the hammer, could have prints on it.”

“He wore gloves.”

“He might not have worn the gloves when he first touched the hammer. Most criminals aren’t masterminds. We’re also pulling surveillance tapes from the storage facility and any businesses on the street that have exterior security cameras. If he followed you from the hotel, he might have driven past the place. We may get a plate number, or a shot of his face. And if he’s been hanging around here, they may have him on security.”

Nick sat back down and said, “Anything else you want to tell me? Now’s the time to come clean.”

“Come clean? I haven’t been doing anything. This isn’t your case, and as far as Beck is concerned, it’s closed.”

“You can tell him about O’Neal’s alibi.”

“I told Beck after I found out, twelve years ago, and according to him, he interviewed Olivia Langstrom, the girl Kevin was with, in front of her father, who she was terrified of. She denied being with Kevin. That was that.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would Kevin say he was home alone, and then tell you after the trial that he was with a girl? And why wouldn’t she come forward?”

“Her father is powerful and, according to Olivia, emotionally and physically abusive. You can talk to Olivia, now. She’s not going to lie anymore.”

“Why do you think so?”

“I just know. Reporter’s intuition.”

“What else do I need to know?”

“The only other thing is that someone called the hotel on Saturday and sort of threatened me. Very subtle. Leave the Ames family alone. I thought maybe Beck, but he’d already gotten into my face at Kevin’s funeral. Then I thought Gerald Ames, Lindy’s father, put someone up to it. I hadn’t planned on talking to him—his wife hates me—but hell, at that point I wasn’t even planning on investigating Lindy’s murder. But now I know it wasn’t Gerald. I think it was someone who thought I’d back down if the victim’s family didn’t want me investigating.”

“And what did Mr. Ames say when you talked to him this morning?”

“He wouldn’t give me his blessing, but he didn’t tell me to stand down. He said he wants the truth.”

“What about your ex?”

“Andy?” She shook her head. “He’s just like my family, doesn’t want any scandals tainting the Talbot name.”

“He’s not harmless.”

“No.” She considered Andy for a moment. “He could have made the call,” she admitted. “He didn’t want me stirring the pot.”

“And why is that?”

“He’s always shook his head. “. ro> thought Kevin was guilty.”

“But you believed from the beginning he was innocent. Did you ever doubt him?”

Max considered. “Not once, until he told me he was with Olivia the night Lindy was killed, and I didn’t understand why he lied about it. It made no sense to me. It still doesn’t, and I’ve talked to Olivia twice. But what really destroyed our friendship was that I blamed him for Lindy’s killer going free. Both of them—if Olivia and Kevin had told the truth from the beginning, the police would have focused on other suspects.”

“That’s a valid point. And Andy?”

“Our disagreement over Kevin is what split us up, Nick. It wasn’t a minor argument. In his eyes, I was defending the person who killed our friend. She was my best friend. Until our senior year, we did everything together. Kevin, too. In my eyes, Andy had already convicted one friend of murdering another friend. We were eighteen. And temperamental.”

“Were temperamental?”

It took Max a moment to realize Nick was teasing her. She smiled and pulled herself up. “I’m going to shower now.” Nick didn’t make any move to leave, so she said, “If you want to order food, go ahead. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

*   *   *

Max really wanted to soak in a hot bath with bubbles and an oversized glass of wine. But she was pretty certain Nick wasn’t going to leave, and drinking alcohol with a possible concussion wasn’t smart. So she showered, carefully washing her hair in case bits of safety glass remained. Her face was too pale, and with all her makeup gone she looked beat-up. A nasty scrape on the side of her face and big fat bruises on her nose and above her eye—just great. She hoped they would fade enough that she could conceal the damage with makeup before Ben or David saw her.

She dressed in the wonderful plush bathrobe the hotel provided and in the privacy of the suite’s adjoining bedroom called David and told him what happened. She didn’t want to, but she’d promised, and she wasn’t going to lose her one trusted friend.

She downplayed the accident, but didn’t lie to David. He listened, asked a few questions, and then said, “Be careful, Max.”

“I promise.”

She felt a hundred times better telling David the truth, and knowing he wasn’t going to abandon his vacation. She stepped out into the living room and the comforting aroma of chicken noodle soup greeted her. Nick had put a tray on her desk. He was sitting at the table, talking quietly on his cell phone, a half-eaten sandwich in front of him.

She took the lid off the soup and ate happily, half listening to Nick’s conversation. As soon as he mentioned “bones,” her ears perked up, but she only got bits and pieces. Then she heard “thirteen bones.”

Nick was off the phone a few minutes later. She waited for him to say something. He had to have known she’d heard part of his conversation. She said, “The soup was perfect.”

“My mom used to make me chicken noodle soup when I was sick.”

Martha had never cooked, Max realized. For the first ten years of her life, they’d lived a nomadic lifestyle, moving from house to hotel, all over the world, depending on Martha’s whims. She had a monthly allowance from her trust fund shook his head. “. ro> that kept them living well, but Martha had always spent down to the last dime. She’d be staking out her bank for her next allowance on the first of every month, so she could clean out her account and move somewhere else.

Max once asked her mother, “What are you running from?”

“Nothing, Maxie. I just like moving.”

That answer had never satisfied Max. When she got her first apartment in New York, when she and Karen were juniors, a year before she disappeared, Max took cooking classes at a top culinary school. She’d learned the basics from Regina, her grandmother’s longtime housekeeper, but Max wanted to know more. She now rarely ate out when she was home, finding cooking both relaxing and fulfilling. She understood it was her need to create something she hadn’t had as a child. She wasn’t so blind to her own psychology that she didn’t know that she longed for what she’d never had.

Nick didn’t ask her why she was silent, and Max was relieved. She was an open book—except about her mother. She didn’t want to talk about Martha Revere with anyone.

“So, any news?” she asked after several bites.

“You were eavesdropping, you tell me.”

She frowned. “You’re in my hotel room. I wasn’t going to leave the room.”

He looked around. “I don’t see a bed.”

“It’s a suite.”

“Nice.”

“They found thirteen bones?”

“Very good.” He sat across from her. “Forensics sifted through the dirt and found what appear to be thirteen human bones. They’ve pulled soil samples from the grave site and the surrounding area for comparison. They also found a small diamond earring. Everything is going to the county lab.”

“When are they going to have results?”

“It won’t be tomorrow. This isn’t television.”