Notorious (29 page)

He stared at her. “I don’t know.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Why that bothered her, she didn’t know. Did she want him to lie and say he trusted her when he didn’t? And with good reason, too. She was a reporter, he was a cop. They might have the same goal, but their means were vastly different. Maybe irreconcilably different.

“Stay away from the case.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

“You know I can’t.”

“I don’t want to put you in jail.”

She heated up. “Are you really threatening me?”

“No, I just need you to understand this is highly sensitive, and your involvement is pissing off a lot of people.”

She stepped away from him, and he let her.

“I don’t care who I piss off. I’m not going to screw up your case.”

“That’s not what I meant. But, dammit, there’s a killer out there, and if he thinks you’re a threat to him, he’ll go after you.”

“What do you want me to do? Hide in my hotel room until you, big, bad, brave cop Nick Santini solves the crime?”

“Why are you so damn defensive?”

“Because I’m not stupid. I’m not going to confront a killer.”

“I’ve been reading about you, Max. You’re not stupid, but you’re far too reckless.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” she said. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if he was trying to protect her. How much information had Kevin gathered about her? What had Nick read? Why did he look like he wanted to lock her in Rapunzel’s tower? She didn’t like it, but at the same time she felt that lustful pit in her gut, her inner girl craving him.

Traitor.

She said, “I’m going.”

He watched her leave. Max breathed easier when she was out of sight.

*   *   *

Max settled into her room and called Dru Parker at the hospital. The young woman sounded better, and told Max that the doctors would probably release her on Sunday. Max gave her the name and number of an attorney in the area. Dru had made some really stupid decisions, but she didn’t deserve to spend years in prison for them.

Max hung up and retrieved the picture on her cell phone of the broken bracelet and butterfly charm. She’d seen this before. Recently. It probably didn’t mean anything, except that few women she knew wore actual charm bracelets. The chain that the butterfly was attached to had the larger links that could hold multiple charms. Her grandmother had always thought they were tacky, but Max thought they were sweet, a lifelong memento of a favorite vacation, sport, or pet.

She reclined on her lounge chair and considered going down to the hot tub and ponder the bracelet. She closed her eyes and mentally went through her week from the minute she landed at the San Francisco airport. She pictured the women she’d met, who she’d spoken to. Jodi, Dru, Mrs. Hoffman, Dru’s roommates, Kimberly Ames—

Max jumped up. “Faith Voss.”

Faith wore a charm bracelet when she took notes for the headmaster. Max had notice shook his head. “MSou>d it because the multitude of charms clinked and she’d thought how much that would annoy her on a daily basis.

It may not mean anything. Just because Faith Voss had a charm bracelet didn’t mean that she had anything to do with the missing body from campus. It was just … odd.

Sweet, kind Faith Voss didn’t seem capable of murder, and she didn’t appear to have the strength to dig up a grave. Looks were often deceiving. Except, as the director of admissions, she’d be privy to the sports complex plans and know that the structure would be nowhere near the grave. So if she had killed someone and buried the body on campus, she wouldn’t have moved it.

Max rubbed her temples. Sometimes her thoughts turned macabre, as she pictured petite Faith Voss digging up a grave, then shooting Jason Hoffman in cold blood.

But there was no question that it was suspicious that part of a charm bracelet was found in the grave, and Faith Voss wore a similar charm bracelet. Maybe Faith would recognize the charm. Or maybe she’d lost it. Or given it to someone … someone who ended up dead and buried on the edge of campus?

It could mean absolutely nothing, or it could be a lead. Max had followed far weaker clues and ended up with valuable information. It was worth checking out.

She was about to leave to track down Faith Voss when her cell phone rang. It was David.

“We just landed,” he said. “Catch me up.”

She glanced at her watch. It was after six in the evening. “Don’t you have a baseball game to get to?”

“It doesn’t start for ninety minutes. Tell me what’s going on, or I’ll be in your room in less than an hour.”

“There’s no need for drastic measures,” she said. She filled him in on the basics, and then said, “Until the victim from the grave is identified, we’re spinning our wheels.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

David sighed loud enough that Max could hear. “Max, how are you doing with the idea that William could be Lindy’s killer?”

“David, I believed that Kevin was innocent, and I was right. I can’t envision any scenario where William could have killed Lindy.” She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. “If I’m wrong, I’ll deal with it.”

David said, “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon before two.”

“I already have a room reserved for you.”

“How was jail?”

David tried to sound light, but he was the only one who knew what she’d been through in Mexico.

“Best I’ve been in. By the way, I know you talked to Santini. I assume because you didn’t change your flight that you were comfortable with his credentials.”

“I checked him out. He’s fine.”

Max laughed heartily. In fact, she hadn’t laughed enough this week and David was the one constant in her life; she knew he’d have her back and remind her that sometimes, she could count on people. Sometimes, they didn’t fail or disappoint you.

“That he is,” she said. “David, enjoy the baseball game. I wish I could be there.”

“It’s sold out, but I’m sure you could get tickets if you lifted your little finger.”

“I’m sure I could. I have some research to do.”

“I know that tone.”

“I have this niggling feeling that I’m missing something.” She described the bracelet. “But Faith is this small woman, sweet, sincere. Now, her sister was a wild child—”

Carrie.

“Max?”

“Her sister.… I didn’t even think about it, but she moved to Europe thirteen years ago.”

“The same time Lindy was murdered?”

Why would Carrie kill Lindy and another girl? Why bury one body and not the other? Except Carrie definitely had a wild streak and a temper. She was taller and stronger than her sister.

Why would she return to dig up the grave if she was eight thousand miles away overseas? If the victim could be connected to her, the authorities would have to track her down.

“How can I find out the last place someone used their passport?” she asked.

“I think I missed part of the conversation.”

“I had it in my head,” she said.

“That’s tricky. You need someone in the state department to find out if someone even has a passport issued—it’s not public information. But to find out where it was used? The information is out there, but again, it’s confidential. Marco could get it, but even an FBI agent would have to justify needing the information.”

Max typed rapidly on her computer. Carrie Voss … there weren’t hundreds, but too many to sort through in just a few minutes. She narrowed the search a variety of ways, but no one popped up that matched Carrie’s description. She searched for Faith and instantly found her social media pages. Flipping through them, she couldn’t find Carrie listed as a friend, follower, fan, anything.

Were they that estranged?

Maybe Faith had killed her sister. Lost a charm in the process? But the bracelet found in the grave had been broken. Perhaps, Faith had help.

But why? They hadn’t been a wealthy family, there was no trust fund or inheritance. But with family, nearly anything could be a motive.

“Max, just tell me if you need me.”

“David, I need you tomorrow. I’ve got this covered.” She checked another database. “Seriously. Like you said, Santini’s a good guy and I’m in my room and all is well.”

He grunted.

“Give my love to Emma.” She hung up.

It seemed that Carrie Voss had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Or had been buried four feet under.

Max grabbed her purse and left.

*   *   *

Faith Voss lived in a quaint, older English Tudor on a quiet street off Whipple Avenue in nearby Redwood City.

Max was thrilled that she was home.

“Maxine Revere?” Faith said in surprise when she opened the door. “I—well. Come in.”

Although it was just seven in the evening, Faith w shook his head. “Atherton fd pas already in her pajamas and had a bowl of popcorn and a Diet Coke situated in front of the television. Books—mostly romances with a few thrillers and classics intermixed—bulged from the bookshelves to such a degree that they spread over to the end tables. Faith might have more books than Max—and that was saying something.

She looked self-conscious, and Max wanted to put her at ease. “Hey, if I’d known it was a pajama party I would have brought mine.”

“This is a surprise,” Faith said. “A good surprise,” she added quickly. “I just didn’t expect to see you here.” She glanced around the house and frowned.

Max glanced down at her wrist when she heard the clink. She still wore the charm bracelet.

“I love your charms,” she said.

Faith smiled. “Thanks. My mom gave me the chain when I turned thirteen, and a new charm every year for my birthday. Some I bought myself.” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s a nice tradition.”

Max walked halfway across the living room and saw a James Bond movie on the coffee table. “I’ve seen every Bond movie at least twice,” Max said. “I love Daniel Craig as the new Bond, but Connery will always have my heart.”

Faith smiled. “Craig is definitely at the top of my list. Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“No—I should have called first.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s been a long week, I usually don’t—”

Max said, “Faith, this is your home, don’t apologize. I came to talk to you about your sister.”

Faith blinked. “Carrie?”

“Yes.”

Faith frowned and sat down. “Why?”

Max sat in the chair across from her. She didn’t want to lie to Faith, but at the same time she couldn’t very well say she thought that Carrie might have been dead for the last thirteen years. Yet … if the body in the grave was Carrie, Faith most certainly would have had to have been involved. Otherwise, why would she create a farce that Carrie was in Europe? And why did no one call her on it?

Their parents were gone, could they truly have not had any other friends and family who would notice that Carrie was missing all this time?

“When was the last time you heard from Carrie?” Max asked.

“Um, six years ago?” She nodded. “Yes. Six years. Carrie—I try not to think about her too much. She didn’t even come home for Mom’s funeral, just sent a postcard months later saying she didn’t have the money to fly home. I thought that was her way of telling me she needed money to come home.” She played with her hair. “Except, she never called or gave me an address.”

Faith sounded more sad than bitter. “Why the questions about Carrie? You and her were never close friends.”

This was going to get tricky. If Carrie was alive six years ago, maybe she had returned home and Faith was the only one who knew. That meant she might be a danger to Max—except she was so petite and frail-looking Max could knock her over with a feather.

Of course, she could have a gun.

“I started looking for her online. You’d be amazed at+on fd p what is available on the Internet. It’s very hard to completely unplug. Yet, there’s nothing on your sister anywhere.”

“She’s been living in Europe.”

But her voice caught, and she didn’t look Max in the eye.

“Faith, when was the last time you actually saw Carrie?”

“Why are you asking all these questions?” Her voice rose and cracked. Max had spoken to enough survivors to know that Faith was in deep denial about something.

“Faith—”

“Look, after our mom died, I did everything I could to find Carrie. And then I get this postcard out of the blue, months later, from France, saying she didn’t have the money to come home for the funeral and she was sorry. I just—washed my hands of her. When she didn’t answer my e-mails, I said no more. So why do you care? You weren’t friends with her.”

“Do you know for a fact that she went to Europe?”

Faith stared at her like she was an idiot. “I told you—she sent me postcards. I’ll show you.”

Faith left the room. If she was guilty, now was the time she’d get a gun and try to kill Max.

INVESTIGATIVE REPORTER SHOT DEAD IN HOME OF CHILDHOOD FRIEND

Or, INVESTIGATIVE REPORTER CONFRONTS KILLER IN HOME; MURDERED

Headlines weren’t her strength. She left titles and teasers to her producer, Ben. He had the gift.

Still, she kept her eye on the hall. A few minutes later Faith returned with a shoe box and handed it to Max. “These are all the postcards Carrie sent me. From Europe.”

Max opened the box. There were maybe a dozen inside. “May I?”

“Go ahead.” Faith sat back down. Her hand was shaking. “Do you think something happened to her? Is that why you’re here? Because this is what you do, right? Investigate cold cases? Do you have friends in France? Did someone find a body and you think it’s Carrie?” Her voice cracked on the word body.

“Faith, I’m here because I don’t know if Carrie ever went to Europe.”

“Of course she did!” Faith pointed to the box.

Max started going through the postcards. France. Italy. Australia. “I don’t see any pictures of Carrie.”

“She didn’t send any.”

“I have a hard time believing a girl who went to live in Europe didn’t take pictures of herself and send them. She didn’t have a cell phone?”

“No, she said it was too expensive…”

Max laid the postcards in chronological order on the table.

Faith pointed to the first one. “See? That was dated six months after she left. From England.”