Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [32]
“They call them crimes of passion for a reason,” Tom said. “The killer usually isn’t thinking.”
“Even a crime of passion—I just couldn’t picture you being so stupid. Your daughter calls you, you go home and kill two people? It doesn’t make sense to me, but yeah, on the surface, it was an easy prosecution. One of their own was killed and they jumped all over the most likely suspect.”
Oliver stared him in the eye, leaned forward and whispered, “I think it’s all about Chase Taverton. I think he was the target, and I’m going to prove it. I have a lead. I just wanted to meet you, see if you were who I thought you were.”
“And?”
“You pass.”
Oliver hadn’t visited him again, but they set up a weekly phone call so Oliver could ask questions and tell Tom what he’d uncovered. On that last call, two weeks before the earthquake, Oliver was excited.
“I think I have it, Tom,” he said. “I don’t want to say much over the phone. But I have Taverton’s personal journal. Everything is in here—everything he was working on. Details. Some of it is in Taverton’s own cryptic notes, but I’m working on it. There’s a guy, a criminal informant, Taverton was working a plea deal with the week he was killed. Frank Lowe. Know him?”
“No,” Tom had said.
“He’s the key. I feel it. I think this is a conspiracy, Tom. Based on his notes, I think that Taverton was using Lowe as a witness against someone very, very big.”
“Who?”
“I have ideas, but I don’t want to say right now. Not until I find Lowe and do some more research into this. If I’m wrong, it’ll be even worse for you. But if I’m right . . . let’s meet again. I’d rather tell you in person.”
They arranged to meet on Monday, January 21. But Oliver never showed, and the day after, Tom was moved to Section B.
Tom couldn’t retrace Oliver’s steps, and even knowing now that Oliver had lied to him about his position with the Western Innocence Project, Tom had hope that there was truth in what Oliver had uncovered. That Taverton had been the target and Tom had been deliberately framed.
If Claire believed him, she could bring in the power and resources of Rogan-Caruso. The security company was the best in the business. With them behind him, Tom might finally learn the truth. More important, Claire would.
He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. He glanced at Nelia, still sleeping. He’d told her the truth—he didn’t deserve her or her trust. But without it, he would be lost, or dead.
He loved her.
He prayed she’d forgive him.
Tom pulled a piece of notepaper from a small stack and wrote:
Nelia,
You’ve already gone above and beyond for me. I’m not going to jeopardize you further. I’m taking the letter to Claire, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.
I love you.
Tom
NINE
When Claire arrived at Dave’s house on the far side of his father’s rural property off Bader Road in Elk Grove, she was still fuming over her interview with the warehouse owner. Holman had lied through his teeth, but she took down his statement verbatim.
Now her real work began. Holman insisted he had nothing to do with the arson. She already had the report about the medical supplies on the streets, but Holman was right about one thing—she couldn’t prove someone else hadn’t stolen and distributed them.
Liars and thieves like Ben Holman pissed her off.
She frowned, thinking about her conversation with Oliver Maddox’s girlfriend earlier in the day. Was Claire no better than Holman? She’d misled Tammy Amunson about why she wanted to find Oliver. True, she hadn’t really lied, it was more a sin of omission. She really did want to find Oliver and she was concerned about his disappearance. She did have a private investigator’s license. But she’d never used it deceptively before.
Did a good reason justify her dishonesty?
Dave bent over to hug her when she walked through the unlocked door. He was nearly as tall as Mitch and broader. Claire didn’t know why her friend Jayne didn’t like him; Dave was both a good guy and good-looking.