Millie reached for the remote control and brought up PMN, with its rolling lower banner showing current stock prices. “Sure.”
Scott looked up, cold dread slithering along his spine up to his neck. “What is it?”
The commercial flipped from a guy crooning about motor oil to a news report featuring Nanette Grandelle, the nation’s legal expert for news. “I can’t stand that woman,” Millie muttered.
Neither could Scott. She sensationalized every case she covered, immediately punching any defendant hard and smearing them with half-baked legal theories.
A picture of Millie slid into view and Nanette went into great detail about the gruesome murder of poor, innocent Clay Baker, a man she portrayed as either the next saint or the next president of the country. “Although our federal agent here looks spritely and innocent, she’s known as a brilliant and deadly strategist, and if she wanted to commit a murder, she’d make it as confusing as possible for law enforcement,” Nanette purred, her blond hair frizzy around her head and her deep-set blue eyes spitting with manufactured fury.
Scott kept his temper at bay until Nanette caught HDD Agent Tom Rutherford leaving the headquarter building. When pressed, he admitted to Nanette that the agency had put Millie on leave as it investigated all crimes.
Millie groaned.
Nanette then took up the whole screen, the crow’s feet near her eyes deepening as she squinted. “We’ll follow this case closely, I can assure you. Coming tonight are more details on this agent’s lover, well-known DC attorney and heir to the Russell Mustard fortune Scott Terentson, who quite possibly used the federal government to help him investigate a divorce case.” She leaned even closer to the camera. “His client, by the way, is currently missing, and police are investigating the possibility of foul play.” The screen flashed to an advertisement for garden hoses.
Scott looked at Millie. “I have plans in place no matter what happens. I promise you will be safe.”
Wolfe caught his eye and gave a short nod. At least they were on the same page—legal or not.
Chapter Thirty-One
Millie had always liked Charleston. As the capital of West Virginia, it had everything a city could offer, including phenomenal shopping and a wonderful theater. The Appalachian Mountains rose in the distance, providing a sense of shelter to the vibrant municipality.
Millie sat in Scott’s running SUV listening to Brigid on speakerphone as Wolfe stretched out in the back seat. They had parked in front of Clay Baker’s law office, which was, surprisingly, a modest one-story brick building outside of town. No light shone from the windows, and a sense of desolation blanketed the scene.
“There’s nobody here,” Millie said.
Brigid sighed. “I’ll send you a list of his employees. He didn’t have many, and apparently they’ve already moved on. The chief of River City did speak with a couple of them on the phone, and they didn’t have helpful information. I’ll try to track the remaining folks down.”
“Thanks,” Millie said.
“Absolutely. And good news. HDD has the CCTV from Werner Dearth’s condominium building and his place of employment pursuant to a valid warrant on the security fraud case, and I now have a copy on my hard drive. I’m going through footage of the day his wife disappeared, and we’ll see if he left the building.”
Scott tapped on the steering wheel. “Do you have footage from the weeks leading up to the murder?”
“Yes. I have two weeks before, but I could probably get more. What’s up?” Brigid asked.
Scott turned down the heat. “I’m curious who might’ve visited Dearth. He isn’t the type to get his hands dirty, and I don’t think he’d be dumb enough to conduct shady business over the phone or internet. So if he hired somebody to kidnap Julie, or if he hired the hit squad that attacked us, he would’ve done so in person.”
“Gotcha,” Brigid said. “I’ll start by watching the hours upon hours of people visiting his office and home, then I’ll track the occasions when he left and see if I can trace his movements. We do have a warrant for his phone and GPS, but my gut says he’s smart enough to leave the phone at home for anything illegal. This will take me quite a while.” Instead of discouragement, pure glee lit her tone.
Millie shared a grin with Scott. Brigid loved computer work, no matter how tedious. “Thanks, Bridge.” Millie looked at her phone to scan the information Brigid had sent. “For now, we’ll go speak with one of the possible drugging victims.” The woman lived across town, and Millie gave directions as Scott drove.
Wolfe’s phone buzzed, and he clicked it on. “Hey, honey. You’re on speaker with Millie and Scott.”
“Hi,” Dana said, and they could hear the sound of women laughing in the background.
Millie turned to look at Wolfe. “You sound like you’re having a party.”
“No. It’s my sisters. We’re shopping for shoes online,” Dana said. “How’s your case going?”
“Fantastic and boring,” Wolfe said, shooting Millie a look. “There’s nothing to worry about. How are you and my son?”
Dana chuckled. “Your daughter and I are just fine.” The background laughter rose in volume. “I just have a second but wanted you to know that I reached out to my journalist friend who attended Charleston University at the same time as Clay Baker.”
Millie grinned at Wolfe. She hadn’t even thought of pursuing that line of inquiry. As an accomplished journalist, it made sense Dana had contacts in good places. “What did you discover?”
“There were a series of rumors about date rape drugs on campus during that time, but no recorded cases. Most people didn’t report, unfortunately,” Dana said. “My friend is going through old archives at the paper since he works as a professor there now, and he’ll call me if he finds anything interesting. He figures there might be some notes or the beginnings of articles that didn’t pan out and thus weren’t published. I’ll keep in touch.”
