“Would it be possible for someone here to find out how he got the money? Maybe my mom decided to give it to him in the end?”
“We can certainly try,” Mark says. “I’ll reach out to our forensic accountants—they’re very, very good. Anything you can give me in terms of your mom’s account numbers or bank names would be helpful, though. Or your dad’s.”
“Okay,” I say, though my mom is careful. She wouldn’t leave that kind of information lying around. “I’ll look.”
Mark stands and walks over to open his door. “Geraldine,” he calls out to the assistant pool. “Would you give Ross Jenkins at Digitas a call, let him know we’ll be needing some help on a rush basis? It’s a top priority. I can call Ross myself if necessary.”
Geraldine replies, but I can’t quite make it out.
“Okay, so we’ll get that started while you get me the accounts,” Mark says, seeming pleased to be doing something. “What else?”
“My mom wasn’t working on anything here that might have been … I don’t know …”
“You mean dangerous?” Mark asks.
“I guess.” It sounds ridiculous when he says it out loud.
He makes a face. “Your mom specializes in patent litigation, cases involving big companies that mostly never see the inside of a courtroom. It’s not especially sexy. Certainly not dangerous.” Mark considers for a moment. “What about that place she grew up in?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know specifically. But it always sounded like that home was filled with some real rough characters. Your mom is very successful now. Doesn’t seem entirely impossible that someone from her time there might resurface. It’s something to consider. Desperate people can have very long memories.”
Katrina
THREE DAYS BEFORE
I’d been waiting on the edge of the playground across the street from Kyle’s apartment for more than an hour. I’d been compelled there by Mark’s offhand parting remark: “Cleo is very lucky to have you looking out for her.” But was she really that lucky? What if I’d actually put her inmoredanger by confronting Kyle all those months ago? And so here I was, doing the only thing I could think of: throwing myself back into the fray.
It was nearly midnight when Kyle finally came out of his apartment, stopped to light a cigarette, shook the sandy blond hair from in front of his eyes, then lifted the collar of his puffy white jacket against the evening chill. He was good-looking, in that damaged, James Dean kind of way that inevitably seems to attract girls. But only if you could get past the whole put-on hoodlum shtick. It was especially ridiculous considering the Greenwich hedge-fund mansion where he was raised.
But then Aidan had been obvious, too, I suppose. It wasn’t as though he’d hid that he was a ne’er-do-well. It was like Aidan was so assured of his place in the world that he didn’t need to bother to try and prove anything. Even before Cleo was born, I’d known that was a problem. But I’d had so many problems of my own, it had been impossible to gauge its importance. And so I’d had a baby with him. And then I’d stayed with him for two decades, even though I was so unhappy—to give Cleo the stablefamily I’d never had. But maybe in doing so I’d given her something else. A lesson in the worst kind of compromise.
I crossed the street briskly, heading Kyle off at the far end of the block.
“Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, waving an exasperated hand in my direction. “I talked to my parents’ lawyer, you know. We can sue you for harassment.”
“You were supposed to stay away from my daughter.”
“I haven’t fucking seen Cleo in months.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said with a fake smile. “Do you remember what I promised—about sending you to jail if you ever went near her again? Because I meant it.”
He looked about to snap back, but instead he smiled smugly, then stepped closer and exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke directly in my face. “Go ahead, go to the police. But if you do, Cleo is coming down with me.” He held up his phone. “I’ve got photos on here of her buying, selling,using.I keep photos of all my runners. Insurance: You never know when you’re going to need it. And I’ve got plenty of customers who’d be willing to testify to her working for me. Whole bunch of them are pretty pissed at her right now.” He dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his Air Jordan. “So I’d stop fucking threatening me if I were you.”
And with that, he strutted away, lifting his phone to his ear as he crossed the street.
Lying in bed the next morning, I had to blink a few times to see Mark’s text clearly.Please update me as soon as you have anything on Sinclair. Darden is all over me.
It was only 7:15 a.m. Mark never applied pressure; and after less than twelve hours? But I wasn’t surprised Darden was agitating—and they weren’t going to be easy to ignore. They were accustomed to getting what they wanted, when they wantedit. And right now they wanted Doug Sinclair under the Xytek bus. There was only so much stalling I was going to be able to do.
I’m on it. Be back in touch ASAP.
“Hey, have you found Douglas Sinclair’s phone yet?” I asked when I called Detective Cross a few minutes later.
“Nope,” Cross said. “Scene guys are still searching, but it’s not looking good. Must have been thrown in the accident. Could have been broken into pieces and scattered who knows where.”
“Have you confirmed that it was a suicide?”
