EIGHTEEN
The first thing Amanda and Trent should have done after releasing Seth Rossi was pay another visit to Tony, but she couldn’t do it. Rage was blinding her judgment, her objectivity.
“Maybe Tony didn’t mention Seth because he didn’t figure him for a suspect,” she said. “Could be why he never brought up the nanny either.” She was trying to find justification for Tony. Surely, he wouldn’t lie right to her face. Or omit—the same thing. The latter just whitewashed dishonesty.
“Don’t hate me for saying this—and I’m not disagreeing with the point you made—but I think he’s hiding something about the nanny,” Trent said.
She studied him. “You’re suggesting maybe Tony was cheating with her or something?”
Trent pressed his lips together.
She could conjure no defense. Tony had made a move on her when he was seeing Claudia, claiming they had hit pause on their relationship at the time. The two of them were on and off a lot during high school and college, though. But maybe he’d taken his “affections” further with the nanny. “Let’s just call it a day. A weekend for that matter, and start fresh on Monday. We’ll talk to Eve Kelley about those phone calls, track down Bethany Wagner, and speak with Tony about the nanny.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She left the station with the hope that what was left of the weekend would last forever.
No such luck, Amanda thought as she pulled into the lot for Central on Monday morning.
She found Trent at his desk. He held up a Hannah’s Diner coffee for her, and she raised one for him. They both smiled.
“Great minds,” he said.
“You got it.”
They toasted with their paper coffee cups and took sips.
“You want to start with Tony and the nanny?” Trent asked her.
“Nope. Eve Kelley. The phone calls between her and Alicia bothered me all weekend.”
He took his time responding. “Sure. We can start there.”
She’d obviously surprised Trent with her choice of direction, but she still couldn’t face Tony. Besides, where would it ultimately lead the investigation if she freaking ripped his head off?
Eve Kelley’s assistant showed Amanda and Trent to Eve’s office. Eve was perched behind her desk, cradling a takeout coffee cup emblazoned with the logo from Caffeine Café. She looked exhausted. “Joanne said you needed to speak with me. And that it was urgent?” Lines creased around her eyes as they narrowed on Amanda.
“We do. And it is.” Amanda paused. Eve was breathing through her mouth and lightly panting. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m just tired. It’s nothing. What can I do for you?” She massaged her forehead.
“A look at Alicia Gordon’s phone records tell us that you two spoke on Tuesday. She called you,” Amanda said.
“If that’s what it says…”
“You don’t remember?” Trent pressed. “You spoke for fifteen minutes, and then two hours later, you called her back. What were you two talking about?”
Eve flushed, and she wiped her brow. It was starting to glisten with sweat. “I… ah… she was going to screw me over again.”
She’d tossed it out there like it meant nothing, but the tone disclosed it meant everything. Amanda glanced at Trent. It might be just as they’d guessed, and Alicia had changed her mind on some aspect of the bidding process. “How’s that?”
Eve leaned an elbow on her desk and cupped her forehead. “She got some really good offers to…” She paused there like her mind had drifted.
“Ms. Kelley,” Amanda prompted.
“I told herto give me a chance. I reminded her of our deal. She told me things change. Things change.” Eve shook her head and winced. Her brow was wrinkled like she had a migraine.
“You might have thought to tell us this before,” Trent said with a lot more patience than Amanda could have conjured. “Why didn’t you?”
“Why do you think? She was going to… what do you call it…” Eve’s eyelids fluttered. “Renege on our deal. Now she’s dead. I know how that would make me look.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Amanda asked.
Eve waved a hand. “Well, I’m going to win in the end. I’m going to destroy her company. They were served with legal papers Friday afternoon claiming intellectual property theft and suing for compensation.”
That was something that Amanda hadn’t foreseen happening. “You move fast.”
Eve shrugged. “Dog eat dog.”
Eve had plenty of reason to want Alicia dead—her nervous, frightened demeanor when they were last here had been an act, it seemed. But could they connect her to pentobarbital and Alicia’s sleeping aid? What about the fingerprints or the tire treads? “We’re going to need to know where you were Tuesday night last week.”
“Oh.” Eve’s pupils constricted, and she put both her hands flat on the top of her desk. Her body swayed.
Amanda had gotten as far as pulling out her phone and pecking in 9 when Eve’s body slumped to the side and landed on the floor.
“What the—” Trent jumped to his feet.
Amanda finished the call and told the 911 operator to get medics there immediately. By the time she hung up, she realized they’d be too late.
Eve Kelley was dead.
The medics arrived about ten minutes later, but only stayed to confirm death. Eve would be taking a different ride. Rideout and his assistant were on the way, and so were crime scene investigators.
Amanda replayed the moments leading up to Eve’s death in her head, and her imagination might be on overdrive, but she was sure she was exhibiting symptoms of pentobarbital poisoning. Her death, on the tail of Alicia’s, could be a coincidence—but it would be a huge one.
She went over to Trent, who was standing just to the side of the door. “Someone killed her with pentobarbital.”
“I think so. Maybe we should have taken the threats more seriously.” Trent’s guilt was tangible.
“We can’t go down that road. We had other leads to follow, and no one can do everything at once.” She was doing her best to lift him up, but her own regrets were eating away at her. “And we don’t know if the person we’re looking for even sent written threats to her or Alicia.”