Greystone Place
9:15 a.m.
Mark Hanover’s home was a reflection of the man—attractive but ostentatious. The problem was on the inside where those driving past couldn’t see it was cold and empty. Not empty of things, but empty of all that mattered: heart, soul, joy. The emptiness echoed through Bobbie as if someone had shouted into a canyon.
“What the hell are we doing here?” Devine asked as he paced the floor of Hanover’s study. “We’ve been waiting for what? Fifteen minutes?”
This time upon their arrival, the housekeeper had shown them to a more intimate space. Hanover’s study was half the size of Bobbie’s entire house. Rich mahogany shelves lined with books about finance and economics covered the walls. A broad desk sat in the middle of the room, flanked by overstuffed wingback chairs. The window beyond the desk looked out over manicured gardens and an infinity pool. Maybe Hanover wanted them to have plenty of time to take in all the details. The man certainly liked showing off.
Bobbie gestured to the chair next to her. “You should relax, partner. We’re here because Mr. Hanover called with what he feels is a significant update to the statement he’s already given. Let’s give him a few more minutes.” It wasn’t like they had any other leads. Hanover was the closest thing they had to a suspect. For Fern’s and Vanessa’s sakes, they had to keep prodding any and all possibilities.
Devine exhaled a big breath of frustration. With visible reluctance he settled into the seat next to her. “He’s probably bored and wants to yank our chain.”
Bobbie turned to the younger detective. In the month they had worked together she had never seen him so rattled. The mounting tension between him and Hanover during their last meeting had been palpable. So she asked him again, “Are you certain you don’t know this guy?”
“Why would I know him?”
That Devine looked away as he answered, that his jaw was as rigid as stone suggested otherwise. If she found out later that he was keeping anything from her, he would regret the decision. Being partners was a solemn arrangement of complete trust with one another’s lives. It was immensely important that they trusted each other completely and had each other’s backs in any situation.
Like you never lied to your partner.
She dismissed the idea. The things she had avoided telling Newt had been deeply personal and not relevant to their safety on the job.
There you go lying to yourself again.
“Did he give you any idea what this update is?” Devine looked directly at her now. “New evidence? Something he recalled from a meeting with Parker?”
“He didn’t say.”
She and Devine had been scheduled to meet at ten to start interviewing more of the folks who were involved with the Parkers and Manning. Holt and Bauer were doing the same with Fern’s and Vanessa’s friends. Unless either of them uncovered something significant, they would compare notes and update the case board on Monday. Bobbie had called Lieutenant Owens on her way here. She’d passed along the rest of the conversation she’d had with Weller. Owens wasn’t happy about Bobbie’s delay in reporting the details and had said as much. She’d assured Bobbie they would revisit the issue again when this was over. By now Holt and the chief would know. Both would be pissed. As soon as the three recovered from the initial irritation at Bobbie they would realize the FBI had left those same details out of their briefing, as well.
Before the day was out she would hear about it from one or all. Maybe anticipating that was the reason a headache had started deep in her skull.
Devine tugged at his tie. “I’m thinking this guy has something to hide and he’s overdoing the ‘I’m cooperating’ card.”
Bobbie rubbed at her forehead with the tips of her fingers and wished the damned ache away. As for her partner’s conclusion, it happened. A perp would feel compelled to pretend to help the police. He was typically driven by guilt or by pleasure. For some, the idea of flirting with the possibility of being caught was like a drug. For others, it was a way to feel important or heroic. Hanover didn’t strike her as the type who needed his ego stroked. His ego appeared to be plenty healthy.
Bobbie straightened her lapel as she relaxed in the seat once more. For a man in such a hurry to meet with them, Hanover was taking his time. She’d rushed to get dressed before Devine picked her up. Shade had promised he would be around. He’d patently avoided her question about what he planned to do.
Unless he took off to Atlanta and demanded to see Weller, what could he do?
You are the only connection to this killer.
No doubt he intended to watch her just like he had last time. He’d walked D-Boy before daylight and did his coming and going through her back door. She had yet to figure out where he parked his vehicle—a Chevy truck instead of the Ford sedan he’d driven last time. His precautions suggested he wanted to keep a low profile from whoever had drawn him to Montgomery as well as from anyone else. Staying under the FBI’s and the MPD’s radars was no doubt a top priority. Nick Shade did not like answering questions about himself or his intentions.
His presence was something else she was keeping from her team. You really have this trust thing nailed, Bobbie.
The towering pocket doors abruptly slid open and Hanover breezed in. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.” He closed the doors and hurried over to where they now stood. He thrust his hand toward Bobbie first. “Detective, thank you for coming.” He barely grazed Devine’s palm and said nothing to him.
Oh yeah, these two definitely had some sort of history. Why would Devine lie about it?
Hanover moved around his desk and sat down. “Have you narrowed down the suspect pool at all?” He turned his hands up. “Your chief is keeping a tight lid on this one. I haven’t seen the usual press releases from the department.”
“Actually,” Bobbie said, “we have to filter our press releases on this case through the FBI.”
He surely knew this considering he’d lost millions in the Parker Ponzi scheme. Nigel Parker had been under investigation and all over the news for months. Hanover also no doubt knew that he was at the top of the feds’ persons of interest list. Sometimes a killer grew annoyed that his work wasn’t getting the media attention he’d expected. Bobbie wasn’t convinced Hanover was guilty of anything beyond playing games.
“Of course.” Hanover leaned back in his chair and said nothing else.
Next to her, Devine shifted. Her partner had reached the end of his patience. Bobbie said, “Mr. Hanover, you invited us to meet with you for what you called a significant update to your statement.”
“Oh, yes.” He shook his head as he leaned forward. “Please forgive my inability to stay focused. I’m still reeling from the notion that I may have been able to prevent this tragedy.”
Now he had their attention. Bobbie’s instincts went on point. Devine stopped his fidgeting.
“You recall my home was burglarized recently.”
“We confirmed your statement about the stolen dagger, yes.” Bobbie had intended to call him today anyway. “Do you have photos—for insurance purposes—of each item in your collection?”
“I do.” He frowned. “Did I not provide the officer who came about the break-in with a photograph of the missing dagger?”
“It’s not on file.” Bobbie had checked. There had been no recent activity on the case. No new leads. No leads at all, in fact. The detective who’d caught the case had followed up. He’d interviewed Hanover’s neighbors, checked with the local pawnshops and on cyber sites like eBay. Basically that was as far as the investigation had gone. Unless there was a tip, what else could be done?
“I’ll round up a photo for you and have it sent over to your office right away.”
“You said you have something new,” Devine snapped.
Bobbie mentally cringed, not happy with the tone. Devine was an experienced detective, he was well aware you attracted more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Hanover held Devine’s gaze for a moment. “I’m certain you have work to do and shouldn’t be wasting your time with me.” He turned to Bobbie then. “However, this may be quite significant to your case. Much more significant than hounding my friends.” He shot a look at Devine when he said this.
Bobbie looked from her partner to Hanover. “We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Hanover.”
“Very well.” Hanover turned to the large-screen computer on his credenza and typed a few keys. “This is my security system. My technician was here late yesterday to adjust a glitch and he found a clip I had missed entirely.”
As Bobbie watched the live feed on Hanover’s backyard sped backward until he reached September 29 and stopped. The break-in had been reported around that time.
“I believe this is the man who broke into my home and took my dagger.”
He hit Play and the darkness on the screen turned to light. The camera angle was from the roofline looking down on the rear yard. The time stamp read September 30, 6:00 a.m. Bobbie felt herself leaning forward as an image stepped into view, his back to the camera. The person would have come out of one of the home’s rear doors, crossed the veranda and stepped onto the grass, moving toward the back of the property. He was visible on the feed for maybe five seconds and then he was out of view.
“Do you have this area on any other camera?” Devine asked. “It’s hardly useful and certainly not significant if we can’t see the perpetrator’s face.”
“Unfortunately,” Hanover said, “this is the only camera that was working that morning. Another glitch. Even the best systems have them from time to time.”
“Play it again,” Bobbie said. As the image came on the screen once more, she watched carefully. Definitely male. His stride was confident. Dark jeans, jacket and sneakers. He wore a skullcap, black in color, pulled down over his ears and concealing his hair. Why couldn’t you look back just once?
“Where were you on September 29 and 30?” Devine demanded.
Bobbie turned her attention to Hanover and waited for his answer.
“I was in New York as I frequently am. On business, of course,” he added. “I’m certain that’s in the report I filed.”
“No one stays here when you’re gone?” Bobbie asked. Made sense to her that he would want someone taking care of his property.
“No, no. My staff comes in at eight. With the elaborate security system I have, I never imagined I needed the house guarded day and night.” He shook his head. “I’m stunned he was able to slip past the security system.”
“Does your system keep a log of the time and codes used to disarm it?”
Bobbie had to give Devine credit, his tone had evened out and he was asking the right questions.
“It does,” Hanover said. “Whoever came in that morning used the access code. I can only assume he possessed some sort of code breaking electronic device. My technician tells me such devices exist.”
“Have you shared the code?” Bobbie doubted an amateur would have been able to crack such an elaborate system and surely a professional would have taken more than one dagger. Not to mention all the other marketable goods lying around this house. Not even an amateur would take only one knife unless it was for a specific purpose...like setting someone up.
“I regret to say that I have shared it on occasion.” Hanover sighed as he folded his hands on top of his desk. “Most recently with my two latest lovers, both of whom assure me they told no one.”
“What about your staff?” Bobbie asked. Certainly they had the access code. He’d just said they came on at eight and he wasn’t home on the dates in question.
“They do,” Hanover allowed, “but I trust my staff with my life. If anyone shared the code it was one of my friends.”
“Why haven’t you changed the code?” Devine asked, his tone returning to one of utter impatience.
He and Bobbie really were going to have to talk.
“I should have.” Hanover turned his hands up. “Rest assured, it was changed after the dagger went missing.”
“We’ll need the names and contact information for your two friends.” Bobbie stood. “Also, have your technician download that clip for me.”
Hanover smiled, strangely pleased with the idea. “I’ll have him do so today.”
“Thank you.” Bobbie reached a hand across his desk. “We appreciate the call. You never know when a single detail might break a case.”
Hanover shook her hand, held it a moment longer than necessary. “I almost forgot.” He released her then and reached into the middle drawer of his elegant desk.
Bobbie looked to Devine who was staring at her curiously. She shrugged.
“Remember I told you I knew your mother.” Hanover passed her a large envelope, the kind used to mail standard-size letters without folding them. “I found these photos and thought you might want them.”
Bobbie accepted the envelope, her pulse racing at the mention of her mother’s name. She’d worked hard to dismiss his odd insistence that he knew her mother. It shouldn’t have bothered her. Her mother had been born and raised in Montgomery County. If she were still alive she would be around the same age as Hanover. It was far more likely that they knew each other than not.
“Thank you.” She would not look at the photos or pursue the subject with Devine staring at her. She could feel his scrutiny, sensed the barrage of questions he would launch when they got in his car.
Hanover showed them to the door, he kept a running monologue going but Bobbie hardly heard a word he said. The envelope held her full attention. She tried to rationalize her overreaction to the package...to the man. It wasn’t the concept that he had known her mother that got under her skin, it was the subtle insinuation in his tone when he spoke of her mother that bothered Bobbie.
Once they reached the sidewalk, she set her personal feelings aside and asked her partner, “What was he talking about when he mentioned hounding his friends?” Better to keep the conversation on the investigation rather than give Devine the opportunity to dissect Hanover’s alleged relationship with her mother.
“Bauer and I questioned a few of his close friends.” He paused at the driver’s side of his Porsche. “We may have been a little more aggressive than necessary with certain ones.”
Bobbie exhaled a lungful of frustration as she settled into the passenger seat. Bauer knew better. Her partner should, as well. “That’s never a good idea, Devine.”
He grunted what he apparently considered a response.
To his credit, he held questions she knew would be coming until they had driven away. “Your mother knew Hanover? Have you met him before?”
“He says he knew my mother.” She had no intention of discussing the subject with him. “I met him for the first time when we came to interview him about the Parker murders.”
“Strange.”
“Your aunt doesn’t know him?” she challenged. “If she grew up here, chances are they’ve met.”
“She’s never mentioned him.” He stared straight ahead. “You said you hadn’t met him before and you grew up here.”
Bobbie didn’t bother arguing that the man was far older than her and she wasn’t rich like his aunt and Hanover. Instead she stared straight ahead while he drove. The silence grew suffocating. No matter how hard she tried to move past the idea, she couldn’t. Finally she said, “Hanover clearly wants me to think he knows you. Why do you suppose that is?”
“You think if I knew him I wouldn’t have mentioned it already?” He answered without answering at all and without so much as a glance in her direction. “You’ve asked three times already.”
“I noticed the tension between the two of you yesterday, then again just now.”
Devine tugged at his tie. “I try to be accepting,” he admitted, “but the truth is I’m a little more homophobic than I care to admit. The way that guy looks at me makes me want to get as far away from him as possible.”
“He probably does it on purpose just to make you sweat.” A high-level businessman like Hanover would know how to make anyone he perceived as an adversary or a challenger uncomfortable.
Devine scrubbed a hand over his face. “He did a hell of a job and all for nothing. That damned security clip was a joke. What kind of system is set up to capture the back of anyone leaving?”
Bobbie agreed with him there. She thought of the dark clothes, the hat. Other than parts of his hands, nothing identifiable about the intruder was exposed on the video. Maybe Andy could blow up the image and find something. Andy Keller was a damned good evidence tech. If there was something to be found on the clip, he would find it.
“What’s the next address?” Devine asked.
Bobbie set the envelope aside and pulled out her notepad to check her list. They had a lot of second interviews to do. No matter that they’d narrowed down the list considerably, there were still a hell of a lot of names. Business associates of the Parkers were listed first, friends and family next. If Weller had set these murders in motion, every step they had taken so far was irrelevant.
A person never knew what or who would be the end of him.
She wondered how many times Weller had considered that his own son had been his downfall. Bobbie could imagine how many times Nick had wished he’d killed the son of a bitch.
There were some sins that couldn’t be forgiven.