Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,118
time to cover it up. Then, she got it:
“You ran a background. When Evie first met Conrad. The daughter of your deceased best friend meets a new man … Of course you did. And in doing so, you figured out Conrad wasn’t his real name.”
Now Evie was staring at Delaney.
The lawyer opened his mouth, looked like he was going to deny it all. Then, abruptly: “Yes. I ran his name. Evie’s safety and well-being are my responsibility. I take my responsibilities seriously.”
“What did you do?” Evie breathed.
Delaney sighed heavily. The jig was up and he knew it. “I confronted Conrad. I told him I knew his identity was a lie. At which point, he told me about his parents, his father’s work. And we reached the mutual conclusion that it was in your best interest”—Delaney regarded Evie—“that Conrad continue to live under an alias.”
“Who was he investigating?” D.D. demanded to know.
“He had two lines of inquiry. The first into some missing girls. But he wasn’t as concerned about that as he was the status of one Jules LaPage. According to Conrad, if LaPage ever got out of prison, he’d come for him. Hence the assumed name.”
“Why would LaPage come for Conrad?”
“Because Conrad’s father helped LaPage’s ex-wife escape. He knew her location, and going through his father’s papers, Conrad discovered her new identity as well. LaPage wasn’t stupid. If he got out, the most direct line to his ex-wife would be through Conrad.”
“He never said anything,” Evie murmured. She was shaking her head slightly. “Never. Not once.”
“It was his burden to bear. He didn’t want you to worry. As the years went by and he never said anything more, I honestly thought the situation had worked itself out. LaPage was still incarcerated, so no news was good news. Perhaps Conrad was just being paranoid. It happens.” Delaney turned to D.D. “When I heard the news about Conrad, the first thing I did was check on LaPage’s status. He’s still in prison, I assure you.”
“But something had changed,” D.D. said. “Evie already told us that. Conrad had become tense. Something was worrying him.”
“I got pregnant.” Evie shrugged. “If one of these guys he was investigating found him … there would be greater consequences.”
D.D. shook her head. “It had to be something more direct than that. He found something. Serious enough someone didn’t just kill him, but burned down your home. Except they’re still worried. Why would they still be worried? So they went after your place next.” She looked at Delaney. “Because you’re Evie’s lawyer, or because this person knows you learned the truth about Conrad?”
“I have no idea,” Delaney answered coolly.
“Who did you speak with this morning?”
“Just a former friend of my father’s,” Evie volunteered. “Dr. Katarina Ivanova. She and my father were involved once. I thought maybe … maybe she’d grown jealous. She’d shot him.”
D.D. couldn’t help herself. “And?”
“I don’t think Dr. Ivanova gets jealous. She just moves on to bigger prey.”
D.D. frowned again. The more information she got, the less anything made sense. Evie’s father’s death. Evie’s husband’s death. Evie investigating her father. Evie’s husband, investigating two different major cases.
A lot of stirring the pot of past secrets and current crimes. Any number of things could’ve risen to the surface. But what tied it all together? Two shootings. Two house fires. There had to be one connection.
Phil appeared beside her. “We have a sighting.”
She didn’t need to ask of whom. “Where?”
“Boarded the T three blocks from here. Green Line.”
“Get MBTA on it,” she ordered, referring to the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority police.
“Already done.”
“You two”—she skewered Delaney and Evie—“sit tight. No more running around asking dangerous questions. We’ve got enough going on.”
Then D.D. was on the move, phone in hand. She had one last tool to deploy. Someone who already knew Rocket Langley, who was intimately familiar with the city’s subway system, and who could move faster and hit harder than any police officer could.
She called Flora.
Chapter 33
FLORA
KEITH IS TYPING FURIOUSLY. FROM my angle behind Quincy’s shoulder—the FBI agent is still videoing the computer screen—it’s harder for me to make out all the words. Not to mention Keith seems to be using some kind of shorthand known by computer geeks and cybercriminals.
I catch snippets of the exchange. The usual long time, no see. Keith answering he’s been on an extended getaway, which seems to serve as a euphemism for prison. Which is then followed by a stream of questions I don’t get at all.