Calculated in Death - J. D. Robb Page 0,88

coincidence? Can you give me one viable explanation why Ingersol is dead in the apartment downstairs?”

“We built this place together,” Newton repeated. “If you can’t believe in, can’t trust your partner . . .”

“I understand, but at this time the evidence puts your partner right in the center. It could have put you there,” she said to Whitestone. “It could have put you in the ground.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you’d brought Alva Moonie by earlier, say before you went to the bar? If you’d walked in on the killer and Dickenson. What do you think would have happened to you, to Alva?”

Color drained from his face again before he dropped his head in his hands.

“We’ll be confiscating all his electronics,” she told them both. “Whatever he has here, at your other offices, at his home. Believe me when I say if you know anything, absolutely anything, it’s imperative you talk now. Their method of tying up loose ends is murder.”

“You think they could try to kill us?” Whitestone shot a panicked look at his partner. “Why? We’re not part of this, we’re not involved in any fraud. We’re sure as hell not involved in murder. You can look through every file I have.”

“Brad, we can’t just turn over confidential client information,” Newton began.

“They’ll get a warrant, and I’m not willing to risk my life over this, Rob. You can’t be either.”

“Nobody’s got any reason to kill us.”

“Rob.” Eve used his first name, hoping to draw him into trust. “If I’m wondering what Jake might have told you, or let slip, I can promise the people responsible for his death will wonder. They killed Marta Dickenson hours after she came into possession of the files. You’ve been partners with Jake for years.”

“Let me think. Please.” Newton paced the lobby. “I can’t get my head around any of this. This is my partner, my friend. God, Jake introduced me to Lissa. We’ve . . . Lissa.” He stopped dead. “My fiancée. Is she in danger? Could they try to hurt her?”

“I can have her protected. I can and will have all of you protected. I need your cooperation. Who did Jake spend time with?”

“Us.” Whitestone lifted his hands. “He’s seeing someone now, but it’s not serious, and it’s not exclusive on either side. He likes the clubs, likes the nightlife. Rob’s backed off all that since he and Lissa got together, and, well, the fact is, I just couldn’t keep up with Jake. I guess I didn’t really want to. I like the clubs, too. I like getting out there. But not every night. He’d go out alone, or he’d hook up with somebody for a while.”

“I want to call Lissa,” Newton insisted. “I need to know she’s safe.”

“Give me her location. I’ll send a protection detail now.”

“She’s at work.”

He gave Eve the information, visibly relaxed when she ordered two officers dispatched. “You can talk to her after we’re done here,” Eve told him. “Now, again, if you know anything.”

“I don’t,” Newton insisted. “I . . . He’s been traveling more than usual in the last few months. He’s largely responsible for bringing in new, out-of-state clients. He’s good at it.”

“Any recent trips to Miami or the Caymans?”

“I’d have to check,” Newton said, “but his last trip was to Miami, about two weeks ago.” He dropped back in the chair. “I can’t believe this is happening. Can we see him? We should . . . whatever he did, we were partners. We were friends.”

“You don’t want to see him now. I’ll do what I can to arrange it later if it’s what you want.”

“He’s not close to his family,” Whitestone told her. “And they’re—most of them—up in Michigan. I think Rob and I will want to make . . . the arrangements. I think we should see him when we can. How did he die?”

She could tell them now, or let them find out when the media blasted the details. “He was beaten to death.” She continued when Newton simply covered his face with his hands. “I need the medical examiner to confirm, but I believe he was stunned first, and most likely unconscious. If that’s the case, he didn’t suffer. He didn’t feel anything.”

“If he did what you think . . .” Whitestone spoke carefully in a voice that wavered. “. . . if he did these things, it was a game to him. It was wrong, but a game. He liked being a player, liked being important. He made

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