Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,115
his house for a while?” Lucy asked.
“I’m not doing anything. You?”
“Nope.”
“You think he’s going to leave?”
“Fifty-fifty. Leave or make a call, but we don’t have a warrant for his phone records.” Yet.
Jennifer drove around the block and parked just out of sight from Clemson’s house but where they’d be able to see if he left his driveway.
Not ten minutes later, he left his house.
“You’re good, Kincaid,” Jennifer said with a tight expression. “Let’s nail him.”
“Let’s just see where he goes.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Mitch Corta had disappeared.
Okay, Sean thought, maybe not actually disappeared, but Sean couldn’t find him anywhere. He wasn’t at work—his assistant said he left at noon, saying he was sick. Sean checked out his house, he wasn’t there. Sean considered breaking in but decided against it. Then Sean drove by all of Mitch Corta’s active listings, but neither he nor his car was there.
Where they hell had he gone?
As he drove back from Mitch’s house—for the second time—a familiar number called him.
“Patrick, it’s about time you called me back.”
“I’m sorry, Sean, it’s been crazy.”
“Lucy wants you here for Thanksgiving.”
“I know. I’m trying to make it work, but there are extenuating circumstances. I can’t—it’s hard to explain.”
“Tell me.”
Sean listened to Patrick. “Call Lucy and tell her what’s going on. She’ll understand.”
“No, she won’t. I know she doesn’t like Elle, and this is going to be one more thing that’s going to grate on her.”
“They just rub each other the wrong way,” Sean said. “You didn’t like me when I started dating Lucy.”
“Not exactly true.”
“Really.”
“It was different.”
Sean snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Just listen to me: Tell Lucy.”
“Maybe. We’re still hoping to work it all out. But … I’m not coming without Elle. I can’t do that to her, even to make Lucy happy. I hope Lucy understands, someday.”
“I might have an idea.”
“What?”
“I need to make a call, but just be open to suggestions.”
“All right,” he said suspiciously.
“Trust me, Patrick.”
“Famous last words,” he muttered.
Sean laughed, said good-bye, and ended the call. He sent a message to Kate about Patrick’s dilemma, and she responded almost immediately:
I’ll move mountains.
Sean grinned. If anyone could fix this, it was Kate.
His cell phone rang, and he couldn’t imagine that Kate had answers in five minutes, but when he answered he realized it was Marie, Stanley Grant’s sister.
“Sean, I’m sorry to bother you, but Billy and John convinced me that I needed to call you with information.”
“Are you in Lake Charles?” She was planning to go there with her ex and stay with her family until this case blew over.
“Yes. We’re here.”
“Good. I don’t think you’re in danger anymore, but it’s best to be cautious.”
“Mitch called me late this morning to tell me how sorry he was that Stan was gone,” Marie said, her voice quiet, tired. “He was torn up—really torn up. I asked him if he knew what was going on—why Stan confessed when it was clear that Mitch didn’t believe that he killed Victoria. I begged him to tell me why he was killed.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Stan had been a pawn, a chess piece to move around because he was the only one who gave a shit. Which makes no sense. He promised me that Stan never killed anyone, but he didn’t know how to prove it. Why won’t he go to the police? Why won’t he tell the police what he knows? Stan deserves to be cleared of these charges, even if he’s dead. Right? Where’s the justice if my boys grow up with everyone thinking their uncle was a cold-blooded killer? I can’t— I don’t want them to suffer. To be bullied and ridiculed and—” She began to sob.
“Marie, I’m going to find Mitch. He’ll tell me.” Sean would make sure of that.
He hung up and was about to go back to Mitch’s house and crack his security system. He’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t break any serious laws now that he was married to Lucy, but in this instance he justified it because Mitch’s life might be in danger. At least, that’s what he told himself.
But he didn’t get a chance. Lucy called. “Can you meet me at Russo’s? I’m in the parking lot sitting in Detective Reed’s truck.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
When he arrived, he slipped into the backseat of Detective Reed’s dark-blue King Cab Ford.
“Lucy, Detective. Good to see you again.”
Reed caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “You’d better not have been lying to me the other day about the courthouse.”