Cut and Run (Lucy Kincaid #16) - Allison Brennan Page 0,56
up on Stanley Grant’s shooting—does this mean you believe he’s innocent or guilty and working with someone else?”
“No comment. I don’t want to see you again.”
“You haven’t seen me before. You haven’t answered my calls.”
“We have a public information officer, as the desk sergeant told you at least three times.”
“And the public line is always that you got the right guy and it’s up to the justice system to prosecute him. Rumor is that if Grant’s confession is tossed by the judge, then the prosecutor isn’t going to charge him unless you come up with more evidence.”
“Where the hell did you hear that?”
Max had made it up out of thin air based on the little she knew about what the police actually had, and she was pleased she got Reed to react.
The young detective pulled up in a pool sedan.
“So it is true.”
“We always review evidence prior to trial. Grant confessed, we take it from there.”
“But the evidence is circumstantial.”
Wisely, Reed didn’t comment, though Max was hoping she could goad the senior detective into a slipup.
“Ms. Revere, I have a shooting to investigate. If you want any information about this case, you’ll need to talk to the public information officer. And if I catch you stalking me again, I’ll arrest you for interfering with a police officer in the line of duty.”
Max laughed—she couldn’t help it. “Good luck with that,” she said, and watched Reed get into the car and drive off.
The cop might be good, but Max was better.
They knew their case against Stanley Grant was weak. Now Max needed to know what exactly they had.
How to get it might be tricky, but that had never stopped her before.
She called Sean.
“Where are you?”
“In an Uber on my way to pick up a rental car. The damn gunman shot out my tire.”
“We need to talk to Mitch Corta.”
“Yes, we do,” Sean said. “He was one of two people Grant talked to before he left the courthouse.”
“Who was the other?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m working on it.”
“I want to talk to Mitch alone, but I need you to follow him.”
“One of my favorite pastimes.”
* * *
MCG Land and Holdings was housed in a new four-story building north of the airport. They shared the first floor with an insurance company and a property management company.
Mitch Corta was the only principal left working, with Victoria dead and Stanley in prison. He still retained their full staff, but according to Grover Mills, Mitch was overwhelmed and didn’t want any help, so Max was pretty certain she’d find him in the office.
She was right.
Mitch saw Max as soon as she walked into the main office, since his door was open and he had a clear view of the lobby.
Max smiled at the receptionist when she said, “May I help you?”
Mitch stepped into the doorway. “Maxine Revere?”
“You remembered.”
“Grover said you were coming to town, but I didn’t think you’d be here this fast. Did you hear?”
“That Stanley Grant was shot and is in critical condition after being released on bail? Yes. Can we talk in your office?”
“I don’t know that this is a good time. I was trying to find out what hospital he’s at so I can see him. Check on his sister—oh, God, what if she doesn’t know?”
“She was there. Lucky to be alive, as she was only a few feet from him and he was shot three times.”
Mitch paled. “How do you know that?”
She didn’t want him to know that she was working with Sean, not yet. She didn’t know why she thought Mitch was acting suspicious, but first, he was planning to visit the man who allegedly killed his ex-wife and business partner, and second, he was one of two people that same business partner called when he learned he’d been granted bail. Something didn’t add up, but she didn’t have enough information to draw any conclusions.
Though Mitch didn’t specifically invite her inside and he hadn’t moved from the doorway, she brushed past him and into his office. He followed her. She glanced around his modest space. Everything was placed just so and the colors were cool and inviting: gray hues with dark mahogany furniture. The books on the shelves appeared to be for show, because who in a land development office would read Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Crisp black-and-white photographs of land—wide-open spaces, horses, cattle—decorated the pale-gray walls.
“Can I get you something?” Mitch asked. “Coffee? Water?”
“I’m good, thank you.” Mitch seemed anything but comfortable. It could be because of the stress of