I Know Everything Page 7

  “Absolutely,” Susan replied. “Your findings here and the fact that the blood had coagulated and started to settle in the body are clear evidence she was dead prior to the car running off the cliff.”

  “Yes. I would agree.”

  “Plus we have the fencing cut before the accident,” Tommy said. “That’s premeditated if I ever heard it.”

  Susan nodded. “Looks like we’re going to be ruling this a homicide.”

  “I’ll email you my report by the end of the day,” Nestor said. “We’re going to release the body back to the husband if that’s okay with you.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine as long as we have everything we’ll need for an investigation.” Susan looked at Amanda’s body lying facedown on the table and wondered what could’ve happened to make someone want to kill her in such a manner. Killed, then discarded off a two-hundred-foot cliff to cover it up. She’d seen her share of homicides over the years, but when murder was committed with such maliciousness, it always made her second-guess the point of humanity. This woman hadn’t deserved such an end.

  “Is there anything else you need?” Nestor asked.

  “No, I think I’m good. This’ll do for now.”

  12

  Randall pulled off the road and into his development. He passed the massive houses in his complex, each one adorned with holiday lights and decorations, each neighbor trying their hardest to outdo the other. Under normal circumstances, this display of Christmas bravado would’ve made him feel festive and jolly, perhaps even a bit competitive himself, but in his current state, all he could feel was numb. The lights and the decorations no longer represented anything good. Only a reminder that he’d be spending the rest of his holidays alone.

  As he crested the hill of the driveway, he saw a sedan sitting next to the garage doors, lights on, exhaust pumping from its tailpipe. Wipers intermittently cleaned a misty rain that had been falling for the last hour. He approached slowly, trying to see who it was, figuring it to be a grieving neighbor who’d stopped by to offer condolences and share stories about Amanda he didn’t want to hear. He really wasn’t in the mood to smile and thank them for coming. Yes, Amanda was perfect. She was the best. Yes, I know how much she loved you, and I know how much you loved her. No, I’ll be fine, but thank you for offering. That’s very kind.

  As he approached, he had the fleeting thought that it could be Sam in the car. He pulled around the sedan and stopped, realizing now that he could see better that it was the Ford Taurus he’d ridden in the day before. He rolled down his window and felt the mist gently kiss his skin.

  The Ford Taurus’s passenger’s-side window came down, and the dome light inside the car turned on.

  “Can you spare a few minutes to talk?” Adler asked.

  “Sure. Come around front, and I’ll let you in. Give me a minute to put the car away.”

  Randall pulled the BMW inside the garage. Once the door had shut behind him, he grabbed Amanda’s phone, which was sitting in one of the cupholders, and stuffed it in his pocket. He snatched his briefcase and went inside.

  Why is it freezing in here? Because he’d forgotten to turn the heat on before he’d left that morning. It was something Amanda usually did. She liked it cold at night and warm in the day, so she was always fiddling with the thermostat. He turned up the heat, then let the investigator in through the front door.

  Adler walked into the foyer and looked around. “Wow, great place.”

  “It was Amanda’s dream home. Something big enough to accommodate guests and the countless dinner parties she loved to throw, but nothing so big that it was obnoxious and wasteful. She lived here alone before we were married, if you can believe it. All this house just for one person. But as I understand it, her father would’ve built a house three times this size and only used twenty percent of it just so he could let everyone else know how wealthy he was. Apparently, he was that kind of guy.”

  “But not Amanda.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “She did a great job. It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” Randall ushered her into the family room. “Can I get you anything to drink? A coffee or hot tea? I’m sorry it’s so cold. I forgot to turn up the thermostat before leaving for the office.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Adler replied. She held up a manila envelope. “I just came by to let you know that the medical examiner’s office is making contact with the funeral home you picked and will be transferring Amanda’s body tomorrow morning. I’m sure you’ll get a call.”

  “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that. You could’ve called.”

  Randall took the envelope and watched as the investigator examined the floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked out onto rolling hills and endless forest. She passed the first sitting area and eased herself onto the edge of an antique armchair that had been set up with its mate next to a large stone fireplace.

  “I was going to call,” Adler said. “But then I figured I’d take a ride. I like it up here.”

  “Yes, it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

  “I was waiting out there for a while. Wasn’t sure if you were coming home.”

  “I’m sorry. I went to the university just to get away for a bit. I spent last evening making calls to family and friends about Amanda, and it ended up being a long night. I needed the distraction at the office.”

  “I get it. I’d probably do the same thing.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Divorced. Twins.”

  Randall nodded. “I sometimes wish Amanda and I met earlier in life so we could’ve started a family. She would’ve been a great mother. She was so caring. She touched so many people. I can’t believe she’s gone. It feels like it’s not real.”

  Adler was quiet.

  Randall wiped tears that were just beginning to form and forced himself to smile. “Yes, so that’s why I wasn’t here. I’m sorry you were waiting.”

  Adler reached inside her bag and came out with a small notepad and pen. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I need to tie up a few things for my report. Do you mind if I ask you some follow-up questions from when we met previously?”

  “More questions? I thought you had your fill at the medical examiner’s office.”

  “Yes, just a few more to file it away.”

  Randall sat down on the sofa across the room. He could feel the temperature warming up and took off the vest he’d been wearing. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

  “It sounds like you two had a good marriage. Is that the case?”

  “It is. We had a fabulous marriage. Two years seems short, but being with her felt like we’d been together for decades. She completed my life. She gave me what I never realized was missing. I was a whole person with her.”

  “Couldn’t have been bliss the entire time.”

  “Wouldn’t be called a marriage if it was. We fought, sure, but at the end of the day it was just the two of us being completely unafraid to express how we felt toward one another. She brought that out of me. She made me see that expressing ourselves was healthy, and our arguments never lasted more than a few hours. I can’t recall ever going to bed angry. That’s just the way it was. We said how we were feeling, and we dealt with it together. Communication is the key to any marriage that’s going to last. Being comfortable with that communication is what true love is really about.”

  “Do you know if Amanda was going through anything?” Adler asked. “Maybe with her foundations? Any struggles she was having? Monetary? Friendships?”

  Randall shook his head. “If you’re suggesting my wife drove her car off the road on purpose, that’s ridiculous. But for the record, no, Amanda wasn’t going through anything, and her foundation was fine. No money issues or friendships ending. I can get you the foundation’s financials if you’d like. You can have our tax returns as well. Nothing to hide.”

  “Thank you,” Adler replied. “I’ll take whatever you can provide.” She made a few notes. “What
about enemies? Did Amanda have any enemies?”

  “No. I’ve never known Amanda to have enemies.” Randall cocked his head to the side and stared at the investigator. Sam’s words were in his head again.

  Amanda was murdered, and I know who did it. I saw the whole thing. I can help you.

  “If I may,” Randall said, “is there something I should know? About the accident?”

  Adler closed her notepad and placed it back in her bag. She stood and extended her hand. “Nothing you need to be concerned about. These are routine questions to close out the file. Thank you for your time. I appreciate you sitting with me.”

  “These questions seem anything but routine.”

  “They are.”

  Adler walked through the family room, out into the hall, and into the foyer. Randall followed and opened the front door. She stopped as she stepped out onto the porch.

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  He watched as she walked down the flagstone path toward her car. Amanda had been murdered. Sam was right. He knew Adler was hiding this fact from him, and for a moment, he wanted to call out to her and tell her about his encounter earlier that afternoon. She needed to know because he needed to find out who killed his wife. He opened his mouth but choked on his words, suddenly understanding that disclosing anything at this point would be a mistake. Let them investigate on their own. He was in no position to volunteer anything.

  He closed the door when he heard the engine start and pulled Amanda’s phone from his pocket. He pushed the power button, but an icon appeared indicating the battery had run down. He had no idea where the charger was, so he ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, where the power cord for his phone was sitting on his nightstand. He plugged the phone in and watched as the green battery icon came to life and the lock screen appeared. The wallpaper was a picture of Amanda and a small group of children. Their support home was in the background. He’d taken that photo during a volunteer weekend. They’d painted the inside of the house and planted shrubs in the back. That day seemed like it had just happened.

  When the phone connected to the Wi-Fi in the house, buzzes and chimes began to sound as notifications popped up on the screen, one after the other. Four new voice mails, seventeen emails, eleven texts, and nine missed calls. Six of the nine missed calls and eight texts were from someone named Pooh.

  Randall knew he only had a few attempts at her password before the phone would freeze and would need to be reset. He tried Amanda’s birthday, their anniversary, his birthday, and the date her father had died. Nothing worked. A message came on the screen.

  One attempt remaining before lockout.

  The phone buzzed in his hand. Pooh was texting again, right then and there. Randall waited to see if this person would call, which would then allow him to answer the phone without needing Amanda’s password, but no such call came. After a few minutes, he placed the phone on the nightstand to allow it to finish charging and went downstairs for a drink.

  He had to figure out how to unlock that phone. He didn’t know the password, so it would come down to the fingerprint- or face-recognition software. Either way, he needed to see what his wife was up to. If Sam was to be believed, Amanda’s truths were inside that phone. Truths the police needed to know. Truths that could lead him to the person responsible for her death. Truths about a life he might not have known as completely as he’d thought. Everyone had secrets. He was no exception. Neither was Amanda.

  13

  The Cortlandt Emergency Services Barracks, or Cortlandt SP, sat on the border between Cortlandt and Buchanan, two Westchester County suburbs about an hour north of Manhattan. The barracks was a concrete building that had been constructed in the middle of a large parking lot across from the Cortlandt train station and next to an outdoor roller hockey rink the parks and rec department had built back in the late ’90s. On the outside, the barracks looked clean and still fairly new, despite it being almost twenty years old. Inside, however, the structure looked its age. Tight hallways, small interview rooms, and a crowded investigator’s unit made getting around a chore during shift change or briefings. The plain beige paint, cinder block walls, and dirty linoleum were in line with other state-funded facilities. This was Susan’s headquarters and had been since she had become an investigator ten years earlier. The dank and run-down surroundings were pretty much all she knew.

  She walked in from the parking lot through the steel access door and was immediately inside the investigator’s unit. The area held four metal desks, a row of filing cabinets, and a bookcase that was stuffed with multicolored binders. A flat-screen television hung on a brown-paneled wall next to a whiteboard that listed the investigators’ rotation schedule. Above the whiteboard was a clock, and on the opposite wall near the door to the workout room was a corkboard filled with flyers, wanted posts, advertisements, and random notices.

  Susan’s desk was in the corner. Tommy was sitting in the desk facing hers. She dropped her bag on the floor and sat.

  “You all moved in?” she asked.

  Tommy shrugged. “I guess. Not that much to bring. How’d it go with the husband?”

  “Fine. Didn’t get much. They seemed to have a good marriage. I didn’t sense anything that was off. Still early, though. How was HR?”

  “All done. Picture, ID card, updated prints, the works. I’m officially part of Troop K.”

  “Then let me be the first to welcome you to the team.”

  Tommy leaned forward and played with a pencil that was in his hand. “Hey, I didn’t get a chance before, but just wanted to say that I appreciate you taking me on without any pushback. I figured you might be pissed about having to babysit the new guy.”

  Susan chuckled as she logged into the barracks’ database. “You’ve seen too many movies, Corolla. We don’t slam our fists down on our bosses’ desks and demand they leave us alone and let us do things our way. We also don’t refuse help, because most of the time we’re overwhelmed and can use an extra set of hands. So if the trade-off is me showing you the ropes in exchange for some assistance on a case and an extra body to help in the rotation of future cases, that’s a no-brainer.”

  Tommy nodded and tossed the pencil onto the desk. “Got it. Real life is different from the movies.”

  “See? You’ve already learned lesson number one. You’re going to work out just fine.” Susan pulled up her call report and began logging in her interview notes. “So tell me about yourself. Where were you stationed before coming here? Crosby told me, but I forget.”

  “Town called Wolcott. A few towns south of Oswego.”

  “Near Lake Ontario?”

  “Yup.”

  “Wow, that’s out there. And you decided to come all the way down here?”

  “I came for the promotion, but I grew up around here, so it’s nice to be back. Really, though, I don’t care where they would’ve put me. I just want to learn as much as I can and make myself a better investigator.”

  “Where’d you grow up?”

  “Long Island. Port Jefferson.”

  “I didn’t know we had a city boy with us,” Susan said. “We’ll be heading in to see Amanda’s office in Midtown. Maybe you can give me a shortcut to beat the traffic.”

  “I don’t know anything about Midtown,” Tommy replied, smiling. “I grew up in the ’burbs. I can get you to a couple malls or the Sound. Jones Beach for sure. But I’m useless anywhere else.”

  Senior Investigator Jasper Crosby poked his head out of his office. “Susan. New Guy. A word, please.”

  Their boss was sitting behind his gunmetal-gray desk and rocking in his green upholstered chair, his knees sticking up from the desk’s edge. He was a large man, a former Penn State lineman from the eighties who seemed almost too big for the barracks as a whole. His white handlebar mustache played handsomely against his dark skin. And when Crosby spoke, his team of investigators listened.

  “I need an update,” he said. “Are we confirming homicide?”

  “
Appears that way,” Susan replied. “ME’s findings point to foul play.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  Susan sat in one of the two empty chairs. Tommy took the other. Crosby had been her boss since she’d arrived as a new investigator, so they had a tighter relationship than a lot of the other staff who had been transferred in. She liked his direct style. Neither of them had patience for bullshit, which she thought was why they got along so well.

  “We returned the body to the husband, but we’re still in possession of her belongings found at the scene.”

  “Still no phone?”

  “Not that we can find. I’ll need you to sign off on a request to get her cell records. Phone could’ve ended up in the river.”

  “What about the husband? You like him as a suspect?”

  “He’s on the list, but I don’t know. I just got back from his place. I don’t see it. Definitely not cleared yet, though.”

  “What’s his alibi for the night in question?”

  “Working alone at his office on the Quarim campus. I’m contacting the school for surveillance footage so we can see when he arrived and left. Make sure the alibi checks.”

  “What else?”

  “We need the why or who. I’m hoping the phone records will get us going in the right direction. We’ll also look into her foundations and see if there’s a money trace that looks suspicious. The data from the car’s computer should show us where she’s been over the last few weeks. At that point we go where the evidence takes us.”

  Crosby turned and grabbed a folder off a credenza. “We got some preliminary data on the fence from Forensics, and you were right. The section of fence our vic drove through was cut on the bottom and sides, leaving the top to keep everything looking intact up until impact. As soon as the Mercedes hit, it popped right through and off the cliff.” He handed her a file. “CSI says it looks like bolt cutters, but they can’t be more specific than that.”