Warning Signs (Alexis Parker Book 19) Read online

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “She said her trip might get extended.” He swallowed the tea. “You know, I might be an asshole for doing this, but I’ll always wonder if I don’t. Eve deserves better from me. She deserves to be trusted completely and utterly. I’m thinking this is my problem, my neuroses, but I have to be sure. Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

  “Would you forgive her?”

  “I’d forgive her for anything, even if she is cheating.”

  “Okay then, let’s go over some details so I have some idea of where to start.”

  Ten

  My interview with Andre North saved me a lot of time. He told me everything there was to know about Eve from her work schedule to her pilates classes to the grocery store where she picked up her favorite flavor of ice cream, mint chocolate chip. Based on the pages and pages of detailed notes, I’d say Andre North knew his fiancée well, which made me think his fears might not be entirely unfounded. Anyone who paid that much attention, who was so hopelessly head over heels for his partner, would pick up on little cues or subconsciously note any changes.

  I dug through the drawer to find my colored pens since the purple one I’d been using had run out of ink. Then I continued detailing Eve’s schedule in a blank planner so I’d know every place she’d be and when she’d be there. The color coding made it easier to depict work activities from Eve’s personal activities. The grocery store wasn’t a given, except on Thursdays. She always stopped by on Thursday nights after work to get supplies for whatever weekend work event she had planned and for movie night with Andre. Even if they went to the theater, they liked to sneak junk food into the movie since they didn’t like the limited options available at the concession stand.

  When I finished writing down Eve’s schedule, I checked my dropbox to see if the records I requested had been delivered yet. I found details on Andre North’s business but nothing on Eve Wyndham. After putting my computer to sleep and locking the sensitive materials in my drawer, just in case any inquisitive clients or coworkers wandered in, I headed for the elevator. This was my chance to do some digging into Cross’s meeting with Victor Landau, all while working on my current Cross-approved case. Soon, I’d be named the queen of multitasking.

  While IT pulled Eve’s records, I asked about Victor Landau and his firm, but they’d never run his records. Aside from asking for a copy of Cross’s phone logs, this wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I took the information packet they handed me and went upstairs to update Cross on the situation.

  When I arrived, Justin told me he was on the phone. “Is there something I can do or a message I can pass along?”

  “Actually,” I leaned closer, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I just had IT run Eve Wyndham’s phone and browser history for me. I have her daily routine and weekly meetings noted, so I don’t think surveilling her is going to be a problem. As far as her fiancé knows, she doesn’t have any trips planned until after they get back from their honeymoon.”

  “Okay.”

  “So just let Lucien know I have a plan and most things are taken care of. I am curious about a few things, though.” I frowned and bit my lip while performing a hair flip. However, Justin didn’t seem the type to have much interest in the damsel in distress routine, or I’d already shown my true colors by barging into Lucien’s office on more than one occasion.

  “What?” He’d mastered almost the same level of dread as everyone else who knew me, and this was probably the first actual conversation the two of us ever had.

  “I’m sure you’re aware the police asked me to consult on a case.”

  Justin busied himself with something on the computer screen. “Uh-huh.”

  “Right, so I was hoping you could shed some light on Victor Landau or what he may have wanted.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure? Didn’t you schedule the meeting?”

  He stopped typing and wheeled his chair backward. Opening a cabinet, he pulled out a large leather portfolio. “That was two months ago. The meeting was scheduled for the seventh.” He held the book out for me to read. New client consultation. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “Do you remember meeting Mr. Landau?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Did he seem distressed?”

  “Compared to everyone else we meet?”

  “Fair point.”

  “Look, Ms. Parker, I understand you’re in a pickle, but you put yourself in this position. Lucien spoke to the police. You’ve checked our records. There’s nothing here. Nothing to find. I’m sorry Mr. Landau was killed, but I don’t know why it happened. Landau never explained why he wanted a meeting with Lucien. He didn’t tell me anything on the phone when I made the appointment, and he didn’t stay long enough to share his problem with the boss.”

  “Do the phone calls get recorded?” I asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Fine. I just have one final request.”

  “I’ll help if I can.”

  Yeah, right, I thought. “I want to know how Andre North or Eve Wyndham connects to James Martin.”

  “Why would you think—”

  “Don’t even,” I interrupted. “Just answer the damn question.”

  Justin fought to keep the amused look off his face. “Check the records you requested on Mr. North’s business. I’m sure you’ll find the answer there.”

  Before I could say anything else, the door to Cross’s office opened. Lucien didn’t appear surprised to see me. “Justin, I need you to deliver this to Mr. Almeada right away. I don’t have time to wait for the courier.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On your way back, stop by city hall and pick up the copies of the records I requested. For some reason, their website is being finnicky today.” Cross rubbed his eyes. “That’s the last thing we need right now.”

  “On my way, boss.” Justin slid out from behind his desk, took the manila envelope from Cross’s hand, and disappeared into the elevator.

  “What do you want?” Cross asked as he headed for the espresso maker in the rear of the room. This might have been the first time I’d ever seen him get his own coffee. Until now, I wasn’t even sure he was capable of such a feat. He waited for the steam to stop shooting up from the spout before he pulled the first tiny mug away and placed a second one beneath it. He pushed the button again, waited for it to finish brewing, and handed me one of them. “Besides coffee.”

  I inhaled deeply. “Andre North just left.”

  “Odd.” Cross led the way back into his office and gestured at the sofa. “What did he want?” After I filled in the boss on everything that happened in my meeting, he cleared his throat. “It sounds like you’ll have your hands full for the next few weeks.”

  “Once Eve gets back. Until Monday, I’ll do some recon, ask around, get the lay of the land, so to speak.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Uh-huh. And that’ll give me a few more days to assist the PD in their hunt to catch a killer.”

  He put the cup down. “That’s not Cross Security business. I don’t care.”

  “You should.” I took a deep breath. “You’re not a suspect. Your fingerprints and DNA are on file with the police department. They know you weren’t in the room.”

  “Hurrah,” he deadpanned, growing irritated the longer I dragged this out.

  “But I have questions.”

  “You or the police?”

  “Me. But if I’ve come up with them, they will eventually.”

  “Again, I believe you give them far too much credit.” He eyed the open door and then his watch. “Well, spit them out. I don’t have the time or patience for you to prolong this.”

  “Did Victor Landau tell you his life was in danger or try to hire a security detail?”

  “No. If he’d stayed longer, maybe. But I’m not a mind reader, and neither are you.”

  “You run backgrounds on everyone.”

  “That’s
not a question.”

  “What do you know about Landau?”

  “You give me too much credit. I don’t waste my time on potential clients.”

  “We both know that’s not true. You vet everyone. Employees. Clients. The window washers.”

  He worked his jaw for a moment, at a loss for words. “Not always, but I try.”

  “What turned up?”

  Cross sighed again. “You should let this go. It’s not our problem. It’s definitely not my problem, but you’re making it my problem. And I don’t like it. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Almeada about this situation. Cross Security need not be involved.”

  “Cross Security is uninvolved, just the way you like it. I’m a private contractor and a current consultant to the police department. I don’t count.”

  “If you’re questioning me in that capacity, I want my attorney present.”

  “Dammit, Lucien, what are you so afraid of?”

  “Nothing, but I’ve learned it’s best to mind my own business. It would serve you well to take that lesson to heart.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, and the staring contest began. Given how little sleep I’d had in the last month, I was positive I could probably stay here all day and fall asleep with my eyes open. Cross didn’t have that kind of time. He had a company to run. Finally, he relented, “Victor Landau is a partner at an architecture firm. He’s been featured in various nationwide publications for his design skills. In professional circles, he’s considered a rock star, but that’s his public persona.”

  “He sounds like your kind of client.”

  “Yes, well, he approached me. Not the other way around. After Justin scheduled the meeting, I did some preliminary research. I didn’t find any threats. No police reports filed. Nothing.” His cheek twitched. “His business is sound and solvent as well. I’m not sure what he wanted to discuss, but if I had to guess, I’d say it might have been the usual corporate security package. Employee background checks, upgraded security systems, internet security and privacy improvements.”

  “Wouldn’t someone from the firm have contacted you about that when Landau failed to follow up?”

  “They could have gotten a better deal elsewhere.”

  “Did they?” I knew Cross would have had his ear to the ground on this.

  “No.”

  “So it probably wasn’t that.” I studied Cross carefully. “What do you suspect?”

  “Off the record?”

  “Yes.”

  “Victor Landau was a member of an exclusive underground club. The location changes weekly. The private events are invite only. Identities are supposed to be kept anonymous. Each member contributes on a rotating basis, providing the room and,” Cross searched for the proper word, “favors. There’s nothing illegal about it. All parties must consent before participating. They are all of legal age. No illicit substances are to be on the premises.”

  “You’re talking about a sex club.”

  “I’m talking about a secret that could destroy a man’s reputation and decimate his career if such things ever came to light.”

  “He’s an architect, not a politician.”

  “In this day in age, do you think it makes much of a difference? It doesn’t matter what our opinions are. It’s up to the media and the masses to pass judgment. And they will.”

  “Even if it’s perfectly legal?”

  “This isn’t about legality. It’s about morality, and everyone has a different definition of the word.”

  “Do you think someone was blackmailing Landau?” I asked.

  “I never found any indication of it, but that’s the only blemish I discovered.”

  “That would mean one of the members is a killer.” I thought about the first murder in the recent spree. The police had found various narcotics beside the body, and based on the track marks, the first victim was obviously an addict. Had that been a test run?

  “Let the police handle it, Alex.”

  “Landau wasn’t the first victim.” O’Connell would kill me for sharing this. “He’s the fourth.”

  Cross cleared his throat again, a sure sign of his discomfort. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You know a lot about this underground club.” I didn’t want to ask the question, but I had to know. “Are you a member?”

  “No.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “Some of Cross Security’s clients are.”

  Eleven

  “Hey, Thompson,” I held up the grease-stained brown paper bag and shook it at him, “I didn’t forget.”

  He eyed me suspiciously as he exited the precinct. He crossed the parking lot and took the bag from my outstretched hand. “Donuts are better during shift, not after.”

  “Fine, give it back.”

  “Hell no.”

  I picked up the large paper cup from where it sat beside me on the hood of O’Connell’s car and took a sip. Another brown paper sack sat beside it, along with a drink carrier with two other coffee cups.

  “Did you bring me a mocha?”

  “You’re off shift. Why would you need coffee?”

  “To go with the donut.” He read the side of the cup, making sure to select the one that didn’t have the check mark next to latte. “Does Nick know you’re out here?”

  “Nope.” I leaned back, resting my elbows against his windshield. “I thought I’d surprise him.”

  “He won’t like you sitting on top of his car.”

  “Should I sit on top of yours instead?” Dirty, my mind retorted, nearly making me laugh. That was a sure sign I’d had too much sugar and caffeine today and not enough sleep.

  He gave me a look. “Night, Parker.”

  I watched him cross to his car and drive away. Several detectives and other police personnel eventually wandered out of the precinct. Ten minutes later, O’Connell exited from the rear door. As usual, he was the last one out. No wonder we got along so well.

  As soon as he spotted me, he snickered. “What are you doing here?”

  “You mean you didn’t place an order for a sprinkled donut and vanilla latte? I could have sworn that was you. Guess it must have been another one of my favorite detectives.”

  He took a seat beside me on the hood of the car and dug into the bag. “Jen wouldn’t want me eating this.”

  “So don’t eat it.”

  “I can’t just not eat it.” He nudged the brown paper bag toward me. “What kind did you get?”

  “Chocolate crème.”

  He took a bite while I took my donut out of the bag. Perhaps I should have gotten a dozen to take home. Apparently, I had an appetite for sugary fried dough filled with chocolate. It was just one of those days.

  “Jablonsky stopped by earlier.” He wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin into the bag and balled it up. “The DNA comparison came back. The female DNA was a match to the other three murder scenes.”

  “She was at all four?”

  “Yep, but we still don’t know if she’s the killer.”

  “Hell of a coincidence if she’s not.”

  “It is.”

  “Jablonsky doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

  O’Connell reached for the vanilla latte. “He shared the other two killing sprees he discovered with me, along with his theory that it’s a man. Apparently, you two have some money riding on this.”

  “I hope you didn’t bet against me.”

  “I’d never bet against you.” He waited for me to finish my donut before taking our trash and tossing it into the bin. “Jablonsky’s going to get the FBI labs to compare the DNA samples from our crime scenes to the ones he discovered, but since the original investigators never found a consistent match connecting those scenes, I don’t think we’ll get a match now. All of that should be logged in the database anyway. We should have gotten an automatic hit.”

  “Mark’s just being thorough. He’s bored.” My eyelid twitched. “I don’t like this. I d
idn’t ask for his help. I didn’t want him to get involved. That wasn’t what last night was about. But as usual, he stuck his nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “That must be where you get it from.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “Don’t worry. He has no jurisdiction, and his leads are crap. It’ll be fine,” O’Connell insisted.

  “Nothing about this is fine.”

  O’Connell crossed his arms over his chest and gave me his patented expert interrogator stare. “You came here for a reason, and it wasn’t because the donut place had a two for one deal.”

  “It’s three for two.”

  “Parker.”

  “I need to tell you something, possibly off the record.” I glanced around, but we were alone. “Victor Landau was a member of Priapus, the underground sex club. Their membership requirements are ridiculous. Secrecy is a must. It’s my understanding their clients sign NDAs, possibly blood oaths.”

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “They’re that exclusive, and they don’t have a location. The party bounces around. The members sometimes have private gatherings, one-on-one sessions, or giant free-for-alls. It varies. From what I understand, they receive a private notification, probably a text, and whoever’s in shows up. The groups rotate. It varies every week or however often they gather. One of the members books the room. Others join him or her. They aren’t doing anything illegal, so they’ve managed to stay off police radar.”

  “I’ll still check with vice.” He dug out his phone and typed out a reminder. “So that’s what was going on when Landau was murdered?”

  “That’d be my guess, but it’s possible this could have been a separate social gathering and had nothing to do with Priapus.”

  O’Connell snorted. “Nice spin.”

  “The only problem with this theory is the first murder doesn’t fit Priapus’s strict policy restrictions. They don’t allow drugs at club events.”