“Absolutely sure?”
“It’s done.”
“Does it leave any trace that it was attempted, electronically?”
“No, but this isn’t like you. First it’s top priority that it goes through, then it’s top priority that it doesn’t? Are you okay?” Harold’s tone softened. “I’m asking you as your friend, not as your banker. We’ve known each other ten years, through thick and thin, you remember. We go back.”
Jake remembered. “No, I’m fine,” he answered, firmly. “Thanks.”
“So where do we go from here? What do you want me to do?”
“Forget the whole thing. I’m fine, and I appreciate your jumping on it when I needed you to.”
“No problem.” Harold’s voice snapped back to business. “Then I’d better go. I left the meeting to call you.”
“Thanks again. See you.” Jake pressed END just as the two detectives emerged from the building entrance below. He couldn’t leave the building until they were out of sight, so he watched them walk toward the front row of parking, reserved for Gardenia visitors. Two of the spaces were filled by a Volvo and a Jaguar, which Jake figured belonged to the Janoviches and the Warners, but next to them was a Crown Victoria, an older model in a dull navy blue. He assumed it belonged to the detectives, confirmed when they made a beeline for the sedan. But then they stopped suddenly, turned around in unison, and looked back at the building.
Detective Zwerling shielded his eyes, and they both squinted up at the building’s façade, their heads together in conversation. Evidently, they were trying to locate his office window.
Jake edged away from view, shuddering. He didn’t know why they were looking back at him, if they didn’t suspect him of something. He realized that they hadn’t asked him where he was last night, to see if he had an alibi, so maybe they didn’t suspect him at all. Or maybe they didn’t want to tip him off. Maybe they were playing games with him, doling out their questions as they continued their investigation. What was it that Detective Zwerling had said?
I suppose we’re done … for now.
But it was Pam he was worried about. Had she killed Voloshin? It seemed unthinkable. She was a sitting judge. Jake knew Pam to the marrow and he never would have believed her capable of murder. But then again, he never would have believed she would cheat on him, either. Or that she would keep the secret about the hit-and-run. Or give up a federal judgeship that she had wanted forever. What other sacrifices would she make for Ryan? Where did she draw the line?
Still, he couldn’t wait to see her.
The simple fact was, Jake loved his wife.
No matter what.
Chapter Thirty-six
Jake arrived at the quarry, the gravel popping under his tires. He cut the ignition and parked, but he didn’t see Pam. He got out of the car and checked around to make sure, but she wasn’t there. The only activity was on the far side of the immense quarry, at the construction site. Workers walked this way and that, backhoes toed the ground, and oversized trucks dumped loads of soil. The rumble of the equipment echoed off the rock walls of the crater.
Jake found himself worrying briefly if the construction workers could see him and checked around for security cameras. He knew he was being paranoid but he couldn’t help himself. He’d driven here with an eye on the rearview mirror, checking to make sure that the detectives weren’t following him.
Jake breathed in deeply, trying to relax. The air carried the familiar grit he remembered from his childhood, making it hard to breathe, but that could have been his memories. He glanced inside the enormous crater at the greenish brown water below, slightly choppy in the wind off the surface of the deep cliffs. A jagged vein of darker rock ran around the circumference of the quarry, a high watermark like the dirty rim of a bathtub, and his gaze traveled upward, over the strata of the limestone, its streaks of gray, tan, and brown formed over centuries.
It struck him that he was looking at a cross-section of time itself, if not his own personal history. His childhood would’ve started somewhere in the grayish streaks near the top, forty-odd years ago, and his father’s and mother’s would have started an inch below that, almost a century into the past, as if the layers of the limestone were the pencil lines they used to draw on the kitchen doorjamb when he was growing up, to chart his height. He and Pam drew the same lines on their kitchen doorjamb to mark Ryan’s height, the only tradition of his family’s worth keeping.
Jake realized with a deep pang that his mother would weep if she knew that her son had just been questioned by the police, after he’d left a young girl dead on the road. He also knew what his father would say.
Just my luck.
Jake swallowed hard, eyeing the strata of rock in the sun, which spilled into the countless crevices on the face of the cliff, illuminating even the tiniest of crevices, indentations, and faults, making shadows everywhere. The quarry kept no secrets, hiding nothing, but lay bare every buried sin, exposing it to light and air. Jake sensed he was looking at his own history, in which his decision on the night of the hit-and-run would become the blackest vein, a fault line that would render him and his family unstable, forever.
Story of my life.
There was a noise behind him, and Jake turned to see Pam driving up, on the phone. He wondered if she was talking to Dr. Dave, which brought him a stab of pain. He couldn’t read her expression because she had designer sunglasses on and she was dressed for work in one of those jackets-over-a-dress combinations that she favored. She turned off the engine, hanging up, then threw open the car door, jumped out, and let it slam behind her.
“Pam.” Jake walked toward her, raising his arms to embrace her, but she stiffed-armed him.
“Why am I here?”
“What happened with Voloshin last night?”
“I told you, I took care of it.” Pam slipped the phone into her blazer pocket and folded her arms. Her tone was cold, and her hair blew in the wind off the quarry. “I cleaned up your mess.”
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Jake had thought of nothing but that question on the drive here.
“What?”
“Andrew Voloshin is dead. He was found stabbed in his apartment last night. Two detectives were just at my office questioning me. They said one of the tenants saw a brunette leaving the complex last night. He was also heard arguing with a woman. Kathleen’s mother is brunette, but so are you. It wasn’t you, was it?”
“Are you serious?” Pam asked, sounding for the first time like herself. She tore off her sunglasses, revealing a horrified expression.
“You would never kill anybody, even for Ryan, would you?”
“Of course not.” Pam’s eyes flared in disbelief. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Voloshin’s not dead, he can’t be. I just saw him.”
“He is dead. Murdered.” Jake’s thoughts raced ahead. “If you didn’t kill him, who did? And why?”
“I just saw him,” Pam repeated, shaking her head.
“What time? Where did you see him?”
“Around ten o’clock, at his apartment.”
“You went to his apartment?” Jake asked, dumbfounded. “Why? What were you doing? How do you even know where he lives—”
“If you let me explain, I will,” Pam snapped, her eyelids fluttering briefly. “I looked him up online, like you did, and I found his address. I decided to go over there.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” Pam shot back. “You drove us straight into a ditch. You kept everything from me and you instructed Ryan to keep everything from me, so I had no say in what was going on. But once I found out, did you think I was going to sit around and do nothing?”
Jake didn’t interrupt because she was on the warpath.
“I used to be a pretty good litigator, remember? I still have sharp teeth and I’m not without resources. I decided to go over there and give him a piece of my mind. I wanted him to back off of Ryan and I wanted him to know that he wasn’t getting any more
money after this initial payment. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t about to be blackmailed into bankruptcy.” Pam paused. “Wait, what about the transfer? Did you pay him?”
“I stopped it in time. It never went through.”
“Good.” Pam rubbed her forehead irritably, leaving pinkish welts with her nails. “So I drove over and knocked on his door. The apartment complex is one of those with townhomes stuck together, only two stories. Duplexes, and it’s kind of run down. His apartment is on the second floor of one of the townhouses. His name was on the mailbox. I went in the downstairs door behind the first-floor tenant—”
“The tenant let you in? Just like that?”
“Please, he’s an old man and I gave him a big smile.”
“Did you tell him that you were there to see Voloshin?”
“What’s the difference?”
“I’m thinking about the police. I’m wondering if you’re the brunette that they were referring to or if the old man can identify you—”
“Of course he can’t. It was dark. He could barely see me through his trifocals, and anyway, I didn’t explain anything to him. I just walked in behind him, smiled, then went upstairs.” Pam threw up her hands, with the sunglasses looped around her thumb. “Honestly, Jake! What are you so worried about?”
Jake let it go. He didn’t want to tell her what he was so worried about, not yet.
“Anyway, I went upstairs, and Voloshin’s apartment door was open partway. I knocked and called for him, but it swung open all the way.”
“He leaves his door open?”
“It was the only apartment on the floor, so I assume he wasn’t worried about it. I went in. He came up later with a basket of laundry. I guess he’d been in the laundry room, wherever that was.”
“So he came into his apartment and found you there?” Jake was trying to imagine the chronology.
“Yes, but not before I did some snooping.”
“What did you do? What did you see?”
“Hold on. When he came in, I explained to him who I was and why I was there.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him that I was Ryan’s mother and a judge, and that he was the lowest form of life on the planet. I told him that if he ever breathed a word of what he knew or bothered us again, then I’d go to the police myself.”
“Did you raise your voice?”
“Of course. That’s my forte.”
“Did he?”
“Not really. He asked me to leave, but I wasn’t about to go until I said my piece. Then I left.”
Jake couldn’t hide his dismay. “The police said one of the tenants overheard a woman arguing with him.”
“That would be me. That little bastard, he’s the worst kind of bully. A coward.” Pam paused. “It’s too bad he’s dead, murdered that way, even if it means he can’t blackmail us anymore. I mean, I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”
“The killer made it look like a burglary, or it was an actual burglary. But Voloshin was alive when you left him?”
“Of course. He threw me out. Walked me to the apartment door.”
“And you went downstairs. Did you see anybody on your way out?”
“No.”
“What about the old man? The first-floor tenant?”
“No. I didn’t see anybody. Why are you asking me all these questions?”
“I want to know. Then what did you do?”
“I went to the car and left.”
“Were you wearing your sunglasses?”
“Of course not. It was nighttime.”
Jake tried to imagine it. “Did the place have a security guard, like a gatehouse at the front?”
“No, you just drive in.”
“Did you see any security cameras around or any security guards?”
“There was no security guard, and it was too shabby to have any surveillance cameras.”
“How long would you say you were there?”
“Talking with him? Five minutes. Before that, snooping around? About ten minutes. I took pictures.”
“You took pictures inside his apartment?”
“You’re not going to believe what I saw.” Pam looked at her iPhone, and Jake came over as she thumbed through to her camera roll, a multicolored grid like an electronic mosaic. She looked over at him, then edged backwards again. “Forget it. I don’t have time to look at them. I have to get to work.”
“You’re not even going to stand next to me now?”
“You think everything is fine, just like that?”
“No, of course not, but—”
“Nothing’s fine, nothing. You got us into this mess. You ruined our lives. You ruined our son.”
“Honey—”
“Don’t ‘honey’ me. I don’t want to talk about it now. I have to get to work. If I get in any later, people will start asking questions.”
“Can I see the pictures?”
“You can’t see them in the sun, anyway.” Pam waved the iPhone at him. “He keeps a bulletin board over his desk and it has lots of pictures of Kathleen. He was stalking her. You were right, okay? Is that what you need to hear?”
“So you took pictures of his desk.” Jake wondered if her fingerprints would show up anywhere. “Was his computer there?”
“Yes, a laptop. I took a picture.”
“The police said that whoever killed him took his laptop and phone. Did you see a phone anywhere?”
“No, I assume he had it with him. Maybe it will show up in the photos. You can look for yourself.” Pam hit a few buttons on her iPhone. “I’ll email—”
“No, don’t email—”
“Why not? I just did.”
“Pam, think about this.” Jake realized that she hadn’t thought it through, probably because she’d been so upset. “The police are looking for a brunette who had an argument with Voloshin right before he was murdered. They suspect he had a girlfriend, but we know that woman is you, unless another brunette came by later, like maybe Kathleen’s mother, but still, I don’t know why she would—”
“So what?” Pam checked her watch. “Could you speed it up?”
“So after you leave Voloshin’s apartment, sometime during last night, he turns up dead. If the police figure out that you were the brunette, they could suspect you of his murder. They could come question you, like they did me, at your chambers or at home.”
Pam stood stunned, blinking. Behind her, a shadow crossed the quarry from a passing cloud.
“You were the last person to see Voloshin alive, and the photos you took are proof that you were in his apartment last night. Now that you sent them to me, and even if you delete them from your phone, we can’t delete them from the email server.” Jake could see her withdrawing, recoiling as it dawned on her. “Your picture is in the newspaper from time to time, so one of the tenants could have recognized you. Or even if you hadn’t been seen, a security camera or even a traffic-light camera could’ve taken your picture. If the police come to question you, you’re done for, and so are we all.”
Pam’s lips parted, but she still didn’t speak.
“Honey, are you okay?” Jake asked gently, reaching for her arm, but she jerked it away, dropping her sunglasses and iPhone. They both bent down to retrieve the items, but she reached them first and snatched them up from the gravel and dirt, then held them to her chest in an oddly protective way.
“Jake. That’s not possible, what you’re saying.” Pam frowned, shaking her head and backing away, her voice softer. “That’s impossible. Nobody would think that of me. The police would never think that.”
“They could, honey. They came to my office today because I called Voloshin this morning, telling him the transfer would be late. His murder hadn’t hit the news by then, but it probably has now—”
“That’s why the police came to you? What did you tell them?”
“I told them that Voloshin came to me as a prospective client but that I didn’t sign him. I did the best I could,
but I couldn’t really explain why he sought me out at the basketball game.” Jake could see she was getting more upset, backing away from him and shaking her head. “If they get his phone records, the police will see that I was the last person to talk to him last night, but I think I explained that. They didn’t ask me if I had an alibi, but they still could. And you, what’s your alibi?” Jake didn’t ask because she was so distraught, but what he wanted to ask was, Is Dr. Dave your alibi?
“Oh no. Oh no.” Pam closed her eyes, still clutching her phone and sunglasses. “I put myself on the hook, didn’t I? I went over there. I argued with him, loudly. I didn’t try to hide. I didn’t wear sunglasses or anything. Anyone could have seen me. Anyone could’ve heard us arguing. Anyone could’ve seen my car or my license plate. I didn’t know someone would kill him. Who would kill him—”
“Honey, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out, together.” Jake took a step toward her.
“No, leave me alone, I have to go.” Pam turned away, hurrying toward her car.
“Pam, please!” Jake hustled after her and caught her arm, but she wrenched it back, tears filling her eyes.
“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone! I hate you! You ruined everything, everything, everything!”
“Pam, no—”
“Stay away from me! Stay away from our house!” Pam reached her car and flung open the door. “I’m going home tonight, not you! You won’t live there, ever again! It’s over, Jake! We’re over!”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Jake sped away from the quarry, as if his guts had been kicked out of him. He turned onto Concordia Boulevard, its four lanes of traffic beginning to congest with the coming noontime rush, and he steered the car toward home. He wasn’t going back to the office and he wanted to look at the pictures from Voloshin’s apartment, then figure out if he could delete them from his email server.
We’re over!
Jake tried to put Pam’s voice out of his mind, but couldn’t. He looked through the windshield at the traffic light, but all he saw was her tears. His fingers curled around the plastic steering wheel, but all he could feel was the warmth of her hand under his palm. He had taken that touch for granted. He was trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she had cheated on him, but now it was beginning to sink in that she could really be in love with Dave, and that he had lost his wife forever.