He'd asked for Evelyn's help, and her digging confirmed the financial difficulties. She also learned that Angela had a history of problems with Albert Kim--documented animosity.
What if Angela and Mindy did get into a fight? Lingering resentment over Angela's affair with Howard. Angela went to confront Mindy at home, accidentally killed her and then made it look like a suicide. After that, something with Judge Kim sent her over the edge, and she killed him, staging it as another suicide. Then Walling came along, picking up on Angela's "pattern" of family court murders to frame Sheila. After Sara Atom's death, Angela knew it was safe to take Atom's cases--that there was no pattern of family court murders. She got extra work and looked like a hero.
It certainly wasn't a slam-dunk theory. But having Angela then want to meet Nadia at night? Alone? Yeah, that spelled trouble. Which was why Jack was staking out their meeting.
Let Angela show up. If she tried taking Nadia anyplace, he'd act. Otherwise, she might just want to talk, get a sense of whether Nadia suspected more. If so, then Nadia and Jack could talk tonight. He'd say, "Yeah, about Angela . . ." and give Nadia the evidence for them to discuss.
Only Angela wasn't showing up. It was now twenty past. He watched Nadia send a text. Answering one from Angela, he figured. Then she took a call and had a very short conversation.
Ten minutes later, another text and another call, equally brief. When she got off the phone, she flagged down a server, paid and left her table.
Angela had canceled. Jack exhaled. Okay, now he'd talk to Nadia about Angela. No more of this bullshit. Nadia wouldn't like Jack considering Angela as a suspect. It made him look like a jaded misanthrope, a guy who saw someone like Angela Kamaka and thought, Too good to be true. Which he hadn't, not until he had cause to dig deeper. Still, it looked shitty. It might make Nadia think poorly of him. And that was too fucking bad, wasn't it? For Nadia's safety, he had to speak up.
Jack had prepaid his tab and tip, so he hurried straight out to see Nadia flagging down a cab. He pulled back into the shadows. Yeah, she would get to the hotel ahead of him, but he could just pretend he'd gone for a walk on the beach. Then he'd sit her down and tell her what he was thinking.
A cab pulled over, Nadia got in. Jack waited as the car left the curb and . . . made a U-turn. Heading away from their hotel.
Fuck, no.
Angela hadn't called to cancel. She'd called asking Nadia to meet her someplace else.
Fuck, no.
Jack jogged to the sidewalk and flagged down a taxi. He had the door open before it even rolled to a stop.
"Follow that car," he said, pointing to Nadia's cab.
The middle-aged driver burst out laughing.
"I'm serious," Jack said. "I need you to follow--"
"That cab I just drove past? The one that a pretty lady got in?" The driver twisted, putting his arm over the seat as he looked back at Jack. "That's not a good idea."
"I need--"
"Look, I understand. You saw her inside the bar, maybe chatted a little. But you struck out. Let it go." He nodded at the gold band on Jack's finger. "Remember your wife, okay? Don't take a vacation from your vows, too."
"That is my wife."
The cabbie eyed Jack and shrugged. "Maybe. But if it is? I'd suggest letting her cool down. Go buy her a lei or something. Maybe a bottle of champagne. Have it chilled for when she gets back. She'll appreciate that far more than you chasing her down after a fight."
Jack leaned forward, the gun under his jacket shifting, reminding him how easy it would be to resolve this issue. Which was the problem with guns--they made every issue far too easy to resolve. And sometimes--most times--that was just a fucking bad idea.
Jack hesitated only a moment. Then he swung open the door and got out of the cab.
Chapter Twenty-four
Nadia
Jack was trying to get hold of me. He'd called while I'd been in the cab, and I'd let it go to voice mail. Then he texted--he wanted to talk about the case. I replied that, yes, we should do that . . . as soon as I got back.
That's when my cab arrived at its destination, and I added a quick second text: See you soon! before turning off my phone.
Angela said she'd be coming directly from work to meet me. Therefore, "work" was the first place I'd look for her. I headed straight to the parking garage and found her car there, with no signs of tampering.
I sent her another text. Her phone now went directly to voice mail.
I unzipped my light jacket--easier access to my gun--and headed for the stairwell. The broken card reader meant I got in easily. I climbed to Angela's office without passing so much as a security camera.
When I reached her floor, I glanced down the hall to see her office door ajar. I took out my gun and proceeded, step by careful step, along the wall. Then I eased over and slowly pushed the door open a few inches. I listened for some response from within. The office stayed dark and silent.
Gun ready, I swung in.
The reception area was empty, lit only by the glow of the security system. The unarmed security system, the light solid green.
I started toward Angela's office. The door was wide open, and there seemed to be a light on inside. I rounded the reception desk and . . .
A foot protruded from behind the desk. A foot in a man's stylish leather loafer, topped by a patterned sock. I moved cautiously, gun poised. When I could see the rest of the body, I stopped. From the shoe and sock, I'd expected Angela's well-dressed receptionist, Richard. Instead, Howard Lang lay crumpled on the floor.
I hurried over. Even as I dropped beside him, I could see his chest rising and falling. He was fine.
I gripped his shoulder. "Howard?"
He groaned.
"Howard."
There was no blood, no sign of injury, so I gave his shoulder a shake. He lifted his head.
"Wh--what?" he slurred as he peered around. "Where . . . ?"
He looked over his shoulder and saw me. Three hard blinks. Then he shook his head and straightened.
"Nancy," he said. "What are you . . . ? Shit!"
He scrambled up but swayed and had to grab the desk for support.
I helped him sit and crouched beside him.
"Angela," he said. "Where's Angela?"
"I was going to ask you that. She was supposed to meet me for drinks, and she never showed. What happened?"
"She hit me over the head." He fingered the back of his skull and winced. "Damn it. I did not see that coming."
"Angela hit you?"
He nodded. "I was talking to her earlier. I had some questions."
"For Angela?"
"I . . . I hated to think it, Nancy, but I had to. There were too many loose ends. Too many holes in her story."
"You mean you suspected Angela?"
"I did. So I came to talk to her. And that's all we were doing. Talking. I asked about a certain case, and she came out here to check the main filing cabinet. The drawer was stuck. Or so she said. I reached to open it, and something hit the back of my head. Next thing I know, you're waking me up." He looked around. "What time is it?"
"Just after ten."
"Shit!" He wobbled to his feet. "Then she's long gone. I can't believe I fell for that. I suspected her, and still, I let her get the jump on me."
"Do you have any idea where she'd go?"
He hesitated, and I could tell it took effort to collect his thoughts. "Actually, I do. She has a place outside the city. It's kind of her secret spot, but Angela and I . . . We had a thing."
I tried to hide my surprise. "So that's why you think she killed Mindy?"
It took him at least thirty seconds to answer. "I . . . When Mindy first died, I had to consider the possibility. Angela has a temper. But I knew Angela couldn't have made a bomb, so I stopped considering her. Then we found out about Victor, and I realized there was a chance he might not have killed Mindy. So I came to talk to Angela. I never accused her of anything, but she knows me. She must have realized
I was suspicious."
"Do you have a car?"
"I do."
"Then let's go."
Chapter Twenty-five
Nadia
Howard drove us outside the city. We went down back roads, parked in thick forest and then crept through it to find a place that was little more than a shack.
"Angela bought the property cheap years ago," Howard said. "Her dream was to tear this down and rebuild. For now, it's not much. But hardly anyone knows about it. She'd feel safe here. And, yep, there's a light on."
A dim one, barely more than a glow.
"We should split up," I said. "I'll take the back."
"I'd . . . I'd rather not. You already saw how I respond under pressure. I freeze up. You should take the lead."
I nodded and started forward. He fell in behind me. I'd gone five steps when I felt cold metal against the base of my skull.
I swore under my breath.
Howard chuckled. "You don't sound surprised."
"I'm never surprised."
"I bet you aren't. You're not just some chick who decided to play bodyguard, are you? I saw the way you handled Victor. I hesitated. You didn't. A perfect, cold-blooded shot."
"Just take me to Angela."
"Oh, believe me, I'm about to."
I started walking. I probably should have tried to seem more surprised, but really, I didn't see the point in faking it. I'd started suspecting Howard the moment I realized Victor wasn't the sole killer.
I remembered Angela's reaction when she first mentioned Howard, and I thought she meant he was a suspect. She'd hesitated before laughing it off and correcting me. And I thought she'd just been surprised, but then I began to wonder. Which is why I'd wanted to talk to her tonight. I'd hoped I was wrong. I liked Howard. Maybe I'm a romantic at heart, but I also liked the idea that he'd still cared enough about his ex to single-mindedly hunt down her killer. And then doubt had set in as I'd twisted the situation around. What if Howard killed Mindy? What better way to ensure he wasn't caught than to investigate her murder as the grieving ex?
I'd known exactly why he brought me to this shack, and I'd been relatively certain this place never belonged to Angela. It was just a convenient place to stash her . . . and now me.
I continued on to the house. Then I turned around, faced him and reached for my gun.
"Are you crazy?" he said, pointing his weapon at my forehead. "Or do you really think I didn't realize you'd taken the bullets out of my gun?"
He turned the barrel aside and fired.
Oh, shit . . .
When I'd seen him on the floor of Angela's office, I'd emptied his gun before I roused him. That's why I hadn't been too worried about him holding me at gunpoint . . . until now.
Howard prodded me to the shack, opened the door and shoved me into a dimly lit room. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Then I saw Angela. Bound, gagged and furious, her eyes blazing.
I started toward her.
Howard shook his head and waved the gun. "A little more distance between the ladies, please."
I glanced around. It was a one-room shack with a single door and windows. Not even an indoor bathroom. The only furnishings were a couple of lawn chairs, one broken, the other rotted.
"Put your hands out," Howard said.
I did. He stuffed the gun into his holster, eyeing me the whole time, waiting for any sign of attack. I stood patiently, hands extended as he wrapped thin nylon rope around my wrists. Only when he had my hands secured did he relax. And I kicked him in the kneecap as hard as I could.
He flailed, hands windmilling to find his balance. I managed to snag the grip of his gun with my bound hands, but I didn't get a good enough hold to pull it out before he recovered. His first reaction was to grab his gun, which I was still holding, albeit awkwardly. That meant that we pulled it out together. Then I let go and slammed my bound hands up into his.
He fumbled the gun. As it fell, he went for it, but Angela was right there, and maybe she couldn't do a whole lot, being bound and gagged, but she was on the floor, which meant when she slammed into his legs, he tumbled overtop her.
Angela kicked the gun aside. Howard scrabbled up and went for it again, but now I rammed into him with my shoulder, hard enough that pain ripped through it. I hit him again, this time a head butt that sent him staggering back. I was about to strike again when the door flew open and Jack swung in, gun raised.
"Stop," Jack said.
Howard twisted to look over at him. He eyed the gun. Eyed Jack . . . and then lifted his hands over his head.
Chapter Twenty-six
Jack
Jack followed Nadia out of the cabin. Inside, Howard had taken Angela's place, bound and gagged on the floor. Angela wanted to speak to Howard alone, in hopes of negotiating a way to turn him into the police without involving Jack. So after they made sure Howard was secure, Jack and Nadia went outside.
"Well," Nadia said once they were away from the cabin. "At least I had the foresight to empty his gun."
"You didn't think he'd notice?"
"Hey, the guy was nearly blown to smithereens and never even raised his weapon. I hoped that meant he'd fail to notice his weapon seemed a whole lot lighter. It was worth a shot. I still sent you that text as a backup plan, though. I guess Felix's GPS app in my phone worked, huh?"
Jack hesitated. Shit. Right. Felix had installed an app in each of their work phones, which was supposed to let them track each other in an emergency. Felix had warned it might not work well, so Jack had forgotten all about it.
The truth was that he'd played a hunch that Nadia might go to Angela's office--which was in the direction the taxi had been heading--so he'd hot-wired a car and arrived just in time to see Nadia leaving with Howard. He'd relaxed . . . until he'd gotten her text. He'd followed Howard's car and then . . . Well, the problem with jacking a nice ride is that it might have an ignition kill. The owner had realized that his--or her--car was gone and shut it down. Jack had set off running, and fortunately, within a mile, he'd spotted Howard's car.
He nodded. "Yeah, GPS worked fine. Didn't matter. You had it under control."
"I appreciated the save, though. Nice work."
Jack was about to answer when Angela came out of the cabin.
"Okay, negotiations complete," she said. "I'll tell the police that I came along willingly, which saves Howard from the kidnapping charge. In return, he won't mention either of you. I followed him here, hoping to get him to confess to the murders. We fought. I won."
"You don't have to do that," Nadia said. "He did kidnap you."
"The murder charges are more important. Of course, he's convinced he can duck those, which is why he's agreeing. He won't get out of this. I'll make sure of it." She glanced back at the cabin. "I'll admit, I was almost glad when he brought you through that door, Nancy. At least then I knew it was a straight-up kidnapping and not anything . . . else. He came by my office when I was getting ready to meet you. I really didn't want to be alone with him, so I said you were expecting me. That's when he knocked me out."
"He must have thought you knew something and were about to tell me. Then he pretended he'd been knocked out--by you--to get me here."
"I didn't know a damned thing, except that Victor didn't kill Mindy and Albert. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Just discuss my doubts. When I woke up in that cabin, I was worried it wasn't about the case at all."
"You never had an affair with Howard, did you?"
She sighed. "Did you hear that old rumor? I thought--hoped--it died long ago. There was no affair, but not for lack of trying on his part. Howard fooled around, and Mindy ignored it . . . until she realized it wasn't the women doing the pursuing. Hard pursuing. In my case, I was about to file a stalking complaint when Mindy found out. We talked. That's why she left him. Because when a woman said no, Howard heard maybe."
Nadia made a face. "Ugh."
"That was Mindy's breaking point, but they stayed friends. I think she ho
ped their divorce would teach him the error of his ways. I thought it had. He certainly backed off me after that. I'll admit that after we found out Mindy had been murdered, I immediately thought of Howard. I couldn't see any reason why he'd kill Albert, though, so I told myself I was being silly. Obviously, I should have trusted my instincts."
Jack waited in the woods with Nadia until the police arrived. Then they slipped off and began the long walk back to the city.
"You didn't track me on GPS, did you?" she said when they were far enough away to talk. "I noticed that flash of confusion when I mentioned it. I just wasn't going to call you on it back there."
He told her everything, starting with watching her at the bar and ending with following her to the cabin.
"You thought Angela was the killer?" she said when he finished.
"I know you like her."
"Sure, but I liked Howard, too, and I still suspected him. But you thought Angela killed her own dog?" Nadia shook her head. "I can't imagine anyone doing that."
To which Jack, who had seen people do much worse, wisely decided not to respond.
"The upshot, though," she continued, "is that we both knew Victor didn't fit for all the murders, and we both had other suspects in mind. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if we'd just, you know, talked." She looked at him. "We need to work on that."
"Yeah, we do."
She slipped her hand into his, squeezed it, and they continued walking.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Nadia
Imet with Angela for an update the next day.
The police already had a theory connecting Howard to Albert Kim's death. It seemed that e-mail correspondence between Kim and Howard suggested the judge had reason to believe Mindy Lang didn't kill herself.
"So first Howard killed Mindy," Angela said as we had our belated drink on the beachfront. "I'm going to guess that he borrowed the truth for his accusation against me. He got into a fight with Mindy, accidentally killed her, and staged it as suicide. Then something led Albert to think it was murder. He contacted Howard to raise the possibility. To say, 'Hey, I think someone killed your wife.' Howard shoots him to shut him up and stages it as a suicide because that worked the first time. Only this time, it doesn't, which leads to reopening Mindy's case."