Page 9 of Ruthless Cross

"Why were you crying earlier tonight? When I ran into you in the hallway, there were tears in your eyes."

"I was having an allergy attack."

He gave her a hard look. "I don't believe you."

"I don't care if you believe me or not."

"You should care. I could be your best friend or your worst enemy. Think about that before we speak tomorrow."

"My mother and I have said everything there is to say. I'm not trying to be combative, but we spoke to the police detective and the other agent before you came into the room. You should check with them if you want more details. I don't have anything else to tell you."

"I'm sure you believe that, but this investigation is just beginning. Arthur was a federal judge, which means you'll have the FBI and the local police working on this case. Everyone will be digging deep into Arthur's life, and you and your mother are the two people who are closest to Arthur." He pulled out his card and handed it to her. "If you have any problems tonight, call me."

She reluctantly took his card, then stared back at him as if she wanted to say something, but eventually she shrugged and got in the car, slamming the door behind her.

As the limo pulled away, he had a feeling that digging into Arthur's life could turn up secrets that no one was ready for, including him.

Chapter Three

Saturday morning,Flynn headed into the office a little before eight. After a long night spent interviewing witnesses, going over statements taken by other personnel, and dealing with the crime scene investigators and the medical examiner, he'd headed home for a few hours of rest. But sleep hadn't come easy. This wasn't a typical case for him. This was the murder of a man who had been not only a father figure to him, but the actual father of a girl he had once loved. He owed it to Arthur and to Olivia to bring his killer to justice.

Since his townhouse was only a few miles from his office, it was a quick drive, with an even quicker stop for coffee at the café next door. Then he pulled into the underground garage for a two-story, nondescript building in Santa Monica. There was no signage on the structure, but there was a code required for the elevator, from both the garage and the lobby, and another code required to enter the office suite on the second floor.

The suite contained a reception area that was rarely used, and two offices, one of which was his. The other belonged to Beck, his second-in-command, who was currently working a case that had taken him to San Francisco. In addition to the offices, there was a conference room, a tech center, and a large room they called the bullpen, with eight desks and a wall of monitors.

There were currently twelve people working under his leadership on the task force: two cyber experts, two analysts, and eight agents, all of whom he had handpicked, and most of whom he'd gone through Quantico with.

When he walked into the bullpen, he found Savannah already at work. Today she was in black jeans, black boots, and a teal sweater. She'd swept her blonde hair into a ponytail and was seated in front of a computer screen. Since it was the weekend, most of the other agents were off or working other cases. But he was ready to call in more help as needed.

He sat down in the chair next to Savannah's desk. "Thanks for coming in today."

"Of course. Lucas is in the tech center. He's trying to get into Arthur's phone. Those damned passwords can be tricky. In the meantime, I've been looking into the judge's family."

"He doesn't have much in the way of family beyond his new wife and her daughter."

"And a sister in Sydney, Australia. She hasn't been back to the States in over a decade."

"They've been estranged for all of their adult lives. She won't be any help. I think the key to Arthur's life is probably Juliette."

"I wouldn't count on that," Savannah said grimly. "Juliette has a long history of depression and anxiety, including two hospital stays, one of them being a 5150 psychiatric hold after a suicide attempt."

His gut churned at that piece of information. "When did these hospital stays occur?"

"The first was eighteen years ago after the death of Juliette's first husband, Travis Harper. He was killed when their car hit a tree during a storm. Juliette was the driver."

"That's terrible. And the daughter—Callie—was she in the car?"

"No. She was ten years old at the time and at home with a babysitter. The second hospital admission was six years later, when Juliette tried to kill herself with sleeping pills. I found no evidence of any other hospital admissions after that."

He was beginning to understand why Callie had been so protective of her mother last night. "What about the daughter? Any mental health issues?"

"Not that I've seen. Callie Harper is a twenty-eight-year-old chef. Her current employer is Bouffage, a French restaurant in Manhattan Beach."

"A chef, huh? Interesting."

"Getting back to Juliette," Savannah continued. "Her work history is spotty. She stayed home for a long time while Callie was young, then worked as an admin at an artist's cooperative in Venice Beach for a few years. After that, she moved on to a party-planning firm, which eventually led to her job at the Piquard Museum, where she has been for the last three years. She started there as an event coordinator and worked her way up to the director position last year, shortly after she married Arthur, who, as you know, was a major financial contributor to the museum."

"Yes. He has always been a collector and a supporter of the arts."

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