Page 111 of Call Back

There were splashing sounds and more mumbling, along with more coughing. I considered using this opportunity to make our escape, but it would be dangerous, and maybe we’d find out more by staying. I tried to glance at Belinda, but she held her finger to her lips.

We stayed put.

The water turned off, but the noise was replaced by the sound of cursing. Then he was abruptly cut off, and I heard the man gasping for breath as another round of violent coughing overtook him. “Is it here?” he asked.

Who was out there? It made sense that it was Bill James, but the voice was too shaky and raspy from coughing for me to be sure.

“I have to find it.” He sounded desperate.

Oh, God. Don’t look in the closet.

I heard drawers opening and closing, file cabinet drawers slamming, and even more cursing and coughing, which seemed to be getting worse.

Did he have a cold?

The sound of a ringing cell phone broke the silence, and Belinda jumped behind me, making a small thump against the wall.

I nearly panicked, but at the same time the ringing stopped and the man said in a distorted voice, “Hello?”

I held my breath and willed my heart to slow down so I could hear his conversation over the whooshing pulse in my ears.

I strained to hear what he said, but between his coughing and his hoarse voice, I couldn’t make out what he said. Was this the voice I’d heard last night in the industrial park?

“I still can’t find the gold,” the man said, sounding closer. “But I have a lead, and I think I’ll have it soon.”

Silence fell, and I held my breath. Who was on the other line?

“Saturday night. At the fundraiser. We’ll meet there.”

The coughing became more violent and sounded closer.

We were going to get caught.

But the man walked past the closet door and exited the office. We waited until we heard the faint sounds in the reception area disappear and then waited a good ten seconds more before opening the closet door and exiting into the office.

“Was that Bill?” I asked, spinning around to face Belinda.

“I don’t know. It didn’t sound like him, but . . .”

I decided to keep my suspicions about who it might be to myself. “I know where we have to go next,” I said, opening the office door.

“Don’t you want to search the office more? We still haven’t found Emily’s file.”

If Bill James had a trophy room like Momma had suggested, I had a sinking suspicion I knew exactly where to find the file.

* * *

I didn’t talkmuch on the thirty-minute drive to Leiper’s Fork. There were too many thoughts tumbling through my head. It made sense that Bill James would want the gold if he’d been a part of the Jackson Project, and whatever other schemes he and the others had pulled. But why kill all those people? Why murder so many women?

I needed to turn this over to the police, but I didn’t trust them. I wondered if I should tell Brady about the files in the basement, but I didn’t entirely trust him either. Besides, if I did, I’d never get to look at them. The police would take over. And while I knew that’s exactly what should happen, I had to see the files for myself, even though I had no idea why.

I also needed to tell Colt the latest about the gold, but I couldn’t do that with Belinda in the car. It would have to wait.

Belinda was quiet the entire ride too, other than a few short exchanges between us. Even though she’d suspected Bill was a murderer, it had shaken her to overhear that phone call. The person we’d heard had basically confessed to murder. I was far ahead of her on the scary crap train. I needed to let her catch up.

She didn’t ask where we were going, proof of how much she trusted me. Or that she was still too tipsy to put much thought into it. Maybe both.

But as I approached the country road I needed to turn onto to get to the house, I knew something was wrong. Smoke billowed thick and heavy into the night sky, and flashing lights bounced off the road and the trees.

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