She crosses her heart.
“I’m a ghostwriter. And no, I will not say for whom. But there was a thumb drive with a few manuscripts on it in the safe, and that’s gone too. I have to call New York and warn them.”
“Published or unpublished work?”
“What was taken? Unpublished. Next books in the series. I’ve been on sabbatical and drafting for the past few months, trying to get ahead so when I go back to work, I’m not overwhelmed.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” His eyes find hers, imploring. A desperate man.
Something here...
“Yeah, I do. I have a friend who’s a writer. You’re not the only one in town. I’ll be discreet, Mr. Bender. My job is to solve crimes, not blab people’s secrets. Okay?”
His relieved breath comes out in a sour, coffee-tinged whoosh, and she takes a step back involuntarily.
Will, mouth running a hundred miles an hour at the two kids who’ve come to run the place—they are kids, my God, she’s getting old—is barking directions. She lets him give the instructions, then bids Bender and the team farewell. She’s not going to stand over them while they do their jobs. Nothing to be gained by hovering. Let Will do that.
No, Joey wants something else.
An audience with Olivia Bender.
19
THE WIFE
Olivia taps a nail against her teeth, waiting for Moore to pick up the call. When the cop finally does, her cool voice saying, “This is Moore,” Olivia breathes out a relieved sigh.
“Detective, this is Olivia Bender.”
Moore’s voice gentles. “I was about to track you down, Mrs. Bender. I was hoping we could have a chat.”
“I need to speak with you, too. Something odd’s happened at one of my build sites.”
“What?”
“A workman was inside when I arrived this morning. He said he works for one of my contractors, but that’s not true. I don’t know what he was doing here, or what he wanted. I got him out of the house as soon as I could—”
“Are you alone?” There is unexpected urgency in Moore’s voice.
“I am, but things are locked up tight. I’m okay for now.”
“I’ll be there in ten. Stay put. And if he comes back, call 911.”
Olivia hears the siren start to wail.
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”
“Just clearing people out of my way. Perks of the job. Get to make lots of noise and drive real fast. If we could blow shit up, I’d have the trifecta.”
There’s a smile in Moore’s voice, and Olivia hangs up a little more settled.
She takes a look at the marble, runs a hand over the circular stain, yanks it back as if the stone is burning hot. Could there be fingerprints? Hers and Eddie’s, without a doubt, but the mystery man, too?
What else might he have touched?
The back door. He left through the back door.Did I touch anything but the dead bolt?