The Betrayed. Heather Graham
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silent oh.
“Of course, whoever this is...it could be political,” Mo said.
“If it was just Highsmith. But two people were killed.”
“She might have been in the way,” Mo said quickly.
“A government conspiracy!”
“Oh, Grace, I really don’t think so. I don’t believe that’s the case at all. But...I guess we should be vigilant for a while.”
“We’ll all go broke if we have to be vigilant for too long,” Grace said. “I don’t want to die! But I need to be able to pay my mortgage. I should have gone your route, Mo. As in having a real career. You have your art and you volunteer, especially with Rollo! But you have a gift for working with animals. I wish I had a gift.”
“You do have a gift! You know this area backward and forward. People love you. You’ve been given nothing but high ratings on the internet travel sites. And don’t worry, the police will handle this situation,” Mo said. “We’ll be okay.”
“Moneywise, yeah, I should be okay. I’m good at my job. The problem is I’m a shoe hog. Jeez, I’d have some financial backup if I didn’t go crazy buying shoes. It’s from all those years of watching Sex and the City. I should’ve been watching The A-Team or something.”
“Hey, we can always put some shoes up on eBay!” Mo laughed. “Anyway, I do have some savings.”
“Yeah...but that’s your money.”
“The police are being cautious, that’s all. I’m sure this will be over soon.”
“I’m feeling...trapped!”
Mo rolled her eyes. “You’ve only been in the house fifteen minutes!”
“Yeah, I know. You got any movies? Oh, wait, you’re working. Okay, you keep working. But I’d love to see a movie. Nothing scary or creepy, though.”
Mo went to her computer and saved her work. “We’ll find a comedy we feel like watching. The remote’s on the table by the TV. Pick out something on Netflix. I’ve done enough work for the day.”
“Really? I don’t want to mess you up, too. One of us needs an income!”
“It’s fine. I finished the Valentine’s card I was working on.”
“Great! I locked the door, didn’t I?”
“I’ll check,” Mo promised.
Grace headed to the family room in back, where the TV was, while Mo walked through the house to the front door, Rollo trotting behind her. She opened the door and carefully peered out.
Her house really was isolated.
Usually that seemed like a good thing, something she valued and enjoyed. But now...
The sky was overcast today. There was a breeze, and she could see the trees moving in the strange gray light. From her doorway, it was easy to imagine the past, the eerie land where darkness fell quickly over the groves of trees, and shadows chased each other beneath the moon.
There could be anything out there in those trees, she thought.
She closed and locked the door. It was late afternoon, and darkness would come soon.
* * *
Aidan knew that the convention center had been searched from top to bottom. Each of the thousands of attendees had been interviewed, a process that went on through the night, after which they were finally allowed to leave.
Taylor Branch, Richard Highsmith’s right-hand man, was staying at an elegant new hotel recently built by one of the major chains. A police officer was on duty outside his room when Aidan and the detectives arrived. The officer had a chair for his vigil but had been standing near the elevator. He recognized Van Camp and Voorhaven and nodded as he was introduced to Aidan, then indicated that they could move on down the hall.
Taylor Branch greeted them in his suite’s sitting room, wearing a long white robe. His hair was damp and he appeared to have showered. He was a young man—maybe thirty-five—although he looked older at the moment.
Lee Van Camp performed the introductions. Branch didn’t protest their arrival; he glanced at Aidan with red-rimmed eyes and asked, “How? We were backstage. Richard and I were in the greenroom together. I left when Ms. Macaby, the convention hall manager, came to see what he’d like to eat. When I returned, there was a cup of tea and a plate of cheese and crackers on the table in front of the sofa—but no Richard.”
“Why did you leave?” Aidan asked.
“I had to consult with security. There’s a laugh for you,” Branch said bitterly. “Well, sit down, please. I’m so tired and I’ve gone over it all so many times, in my own mind, as well as for others, I can envision practically every minute.”
They took seats. “There’s coffee on the counter there. And a bottle of whiskey,” he told them.
“Thanks,” Voorhaven said. “I’ll have some coffee. Anyone else?”
Aidan looked over at him and nodded. “Thanks. Coffee would be good.” The newbie detective was making himself comfortable and therefore making Taylor Branch comfortable. Which was smart.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Aidan said. “When did you leave New York?”
“Let’s see...we left the city at around five in the morning yesterday. We checked in here. They were ready for our early arrival. Everyone loved Richard, even when they opposed him politically. Well, almost everyone,” he added glumly. “When I heard he’d been found—and how...”
His voice trailed off.
“So, you checked in here around seven or eight?” Aidan asked.
“I guess it was around nine when we got into our rooms.” Branch cleared his throat. “Richard was next door to me. His things are still there. Connecting door between these suites,” he noted, pointing.
“We’ll take a look before we leave,” Aidan assured him. “You have a key to the hallway door?”
“Ah, yeah. On the wet bar,” Branch said.
Van Camp procured the key.
“Go on, please,” Aidan encouraged Branch.
“You know, I’ve gone through all this so many times.”
“Yes, and I’m grateful you’re going through it again for me,” Aidan said.
Branch took a deep breath and then resumed. “We’d stopped for coffee. That always makes me nervous, but we were traveling with private security. Richard hired a team himself. He said too many people use public money for things like that. And, of course, he isn’t official yet, so...”
“So you stopped for coffee. How many in the security detail?” Aidan asked.
“Three men. The company is called Shields,” Branch told him. “And, of course, the men are still here. Richard called them Muscles, Mischief and Magic. Muscles is Cory Stile and you’ll see why they call him that. Mischief is the youngest of the guys and a flirt—real name Rob Little. And Magic is Ben Wilkes. He’s a retired SEAL. Knows his stuff and can get you in and out of anywhere in the blink of an eye. They’re good. They’ve been with us about a year—ever since the polls started saying Richard would win the mayoral race.”
“They’re in the hotel?” Aidan asked.
“Across the hall,” Branch replied.
“So, you left this hotel when?” Aidan nodded a thanks to Voorhaven as he handed him a cup of coffee. It was hot and black, and not bad for hotel-room coffee.
But then, in this kind of suite, Aidan figured it was probably gourmet coffee.
“We