“My wife is Audrey Reid. Her maiden name was Audrey Dolan. Maybe thisClarais her sister, or you completely made her up.”
“Why weren’t you living together? Why did no one at the resort know you were married?”
He didn’t say anything.
“You and I both know that your life is pretty much over. You help us find your wife, you might see the outside of a prison before you’re sixty.”
“There is no evidence against me.”
“You tried to kidnap me last Friday.”
He smiled and there was humor there. “I thought you and your husband were in trouble. I was trying to help.”
He knew she didn’t believe him, so she laughed. “Sure. Maybe that defense will work. But can you honestly tell me there is not one cell of your DNA at the abandoned cannery?”
Again, silence.
“I don’t think you would have hurt anyone if it weren’t for your wife. I think you would have been fine continuing to seduce older women and living the high life as long as you could. And once you hooked up with Clara and started conning unsuspecting businessmen at resorts around the country? I think you were okay with that, too. Some of them may have even deserved it. You and Clara could have had a very nice life. But when you turned to murder, you brought a whole lot more attention on yourselves. By the way, Florida is a death penalty state.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You simply abducted them, took them over state lines, and left them to die in a maze of deadly traps. Got it.”
Kara pulled out her phone and leaned forward. “We’ve done our homework. Let me show you how your wife has been lying to you ever since you met her. Clara Dolan, thirty-five, born to Piper and Gerald Dolan, both college professors. Clara came into her trust fund, established by her grandparents, when she was twenty-five. Ten million dollars. Nice. She moved the bulk of her trust to three LLCs, using one of them to buy and sell property—in all the places you’ve lived with her. We’re still going through her records, but wewillfind her. When we do, she’ll put everything on you—you know that, right?”
He had a slight smirk on his face, nothing too blatant, just a little arrogant tilt of his lips.
“You’ve probably never had to want for anything,” Kara continued. “Did you ever question where the money came from? HowAudreywas able to buy a nice beach house? How she bought the farmland next to the cannery, where she held two people, including a child, against their will?”
“You’re talking a lot, but I have nothing to say to you.”
“Here.” She turned her phone to show Garrett the evidence. “You need proof—I have proof.”
“You’ll lie about anything.”
“Here’s Clara’s high school graduation portrait.” Kara looked at it, nodded, showed it to Garrett. “She’s beautiful, that’s not in doubt. I mean, truly a natural beauty. Nothing fake, no fillers,no cosmetic surgery. She did lighten her hair recently, but this dark blond with all the light blond and amber highlights? Gorgeous. When did she start dyeing her hair? Before or after she found out that Becca McCarthy was a natural blonde?”
“Don’t talk about Becca.”
“Becca’s parents liked you. They knew that Becca wanted to get back together. They were supportive. What did you tell Clara?”
“Her name is Audrey.”
“That’s what she told you. But she has other false identities, right?” Kara leaned forward. “Clara knew Emily Masters. She hated her because Emily married Clara’s ex-boyfriend and supposedly took her job, or some such thing. But we talked to the ex. He and Clara had been split for years. And Clara was a trainer at the gym... Emily didn’t take her job—Clara simply wasn’t hired into a position that she wasn’t qualified for. And for that, Clara seduced Emily’s father and then exposed the affair right before the wedding.” She showed him her phone again, which had a clip from an article that had a photo of Clara and Emily’s father in a compromising position. “‘Clara Dolan,’ it says here,” Kara said. “Sure looks like your wife.”
“What is your point?”
“She’s been playing you for over seven years, ever since she killed Becca.”
Garrett scowled. “You’re trying to pit my wife and me against each other. It won’t work.”
“The police in Ventura County, where Becca disappeared while driving back to Santa Barbara, have renewed their investigation. The FBI is assisting them with facial recognition of all the security tapes they have in evidence. There was a lot of evidence, but they didn’t have a suspect. Bet you that Clara is on the cameras. Gas station. Convenience store. Red light camera. Somewhere. Bet you that she doesn’t have an alibi. Yeah, sure, seven and a half years, who knows where they were? But theystill have Becca’s car. There is evidence in the car, and once they get a suspect they can get her DNA, her hair sample, her prints, and match it all up.”
Kara didn’t know what the police had or didn’t have; most likely they no longer had the vehicle in storage, or if they did it had been exposed to the elements. Seven years was a long time, and once they’d gone through it they may have given it back to the family. They would have collected evidence, but what they had, Kara simply speculated.
But Garrett didn’t know that.
“Did you love her?”
