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“No—a fixer. Someone that comes in and—”
“I know what a fixer does. But you just said that you suspect Nelson Lee killed Tommy.”
“Just...well, something Franklin said a while back. Something about how not every problem can be fixed in the traditional manner.”
“And your mind went to murder.”
He didn’t say anything. “I fear I know a lot more than I should.”
He probably did, information that would get him killed or imprisoned. And if he was imprisoned, he wouldn’t be alive for long, considering the reach of these people. “I have a coded sheet of payments from BioRise to Brock Marsh, Nelson Lee, others. Payments that Brock Marsh made that they wanted hidden.”
Her head jerked. “Was it in your desk?”
“Yes. I guess it’s not there anymore.”
She opened her phone. “This?”
She turned to show Grant the photo she’d taken. “I didn’t take the file but wanted to study these numbers again.”
“You broke into my desk?”
“Tommy had been murdered and you were avoiding me. You want to press charges? Go right ahead. But this probably isn’t there anymore. I told you, when I went back with the detective, your laptop was gone.”
Grant looked at the image on her phone. “This is the top page. I coded it but it’s simple. The first twelve numbers relates to our internal client code, the next eight are the date, the next six are what we paid—so zero one five zero zero zero means fifteen thousand. The last numbers are an alpha numeric code—zero one isA, zero two isB, one one isK, two six isZ. Anyone can crack it, but at quick glance it’s not easy.”
“And that was for?”
“The job. Paying off a mistress, negotiating a settlement, whatever it was. But Franklin added in another code—these last three digits which don’t seem to mean anything. I think those were the illegal items. I never asked. Maybe I didn’t want to know. I pulled them manually because I didn’t want Franklin to know what I was doing, hoping I could crack it. Madeline was helping until she got scared after Tom was killed. I should never have included her in this mess.”
“Enough with the regret and guilt. Right now, the information you have is extremely valuable. Franklin could be, as we speak, shredding documents, destroying anything that incriminates him. You may be the only person who knows this.” She considered her options. “You need a lawyer, someone you trust—someone above reproach. He can negotiate the terms of your questioning. We’ll have you in the Marshals office and put you in federal protection. Arlington PD can’t easily null a protection agreement.”
“They’ll never go for that if they think I killed Maddie.”
“But you didn’t, and they don’t have proof.” She paused. “Is there anything you’re not telling me?”
“I’m sure there is. But what? I don’t know. My head is pounding, the woman I love is dead, my best friend killed my son. He didn’t pull the trigger, but he might as well have. And I’m a dead man. I know it, Regan. They aren’t going to stop.”
“I’m not going to let that happen.”
“They’ll kill you to get to me.”
“They already tried and failed. Eat, Grant. Then go upstairs. I made a bed for you. I’m staying down here. I need to think.” And she needed sleep, but she didn’t completely trust Grant not to bolt. She’d taken his keys, but he could go out on foot. She wanted to be able to hear doors opening.
Both going out and coming in.
Grant ate in silence. He could only get down half the plate of food. When he pushed it away, she took his plate and her empty plate and did the dishes while Grant stared at nothing in particular.
Then he rose and headed for the stairs. At the base of the staircase, he turned back to look at her, as if he wanted to say something. Then he didn’t, and she was relieved.
She needed to figure out what she was going to do, and the last thing she wanted was another argument with Grant.
Forty-Four
Late Saturday night, Franklin Archer walked into his empty house. His wife and daughters were in New York City for the weekend; Monday morning they would be flying out to Switzerland. He’d moved money around, but most of it Isabelle wouldn’t be able to access until she arrived in Europe.
His family was safe. That was all that mattered.
Now he could focus on damage control. First things first: figure out what the fuck was going on.
