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They exited the elevator and walked out to the street.
“What are you going to do?” Charlie asked.
“Find Grant.”
“How?”
“I’m going back to his place. If he’s not there, I’ll wait for Detective Quincy to show.”
“You think he’s going there.”
“If I were him? It’d be my next stop.”
Thirty
Grant circled Franklin Archer’s Fairfax neighborhood for nearly an hour before working up the courage to confront him. Finally, he pulled up outside Franklin’s gated estate. He’d been ignoring Regan’s calls and messages; it was too much. He couldn’t talk to her, not now. So he finally turned off his phone. He could hardlythinkand he didn’t know what to do.
He should have gone to Regan when she was waiting for him at his house. More than anyone, Regan was calm under pressure—and this was pressure. Maddie wasdead,and Grant was going to be next.
You were late. You would be dead, too, but you were late.
He’d walked in and saw her body and knew she was gone. All that blood on the bleached hardwood floors. He was supposed to be there at 6:30; he was late. He would have been dead; except that he was late.
Late because he was sitting in his car in the parking garage of the law firm, working up the strength to tell Regan everything. He knew he had to be resolved because Maddie was having doubts; he had to be strong. So he talked to himself, working through every argument Maddie might have, wanting her by his side but knowing that he might have to talk to Regan without her. Knowing that if he did that, Maddie might leave him.
He didn’t expect to find her dead.
He’d lost his son, his marriage, and now his lover. He had nothing to live for. Everything he cared about was gone.
Maybe he wanted to die. The truth was becoming clear. Everything Tom Granger said was true. Knowing that he was indirectly responsible for Chase’s death burned like acid in his stomach. Grant did not want to live with his son’s death on his heart.
Was Franklin responsible? Could he have been? Grant had been thinking, thinking,thinking!all day, all night, and nothing made sense. Even if Franklin wasn’t involved, he had to have known, right?
Brock Marsh worked almost exclusively for Archer Warwick...and in Grant’s research, he realized thealmostwas only because some Archer Warwick clients hired Brock Marsh on their own—referred by Franklin.
Whatever proof Tom Granger had found was gone. Did Franklin know? Dammit,did he know?
Grant buzzed at the gate outside Franklin’s estate.Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
“Hello?” an irritated female voice said through the speaker.
“Isabelle? It’s Grant. I’m sorry. I need to speak with Franklin, it’s an emergency.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No. Please, Isabelle, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to talk to him tonight.”
A moment later, without comment, the gate swung open.
Grant drove in too fast, forced himself to ease up on the gas. He wished he had a gun. He’d confront Franklin, demand the truth. Thewholetruth. Ask if he was the one to bug his office.
When he told Regan that his office was bugged, he hadn’t been positive. It was just that Tom Granger had gotten him paranoid, told him to be careful, and actually said he should sweep his office and house for listening devices. Grant had dismissed his concern, but Tom had been killed and Grant had spoken to him—on his cell phone—in the office. So after seeing Madeline at lunch, he’d bought a hidden microphone detector and searched his office. Found a bug under his desk. Almost couldn’t believe it. He’d stared at it for so long—until Jeff had buzzed him that a client was holding for their scheduled call—uncertain what was going on. Had it been Franklin? A client? Jeff—who had full run of his office when Grant wasn’t there? Someone else, someone hired to break in... His mind was going in every direction as the paranoia spread.
He would have to sweep Madeline’s condo, his house, his car, everywhere he could think. If someone had bugged his office they could be listening everywhere.
The more he thought about the bug and Franklin’s more unscrupulous clients, the more he thought that Franklincouldbe involved. He needed to ask him...Franklin, did you hire Adam Hannigan to kill me? Did you hire someone to kill Maddie?
Grant didn’t want to believe it, but what else could be the answer?
