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“What about friends? Did he have friends he shared his personal thoughts with?”
She’d asked him to prepare a list. So far, he hadn’t done much of what she’d asked. Just further proof he wasn’t really concerned about where this investigation was going. To her knowledge she didn’t owe the IRS anything beyond what she’d paid already. That said, if she received a letter indicating she did, she would damned well do all necessary to prove she didn’t. His lack of concern was overplayed, to say the least.
Ray tugged open the center drawer of his desk. “I did remember to make a list to give to you.” He pulled out a notepad and tore a page free, passed it across his desk. “Those are the three guys that Ian hungwith. The one guy—Aaron—he died. But back then—after Ian went missing—they told us nothing. Maybe now they might share more. Not with me, God knows I’ve tried over the years. But maybe with you.”
Finley glanced at the names on the list. The same ones Houser had mentioned. Addresses, workplaces and phone numbers were included. She tucked it into her bag. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I hear you and that cop were at the warehouse this morning.”
The memory of the man she’d seen watching her last evening pinged her senses. “Do you have someone following me, Mr.Johnson?”
“Ray,” he reminded her. “And no, I do not. One of the neighboring businesses saw people there. The cop’s car he recognized. Yours he didn’t, but I knew it was yours when he described it.” He stared at her a moment. “What’s your take on this evidence they found?”
“Flimsy at best.” She saw no reason not to tell him how she felt. He was the client, after all.
He chuckled. “Yeah. Definitely flimsy.”
She stood. “If you recall anything else from the time frame surrounding Lucy’s death, let me know.”
“Be careful out there,” he said when she started to turn away.
She paused, locked her gaze with his and held it for a bit. “I can take care of myself, Ray.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I heard about you. But still, be careful. There’s some twisted MF’ers out there.”
He was right about that.
Most likely he was one of them.
Rollins and Downey, Attorneys at Law
Lea Avenue, Nashville, 11:40 a.m.
Finley decided she wasn’t waiting for Jessica Downey to return her call.
The firm’s receptionist had attempted to put Finley off, but she had stood her ground. She wasn’t leaving until she spoke with Downey. A friend at the DMV had provided the information on the car Downey drove, and that car was in the parking lot. Unless she had left with someone else, the woman was here.
The building that housed the small firm was more or less basic. Plain. Not the place one would expect to find a graduate of Harpeth, but then the real story was in the work, and Jessica Downey did good work. Lots of pro bono and lots of causes that others didn’t so easily want to take up. But certainly excellent credentials for seeking political office.
Jessica Downey appeared in the small lobby. “Ms.O’Sullivan, you may follow me to my office.”
About time. Finley pushed to her feet and followed the other woman. Like her mother, Jessica was tall and slim. Her blonde hair was longer. Also, like her mother, she dressed impeccably. Sleek sweater dress in a creamy white with matching boots. She was only a year younger than Finley, but they hadn’t attended the same school or university, so they didn’t know each other beyond their legal reputations.
Downey gestured to a chair and resumed her seat behind her desk. “How can I help you?”
Finley took the seat and studied the other woman for a moment. “I’m sure your mother told you I would be calling.”
“She also told me I shouldn’t waste my time speaking with you.”
Finley appreciated a straightforward response. “Well, not to worry, I’ll be brief. Your mother said you and Lucy were best friends.”
“We were until she was too busy with other people to have time for me.”
There was an unexpected answer. “When did this happen?”
“Early September.” Jessica lifted her chin defiantly. “After the tragedy, my parents decided that it would be in my best interest if they didn’t mention my and Lucy’s relationship or our recent breakup. Whenmy mother spoke to Lucy’s mother about the situation, she understood. Louise knew I would never hurt Lucy or conceal information about her that could have helped the investigation. They both felt that having the police treat me like a suspect would have been too much.”
“Who were these other people who kept Lucy so busy?” Finley asked, going directly to the important details.
