Keep Quiet (31 page)

Bingo.

Jake felt his heartbeat quicken. There was a raggedy break through the trees, all the way to the blind curve and to a section of Dolomite Road. If Voloshin had stood in this spot, he would have had a perfect view—the same view as the photos of Ryan and him that had been taken, exactly where the hit-and-run accident occurred.

Jake’s stomach twisted. Voloshin had aimed his camera as if it were a rifle and he’d managed to catch Ryan, Jake, and now, Pam in his crosshairs. And the evergreens would have screened Voloshin from view, and the little pervert would also have been free to spy on Kathleen and photograph her whenever he wanted, especially if he knew her schedule and worked from home often enough that he didn’t have to account to the office for his time. Voloshin had set himself up like a hunter in a blind, waiting for the girls to run by.

Jake looked down, and a few white berries caught his eye, oddly bright in the brownish underbrush. He bent down, moved the undergrowth aside, and picked up the berries, examining them. They weren’t berries at all. He flashed on the photo of Voloshin’s desk, with its bags of Skittles. The white berries were candy, their coating washed away by the rain, probably dropped by Voloshin during one of his stalker sessions.

Jake hurried back the same way he came, keeping the sandstone apartment building directly behind him, moving tree limbs and vines out of his path until he reached the edge of the woods. He stalked through the grass at the edge of Pike Road, hustled to his car, jumped inside, and started the engine. Luckily, there was still no one on the street.

He hit the gas and cruised forward, approaching the blind curve. He glanced over at the memorial as he passed it, sending up a silent prayer for Kathleen, then took a right. His destination was Dolomite Road and it lay just ahead, at a ninety degree angle to Pike. He turned right onto Dolomite, orienting himself, slowing his speed and taking in the surroundings.

The street was quiet and still, with no cars or foot traffic. On its left side was the parking lot that surrounded Concordia Corporate Center, which was screened from the street by thick landscaped hedges and zigzagging evergreens. On the right side of the street were more overgrown woods and trees, the parcel evidently unused.

Jake drove down the street and noticed that the left side of the street stayed the same, with the thick landscaped greenery that screened the corporate center, but on the right side, the woods stooped for a clearing of a few homes, newish clapboard colonials, one of which had a
FOR SALE
sign out front. He drove to the end of the street, which veered left and led to one of the remote parking lots of the corporate center, where a group of black Goren’s Janitorial vans were parked.

Jake turned around and cruised back up Dolomite Road, heading toward Pike Road. He passed the houses on his left and slowed his speed when he got to the place where he thought the BMW sedan had been parked. He braked, cut the ignition, and got out of the car.

“Sir!” said a man’s voice. “Stop right there! Sir!”

Jake froze. It had to be the police or security for the corporate center. He didn’t see anyone. The voice came from beyond the hedges.

“What are you doing, sir? You hold on! Right there!”

“Okay, sure.” Jake’s mouth went dry, and there was a rustling in the evergreens and movement of the limbs as an older man emerged, dressed in an insulated purplish-blue jumpsuit, with a white patch that read
CONCORDIA CORPORATE CENTER
. His face was a network of wrinkles, his bifocals slid down his bony nose, and he was as lean and worn as the rake he carried.

“Where do you work, sir? You got the bulletin, didn’t you? I was told all the tenants got the bulletin!”

“I don’t work here.” Jake crossed to his car door, but the old man held up a gnarled hand.

“There’s no more parking back here! I don’t know when you people are going to learn!”

“I wasn’t parking here.” Jake thought fast. “I was thinking about buying that house at the end of the street. Do people park here a lot? Is that a problem? If it is, I don’t want to buy the house.”

“Oh, beg pardon.” The old man seemed to stand down, leaning on the rake. “You don’t want to buy a house on this street, not unless you like a peep show. This is a lovers’ lane, that’s what we used to call it. Everybody comes here to park ’n spark.”

“You mean from the high school?” Jake’s ears perked up.

“Hell, no! I mean our tenants! From these businesses.” The old man gestured back to the corporate center. “They got so many women working here now, and there’s all kinda tomfoolery goes on here at lunch. You’d be surprised what I find in these bushes this time o’ day! Cigarette butts, beer cans,
rubbers
! Disgusting! They have a
damn
good time in these cars! Every morning, too, from partyin’ that goes on after work!”

“I bet.” Jake opened his car door. “I’ll be going now. I appreciate your giving me the information. It doesn’t sound like a great place for the kids.”

“No sir, no way! Nice talking to you. Bye now.”

“Take care.” Jake started the engine, steered down Dolomite, and turned right on Pike Road. He felt like he was getting closer to something, but he didn’t know what. He assumed for a minute that it was Kathleen in the photograph of the BMW sedan, because if it hadn’t been, Voloshin would have no reason to put it on his bulletin board with the other photographs of her. If Voloshin had been in his duck blind, watching Kathleen on one of her nighttime runs, he could have discovered that she wasn’t running, but meeting someone on Dolomite Road.

Jake took a right turn, preoccupied. His theory made sense because it answered some of the questions he’d had earlier, like why was Kathleen running alone so late at night? Maybe it wasn’t unusual for the track team, but what if Kathleen was using running as a pretense to get out of the house at night? What if she was going to Dolomite Road to meet someone, in a car? But who was she meeting? Someone whom Kathleen was keeping a secret, probably from her mother, if she was meeting him in a car.

Jake turned right and joined the traffic on Concordia Boulevard. Ahead lay the manicured main entrance to the corporate center, with its varietal grasses in mulched beds, around the brown sign that read
CONCORDIA CORPORATE CENTER, HOME TO AMERICAN BUSINESS!
Underneath that was a listing of corporate tenants; Brej Construction Management, Moxico, LLC, Valley Tech, SMS, Goren’s Janitorial, Branson Hospitality Services, with a subhead that read
FORTUNE’S 100 BEST COMPANIES TO WORK FOR
! He scanned the list as he approached, thinking that the most likely person to know about the lovers’ lane on Dolomite Road was someone who worked at one of these businesses. He reached the entrance and on impulse, turned right into its campus.

If he got lucky, he’d spot a dark BMW with an HKE license plate.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Jake cruised the parking lot and scanned a row that held a gray Toyota, a lemony VW Beetle, a white Acura, and an older brown Honda, his thoughts churning. If Voloshin had discovered that Kathleen was meeting a lover, he could have become jealous, even angry. What if Voloshin had tried to blackmail her lover, the way he tried to blackmail Jake? Voloshin could have threatened to tell the man’s wife, if the man was married, or to tell Kathleen’s mother, or even the authorities, because Kathleen was underage. The lover would be guilty of statutory rape if it came to light that he’d had sex with Kathleen.

Jake surveyed the parked cars, cruising past the bumper stickers and decals.
MY CAT CAN BEAT UP YOUR HONOR STUDENT
, a navy blue Nittany Lion, a white circle for Academy of Notre Dame de Namur, an oval 13.1 decal, and a puzzle piece for Autism Awareness. He didn’t see the BMW yet, and his head was full of questions. What if Voloshin had tried to blackmail the BMW driver, but unlike Jake, the man hadn’t come up with blackmail money? Or what if the man in the BMW had been the one who murdered Voloshin?

Jake’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel, and he drove down one line of parked cars, then the other. The police would have seen the bulletin board in Voloshin’s apartment, unless the killer took it. He assumed for a moment that the killer took the bulletin board, along with the laptop and phone, then he rejected that as highly unlikely. If the killer were a burglar, no burglar would take a bulletin board, and it would attract attention to be hurrying from the apartment with a large, unwieldy bulletin board.

Jake spotted BMWs, but they were the wrong color, too, so he drove on, mentally testing his theory. The killer could have gotten away with taking only the photo of the sedan parked on Dolomite Road, but that was unlikely too. The photo was half-hidden and someone who committed murder would be in a hurry to escape. Jake drove preoccupied past USPS mailboxes, FedEx, DHL, and UPS drop-offs, and the endless signage that replaced trees;
THIS IS A TOBACCO FREE WORKPLACE, SPEED LIMIT 10, UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLES TOWED AT OWNER’S EXPENSE, ADDITIONAL PARKING ON OTHER SIDE OF BUILDING, ALL VISITORS PLEASE CHECK IN AT 200 CONCORDIA PARKWAY.

Jake navigated to another section of the parking lot and surveyed the cars, but they seemed to recede into the background as he realized something awful. If the killer looked inside Voloshin’s computer and phone, then he would know what actually happened the night of the accident on Pike Road, that he and Ryan were responsible for Kathleen’s death. And the killer would also know that Jake was being blackmailed, too. The police had said that they had seen evidence that Voloshin was setting up an offshore account.

Jake felt a new tingle of fear, and another set of questions rushed at him. If the killer had feelings for Kathleen, he could want revenge on those responsible for her death. What if the killer decided to come after Ryan? Or him, or Pam? Jake had to find out who killed Voloshin, so he could protect his family. His troubles weren’t over with Voloshin’s death, they were just beginning. Whoever the killer was, he was a lot more dangerous than Voloshin.

Jake headed down another aisle of cars and checked each one, redoubling his efforts. Who was the killer? How did Kathleen find him? If her mother didn’t know about him, did any of her friends? How could such a nice young girl be mixed up with somebody ruthless enough to stab a man to death? Suddenly his phone started ringing, and he checked the screen. It was Pam calling, and he picked up. “Yes?”

“Listen, I don’t have much time. We’re on break during oral arguments.” Pam’s tone was clipped and professional. “I just spoke with Ryan. He called me.”

“Okay, what’s up?” Jake sensed Pam was telling him that Ryan called her, not him, as if they still were playing tug-of-war with their son.

“There’s a memorial program tonight at school for Kathleen. The team is going, and he has to go with them.”

“Oh no.” Jake pulled over and parked, so he could focus. “That’ll be tough for him. Can’t he get out of it? Can’t we say he got sick again?”

“No. He has to go. We have to go, too. He’ll need the support. You have to leave work early. The program starts at six thirty.”

“Okay, fine.” Jake didn’t bother explaining that he wasn’t at work. “But honey, listen, we have to settle this. I can’t move out now. You have to let me stay home.”

“No I don’t. Get a hotel room. No one has to know. We’ll keep it a secret. You’re good at that.”

“Pam, I don’t think you and Ryan should be alone in the house right now. It’s not safe.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to break up.”

“That’s not true. I’m saying it because you could be in danger. So could we all. The more I think about it, the more I worry that whoever killed Voloshin could come after us—”

“I thought you were worried about the police. Now a murderer’s coming after me? What is this, scare tactics?”

“No. It could happen, babe. I looked at those pictures you took and I figured out that Kathleen was meeting someone in secret. I’m thinking he’s the guy who killed Voloshin—”

“So what are you saying? I need a bodyguard?”

Jake hadn’t gotten that far in his thinking. “You might—”

“Oh, great! Of course we can’t go to the police, or Ryan goes to jail. My son goes to jail!”

“That won’t happen.”

“What do we do then? Got any ideas?”

“We can talk about it tonight. I need you to be careful. Keep an eye out when you’re driving or when you—”

“Jake, if you’re trying to scare me into staying in this marriage, it won’t work. You don’t understand the damage you’ve done. You don’t get it.”

“We can fix it. I can fix it.”

“No we can’t,” Pam shot back. “I didn’t go outside the marriage because I wanted to, I went out because I had to. I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is. And we gave it a shot, which you totally destroyed. I’m making myself crazy, going over it and over it in my head. If we had broken up, you wouldn’t have been in the car Friday night with Ryan. None of this would have happened.”

“You can’t think that way. You don’t know that—”

“Yes, I do. Get your head out of the sand, Jake. It’s over. It has to be. We can’t go back, we just can’t. I can’t. I’m
done
. I can’t forgive you, ever. I want a divorce.”

“Babe, listen, I love you, and no matter what problems we’re having, we have to get through this together. Even tonight, we have to put up a united front, for Ryan’s sake.”

“You’re saying that for you, not for him.”

“No, I’m not. You know this is killing him, and we have to make sure he keeps it together. He’s cutting classes, getting high, messing up in basketball. God knows what he could do next. He needs us both—”

“You’re shameless! Since when are you so sensitive to our son? Since he started taking your side? Since he decided
I’m
the bad guy?”

Jake told himself to remain calm. “Pam, you said you don’t have time to talk, so let’s not waste time fighting.”

“It’s so unfair to me, Jake!” Pam raised her voice. “This is unfair to me
and
him! You’re the one who put us in this impossible situation! You’re the one who told him it was okay to drive in the first place!”