forty-three

I caught up to Cal a few blocks from the Kit Kat on his way back to the office. “Hey, Cal, I think you better turn around and go see Keys again. Poor Nic owns his alarm company—Sancus something—and it’s also the alarm company for the bank. Get it? Somebody had to know about the alarms to deactivate them and play around with the CCTV cameras and backup systems, right? So, someone who knows the Kit Kat’s alarm system might know the bank’s alarm system. Get it? There could be …”

Cal’s cell phone rang. “Calloway—er, Clemens.”

He was lost in his call for a few moments and when he tapped off his cell, his face tightened and he banged a bony figure down on the “3” speed dial key. He placed the cell phone on a holder on his dashboard and put the call on speaker.

“Braddock.”

“Bear, I got something.” Cal’s voice was rapid, almost frantic. “Thorne called. Karen Simms never showed up for work this morning—neither did Larry Conti. Neither has missed a day all year. Thorne called Simms’s cell and no answer. Same with Conti. Thorne also checked their computers and somebody deleted all their emails and records last night—just like William.”

“Right around the time he was murdered,” Bear said. “Dammit, Cal, get to Simms’s place pronto.”

Cal flipped on his siren. “And, Bear, Angela said she was going to Simms’s place this morning.”

“I’ll get units to meet us there and someone looking for Conti.”

“Right. Do I wait on a warrant when I get there?”

“Hell, no. Kick in the damn doors if you have to.”