After showing Mr. Hayes out, all Journey could think about was getting justice. She hoped she’d also be able to give him and his family the closure they needed to heal by the time she closed the case.
As she headed back to her office, she ran into Prentice in one of the aisles.
“What happened?” she asked quietly, and he fell in step with her.
“We need to question Marta Polczynski again. I requested she be picked up by an officer and brought here instead of having her taken to the station for questioning. I really think someone got to her before she talked to us.”
Journey nodded. “I agree, and I think it’s very convenient that Marta never mentioned that she was a supervisor at the company and that Joyce was one of her direct reports. If someone put the fear of God in her, we’ll have to get her to trust us enough to talk. How soon will she be here?”
He glanced at his phone. “Not sure. They’re at her house now, but no one’s answering and the neighbors haven’t seen her.”
An unsettling sensation lodged in the pit of Journey’s stomach. She hoped the woman was all right, but after what happened to Fred, she feared the worse.
“Okay. Keep me posted.”
When Journey returned to her office, she pulled out her cell phone and called Laz. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and she was concerned that his recovery would take longer with all that was going on. He needed rest. Something he wasn’t getting.
“Hey, baby,” he said sleepily, and Journey smiled at the tingles that scurried up her spine.
She never thought she’d be the type of woman who got all giggly inside when her man used pet names. Or when his sexy, sleep-filled voice worked her up to the point of wishing she could ditch work, meet him at home, and coax him into bed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Oh…yeah, I’m fine. I was just checking on you. How do you feel?”
“Like I got shot and dragged behind a car for a mile along a pothole-riddled street.”
“Laz.” Even if part of that was actually true, Journey didn’t want a picture painted for her.
He chuckled. “All right, babe. I’ve been in bed since you left. I knew I was tired. I just didn’t realize how much.”
He sounded exhausted, and the fact that he was still in bed spoke volumes. Laz was an early riser, and there wasn’t a lazy bone in his body. He was one of those people who could function on little sleep and be just as productive as someone who got a full eight hours.
“Where’d you go last night, or should I say this morning? I woke up around three, and you weren’t in the room.” She had known that it wasn’t just the room he had vacated; he had left the building. She didn’t know how many clothes he had brought, but when she didn’t see his phones and leather jacket, she knew.
After a hesitation, Laz said, “I got a lead on the shooting, and I went to check it out. Nothing for you to worry about, though.”
Meaning he probably found someone directly tied to the situation and beat them up—or at least threatened them for information. She hadn’t noticed any bruises on his knuckles, but with Laz, even with one arm in a sling, he could do some damage.
When he worked for the police force, Laz constantly pushed boundaries, making her job almost impossible some days. Requesting search warrants without having enough probable cause, going off half-cocked after perpetrators, and basically just doing whatever he saw fit to put bad guys behind bars.
Journey recalled a couple of times when she’d walk into an interrogation room, where a criminal was being held, and they’d be visibly shaken. Not for fear of going to jail, but for fear of the arresting officer—Laz. He always got his man.
“How are you doing?” he asked, cutting into her thoughts. “How’s it going with your security detail? Hopefully, they aren’t cramping your style too much.”
“I’ll admit it’s taking some getting used to, but I understand the need to have them around.”
“I’m glad you understand. Hopefully, it won’t be for long. We’re going to find the person behind this shit, and then we can return to our lives.”
Yeah, she hoped.
“I know you want to find the people who shot at you, but you need to stay in bed and get some rest,” she said, thinking about how pale he had looked when she left for work. “I need you to hurry and heal so that you’ll have full use of both of your arms and hands.”
Laz chuckled. “Yeah, I prefer to use both hands and have a bed beneath me when I make love to my wife. Last night, it felt like I was having sex with one arm tied behind my back.”
Journey couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. “I imagine it did, but it was still fun.” She laughed. “I can’t wait to do it again. Chair and all. As a matter of fact, maybe tonight we can have a repeat of last night. Wait, what am I thinking? I’m sure we can get creative where you won’t even need your hands. Actually, maybe I’ll just have my way with other parts of your body.”
Laz groaned. “Damn, I love the way you think. Uh, so when are you coming home?”
They both laughed, and it felt good. Arguing with him wore her out; lately, that was all they’d been doing. It seemed like they were finally turning the corner to get their marriage back on track.
“I’m planning to leave here at six. I would suggest we have a date night and go to dinner, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Journey said. If someone really was after Laz, going to a restaurant would only put others at risk.
“Yeah, we should probably lay low. How about I order us a nice dinner and make sure it’s here by the time you get home?”
Journey smiled, and warmth spread through her body. “That sounds great.”
“Good, I’ll see you later then,” he said.
“Okay, and Laz?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. And don’t give my guys too much trouble.”
Journey laughed. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
* * *
Still smiling after her call with Laz, Journey opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled her makeup compact from her purse. Looking in the small mirror, she patted away the sheen from her face, freshened her brick-red colored lipstick, and had put everything away when Prentice showed up in her doorway.
“What’s up?” she asked and rocked back in her seat.
“Marta’s here, and she was getting ready to run.”
Journey sat forward, frowning. “What? What do you mean? Running from what…or who?”
“That’s what we need to figure out. I’m thinking we should meet in your office.”
“Oh, okaaay.” Journey wasn’t sure why he was acting so strange, but when he escorted Marta in, she saw why.
The other day, the woman’s blonde hair was in a fancy updo, and her face looked professionally made-up. She’d been dressed in a nice blouse and pants. Yet, right now, her hair hung loose beneath an Atlanta Braves baseball cap that she had paired with a ratty sweatshirt, paint-spattered blue jeans, and a pair of blue Chucks.
The outfit looked like a disguise, and with the large, multicolored overnight bag slung over her shoulders, she looked as if she was getting ready to run away.
Concern engulfed Journey as she slowly walked around the desk.
“Ms. Polczynski, I’m glad you’re here. Please, have a seat.” Journey gestured to one of the guest chairs in front of her desk.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” she snapped and dropped into the chair as if she was tired from carrying a heavy load. Not only was her appearance different, but so was her attitude.
Prentice sat in the chair next to her, and Journey returned to her seat.
“Why was I brought here instead of the police station?” Marta asked.
Journey propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her hand. Now she knew something was going on; it was as if the woman had been expecting to get arrested. “Would you have preferred to be at the police station instead of here?”
She didn’t answer the question right away, and for a minute, Journey didn’t think she’d respond until she said, “Maybe I should have a lawyer present.”
“Why? Did you do something wrong?” Journey asked.
The woman didn’t respond, which told Journey what she already knew. Marta was involved in the murder in some way. Or at least she knew more than she’d let on the other day, and now she was running scared.
“The cops found you at the bus station. Why were you leaving town?” Prentice asked. “Where were you heading?”
A flicker of fear showed in the woman’s eyes, but it was gone just as fast. Now they were getting somewhere.
Journey leaned back in her seat and tapped her pen against the yellow legal pad on the desk. She stared at the woman who was looking down, fiddling with the handle of her large bag.
“You know, Marta, if you prefer, we can always have you transported to the police station for additional questioning,” Journey said, hoping that would get her attention. “With you lying to detectives and then lying to us, legally, things aren’t going to end well for you.”
Journey let that sink in. According to the eyewitness statement, Fred—their murdered key witness—had stated Stratton was the one who actually killed Joyce.
But where did Marta figure in?
“Or you can stick around,” Journey continued. “We can just…have a conversation. I’m not sure what your role is in all of this, but maybe there’s a way we can help each other. What do you think?”
After a slight hesitation, Marta glanced up and met Journey’s eyes. “What do you want to know?”
“Why were you leaving town?” Prentice asked again.
“Because…I think I’m in trouble, and I need protection.”
Journey frowned and sat forward. “Excuse me? Protection from what or who?”
“I don’t know. I’m scared. The crap going on at Leverage might get me killed like it did Joyce and Fred.”
“Why do you say that? Do you know something we don’t know? Because when we talked to you days ago, you said—”
“I know what I said!” she snapped, then covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m just really stressed.”
Journey moved around the desk and propped against the corner closest to Marta, hoping to make her feel more comfortable.
“Tell us why you were trying to leave town.”
“The killings. I’ve watched enough crime shows to know that Joyce’s and Fred’s murders only weeks apart is too much of a coincidence.”
“Okaaaay,” Prentice said slowly. “Do you know why they were killed?”
“At first, I thought it had something to do with the merger. But now I think it might have something to do with the city contract that we were just awarded. Except…I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
Journey exchanged a look with Prentice. He was probably thinking the same thing she was thinking. The proposed merger and the mention of that city contract had come up twice in the past hour. From what she understood, the merger had fallen through over a year ago.
Still, Journey wanted to ensure she did her due diligence and investigated. That went for the contract, too. There was probably some information in one or the other that could shed light on the whole case.
“I think Joyce might’ve been murdered because she threatened to go to the authorities about us manipulating the financial records,” Marta said in a rush, as if she had to get the words out before changing her mind. “It was wrong. I know it was wrong, but we were told to do it or we’d lose our jobs.”
“Who is we?” Journey asked.
“Me and my team, which included Joyce and Shawn Ridley.”
Journey jotted Ridley’s name down to remind herself to see what they had on him.
“Before discussing a merger, Dennis wanted us to make changes to the company ledger. We were forced to keep two sets of financial records. The real set, and another set that was used to get loans and lure investors. He insisted we hide some of the debt he’d been accumulating and add revenue that didn’t exist.
“At first, it was small amounts that were easy to conceal, but over the last few months, the amounts were getting too large to hide. I was concerned that either the potential investors would request an audit or the city would. We have had several large city contracts over the years, and it’s not unheard of for them to do that.”
“So basically, he wanted the business to look more profitable than it actually was,” Prentice said.
Marta nodded and released a heavy exhale. “I’ve been with the company almost ten years, and we used to do everything by the book. Dennis was an honorable man. That’s how the company kept growing. People trusted our brand and us.”
“Why did you lie to us and try to make it seem like Leverage Construction was a great place to work?” Journey asked.
“Because I didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t know what would happen if you or the detectives discovered that the company was committing fraud.” She swiped tears from her eyes. “Leverage was doing well at first, but then a couple of years ago, a major contract that Dennis was banking on fell through, and it seemed like a snowball effect. He was losing other deals.”
Journey wasn’t sure the information the woman shared was worth killing over. Yes, it looked bad that Dennis had manipulated his employees into fudging the books…but murder?
“When we were awarded this new city contract a few weeks ago,” Marta continued, “I thought for sure we could start operating the way we used to, but then Dennis had to start paying the councilwoman more than he could actually af….” Marta gasped and slammed her hand over her mouth.
“Wait.”
“What?”
Journey and Prentice spoke at the same time. Journey was on her feet, standing in front of the woman who looked as if she was going to bolt.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said anything,” Marta stammered and stood, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I have to go. I can’t—”
“Sit down, Marta,” Journey said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere until you give me a name. What city council member are you claiming has been taking bribes?”
Marta looked from her to Prentice and back to Journey again. She swallowed hard before saying, “Councilwoman Tamar Warner.”