ANGELICA
beside Angelica’s booth. She clutched a warm mug of coffee between her hands, studying the emblem of a red rooster and the words Egg Harbor Cafe. Every time the door opened, she looked up. But it was never Roland. She tapped the mug impatiently. He’d agreed to change their appointment to a morning meal, but he’d only gotten back to Lake Geneva late last night. She felt guilty rolling him out of bed.
Glancing through the rain-streaked window, she saw her rental car, waiting in a nearby stall. She’d return it to O’Hare later this morning. And then she’d board her plane for LAX. She was leaving Lake Geneva in a matter of hours. Worried as she was about Kaydon and Mason, her heart twinged a little at the thought of leaving this place, and not just because of her unfinished investigation.
Thanks largely to Roland, she’d gotten to know Lake Geneva in a different light than she’d expected—the way Will had known it. Not as the place where he had died, but the place where he had lived. Where he had grown up. Where he had laughed and played and made friends and built an entire life and dreamed of a future.
Forgiveness was still a long way off. But at least she had solved one mystery: the identity of the man she had married. She had context now. A depth of personal and family history she’d never known, in all their years together. It was something.
The bell above the cafe door rang. Angelica’s eyes flashed upward. The patron who entered was Roland. She smiled and sighed in relief. She would get to speak with him one last time before she left.
He paused to talk with the hostess, who pointed out Angelica’s table. He nodded, then hurried over. In honor of the weather, he’d donned a thicker sweater, cream-colored with knitted cables and carved wooden buttons. He slid into the booth opposite Angelica and reached for both her hands.
“My dear, I’m so glad I caught you before you left.”
She smiled weakly. “I need to get home to my boys.”
“Of course you must. Are you all right? You sounded distressed when we spoke over the phone.”
She took a deep breath, then told him in more detail of her failed quests at the county courthouse and the police station. She described her terror at practically coming face-to-face with Wade himself. But nothing had happened since, so surely she was overthinking the encounter. Regardless, her investigation had reached a dead end, unless the county clerk in Elkhorn actually managed to find some documents that weren’t tied up by secrecy laws. Even then, she’d have to be lucky enough for such a record to provide proof that Wade was, in fact, guilty of murder. Or that there had been a mistrial. Or a flaw in the investigation. And what were the odds of finding anything so obvious?
Deflated, Angelica leaned on her hand and stared across the table at her friend. “What do I do, Roland? I don’t know where to go next.”
He drummed his fingers together, a pensive look on his face. Then he cocked a smile. “For starters, we order breakfast. An investigation such as this really does call for a full stomach.”
Angelica allowed an exhausted smile to slip across her face. He was probably right.
Roland ordered hash browns and fried eggs, sunny-side-up, while Angelica asked for toast and fruit. Once the waiter took the menus away, Roland folded his hands and looked Angelica squarely in the eye.
“First of all, I wouldn’t discount a clue that isn’t yet firmly in your hand. You don’t know what your friend at the courthouse may turn up. Whatever she finds, it probably won’t be a smoking gun in the hands of Wade Erickson.” He tilted his head. “But it might point toward another door. A door you haven’t tried yet. Don’t give up too quickly.”
Angelica nodded. Of course he was right. She wasn’t known for her patience. She wanted the first door she opened to have all the answers.
“Second, we may not have to give up on those reports from the police station.”
Angelica sat upright. “What do you mean? Is there still a chance?” She shrank into her seat again. “Roland, I don’t think I can go back there.”
He waved a finger. “Neither you nor I shall go anywhere near it. You forget, I have connections. Your media ruse wasn’t a bad idea, but what if an actual reporter requested the records?”
Angelica’s eyes widened. “Do you know someone?”
Roland grinned and twiddled his thumbs. “I believe I have an old favor I can call in. The man could get secrets from a marble statue. If those documents can be had, they will be had. Frankly, I don’t know why we didn’t try this in the first place.”
Tears nearly threatened to fall. “Roland, you’re wonderful.”
He waved a hand. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s still every chance that, despite all our efforts, we may come up empty-handed. Should that prove the case…” He spread his palms. “Where shall we turn next? We may as well plan our moves ahead of time.”
Angelica rested her chin on her hands, fingers laced, and searched the corners of the room for ideas. “The shootout, the end of the Markham Ring—this was a major case. Would other agencies have helped with the investigation?” Police departments did that sort of thing, didn’t they? Crime reports in the papers always ended with a list of agencies that were assisting.
“In fact, I believe other agencies were involved,” said Roland. “The Walworth County Sheriff’s Office, as a matter of course. Chicago, Milwaukee, Madison—their departments would have wanted their fingers in the pie; it was their banks that were broken into. Perhaps a smattering of other agencies, both local and state. I’ll have my reporter friend inquire after them all.”
“You’re wonderful.” Another idea leapt to Angelica’s mind. “We should speak with Jason’s father, Tommy.”
Roland leaned back, an expression of warning on his face. “That may not get you where you think it will.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“Wade and I may have parted ways, but he and Tommy have always remained close.”
“How close?”
“I have it from the grapevine that Tommy is spending his recovery at Wade’s house.”
Angelica stared at Roland, slack-jawed. “But Wade was the one who shot him!”
Roland twisted his head and spoke haltingly, as if the full horror of the situation were forming in his mind. “If Wade is the missing fourth member, then yes.”
Angelica reached for his wrist. “You have to talk to him. To warn him. He has to get out of that house.”
Roland leaned back, pressing his fingers to his chest. “But will he believe me? They’ve been best friends since they were boys. They’re more than brothers to each other. And once again, we lack evidence. How am I to convince him?”
Angelica shrugged. “Maybe you don’t need to. Ask him to find out for himself.” She leaned forward and pressed her finger into the table. “He’s in Wade’s house. Maybe there’s evidence. Ask him to look.”
“Recruit him?” Roland’s expression was dubious. “I’ll do my best, but I make no promises.”
Angelica shook her head. “You have to try. Tommy’s in danger as long as he’s in that house.”
Roland nodded somberly.
Angelica leaned back in her booth, satisfied that she’d won that argument. “Who else can we talk to?”
Roland twirled his thumbs. “Monica Steele may prove an invaluable ally.”
Angelica stiffened. “The detective?”
“That’s right. Do you know her?”
“She flew out to California to interview me after Will’s death.”
“Did she?”
Angelica nodded, memories of the woman’s coolness spinning icicles in her brain. “I don’t like her.”
“Whyever not?”
“She’s a cold, heartless bitch—pardon my French.”
Roland’s mouth initially fell open, and then he quirked his head, conceding her point. “Well, I can’t say you’re wrong…”
Angelica nodded conclusively. “How do you know her?”
“Well, after your husband’s remains were left on my property and a warning written in blood on my window, she’s had occasion to come around.”
Angelica nodded her head side-to-side. Fair. But the real question… “Do you trust her?”
“She is the most sensible, clear-sighted woman I know. She harbors no fools.” He raised a finger. “Which is a vital point. She’s Wade’s protégé. Getting her to turn against him may prove no easier than Tommy.”
Angelica raised her eyebrows in surprise, then shrugged, trying not to look too delighted. “Then we leave her out of it.”
“Sooner or later, we may have no choice. Once we have evidence, who do we give it to?”
“Anyone. Another agency. The state police.”
“And then what will happen to the evidence you paid your blood, sweat, and tears for? Will it be taken seriously—the findings of an untrained civilian? Will law enforcement prove reluctant to turn against its own? What if your evidence isn’t conclusive? What if it’s merely suggestive? What if it gets trapped in differences of opinion? Departmental politics? Bureaucratic nonsense? No. When you pass this baton, it needs to come to the hands of someone who will carry it over the finish line.”
Angelica scowled. “And why is that Monica Steele? You said yourself, she’s Wade’s protégé.”
Roland grinned. “You yourself described her as a ‘cold, heartless bitch.’ And that is what makes her the right woman for the job. She will never put a personal friendship, however close, above doing the right thing—of that, I’m sure. That woman has a moral code engraved in iron.”
Angelica let the thought soak in. If Roland was right, then no doubt that was why Steele had been so heartless during their interview. Finding the truth was simply more important to her than catering to Angelica’s raw emotions at the time. Still…
“I don’t like her.”
Roland dropped his chin and twirled his thumbs. “Fair. But when the time comes, I do hope you’ll heed my advice.”
“And until then, I hope you won’t let her know we had this conversation—or any other. I don’t like her, I don’t trust her, and I don’t want her anywhere near this investigation.”
Roland sighed. “Agreed. I won’t speak of it without consulting you first.”
Angelica nodded, satisfied.
The waiter breezed to a stop at their table. “Sunny-side up?”
“Ah!” Roland smiled and raised a finger.
The young man set down their plates, and when he was assured that they had everything they needed, he left.
Roland unfurled a napkin and laid it on his lap. “Enough detective work. You have but an hour left in Lake Geneva. Let it be a pleasant one.” He raised his water glass.
Angelica smiled in acquiescence and tinked his glass with hers. She knew these last few moments would slip by far too quickly. She already knew she would be coming back—as soon as she felt the boys would be okay without her.
But she also knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she would have to be desperate to work with Monica Steele.