“What can I do for you?”
His voice sounded so superior. Tenley’d always known he was a sleaze. Tried to tell Lanna so, too, every time her sister mentioned him, hadn’t understood why Lanna kept talking about the guy. Now she knew. Now, here he was, in Mom’s office, acting like nothing horrible had happened.
Her mom stood, waved him to a chair across from her desk. “Hey, Ward.”
Tenley had recognized what her boss hadn’t disguised in the video. His stupid watch. “Mom,” she’d said. And then she’d told her. And Brileen.
Even though Ward Dahlstrom tried to keep himself out of the greenroom camera shot, Tenley knew he must have been Lanna’s … Tenley couldn’t even think about it. Mom had gone crazy. They’d rewound the disgusting tape, twice, confirming. Then Mom made the phone call.
“Sorry our meeting kept getting postponed.” Tenley couldn’t figure out how Mom, hair in place and even wearing lipstick, could look so pleasant. “Lots going on. Any more on the police subpoena? For the Curley Park video?”
“Nope, nothing. Kelli Riordan says we may have dodged this bullet. The key is to steer clear of the cops, long as we can.” Dahlstrom scanned the room, ignored Tenley, gestured to the guest chair. “Mind if I—”
Mom ignored him, which rocked. Ward Dahlstrom, king of creeps, stood there, shifting his stupid feet.
Tenley sat in the corner of her mom’s couch. She’d promised she’d keep quiet, just watch and listen. City Hall was pretty empty. Almost six and most employees had bolted, even annoying Siobhan had buttoned her sweater to her chin and scuttled away. Tenley’s father had been dead—oh—for a little more than a day. Tenley almost felt like she existed in a different world as half an hour ago they’d taken the thumb drive her father had died for, plugged it into Brileen’s laptop, and held their breath. And clicked.
But there were no pictures on it. Nothing. There was video, and it was from Mom’s greenroom, but there was no one in the picture. They’d watched until it ran out. No one. Nothing. An empty room.
Her mom had jerked the blank thumb drive from the port, then stood, holding it like a bug, as if she didn’t know whether to throw it away or stomp on it. But the police had taken it back.
“Extortion, pure and simple,” her mother had said as the three of them drove away from the morgue place.
“That bastard,” Brileen said.
“Bastard is right,” Mom said. “I bet—dammit. Once your father paid the money, who knew if he’d ever look at the drive? Even if he hadn’t watched the video of Lanna, she’d confessed it was real. So when Brileen was told there were pictures of you, honey, maybe he simply believed it was true. And wanted to protect you.”
Tenley felt so sad. Had her father not trusted her? But Mom had told her that Dad said he loved her. She’d remember that.
Her mom had sighed, an angry sad frustrated sigh. “Question is, who else knows? And who got that money? And who killed Greg?”
So now here was Ward Dahlstrom, all pin-striped suit and pocket square. Standing in front of Mom’s desk like it was an ordinary day. Had he known about the money? He had to, right? She wanted to leap up from the couch and punch the guy, but that wasn’t the part she was supposed to play.
Her mom’s desk phone rang, as Tenley knew it would. Her mother answered.
“Yes,” Mom said. “Give me a minute, please.” Mom hung up, flapped open her computer, clicked the mouse. Narrowed her eyes at the screen. Then turned to Ward, still with that smile.
Tenley could hardly keep from smiling too. She felt powerful, for the first time.
“It’s the police,” Mom whispered to Ward.
“Shit,” he muttered. He glanced at Tenley, but she pretended to be looking at her fingernails.
“Yeah.” Mom pointed to the side door, conspiratorial. “Why don’t you wait in the greenroom? I’ll let you know the minute they’re gone.”
* * *
Before Jake could say a word, Catherine Siskel had opened the door and gestured him into her office. She put one finger to her lips, then pointed it to her desktop computer. Signaled him to follow her across the room.
Jake nodded, understanding. They’d stay quiet. Could her plan work?
Tenley uncurled herself from the sofa and joined her mother and Jake behind the desk. On the computer screen, Jake saw an unnaturally blue-tinted view of a flowered couch, two wing chairs, two end tables, an elaborate Oriental rug. A closed door in the back wall. And, pacing in front of the couch, a man in a pin-striped suit. Ward Dahlstrom. The “chief of surveillance.” Perfect.
Jake acknowledged Tenley’s skills with a thumbs-up. Tenley shrugged, accepting the approval. On the phone, Catherine had explained the girl had rigged up the greenroom laptop as a one-way computer video feed—like Skype or FaceTime. And this time Mr. Surveillance had no idea he was the one being secretly watched. And recorded.
Catherine had flapped a yellow legal pad to a clean page. Uncapped a felt-tip pen.
Tenley says he can hear us, she wrote.
“Hello, Detective,” Catherine’s voice was louder than normal. She looked at the screen, not at him. “What can I do for you?”
Jake matched her volume, also keeping his eyes on the screen. “We need to talk, ma’am. I need to see your…” Jake paused, made something up. “… calendar from the past week.”
On camera, Dahlstrom took three paces to the left, turned, and paced to the right. The man stopped, hands on hips, and looked up at somewhere on the wall in front and above him.
That’s where I found cam, Catherine wrote. Upper left, in smoke alarm.
Jake held his hand out for the pen. You touch it?
No.
“Let me look for that calendar, Detective,” Catherine said. “It’ll take a moment.”
The camera’s microphone made a barely audible buzz thorough the computer speaker. Dahlstrom, fidgeted, looked at his watch.
Jake and Catherine exchanged glances. Tenley stood, pulled out her cell phone, looked at her mom, then at Jake. Held up her phone, inquiring with her eyebrows.
Jake nodded, mouthed the words. “Do it.”
Tenley’s thumbs moved across the phone’s tiny keypad. Jake saw her hit Send, then smile.
On the screen, the light changed in the greenroom, the surveillance blue diffused by a fluorescent glare as, with a click, the door in the back wall opened.
Dahlstrom turned at the first sound, his back now to their clandestine computer. “What?” they heard him say.
And there, on camera, was Brileen.
* * *
Moment of truth, Catherine thought. Would Brileen be able to pull this off?
Catherine watched the video feed coming from the greenroom. An opaque wall separated them, but thanks to the laptop’s video camera, the layers of wallpaper and plaster and insulation might as well be nonexistent. They could see and hear everything.
“What are you doing here?” Brileen said. “I was in the bathroom.”
On the way back from the morgue, the three women, Catherine, Brileen, and Tenley, had plotted the trap to catch Ward Dahlstrom. They knew they couldn’t simply confront him with the Lanna video. He’d just insist he hadn’t known it was being taped.
They needed the police to clinch the trap. Now the three of them—mother, daughter, and cop—would watch the charade unfold.
Brileen had sworn she’d do anything to make up for what she’d done.
Now they’d see.
Brileen had positioned herself behind the couch. A barrier. Just in case.
Even with the inferior video quality, Catherine could see Dahlstrom’s posture change, his back straighten.
“What are you doing here?” Dahlstrom’s voice, wary, came through the speaker perfectly. He reached into his pocket. “I have no idea who you are.”
He took a step toward Brileen.
“Mom,” Tenley whispered.
Catherine saw Brogan move toward the door to the greenroom, hand to his waist. As they’d planned. If Brileen were in danger, he’d have to act.
But Dahlstrom had simply taken out a cell phone.
Catherine signaled the detective to come back to the screen. “Is this the calendar you wanted to see?” she said, keeping up their pretense. She hoped Dahlstrom was too distracted to eavesdrop.
“Let me look,” Brogan said. And he was looking. At the screen.
“My name is Brileen Finnerty,” they heard her say. Brileen planted both hands on the back of the flowered couch. Leaned toward Dahlstrom. “Mean anything to you?”
Dahlstrom didn’t budge, his back to the laptop’s eye. “Should it?”
“Wish we could see the guy’s face,” Catherine murmured.
Brileen shook her head, as if impatient. “Look. Don’t screw with me. I’m Tenley’s ‘friend’ now. As you well know. But Siskel’s got the police out there, I assume you know that, too.”
“Does she know you’re in here?”
“Are you kidding me? She sent me here. Just like she sent you! She’d do anything to protect her reputation. You of all people know that. She’s trying to keep us both out of the cop’s way because I know about the thumb drives, and you know about that murder video.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking abou—”
Catherine thought she detected a quaver in Dahlstrom’s voice. A hesitation. So frustrating not to be able to see his face.
“But they don’t know we know each other!” Brileen interrupted, insistent. “And they don’t know about Hugh. And that’s what makes this perfect.”
Who’s … Detective Brogan wrote.
“Don’t you see?” Brileen went on, persuading. “Catherine Siskel has the thumb drives. Both of them. They were in her dead husband’s pocket. The cops gave them to her. Both of them.”
Both? Not true, Brogan wrote.
Catherine nodded. Exactly.
“But here’s the thing,” Brileen went on. “The cops didn’t watch the videos. And Catherine didn’t either. But Lanna told me about you, Ward. All about you.”
“Lanna who?” Dahlstrom said.
“Lanna who?” Brileen voice was a mocking echo. She smoothed a hand along the back of the couch, then pointed at Dahlstrom. “Oh. I get it. You think I’m—”
Catherine held up crossed fingers. Brogan nodded.
“—wearing a wire?” Brileen stepped around the side of the couch, came toward him. Arms outstretched. Offering herself. “Are you kidding me? Please. Fine. You want to check?”
Dahlstrom turned away. And as he did, his glance flickered to the upper left, exactly where Catherine found the hidden camera.
He knows, Brogan wrote.
Yup. Catherine wrote. “Is there anything else you need, Detective?” she said out loud.
Brileen had grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t you see?”
“It’s not gonna work,” Tenley whispered.
“Shh,” Catherine said. Though she agreed. Maybe Dahlstrom was too cagey. But Brileen was giving it all she had.
“When they figure out it’s you on the thumb drive video,” Brileen said, still holding Dahlstrom’s arm, “they’re gonna nail you for the murder of Greg Siskel.”
Brileen pointed to her chest, then gestured, wide, with both hands. “And then—like you’re gonna protect me? I’m in as deep as you. But listen. I can get those thumb drives from Siskel,” Brileen said. “I know I can. And I’ll destroy them.”
Silence. Dahlstrom’s back was still to the camera.
Catherine saw the determination on Brileen’s face.
“Dahlstrom, hear me,” the girl said. “I am your only. Frigging. Way out.”
Dahlstrom looked at his cell phone. “I need to make a call.”
Catherine looked at the detective, triumphant. She could almost, almost, make out the numbers he was dialing. But she’d be able to look again. Because even though Ward Dahlstrom’s back was to the computer’s hidden camera, he was holding his phone directly in its view.
Tenley mimed applause. Catherine put her arm around her daughter. They’d won.
Then Brogan’s phone rang.