4:04 a.m.
Maggie was awake when the phone on the bedside table rang.
It still made her jump.
Both those facts — she was awake and she jumped — made her snap “Hello?”
Nobody was there. Just air.
She gave a second “hello?” More air.
She hung up.
Tried to get some sleep.
Commonwealth v. J.D. Carson
Witness Melanie Forbes (prosecution)
Direct Examination by ACA Frye
Q. Thank you for that concise explanation of the cause of death, Doctor Forbes. To recap in layman’s terms, would you say it was fair to say that Pan Wade was shot at close quarters with her own gun?
A. No more than eighteen inches.
Q. Thank you. In your autopsy for the state medical examiner’s office, did you find other wounds, such as might be expected if someone tried to defend herself?
A. None.
Q. Mrs. Wade made no effort to defend herself when someone raised and aimed a gun at her from eighteen inches away, as if she trusted the person who—?
Mr. Monroe: Objection. Asked and answered.
THE COURT: Sustained. Proceed, Ms. Frye.
Q. Will you tell us, please, what — if any — items you found in your examination of Pan Addington Wade?
A. In addition to the usual clothing items, which we sent to the forensics lab for examination, we found a piece of paper with handwriting on it.
Q. Where did you find this paper?
A. In her mouth.
THE COURT: Silence. There will be no outbursts in this courtroom. Proceed, Ms. Frye.
* * * *
6:41 a.m.
Maggie let herself into the office with the key Dallas gave her last night — right after the locksmith gave one new key to the guesthouse to her and the only other one to Dallas.
The upside of sleeping poorly was she’d been awake to leave the guesthouse before anyone sidetracked her.
Even that early, though, she’d had to sidestep behind a rhododendron when she saw Evelyn entering the back door, and heard the murmur of her morning greetings with Dallas through an open window.
She’d passed under that window in time to hear Dallas describe her as “flinty-eyed Maggie Frye.”
She allowed herself satisfaction as she walked to the office of Monroe & Associate. Nice to know she’d been right about his Southern chivalry crap.
If she’d encountered anyone, she’d say she arrived at the office this early to avoid the temptation of an Evelyn breakfast.
Not switching on lamps, she used daylight seeping in through the front window to deposit her briefcase, then returned to the hall, waiting while her eyes adjusted before she went to the closed door on the left.
She hesitated with her hand on the knob. But not long.
She stepped in to Carson’s office.
The small room had a single window, which at first glance appeared to have been bricked over. Second glance recognized it had a view across a narrow gangway to the brick wall of the building next door. A shallow puddle of sunlight touched the floor below the window, barely strong enough to cast a shadow.
Small, lacking natural light, and ascetically neat. It could have been a cell — in a prison or a monastery.
She scanned the ordered bookshelves, labeled file drawers, desktop clear of everything except a computer.
Not that she expected to see anything incriminating.
Carson was far too smart to leave anything where it could be easily found, and in a semi-public place, no less. Besides, he was almost certainly too controlled to keep anything at all.
No trophies, no spill-all journals, not for J.D. Carson.
The room told her he was neat, orderly, precise.
While there’d been a strong undercurrent of emotion in the murders — the face-down posing of the bodies, for instance — the scene and victims were meticulously devoid of clues. Someone who knew what he — or she, Maggie added scrupulously — was doing and disciplined enough to do it.
So, what was this niggle of surprise she felt, looking over Carson’s office?
Contemplation of that abruptly gave way to alarm and adrenaline.
A sound behind her spun her around.