Michelle suddenly became rigid. “When I was moving some things into my bedroom here, I found a credit card slip that had fallen behind a drawer.”

  Devine perked up at this. “Do you remember the name on the credit card?”

  “I do actually because it was so unusual. Dominique Deveraux. Very alliterative. I mean, it sounds fake.”

  Devine took out his phone and searched the name.

  “Okay, Dominique Deveraux was a character on the TV show Dynasty. Both in the original series back in the 1980s and then on the reboot on the CW.”

  “Maybe it was an alias, then.”

  “Hold on, here’s another Dominique Deveraux.” He clicked on a link and read down the page. “Age twenty-four, originally from California. And—”

  He stopped speaking and stared at the screen, his look troubled.

  “And what, Travis?”

  He glanced up at her. “Deveraux killed herself nearly one year ago, by jumping into the East River.”

  CHAPTER

  59

  DEVINE RODE BACK TO THE town house in Mount Kisco.

  After they learned about Deveraux’s fate, he and Michelle had first talked about her going into hiding. He had even thought about calling up Campbell to have his people protect her. But in the end they had decided that her best protection was to stay put. To not let Cowl or others know that anything was amiss. But he had told her to keep a watch out and call the cops if anything looked off.

  He had communicated with Campbell about these latest developments and his meeting with Elaine Nestor, and arranged to meet with the man later.

  There was no one at the town house at this time of the day. Valentine wasn’t on the couch and the Mini Cooper wasn’t in the garage. Tapshaw must be at her office, he thought.

  He knocked on Speers’s door; there was no answer. He called out, “Helen, you decent?” There was still no answer.

  He tried to turn the knob. It was locked. That wasn’t unusual. He locked his door, too. He could have picked it, but he didn’t want to risk it. If she had a camera in there . . .

  He went to his room, looked up the number for NYU Law School, and placed a call.

  He was passed from person to person and department to department until he came to a man who seemed to be the right one.

  Devine said, “My daughter, Helen Speers, just graduated from NYU. I haven’t been able to reach her and I’m getting concerned. She still lives in the same apartment. I’m on the West Coast. I wanted someone to go and check on her.”

  “That might be a matter for the police, Mr. Speers.”

  “Look, I paid a ton of money for her to go to law school there. Can you at least help me?”

  “Please hold for just a moment.”

  He heard classical music for about thirty seconds before the man came back on. He said in a somewhat snarky tone, “We have no record of any Helen Speers being enrolled at the law school or having just graduated, Mr. Speers. You might want to check with your daughter about that. Have a good day.”

  Devine put down the phone. Okay, Helen Speers is not who she claims to be. So who is she and why is she here?

  Devine thought back and recalled that Speers had come here just about the time he had. Was she a plant? If so, by whom? She had been very curious about everything, telling him time and again to let her recommend a lawyer for him. Since she hadn’t gone to law school, he wondered what she would have done if he had taken the woman up on her offer. And where did she go during the day with her briefcase?

  His phone buzzed. It was a number he didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Devine?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Dr. John Wyman. You called my office seeking information on Sara Ewes?”

  Devine tensed. “Yes, I did. I worked with her. We were friends.”

  “So you said in your message. What exactly do you want to know?”

  “I know that she was pregnant but she ended up aborting the baby.”

  “I knew about her pregnancy, I didn’t know she had terminated it.”

  “I talked to the doctor who helped with the abortion. Sara wasn’t that far along, so it seems no medical procedure was necessary.”

  “So a medication abortion, then,” said Wyman. “Probably done at home.”

  “Yes. Sara gave your name to the abortion clinic. Are you her ob-gyn?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Can you tell me of your interest in all this?” asked Wyman.

  “As I said, I worked with her, and, well, the police and her mother seem to think that I was the father. Even though I didn’t meet Sara until after she became pregnant. I’m not sure they believe that. Quite frankly, I think they want to make me out to be her murderer.”

  “I thought that might be it.”

  “What?” Devine said sharply.

  “I know you’re not the father of Sara Ewes’s baby.”

  “How?”

  “Because she underwent artificial insemination and utilized a donor in acquiring the sperm. I run a practice pretty much devoted to that. I told the police this when they came by to see me as well, which is why I’m telling you. They mentioned your name, not understanding at that point how Sara became pregnant. When I told them, they were quite surprised. They wanted to know if you had donated the sperm. I told them that you had not. I told them that Sara never mentioned you to me. When I saw your name on the message my receptionist took from you, I put two and two together and decided you needed to know the truth.”

  “Well, I appreciate that, Dr. Wyman. Do you know who donated the sperm?”

  “No, I do not. Sara provided it. I told the police that, too.”

  “Then how do you know it wasn’t me?”

  “About six weeks after she became pregnant through insemination, Sara told me that the sperm donor had died. You obviously are very much alive.”

  “Was it Detectives Shoemaker and Ekman who talked to you?”

  “Yes. And they seemed very disappointed to know that you were not the father.”

  “I’m sure they were. Did Sara have anyone with her when she consulted you, or when she had the insemination done?”

  “No. But I got the sense that she was not going through this alone. That there was someone who was partnering with her in this process.”

  Devine thought of Jennifer Stamos, and then Brad Cowl. Cowl said he hadn’t had sex with Ewes. But with artificial insemination, he wouldn’t have had to. “She didn’t mention any names?”

  “She didn’t, but from the little she volunteered, I had the impression that she was going to take time off to be with the child.” He paused. “Was there someone like that in her life that you knew of?”

  “Possibly,” said Devine vaguely, and he meant to be very vague.

  “Do you know how far along Sara was when she terminated her pregnancy?” asked Wyman.

  “I was told about eight weeks. So, shortly after she told you the sperm donor had passed away.”

  “She seemed so excited about being a mother. I wonder what changed her mind?”

  So do I, thought Devine.

  CHAPTER

  60

  DEVINE HEARD TAPSHAW’S CAR PULL into the one-car garage. Shortly thereafter he heard her come up the stairs. He listened to her open and close her bedroom door a few moments later. He sat on his bed and thought about things. The problem was there were too many things to think about.

  Later, he heard the front door open and the sound of footsteps came up the stairs. He could tell by the footfalls that it was Speers. Her door closed as well. Then he heard her bedsprings squeak.

  He looked at his watch. Six thirty. Speers would not expect him to be home. He walked over to the wall separating their bedrooms and put his ear to it. He heard clicking. She was on her laptop. He stood there, hoping that she might make a call and he could attempt to listen, but that didn’t happen. The clicking stopped. A minute or so passed and her door opened and she passed down the hall. He opened his door a crack to see her at the top of the stairs dressed in her yoga clothes. She went down the steps.

  He slipped out and quietly moved over to her door. He tried the knob. It turned. She had forgotten to lock it or thought there was no need. He slowly opened it and glanced back at the stairs. Normally Speers would take a good forty-five minutes for her yoga routine.

  He stood in the doorway, looking around. The clothes she had obviously been wearing were lying on the floor. He glanced at the bed and thought for a moment of that sex-charged night and then pushed that right out of his head. This woman he’d thought was a friend was a potential enemy. He eased into the room and closed the door softly behind him. He could also hear clicking coming from Tapshaw’s room; she was obviously humming away on her monster screens.

  He did a quick search of the desk drawers and eyed the pile of law books that were stacked exactly as before. He opened the one on top and riffled through the pages: no marginalia, no highlighting; they were clearly for show. He went through the closet and bureau drawers and found nothing helpful. Her laptop and phone were time-locked and biometric protected, and thus inaccessible. Her purse was there and he took out her wallet. All the cards and driver’s license said “Helen Speers,” and the picture on the license was her. He put the wallet back and looked under the bed. A suitcase was there with no name tag. It was empty. He lifted the mattress and saw it underneath. A Glock 17 in black matte finish with pebbled grips and a Big Dot tritium night sight.

  He put the mattress back in place and left.

  As he was closing the door to leave, a voice said, “What are you doing, Travis?”

  He turned to see Tapshaw in the doorway of her room holding a large coffee cup with Hummingbird’s logo.

  He said, “I was looking for Helen. I thought she was in her room. I had given her a book to read that I needed back. But I couldn’t find it.”

  “Oh. I think she’s downstairs doing her yoga.”

  “Thanks, I didn’t hear her.”

  “Why are you home so early? Did you get fired?” she added playfully.

  He grinned at her remark. “Some days I wish I had.”

  “Want some coffee? I’m going to make some.”

  “No, I’m good, thanks. I’ll ask Helen about the book later, no need to bother her if you were going to.”

  “No problem.” She glanced at him. “Are you sure you’re okay, Travis? You just seem, I don’t know, out of sorts.”

  He decided to tell her the truth. “Another woman from my office was found dead at her home.”

  She just stared at him for a moment. Then she shivered, shook her head, and said in a low voice, “Another woman? Was she . . . ?”

  “She was killed, yes.”

  Tears appeared in Tapshaw’s large eyes. “Oh, God. I just don’t understand how . . .”

  “I . . . I got another email from that same source. Can I forward it to you to see if it helps you trace the other one?”

  She looked at him with determination. “Definitely. I will trace it, Travis.”

  Tapshaw turned, walked back into her room, and closed the door. He heard the lock turn.

  And who could blame her? he thought.

  * * *

  At eleven thirty that night Devine was awoken by movement in the hall. He listened for a moment, then rose and opened his door a crack.

  Speers was in her nightgown and was peering down the steps leading to the main level. When she turned back around, he eased the door closed. He heard her walk back down the hall and then a door opened.

  He looked out again and saw her enter Valentine’s room. She closed the door behind her. Devine slipped out into the hall and wondered if Speers was enjoying a sexual encounter with Valentine as she had with him.

  Why should I be special?

  But then he heard snores wafting up from the main floor. He edged down the stairs and saw Valentine sleeping on the couch. Now he understood. That was why she had gone there first, to make sure the Russian wasn’t in his bedroom.

  Devine went back to his room.

  A couple of minutes later there was a knock at his door.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Helen.”

  “Give me a sec.”

  Devine sat up in his bed, laid his pillow next to his right hand, sat back against the headboard, and slipped his hand under the pillow where it gripped something.

  “Come on in.”

  The door opened and Speers stood there in her nightgown that hit at midthigh. It was transparent enough with the backlight from the hall illumination to get his full attention. She had nothing on underneath.

  “What’s up?” he said evenly.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said.

  “I’ve been here all evening.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Do I? thought Devine. “With the way you’re dressed, I guess I do, yeah.”

  She came in and closed the door behind her, locking it.

  “I’m not sure Jill and Valentine are asleep,” he said.

  “I think Jill went out. Will is snoring on the couch. Pizza and beer do it every time. He’s gonna have a coronary any day now.”

  She sat on the bed next to him, drawing her legs under her, and studied him. He made no move to draw closer.

  “What? You’re no longer interested?” she said.

  “I’m just trying to understand why a young, beautiful, newly graduated lawyer needs to knock on my door. You can do a lot better than a thirtysomething Wall Street wannabe like me.”

  She said, “You undersell yourself, Travis. You’re good-looking. And you’re working in a field where you can make a lot of money. That’s an attractive package. And you were a soldier, too, so you know how to take care of yourself. And me.”

  I don’t think you’d have any problem taking care of yourself, thought Devine.

  She reached out and put a hand on his thigh. “It’s not complicated, Travis.”

  “It’s all complicated, Helen. And for that reason, I think you need to go back to your room.”

  She eyed where his hand was under the bed and he saw something in her expression he didn’t care for.

  She knows.

  “All right, but remember one thing.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I never sleep with my enemies.”

  He heard her feet padding back to her room, where she closed her door.

  Devine sat up and pulled the Sig P226 out from under the pillow. He looked down at the gun, which looked similar to Speers’s Glock, at least to the untrained eye.

  What the hell was she doing searching Valentine’s room?

  And was the visit tonight just about showing me she’s my ally?

  Then it dawned on him.

  She knows I searched her room. I put everything back just so, but I must have been a millimeter off somewhere. So, the lady is good. Real good. And if she is my ally, that’s also really good for me.

  But if she’s lying and she’s my enemy?

  CHAPTER

  61

  THE 6:20. RIGHT ON TIME. Devine was really starting to hate this commute.

  Actually, there’s no starting about it.

  He looked, but there was no Michelle Montgomery at the pool. He didn’t imagine she would be told to wear the green bikini for a while, if ever.

  Later, he walked into the lobby at Cowl and Comely, waved at Sam the guard, and took the elevator up to his floor.

  Turning a corner, he nearly tripped over the custodian, Jerry Myers, who was kneeling in front of a door fixing the lock.

  “Sorry,” said Devine.

  The man looked up, and recognition sprang into his features.

  “You were the one asking questions that day.”

  “I was.”

  Myers stood and put his tools back in the box on the floor. “And now there’s another one, they say. Only she wasn’t killed here, thank God. Couldn’t take finding another body.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “The police got any leads?” Myers asked.

  “Not that I know of, but they’re not keeping me in their confidences.”

  Myers hefted his toolbox. “You guys slaving away in this place. I mean, you ask me, it’s not worth it. No sir.”

  “Maybe it’s not.”

  “So why do it?”

  “When I figure it out I’ll let you know. Got a question. I understand that contractors and other service people come in through the rear entrance.”

  “That’s right. There’s a phone they have to use. Goes to the security desk. Then they go let the person in, if they’re authorized.”

  “Or if they have a security card, they can get in that way.”

  “Sure, but contractors don’t have security cards. That’d be a problem. Can’t just let folks waltz in the back door like that.”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  Later, around two in the afternoon, Devine was working away in his cubicle when the door opened.

  “Mr. Devine?”

  He looked up and saw the same woman who had previously come to retrieve him motioning to him. He rose, looked around at the Burners watching him suspiciously, and made his way out.

  Detectives Ekman and Shoemaker were waiting for him.

  “Now what?” he said.

  “This way,” barked Shoemaker.

  They led him to the same room as before.

  Sitting across from him, Shoemaker said, “We talked to the guard on duty at night. He said that you and Stamos came into the building late on the day Ewes’s body was found, and then left at the same time.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You saying the guard’s lying?” Ekman said sharply.

  “No, he just misinterpreted what he saw. I didn’t know Stamos was in the building that night. I came back for my phone and did some work. Then I left. Alone. Did the guard say Stamos and I were together?”

  The detectives exchanged glances. “Did you meet up with her in the building?” asked Shoemaker.