“Remind me where it is you live?” Falco prodded.

  “At the end of this street. I’m renting a garage apartment from a friend.” He stood. “I should go, or I’ll be late for work.”

  “We may have other questions,” Kerri said. “You have a cell phone number?” The rectangular bulge in his back pocket provided the answer but not the number.

  “Yeah, sure.” He recited the number.

  Kerri entered it into her cell. “You said you work at the Trader Joe’s over on Summit?” That would be maybe twenty minutes away. She had shopped there a few times.

  “Yeah.” He looked away. “Feel free to call me if you think of anything else.” He nodded to Taylor. “Gotta go.”

  He was lying or maybe just leaving out some relevant fact. His eyes were far too evasive, his expression too closed. Kerri called after him, “Thank you, Mr. Barton.”

  When he’d gone, she sat down on the sofa. “Ms. Taylor, we haven’t reported your connection to your nephew.” Considering the Walsh aspect of the case had been taken from them, she certainly hadn’t felt compelled to do so. “Have you spoken to anyone about him? Or did he ever have friends or colleagues visit him here?”

  “No one.” She paused, frowned. “Except Sadie. Sadie Cross. She came over several times.” Taylor smiled. “I think they were a bit more than friends.” The frown deepened. “She said she would have someone watching after me. Do you suppose Mr. Barton is a friend of hers?”

  Kerri’s uneasiness lessened a fraction. Right there was likely the fact Mr. Barton had omitted. “That would explain him happening along just when you needed him.”

  Falco pulled out his cell. “Why don’t I call someone to have a look at your doors? I’m not sure those locks are going to be reliable with the way the wood is cracked.”

  “I have a retired friend who lives in the neighborhood. I’ll call him. He’s always happy to help.”

  “All right then, I’ll call Cross and confirm her association with your Good Samaritan,” Falco said.

  While he stepped outside, Kerri asked, “Ma’am, is there anything else we can do for you while we’re here? Would you like to file an official report?”

  Taylor shook her head. “No. No. That’s not necessary. You and Detective Falco being here is quite sufficient.” Her face fell. “Really, if you can find the person who killed my Asher, that’s all I need.”

  “We’re optimistic that we’ll have more on that soon.” Kerri gave her a smile and hoped she wouldn’t have to explain how his murder was no longer theirs to investigate. Or the fact that Kerri desperately needed to be elsewhere because she was terrified for her daughter. “Ma’am, I realize this question may not be a pleasant one, but I have to ask. Is there any possibility Asher may have used illegal drugs, even occasionally? You’ve insisted that wasn’t possible, but can you really be completely certain?”

  Taylor’s expression turned to horror. “Oh my word! I keep telling you that Asher was the most antidrug young man you would ever meet.”

  Before she could demand to know why she’d asked again, Kerri went on. “Was there something that happened in his past that made him feel particularly antidrug? Beyond the general reasons, I mean.”

  “Not to my knowledge. I don’t recall him talking about drugs the few times I saw him during his high school and college days. I suppose there could have been something. But since he moved here, he spoke adamantly about it. In fact, his keen focus on the issue concerned me a bit.”

  “How so?”

  “A person in his position as a DDA needs a certain amount of objectivity and the ability to spread his attention. The sort of single-minded focus could create issues in his career and certainly in his personal life.”

  “Thank you for clearing that up, ma’am.” Kerri could see how an obsession of any kind could affect his work; possibly lessen his ability to be objective.

  “None of this makes sense.” Ms. Taylor shook her head. “Obviously, I understand that in his career, he made enemies. You can’t be in the legal field without making a few. For God’s sake, I’m still stunned about Lana’s secretive visits. I had no idea, and I don’t think Asher did either. I can’t imagine what she was doing.”

  Kerri didn’t have the faintest idea what Taylor meant. “Asher’s mother visited him recently?”

  “No, that’s what I mean. She didn’t visit him. She insisted that if he wanted to see her, he would come to Boston. I simply can’t imagine why she made a trip to Birmingham every month without visiting her son. I’ve racked my brain, and I can’t come up with a reasonable explanation.” Exasperation claimed her expression, and she tapped her forehead. “Oh dear. It wasn’t you who told me about Lana’s visits. It was Sadie. Is she working with you and Detective Falco? She mentioned that you’re friends of hers.”

  “We are friends, yes,” Kerri confirmed. “You’re saying your sister was making regular visits to Birmingham but not to see her son?”

  “Apparently. I might even have chalked it up to her secretly checking on Asher, except according to Sadie’s research she’s been making those quick visits for longer than Asher lived here. It’s very odd.”

  “You can’t think of any reason she would do this?”

  “None at all. She has no friends here. She owns no property in the state of Alabama, much less in Birmingham. Has no investments I can find.” Taylor shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible she’s checking up on me, though I can’t fathom why.”

  “Does she have reason to believe you’re in poor health?” Taylor certainly seemed in great shape to Kerri.

  “I would hope not,” Taylor insisted. “Not that my health would matter. My sister has no interest in my health—good, bad, or otherwise.”

  This wasn’t exactly a pleasant topic, but they might as well explore it. “What about your estate?”

  Taylor frowned. “With Asher gone, there’s no one else to inherit my estate.”

  “Except your sister,” Kerri said.

  Now the older woman laughed out loud. “My sister’s husband is a very wealthy man. The property I own is hardly desirable. Particularly those old warehouses near the port.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m certain nothing I own would be of any relevance to either of them—not that I’d want them to have it. There are numerous charities who would benefit from what I have to give.”

  “Understandable. Still, we should look at every possibility,” Kerri explained. “Are the warehouses you mentioned empty?”

  “Oh no. They’ve never been empty. Like my father, I lease them to small businesses who need storage. The warehouses closer to the port are far more expensive. But I have to tell you, the lease value is probably less than my sister spends on handbags each year. I’m certain this is a dead end, Detective.”

  Kerri didn’t doubt Ms. Taylor’s conclusion on the matter, but there had to be a reason Lana Walsh started visiting Birmingham. The possibility that she was checking up on Taylor’s assets couldn’t be dismissed out of hand.

  Could a person ever be rich enough?

  Kerri asked, “Do you own any other property besides the warehouses and this home?”

  “I do not. I have some savings, but nothing that would impress my sister.”

  “We’ll check out the warehouses,” Kerri decided. “See if any of the business owners have spoken to your sister. Would you mind giving me a list of the businesses who hold the leases?”

  It was another of those long shots that cops looked into that often turned out to be nothing, but it was sometimes the one they dismissed that would have made the difference. A good cop didn’t ignore the possibilities no matter how seemingly remote. If Lana Walsh had no other connection to Birmingham, the property owned by her sister was as good a place as any to start.

  “Of course.” Taylor rose and walked to the side table where the landline sat. She opened the one drawer and gathered a pad and pen.

  Now that she’d thought about it, Kerri had heard something about coming expansions at Birmingport. It was remotely possible that Taylor was too easily dismissing the future value. “You own the warehouses and other land in the port area?”

  “More than a hundred acres. The warehouses aren’t directly on the water, but they’re close by.” She handed the list to Kerri. “My father inherited the property from his father, who assumed ownership from his own father, but it will leave the family with me. With Asher gone, I have no reason to bother with it any longer.”

  “Ms. Taylor, may we have your permission to look around the property?” They would need permission from the tenants to look inside the warehouses, but Taylor could give them permission for the property outside any locked areas.

  “Why not? I’m certain it’s a waste of your time, but I’ll make a few calls and ensure that no one gives you any trouble.”

  “Thank you—that would help tremendously. Would you also let me know if you hear from Asher’s parents?”

  She made a harrumphing sound. “Don’t hold your breath.”

  Kerri gave her a nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Falco appeared at the door. “Cross confirmed that she’d hired Barton to keep an eye on you and your home. So no worries there.”

  “Thank you for letting me know,” Taylor said, looking relieved.

  Before leaving, Kerri and Falco waited until Taylor had called her neighbor about the door repairs. The man was coming right over. On the sidewalk outside the Taylor home they spotted him headed that way with his toolbox in hand.

  When they loaded into her Wagoneer, Kerri told Falco about the warehouses. She glanced at the view beyond the Taylor home as she pulled away from the curb. In a city expanding the way Birmingham was, you never knew what piece of property would suddenly be worth a fortune.

  Birmingport Road

  Birmingham, 11:30 a.m.

  Kerri had been right to consider the Taylor assets. Falco had spent the time required to reach Birmingport Road searching the net and calling his sources in the property office for information about the warehouses as well as the home Taylor owned. A developer was already attempting to buy up the property in the area where she lived to tear it all down, making way for a new high-end development. The homes like Taylor’s with the city view would be the most highly sought after.

  The warehouses were located south of the Birmingham port on the lower loop of the Locust Fork. The property extended across the river and deep into the woods on the other side. The warehouses stood maybe a half mile from the actual waterfront, with a strip of dense forest standing between the buildings and the shoreline. In Kerri’s limited knowledge it didn’t appear that extraordinary effort would be required to carve a path between the warehouses and the river. Perhaps Taylor had underestimated the value of the property. But then Kerri was no engineer.

  There were three warehouses. One was a local third-party seller for Amazon whose company had grown too big for the owner’s garage, but he hadn’t been able to afford a building in town, so he’d leased the smaller of the warehouses. He lived closer to the warehouses than downtown anyway. The second company was another local one that had developed a so-called natural brand of cosmetics, Iris. Kerri had heard of the brand, but it was available online only, so she’d never seen the actual products. A separate maintenance shed was also leased by the cosmetics company.

  The third was a tire resale company. People who didn’t like the nearly new or new tires on their vehicles sold to this company, who then sold the tires to people who were looking for that brand or size for a cheaper price. It was quite the enterprise, based on what Falco had found in his search.

  Only one of the three actually used the port. The cosmetics company shipped their products to others who actually did the selling and shipping to individuals. Like a sort of Avon or Mary Kay. The manufacturer shipped to the sellers, who distributed to the individual customers.

  None appeared to have any sort of connection to Leo Kurtz and his shop. And certainly not to Asher Walsh other than via his aunt.

  The warehouses were older, circa the 1920s. But all had been updated with electrical and climate control. This was according to the only one of the businesses who had agreed to allow them inside. The third-party Amazon seller, one SouthernWorks, LLC. The owner insisted he had nothing to hide and even permitted them to watch the packing of boxes.

  “How was Tori this morning?” Falco asked as they walked through the building, careful to stay out of the way of the employees readying products to ship.

  “Hanging in there. That day on the stairs is still fuzzy for her.” Kerri hesitated a moment. “Tori said Alice gave them cookies and milk whenever she and Sarah stayed the night. Her memories of events on those occasions are foggy and fractured. It makes me wonder if the same thing happened with Tori and Sarah at school that day. Tori mentioned that Alice was always bringing cookies and other snacks her aunt had prepared to share with her friends. I’m worried she and Sarah were drugged. Maybe even the Myers girl.”

  “We could take Tori to the lab. Have some tests run,” Falco suggested. “It might not be too late to find something, especially in her hair. If she’d prefer, I could take a hair sample to the lab under an alias.”

  Kerri nodded. “Good idea. I’m not completely okay with putting the possibility out there that she’s ingested some sort of drug. Sykes and Peterson could twist it into something it’s not.” And her partner was right; many drugs showed up in hair samples long after the last use.

  “We should talk to Tori.”

  “Okay.” Kerri was fairly certain her daughter had already considered the possibility but didn’t want to say the words out loud. A new kind of worry knotted in her gut.

  Focus, Kerri. Right now, she needed her mind in this investigation.

  Back outside they walked around the other warehouses. They couldn’t go inside, but they had the authorization to walk the property. The tire reseller, Wheels, Inc., had two vehicles, one SUV and a truck, parked in the small accompanying lot. Falco took a photo of each license plate.

  Iris, the cosmetics company, had only one vehicle. A quick snap of the license plate and they headed back to the Wagoneer. Kerri hoped they hadn’t wasted their time, but not checking it out could have been a mistake.

  Considering the rising potential of the warehouses at Birmingport and the escalating value of Taylor’s home, Lana Walsh could certainly be interested in her sister’s estate. Did her interest have anything to do with Asher Walsh’s murder? Not likely since Lana’s unexplained visits started well before her son’s death.

  Didn’t sit right with Kerri. She wasn’t ready to consider the mother a suspect.

  As they drove away from the warehouses, along the only entrance and exit to the property, Kerri shared her conclusions with Falco.

  “I’m with you. I can’t see it. Hold on.” He fished his cell from his pocket and took a call.

  In the distance, a dark vehicle appeared. As they drew closer, it was obvious the vehicle was headed toward the warehouses, but it was too far away to determine whether it was a truck or an SUV. The profile was too high for a sedan or hybrid.

  As the expanse of highway between her Wagoneer and the other vehicle diminished, Kerri’s pulse began to race.

  Black.

  SUV.

  The emblem on the grill came into focus.

  Escalade.

  The driver—male, Hispanic—and Kerri stared at each other as their vehicles passed.

  José Cortez.

  Kerri hit the brakes and skidded to a stop, ending up sideways across the road.

  “Whoa, Devlin.” Falco put his phone away and looked around. “What did I miss?”

  Kerri pointed the Wagoneer in the necessary direction and headed after the other vehicle. “Black Escalade. José Cortez is the driver.”

  They followed the Escalade to the Iris warehouse. Cortez was exiting the SUV when they parked next to him, cutting him off from the warehouse entrance.

  Falco was out before the vehicle stopped rocking. “José Cortez, I’m Detective Falco, and this is my partner, Detective Devlin. We have a few questions for you.”

  Kerri had skirted the hood by then. She stood on one side of Cortez, and Falco stood on the other. He looked ready to bolt.

  “This will only take a moment of your time, Mr. Cortez,” Kerri reassured him with the best smile she could muster.

  “What’s going on here?”

  A female had exited the warehouse and was headed their way. She looked to be in her forties. Brunette hair. Medium build. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, along with fashionable slides.

  Kerri introduced herself and Falco to the woman, who didn’t bother returning the pleasantry. “We have questions for Mr. Cortez.”

  The woman braced her hands on her hips. “Mr. Cortez is my employee, and he’s already late. I suggest the two of you schedule a time with him for after work. Right now, he needs to get inside before he ends up in the unemployment line.”

  They made no move to stop the man when he followed his boss’s order. Until they could prove Cortez was somehow involved in criminal activity, they didn’t want to cost him his job.

  “May I have your name, ma’am?” Kerri asked. “I’ll need an explanation to give my boss for why we didn’t interview Mr. Cortez.” This was a lie, but the other woman had no way of knowing this.

  “Elizabeth Grant. COO of Iris. Google me. That’ll give you the rest of what you need.” She turned her back and walked into the warehouse.

  “Friendly,” Falco muttered.

  Kerri scoffed. “About as friendly as a rattlesnake.”

  “Considering the Cortez connection,” Falco said as they climbed back into the Wagoneer, “I say we do some digging into this Iris Cosmetics.”

  “Start with the boss,” Kerri suggested. “Shit rolls downhill, but it typically starts at the top.”

  Was it coincidence that José Cortez worked in one of the Taylor warehouses?

  Had to be.

  Kerri tried to shake the idea, but it wasn’t budging. Not with the other facts she knew about Cortez.