“Could this couple’s murder have anything to do with the house or even your husband?” Londyn asked.

  Karen swiped a hand under her eyes then sniffed. “I doubt it. Gilbert isn’t a nice man, and he’s a shrewd businessman. He might cheat someone or swindle them, but he wouldn’t kill anyone.” She suddenly broke into hysterical laughing. “He probably would’ve said that about me a few days ago too.”

  “Was there anything unusual about that house?” Ian asked.

  She tilted her head. “After we moved out, Gilbert spent some time remodeling the place. He didn’t do as much remodeling with all of our houses, but he always had some work done to get top dollar for the property. Guess then he must’ve sold it to your friend’s parents, but there was no other connection to us that I know of and nothing odd about the house itself.”

  “Would Junior have known that Malone’s parents moved into this house?”

  “He was so little—preschool age—so I doubt it.”

  Ian was disappointed, especially since it was Junior who led them to the fact that the crash wasn’t an accident. “Can you think about it, and let us know if you remember anything?”

  “Sure,” she said, looking at her hands again. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

  Londyn stood and called in the deputy.

  “Thank you, Karen,” Ian said as the deputy took her to the door. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She gave a sad nod, her head hanging as she walked away.

  Londyn took her seat again. “The deputy will bring Snipes in next.”

  “Hopefully, he’ll be more helpful.”

  “Karen was sincere enough.”

  “I don’t expect Snipes to be genuine unless there’s something in it for him.”

  “I wish his computer had given us some evidence, but he’s just like Olivo and Junior. Hiding his work elsewhere. But we’ll keep digging until we find where.”

  The guard brought Snipes in, and he tried to shrug free of the guard’s hands. His face was haggard, and dark circles hung under his eyes. Obviously, jail wasn’t agreeing with him.

  “You don’t look so good,” Ian said. “Not liking the accommodations?”

  “Not so bad,” he said as the guard urged him to sit, cuffed him to the table, and left the room. “You’re wasting your time. I still won’t say anything without my attorney present.”

  “You sure your attorney is still representing you now that he doesn’t have anyone footing the bill?” Ian asked.

  Snipes’s cocky smile slipped, and a flash of unease darkened his eyes. “No reason he’d stop representing me.”

  “Maybe you haven’t heard the big news,” Londyn said.

  He eyed her. “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Your boss was gunned down outside his house,” Ian said. “He didn’t survive.”

  A muscle twitched in Snipes’s jaw, but that was his only reaction. So maybe his attorney had told him about the shooting, or maybe word had gotten around the prison.

  Snipes tried to cross his arms, but the cuffs stopped him. He leaned back in his seat. “I don’t have a boss, so not sure who you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, now. We all know you’re one of Olivo’s lieutenants. Junior was the other.” Ian leaned forward. “Or should I say you guys were his lieutenants? He doesn’t need one anymore. And Junior? Seeing as you’re the one who shot him, you know what happened to him.”

  Snipes shook his head. “You’ve got some imagination, man.”

  “I do, but this is fact.” Ian tapped a finger on the table. “One we will prove in court, and if you want things to go easier for you, you’ll start talking.”

  “You might as well,” Londyn said softly, drawing the man’s attention. “Olivo can’t hurt you anymore. And with Junior gone and you inside, Olivo’s organization is collapsing as we speak. Do yourself a favor and admit that Olivo ordered you to kill Junior in retribution for abducting his kid and cutting off his finger.”

  A flicker of unease flashed in Snipes’s eyes.

  “Naming Olivo as the mastermind and telling us where he kept the records and other things he used for his illegal business could make the judge go easier on you,” Ian said, though honestly he didn’t know if it would or not. Still, even though Olivo was dead, Junior deserved justice, and that would only happen if the older man’s part in the murder came out.

  “We’re done here.” Snipes looked at the door. “Deputy! I’m through.”

  “Just think about what we told you,” Londyn said. “I want to make things easier for you, but you have to help me do that.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You’re pretty to look at lady, and I know you want me to focus on that and forget who you are. But you no more want to help me than this clown does. If you want to waste your time sitting across the table from me, letting me take my fill of looking at you, be my guest. But anything else? Nah. That’s not going to happen, and you might as well stop trying.”

  Malone woke to birds chirping and a decided chill in the air. Winter was coming, and she wanted to get a jump on the renovations so she could relax in front of the fire. She dressed in ragged jeans—not the pre-torn kind that were popular these days—along with an old college sweatshirt. Perfect attire for ripping into that wall by the front door. But as much as she was eager, she had work to do first. She had calls and emails to return and several urgent motions to file.

  She grabbed her computer and went to the kitchen, where she made a full pot of strong coffee. She plopped down at the counter while it perked. Not thinking about Ian at all. At least, not letting herself think about him when he came to mind, which he’d done several times an hour when she wasn’t sleeping.

  “Argh. Stop.” She focused on her work and took breaks to refill her coffee. She sipped and stared at the modern flat front cabinets. Did she really want to return this room to look like her past? Could she even get materials that would match? Did they make honey oak cabinets and the same pattern Formica countertops as her parents had? And what about the beige-and-powder-blue vinyl floors her mother had loved?

  Probably more important to ask herself was, would she be spending a large chunk of change and devaluing the property in the same stroke? Likely. And what would it accomplish other than lowering her bank balance? The remodel wouldn’t bring her parents back. Nothing would. And she didn’t want to be stuck in the past like she’d been since that first night she learned she was an orphan.

  Nothing could erase that searing pain.

  Well, nothing but God’s love. He could do anything. Everything. He’d shown her that. He’d cared for her every day since she’d lost her mom and dad. She still didn’t know why she’d had to lose them, but she did know the gut-wrenching anguish prepared her to help others.

  God probably didn’t want her living in her past. Maybe that was what the situation with Junior was meant to teach her.

  She opened her computer and searched for Bible verses about living in the past. Over one-hundred verses came up on the subject. She’d been so focused on her losses that she hadn’t stopped to see how God was at work in her life. Sure, she’d cried out to Him over the years. So many times, and He’d been there. Caring for and helping her. But she still resented losing her parents, and she could see now that her bitterness had blinded her to possibilities.

  I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. But now I do. Forgive me. Thank You for putting Ian in my life, drawing me away from what I thought I really wanted. Even if he doesn’t want me. I’m glad for our time together. Let me remember the past for the good that it’s brought to my life. For what it’s taught me. And let me use it all to help other people who are suffering.

  Feeling like years of heaviness were starting to lift from her shoulders, Malone went to the family room and grabbed a hammer. Rage funneled through her arm and into her hand, nearly sending the hammer through the other side of the wall.

  Wow. Where did that anger come from? Maybe the last week of stress?

  Maybe years of unresolved issues.

  She hit the wall again and again. “If you want to leave your past behind, why are you still doing this remodel? Why do you need to make it exactly like you remembered? Or like Dad wanted?”

  Yeah, why?

  If she were one of her clients leaving an abusive spouse, she would tell them they were stuck in the past. Was she stuck too?

  She settled down on the floor and began pulling the drywall away from the studs.

  She was caught in the past. Sure, she was. Time to admit it. But did she want to stay there or do something about it? To have a life like the one Reed and Sierra were building? To have children and live her life to the fullest?

  That was what she wanted. Exactly what she wanted. No doubt anymore.

  She dug her phone from her pocket and dialed her real estate agent. The call went straight to voicemail.

  She waited for the beep. “It’s Malone Rice. I’ve decided I want to sell this house. Give me a call when you can so we can draw up a contract. I want to get it sold quickly.”

  Yes, perfect. She would move on just as she said. Beyond Ian, because he didn’t want her. And she would find the man God had planned for her life.

  18

  Ian wanted to call Malone. Badly. Maybe ask her out to dinner to talk about a potential future, but he didn’t know if he could live each day with the fact that, if they got together, his true colors might fly. What if he started exhibiting his parents’ tendencies. He would only hurt the person he was now coming to believe he loved. And wasn’t it love to walk away when that was best for the other person?

  But what if Peggy was right? What if he wasn’t toxic to Malone?

  Is Peggy right? Can I pursue this? Become the man You made me to be?

  He wasn’t ready to talk to Malone about it yet, but he had to question her about the house.

  His best course of action at the moment was to text her.

  He typed, Did you know Gilbert Flagg Sr. once owned your house?

  My parents place? Really? When?

  They moved out right after remodeling it before your parents bought it.

  I had no idea. Any thoughts on what this might mean?

  He wanted to pick up the phone and call her. Not send characters through the phone. He wanted to hear her voice.

  Still not the best move.

  No idea, Looking into it with Londyn.

  I’ll go through the boxes in the garage again. See if we missed something.

  He’d like to join her, but he needed to go talk to Flagg Sr. so Ian typed. LMK if you find anything.

  I will.

  And just like that, their brief communication was over, and he was left wanting more. He shoved his phone into his pocket and joined Londyn at the bullpen door.

  “Malone didn’t know about Flagg owning the house.” He opened the door for Londyn.

  She stepped into the hallway and started for the elevator. “Just as you thought.”

  He held the elevator doors for her. “She’s going to go back through the garage boxes to see if she can find anything we missed.”

  “Do you think you missed something?” Londyn tapped the first floor button.

  “Not likely,” he said. “But it’s possible.”

  “I still wonder if her parents might be connected with the Chinese drywall fiasco, but there was nothing in her dad’s notes to suggest that.”

  “Doesn’t mean it didn’t exist,” Ian said. “Too bad Nick hasn’t found anything in his drywall search. I’ll check in and see if he can add Flagg as a search parameter.”

  On the street, he typed the message and wound his way among pedestrians. His actions weren’t lost on him. He was doing exactly what he warned others not to do. Not paying attention to their surroundings. Leaving himself vulnerable to attack. But Londyn walked with him, and should an issue arise, she had his back. He knew that about her now and could trust her.

  Malone would have his back too. And support him in everything else in his life. That he knew with certainty.

  He thought about her and her amazing personality all the way to Flagg’s large home where he had to stow his thoughts, but even more he knew they needed to talk.

  Help me to say the right things when I do talk to her.

  More eager than ever to solve the mystery of who killed her parents, Ian parked in the driveway.

  Londyn opened her car door. “I can’t believe Flagg needs a bigger place than this one.”

  Ian got out. “Maybe with Junior gone and Karen likely to spend a long stretch in prison, he’ll forget about the new house.”

  They took the walkway to the front door, and Ian rang the bell. As he enjoyed the cool temperatures and soft breeze, the birds chirping in the trees and the scents of flowers, Ian tried to imagine that he was at this door for any reason other than to question a man whose son was recently murdered, his wife turned into a killer. Just didn’t fit the neighborhood, but criminals lived everywhere, even in pricey Portland neighborhoods. Olivo was proof of that.

  Ian rang the bell again and heard the chime reverberating through the house. Footsteps quickly approached, echoing off the tile. They paused, and Ian imagined Flagg on the other side of the door looking out the peephole. The door jerked open.

  Flagg made eye contact with Ian. “Detective.” He changed his focus to Londyn and a broad smile crossed his face. “And you are?”

  She held out her shield. “Detective Londyn Steele.”

  “Londyn,” he said. “Interesting name.”

  “Our parents named all of us girls after cities in England in honor of our family heritage.” She smiled back at Flagg, and he preened, likely what she was hoping to accomplish. “I’m working with Detective Blair on winding down Junior’s investigation. Mind if we come in and ask a few more questions?”

  “My house is your house.” He swept his arm out gallantly.

  Ian could easily see how he might be charming to women who didn’t know him.

  Londyn went past, and the older man’s gaze tracked her every move. He didn’t seem to be grieving his son or lamenting his wife’s situation. But then, people dealt with grief in different ways. Maybe enjoying watching a beautiful woman walk down his hallway was Flagg’s way. Ian found that kind of smarmy. He should look into any affairs Flagg might have been having. Maybe he’d been seeing someone back when he sold the house to the Rices, and this potential woman might know something important.

  Ian followed Londyn and was glad Malone wasn’t with him. He’d deck Flagg for looking at her the way he looked at Londyn. Londyn was likely used to it from working in a predominantly male field, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

  She sat on the sofa in the same seating area where Ian had talked to Flagg and Karen a few days earlier. Ian made sure to sit next to Londyn so Flagg wasn’t within touching distance.

  He perched on the arm of a modern leather chair, his focus pinned to Londyn, though his gaze was professional now. “What can I answer for you?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us Junior called you the night before he died and talked to you for ten minutes?” Ian asked.

  The man seemed disappointed to have to tear his gaze away from Londyn. “Oh, that.” He waved a hand. “It wasn’t important enough to mention. The kid wanted his mama and settled for me. Dumping all kinds of feelings over the phone. I’m surprised I lasted ten minutes.”

  Ian figured it was something like that, but he had to confirm. “I wanted to ask again if you knew Joanna and Lewis Rice. Maybe you remembered them since we last met.”

  Flagg tilted his head. “Can’t say as I can place them.”

  “The house my classmate bought, the one we talked about before? You sold the house to her parents.” Ian shared the address.

  “That place?” He tilted his head. “We did an extensive remodel on the house and made a nice chunk of change, but I don’t remember the details.”

  “But you would’ve had to sign the sales paperwork,” Ian said.

  “Yeah, sure. I’m positive I did, but we’ve bought and sold nine houses since then. I can’t remember every buyer’s name.” He shifted his attention to Londyn. “When you reach a certain level of success, as I’ve done, you have people to handle the details. All they do is bring a summary of the terms to me, and I accept or decline. Then they shove the final documents under my hand to sign. It’s wonderful having minions.” He chuckled.

  If he was trying to impress Londyn, her blank expression told Ian that he’d failed.

  “If she’s interested in sprucing the place up, let her know about my company,” Flagg said.

  “She’s already begun remodeling.”

  He shook his head. “DIYers who think they can do the same work as professionals are the bane of my existence. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve had to rescue them.”

  “Would you still have copies of the paperwork from that sale?” Londyn asked.

  “Somewhere, sure. The minions probably stored it in one of our warehouses.” He grinned again, but when Londyn didn’t respond, a quizzical look crossed his face. Perhaps he wasn’t used to women not reacting to his charm.

  “Warehouses?” she asked. “How many do you have?”

  “Four. Two for building materials. Another for tools and a workshop. One for miscellaneous company things. That’s probably where the records are stored.”

  Ian couldn’t believe how out of touch this man was from his business. “Can you get one of your staff to locate the file for us?”

  He narrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t see what you hope to find. What does this have to do with Junior?”

  “Probably nothing,” Ian said as casually as he could manage. “It’s just that he’s the person who alerted us to the Rices’ crash not being an accident. Maybe we can find information like addresses, phone numbers, et cetera, on such documents, which might help us locate other people who remember the Rice family.”