Dead Man's Lake (The Braddock & Gray Case Files Book 5) Read online

  It was the eyes mainly. Sully would know those eyes anywhere.

  “No question. It’s definitely the same guy.” Sully touched an index finger to the screen. “This was on a police file, you said? It’s not a mugshot.”

  Dez took the phone back and returned it to his pocket. “No, it’s just a regular photo police got from someone. Walter McCrory doesn’t have a history of arrest, let alone a criminal record. But it seems he was headed that way. The whole hairy bushman thing he had going wasn’t purely because he was antisocial or shy. Turns out he was a wanted man—and not for anything small. He was the suspect in a major bank job in eighty-three. If he’d been caught and convicted, he was looking at a federal penitentiary term.”

  Sully straightened as he faced Dez more fully. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, he got away clean for the most part—which was interesting in and of itself. Bank jobs of this calibre aren’t exactly the easiest to get away with, but he did.”

  “What kind of calibre are we talking about?”

  “Two hundred thousand.”

  Sully whistled low. “Wow. Crazy. If he had the balls to try that, do you think he pulled off other stuff in the past without getting caught?”

  “Maybe, but not necessarily. Pretty hard for people to keep getting away with things. The more often you pull stuff, the more likely your luck will run out.”

  “So how did they figure out it was him?”

  “Well, the robber was masked, and no one around there saw him without the balaclava. And no one saw him coming or going either, so no getaway vehicle description. It happened first thing in the morning, before the place got busy. When police were unable to put a face or a name to the guy, they put out a request for public assistance via the usual news channels. Few days later, police get a tip from someone saying the robber was working at a construction site downtown. The guy provided McCrory’s name and description. Police went in, lights and siren. By the time they got to the site, McCrory was gone. As if he knew they were coming.”

  “With lights and siren, it’s no wonder.”

  Dez held up an index finger. “Yeah, but he actually bailed well before they were anywhere close to him. He wouldn’t have known if they were coming for him or just on the way to some other random call. Investigators did a bit of digging into their own after that, making sure no one inside the department had tipped McCrory off. I mean, two hundred grand is a lot of money now, but it was a killing back then. They worried he’d secured himself an inside man who could tip him off if the heat closed in.”

  Sully scratched at his head. “Okay, so he walked away from his job and never went back?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. Somehow or other, he ended up at Dead Man’s Lake—or Crystal Lake as everyone called it at the time.”

  Sully gave it a moment’s thought. “Hold on. If he had two hundred thousand dollars, why wouldn’t he have used it to buy his way out of the country? That kind of cash back then could have bought him a ticket anywhere in the world, plus whatever fake ID he needed to pull off a relocation.”

  “No idea. Might be he wanted to lie low for a while and ended up staying where he was. It happens.”

  “Why bother pulling a bank job like that if you’re not going to spend the money? People pull robberies for a number of reasons, but it’s never just for the hell of it. It’s usually drugs or some other addiction. Sometimes they need money for a personal emergency.”

  “Or it might be a mental health problem. You never know.”

  Sully shrugged, conceding the point. Walter’s behaviour in death seemed erratic enough to put the possibility of mental illness on the table. He’d discovered earth-bound ghosts retained the same afflictions that had plagued them in life.

  With more questions than answers already, Sully posed a few more. “How’d he get the job at the lake, anyway? I mean, the government would have checked into his work history and background before hiring him. If he was wanted on a robbery, it should have turned up.”

  “Yeah, sure, but the government wasn’t in charge of Crystal Lake at the time. Parks Department didn’t take over managing the lake and surrounding area until shortly afterward. I talked to Lachlan. He’s been doing a little digging of his own in between surveillance shifts. Apparently, the guy managing things during Walter’s time hoped to turn it into something of a resort. He would have needed an extra set of hands to clean up and build. A guy with a history in construction would have fit the bill nicely.”

  Sully turned fully toward Dez. “So maybe he agreed to hire Walter off the books. If he wasn’t paying taxes, Walter could have agreed to a lower wage, and there wouldn’t have been any record of him being there.”

  “Good theory. I don’t think we’ll ever prove it, given the guy who used to manage the place died in the nineties, but it would explain why no one ever tracked McCrory there.”

  “But Marvin Poller knew his full name,” Sully said. “He could have figured out who Walter was in connection to the robbery, right? Maybe someone else did too. I mean, a missing two hundred thousand? That’s one major motive for murder, especially given Walter wouldn’t have had much opportunity to spend it, living in the bush.”

  Dez nodded, grinning. “Yep. But don’t forget something. Last night, Greg Waterford was out here, digging through the remains of the cabin.”

  Sully’s brows shot up his forehead. “Oh, crap, you’re right. You think—?”

  Dez gave another nod. “I think we’re getting closer to making Peter Brinks a very satisfied client—because there’s something else you’ll want to know. The guy who called in to report Walter McCrory was working at the construction site the day the cops came? Guess who it was.”

  Sully slumped against the seat. “Get out of here.”

  Dez grinned. “Yep. A very young Greg Waterford. So there’s our connection. Waterford knew McCrory was wanted on a major robbery. Maybe he’s been hunting for the money ever since.”

  Sully gave a slow nod. “If that’s not motive for murder, I don’t know what is.”

  Talking to Waterford would have been the obvious next step, but it wasn’t in the cards given the current Brinks job.

  Sully and Dez called Lachlan from the SUV, filling him in in the hopes he’d have some advice on a next step. What they got first was a near-maniacal cackle.

  “Hiring you boys was quite possibly the best career move I’ve ever made,” he said once he’d finished laughing. “How the hell do you find these things? You’ve taken a boring workers’ comp job and turned it into a murder with an attached bank heist.” Another chuckle sounded. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

  Sully exchanged an amused glance with Dez. “Bigger question right now is what we do about it. We can’t talk to Greg, right?”

  “Hang on,” Lachlan said. “Let’s break this down. What evidence do we really have that a murder’s been committed?”

  “We just told you,” Dez said.

  “I mean hard, physical evidence, the kind we’re required to take to police.”

  “Forbes is already on board,” Sully said. “We’re keeping him apprised. As for real physical proof of a murder, we don’t have anything yet.”

  “Forbes Raynor.” Lachlan groaned out the name. No love lost between the two of them. “Okay, well, I guess that’s good. He’ll give you some room to breathe on this, at least. And it doesn’t sound like we’ve got enough yet to prove anything definitively.”

  Sully knew what Lachlan was wondering about. By law, they were supposed to hand over anything of a criminal nature to police. What that meant in a realistic way was they’d quickly be shut out of major investigations—or risk being slapped with obstruction charges if they didn’t follow the letter of the law.

  One thing about Sully’s ability was that what counted as evidence to him, Dez and Lachlan was nowhere near evidence enough for the police. Until they had what police investigators would call “real” proof, they could continue to work the investigation wit
hout worry they’d be stepping on toes. In this business, if you stepped on too many of the wrong toes, there went your PI licence.

  “All that said,” Lachlan added, “the picture’s definitely changed for us. We’ve got something much more significant to worry about. Murder trumps fraud any day.”

  “So how do we handle it?” Dez asked.

  Lachlan was silent a few moments. “The reporter. Can you work that info out of her somehow? Might be a dead end, but I really, really want to know what was in the package Waterford handed her.”

  “She isn’t going to just hand it over. He’s a source. Kind of means something in journalism, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure, but what if your source might be a murderer? You’re a good judge of character, kid. What do you think—can you trust her?”

  “With what, exactly?”

  “With sharing a few details about our investigation. Think she’ll keep it to herself?”

  “I think she’ll hold onto whatever she has until she’s got an actual story with facts to back it up. She seems responsible.”

  “We’ve also got libel and slander laws on our side,” Lachlan said. “News outlets can’t simply publish potentially slanderous details about a person without something to support their claims—at least outside of a privileged setting like court. Listen, Sullivan, if you’re comfortable with your assessment of her, I think you should arrange another meeting and fill her in on what we’re learning about Waterford. Might not be a bad idea, anyway, if it turns out he’s dangerous. Last thing I want is some poor girl getting hurt because we didn’t share.”

  Sully wasn’t as anxious at the idea of meeting with Sarah again. If anything, he was warming to the idea—which he supposed said something. “I warned her he might be dangerous, but I didn’t provide anything more. Of course, we didn’t really have a lot more at that point.”

  “So you’ll call her?”

  “Yeah, I can call her.”

  Dez’s elbow jabbed playfully into Sully’s ribs. Sully backhanded him in the gut.

  17

  Sarah didn’t pick up the first time Sully called.

  He’d waited until he was on his way back home, wanting to ensure Dez and his elbows were nowhere around. Sully decided against leaving a message, intending to instead try her again once he was inside his apartment.

  Not five minutes passed before his phone rang.

  “Sullivan?”

  “Hey, yeah, it’s me. And maybe I didn’t mention earlier. Just call me Sully. Most people do—unless they’re pissed at me.”

  She laughed. “Got it. So what’s up?”

  “There’s something I was hoping to talk to you about. Do you have time for that coffee?”

  “Sure thing. How private do we need to be?”

  “It’s kind of sensitive.” He immediately considered what he’d said and sought to better explain. “I mean, I’m not hitting on you or anything.”

  She gave him another laugh. “Ouch. Okay, got it. Purely professional.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t—I mean—”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re cute, you know that? Tell you what, there’s a little coffee shop-slash-café downstairs from my condo. I suggest it only because I’m lazy, not because I want to invite you up after. I’m not hitting on you or anything.” Her tone carried the sound of a playful wink.

  Sully grinned, then repeated her earlier comment. “Ouch. Yeah, purely professional.”

  A ding on his phone told him a text had arrived, and he found an address with a map attachment. He studied it for a few seconds. “Got your text. I can be there in twenty. Does that work?”

  “I literally have to walk downstairs. I can do twenty—long as you don’t care I have no makeup on and just finished a workout.”

  “All good,” he said. “See you soon. Looking forward to it.”

  He immediately grimaced at the closing comment but hung up before he could attempt another awkward take-back.

  Sarah was already waiting by the time Sully arrived. True to her word, she appeared to be makeup-free, showing off delicate, pretty features and the kind of clear, glowing skin he saw on women in those face cream ads on TV. To make matters worse, as she stood to greet him, he noticed she was wearing some sort of yoga gear—snug-fitting and curve-hugging in a way that turned her body into a minefield for the eyes. So many places not to look.

  Dez was right. It had been a long time.

  Thankfully, he was quickly discovering he loved looking at her face, and it provided ample distraction from her other attractive parts. What her face and lips didn’t do, the table helped with. That and the nearby counter.

  “I’ll go grab a coffee,” he said. “You want anything?”

  She in turn held up a cup she already had in front of her. Seasoned investigator that he was, he’d completely missed it.

  Embarrassed yet again, he scooted toward the counter, relieved for a quick break from her.

  God, he sucked.

  This place proved to be one of those trendy places with twenty-five different types of coffee, half of them unpronounceable to him, and cup sizes requiring a size chart to understand. He settled for a mid-size of whatever the barista recommended, then hoped for the best while her colleague prepared it. Unfortunately, what he came away with was some frothy thing topped with whipped cream.

  He flushed slightly as he returned to the table with it, watching as Sarah’s brows lifted in amusement.

  “This isn’t exactly what I was after,” he said.

  She gave him a giggle and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about it. Getting a coffee in this place is like getting stuck with six Jeopardy! categories you haven’t researched. I think one of the reasons it isn’t busier is because people are afraid they’ll fail the test. Anyway, if it’s any consolation, that actually looks delicious. I’ll trade you, long as you like green tea.”

  “Green tea sounds great,” he said, happily accepting her offer of the trade.

  His throat had gone dry, and he was relieved to find the tea was warmer than it was hot. It suggested Sarah had been sitting down here for a few minutes before his arrival.

  Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward.

  He fought to return his mind to business matters. With a killer running around and a ghost on his last annual legs, there really wasn’t much time to spare. Sully set the cup down and wrapped his fingers around it, enjoying the warmth radiating from the paper cup.

  “I mentioned earlier to be careful around Greg Waterford,” he said. “I’ve been speaking with my partners, and we’ve agreed it would be a good idea to fill you in a little more. Thing is, we’re making progress on the investigation into the dead guy at the lake. The more we dig, the more we discover about Waterford’s involvement.”

  He explained what they’d found out about Walter McCrory being suspected of bank robbery, and he told her how it was Waterford who turned in his then-colleague, sending McCrory on the run.

  “So when I told you about seeing Waterford digging around the old cabin, it’s started to mean something,” Sully said. “Once he became aware his co-worker was involved in a massive robbery, he might have set out to find the missing money. For whatever reason, it didn’t turn up back then. We think it’s possible he’s been searching ever since.”

  “That’s a long time. If it’s really out there, how could he not have found it?”

  Sully shrugged. “Could be Walter hid it really well. Maybe it doesn’t matter why it’s still missing. The fact Waterford’s looking is what matters. That and the fact two hundred grand is a really good motive for murder. It could be someone actively planned McCrory’s death to get him out of the way, or maybe he was killed when he stumbled upon someone going through his stuff. The reason I’m here is, whatever happened, Waterford’s got some involvement in the file. Until we know exactly what happened, we don’t want you getting caught in any crossfire. If you could try to keep your distance from him for a while, that would be really gre
at.”

  She stared at him a few moments. One side of her lips quirked up and she sat back with crossed arms. “Hang on. How do I know you haven’t been hired by someone to try to keep me from digging into the story I’m working on? Could be you’ve just made all of this up to try to scare me off. I mean, do you have anything to show me?”

  He held her eye as he shook his head. “Doing what I do, I’ve had to ask a lot of people to trust me. I guess I’m asking you to do the same.”

  She gazed back at him, unwavering in intensity. Finally, a few very long seconds later, she leaned back in his direction. “It’s a lot you’re asking of me here. My editor wants me to move on this soon. I mean, it’s time-sensitive.”

  “How time-sensitive?”

  Another brief stare-down, this one ended by a small exhale from Sarah. “I guess I’m not revealing anything significant by telling you this much. It’s publicly available information, anyway, if you know what you’re searching for. It’s about the proposed project over at Dead Man’s Lake. The government hasn’t officially sold the land or anything, but one company looking to buy it has been making moves like it’s a done deal. They’ve even secured a contractor to start bulldozing the east side of the lake. They’re planning on putting a resort town over there.”

  “The east side?” Sully asked. “You’re sure?”

  Sarah sighed heavily and shook her head. “Oh my God. I shouldn’t have told you that last part.”

  “That’s what was in the envelope Waterford gave you, wasn’t it? Brinks Construction is the contractor getting lined up to tear into the east side, and Waterford gave you copies of their plans.”

  “I really can’t say anything more. I shouldn’t have said as much as I did.”

  He leaned forward, pinning her in his gaze. “I won’t make this public. I need to talk to my partners about it, but that’s it. I swear.”